On a crisp October afternoon in 2007, Marcus Williams adjusted his security uniform and scanned the bustling Westfield Shopping Center in Columbus, Ohio. The mall, a community staple since the 1980s, was undergoing a major renovation. As workers tore into the old storage area behind the food court, Marcus, a 22-year veteran of mall security, braced for another routine shift. But at 2:00 p.m., foreman Tony Hernandez waved him over with urgency. Beneath a cracked concrete slab, the crew had uncovered a rusted metal container, sealed with duct tape, buried for over a decade. Marcus’s heart sank. His mind flashed to 1995, when 18-year-old Jessica Thompson vanished from this very mall, leaving no trace. This discovery would unravel a 12-year mystery, exposing a predator hiding behind a badge.
Jessica Thompson, a bright Ohio State University freshman, disappeared on October 23, 1995, while shopping with friends Amanda Morrison and Kelly Woo. She parted ways around 3:00 p.m. to browse jewelry and books in the south wing. By 4:30 p.m., when she didn’t meet her friends at the food court, panic set in. Her car remained in the parking lot, her keys and purse gone. The 1995 investigation, led by Lieutenant James Morrison, was exhaustive—hundreds of interviews, security footage reviews, and searches yielded nothing. Jessica was labeled a runaway or abduction victim, her case growing cold. Richard Hullbrook, then security supervisor and now general manager, had been a cooperative figure, providing footage and organizing searches, his polished demeanor deflecting suspicion.
The 2007 discovery changed everything. Detective Patricia Rivera, a cold case specialist with the Columbus Police Department, arrived within 30 minutes. The container, roughly 3 by 2 feet, held Jessica’s driver’s license, Columbus East High School class ring, a bracelet with her initials, and a diary. Its final entry, dated October 23, 1995, read: “R.H. was watching me again today. I feel like I’m being hunted. If anything happens, it’s him.” The initials “R.H.” pointed to Richard Hullbrook. Rivera, her instincts sharp, declared the site a crime scene. Marcus, who had worked under Hullbrook in 1995, recalled his oddly calm demeanor during the original investigation and a suspicious repair in the storage area the day after Jessica vanished, involving an unfamiliar maintenance crew.
Rivera’s investigation zeroed in on Hullbrook, now 58, a distinguished man with graying hair and a commanding presence. During an initial interview, he recounted his 1995 role with practiced ease, claiming no specific memory of Jessica beyond her disappearance. But Rivera sensed a rehearsed quality. She learned Jessica had called the mall’s customer service three times in October 1995, reporting a security supervisor—likely Hullbrook—for following her. These complaints, handled by customer service manager Barbara Walsh, were reported directly to Hullbrook, who dismissed them as routine security measures. Rivera uncovered a 1995 work order, signed by Hullbrook, for “emergency repairs” in the storage area on October 24, citing water damage. No evidence of a leak existed, and the insurance claim was denied.
Former security guards Steven Blake and Danny Rodriguez, hired and fired by Hullbrook in 1995, provided damning testimony. Blake, now a nervous night guard in Dayton, admitted Hullbrook ordered them to tail Jessica, claiming she was a shoplifting suspect despite her innocent behavior. Rodriguez, a construction supervisor in Springfield, recalled a “special security operation” on October 23, clearing guards from the south wing. Both confirmed the storage area’s concrete pour was unusual, with no signs of water damage. Forensic analysis revealed lime powder in the concrete, used to hasten decomposition, confirming the site as a burial attempt for evidence.
Rivera’s team uncovered more: Hullbrook’s financial records showed a $15,000 cash deposit in November 1995, untraceable for a $35,000-a-year supervisor. A search of his home revealed a hidden safe containing jewelry, driver’s licenses, and a journal detailing “hunting methods” for six other young women from 1992 to 2006. The journal described Jessica as “Subject JT,” noting her predictable shopping patterns and a plan for “permanent disposal” in storage area 7. Emails between Hullbrook and Carl Morrison, son of Lieutenant James Morrison and owner of Morrison Construction, hinted at a disposal network using construction sites to hide bodies.
Confronted with this evidence, Hullbrook confessed on October 18, 2007, to avoid the death penalty. He admitted stalking Jessica for months, luring her to the storage area under the guise of security concerns, and killing her during a struggle when she threatened to report him. He buried her body at Riverside Shopping Plaza, a Morrison Construction site, and hid her belongings under the mall’s concrete. Carl Morrison, arrested after the email trail, confessed to disposing of seven victims’ bodies across Ohio from 1995 to 2005, earning cash to prop up his failing business. The FBI joined the case, excavating sites that recovered remains of Angela Roberts (1996), Christine Miller (1998), Maria Santos (2001), Jennifer Walsh (2003), Nicole Chen (2005), and one unidentified victim.
The trial, starting in March 2008, gripped Columbus. Prosecutor Sarah Kim presented a meticulous case, with Rivera testifying about the investigation’s unraveling of Hullbrook’s predatory empire. Survivors like Maria Gonzalez and Jennifer Adams recounted chilling encounters, exposing Hullbrook’s pattern of exploiting trust. David Thompson, Jessica’s brother, delivered a heart-wrenching victim impact statement: “You didn’t just kill my sister. You stole 12 years of our hope.” The jury convicted Hullbrook on seven counts of first-degree murder, kidnapping, assault, and evidence tampering, sentencing him to life without parole plus 200 years. Morrison received 25 years for his role.
By August 2008, Jessica was laid to rest beside her grandparents. Her family established the Jessica Thompson Foundation to promote safety and support missing persons’ families. The Westfield Shopping Center, under new ownership, created a memorial garden honoring the victims. Rivera, promoted to lieutenant, implemented new protocols for missing persons cases involving authority figures. Jessica’s diary, buried for 12 years, had exposed a serial killer and brought justice to seven families. Her voice, silenced in 1995, echoed through a courtroom, ensuring no more women would fall prey to a predator hiding in plain sight.