In the quiet, suburban town of Antioch, California, the summer of 1980 was supposed to be a time of innocence and new beginnings for 16-year-old Suzanne Bombardier. Known to her friends and family as Susie, she was a bright, responsible teenager with a natural gift for caring for children. She dreamed of becoming a teacher, a future that seemed practically guaranteed for a girl with her kindness and dedication. On the warm evening of June 21, Susie was doing what she did best: babysitting her two young nieces at her sister Stephanie’s apartment. It was a routine night, the kind that happens in thousands of homes across the country, filled with the quiet hum of a television and the soft breathing of sleeping children.

When Stephanie left for the movies that evening, Susie stood in the doorway, waving goodbye with a smile. She had her notebook with her, ready to jot down her plans for the summer—days at the pool, saving money for college, and the simple joys of teenage life. The apartment on West 10th Street felt secure, a haven in a town where neighbors knew each other and doors were often left unlocked. But when Stephanie returned home hours later, the silence that greeted her was heavy and wrong. The front door, usually chain-locked by the cautious teenager, stood slightly ajar. The living room light was on, but the room was empty.

Panic set in as Stephanie checked the bedrooms. Her daughters were safe in their cribs, undisturbed, but Susie was gone. Her purse, identification, and money were still in the apartment, ruling out the possibility that she had run away. It was as if she had simply evaporated, leaving behind a void that would consume her family for decades. The police were called, and the search began immediately, but the initial hope that Susie would return home embarrassed but unharmed quickly faded. Five days later, a fisherman on the San Joaquin River made a tragic discovery. Susie’s life had been cut short, her future stolen in an act of violence that shattered the peace of Antioch.

The investigation that followed was exhaustive. Detective Ron Rackley, a veteran officer who took the case personally, worked tirelessly to find the person responsible. He interviewed hundreds of people, followed every lead, and cataloged every piece of evidence found at the scene and on Susie’s remains. But it was 1980, and forensic science was in its infancy. There were no DNA databases, no advanced genetic profiling, and no surveillance cameras on every corner. Despite Rackley’s dedication, the case eventually ran out of leads. The physical evidence was carefully boxed up and placed in storage, waiting for a future where technology might catch up to the truth.

For the Bombardier family, the passage of time was agonizing. Stephanie, who had lost her sister and best friend, became the keeper of Susie’s memory. She refused to let the case be forgotten, giving interviews, speaking at victims’ rights events, and keeping in touch with the police department. Every anniversary was a painful reminder of the justice that remained out of reach. Their mother aged with the weight of the loss, keeping Susie’s bedroom exactly as it had been, a shrine to a daughter who would never come home. The family lived with the terrifying knowledge that the person responsible was likely still out there, living a free life while they remained trapped in their grief.

Decades passed, and the world changed. The era of DNA profiling arrived, revolutionizing criminal investigations. In the early 2000s, cold case detectives began revisiting the files that had gathered dust for years. Detective Maria Santos took over the Bombardier case, bringing a fresh set of eyes and a determination to use modern science to solve the mystery. She sent the carefully preserved biological evidence from 1980 to the lab, hoping for a miracle. In 2007, they finally developed a DNA profile of the perpetrator. It was a massive step forward, but there was a catch: the profile didn’t match anyone in the offender database at the time. They had the genetic fingerprint of the assailant, but they still didn’t have a name.

Hope flickered again in 2015 when journalist Jennifer Kathleen Gibbons launched a podcast dedicated to Susie’s case. The broadcast renewed public interest, generating tips and putting pressure on the authorities to prioritize the investigation. The podcast highlighted not just the tragedy of the crime, but the enduring love of a sister who refused to give up. It was a reminder that behind every cold case file is a family waiting for answers. The renewed attention coincided with a push by the Sheriff’s office to utilize new, more rapid DNA testing partnerships.

Then, on a Tuesday morning in November 2017—37 years after Susie disappeared—the breakthrough finally happened. A routine run of the DNA profile through the national database triggered a hit. The system flagged a match to a man named Mitchell Lynn Bacom. The revelation sent shockwaves through the investigative team and the family. Bacom wasn’t a stranger; he was a known figure from the past. He was a former boyfriend of one of Susie’s relatives. He had been in their lives, known their habits, and had visited the very apartment where Susie was taken.

The betrayal was profound. The man responsible for the tragedy had been hiding in plain sight, a wolf in sheep’s clothing who had used his familiarity with the family to commit a horrific act. Bacom, now in his 60s, was living in a trailer park in Nevada, seemingly confident that his secrets were buried in the past. But he had underestimated the power of science and the persistence of those who loved Susie. He was arrested in a coordinated operation, confused and denying everything, but the DNA evidence was irrefutable. It connected him directly to the crime with a statistical certainty that left no room for doubt.

The legal process that followed was long and arduous, delayed by appeals and the global pandemic, testing the family’s patience once again. But Stephanie and her family attended every hearing, determined to see it through. Finally, in 2022, the case went to trial. The prosecution presented a clear, scientific narrative that connected the dots Detective Rackley had preserved so carefully decades earlier. The jury needed only a few hours to reach a verdict. Mitchell Lynn Bacom was found guilty of first-degree murder with special circumstances.

In the courtroom, Stephanie stood tall, speaking for the sister whose voice had been silenced. She told the court about the decades of missed birthdays, the empty chair at holiday tables, and the hole in their hearts that would never truly heal. When the judge sentenced Bacom to life without the possibility of parole, a heavy weight finally lifted. It wasn’t just a legal victory; it was the fulfillment of a promise made to a mother who had passed away before seeing this day, and to a detective who had carried the case with him into retirement.

Today, a memorial stands near the river in Antioch, a permanent tribute to Suzanne Bombardier. It is a place of peace, transforming a site of tragedy into one of remembrance. The case stands as a testament to the power of perseverance—the refusal of a sister to let the world forget, the dedication of detectives who preserved the truth in cardboard boxes, and the relentless march of science that ensures that no matter how much time passes, justice can still find a way. Susie’s story is a beacon of hope for other families still waiting, proving that even the coldest nights can eventually end in the light of truth.