The winter of 1985 in Lewis County, Washington, was picturesque, with snow blanketing the rolling hills and evergreens that defined the landscape. For the residents of the small, tight-knit community of Adna, the season centered around the Maurin Christmas Tree Farm. Ed and Minnie Maurin, aged 81 and 83 respectively, were pillars of this community. Married for decades, they were affectionately known as “everybody’s grandparents,” a testament to their gentle nature and open hearts. Their farmhouse was a hub of warmth and tradition, especially in December. They were financially comfortable due to a lifetime of frugal saving, but they lived simply, their wealth hidden in bank accounts rather than flashed in material goods. This quiet prosperity, however, would unwittingly make them targets in a region struggling with economic hardship.

On the morning of December 19, the Maurins were preparing for a festive Christmas party they were hosting that evening. The house was filled with the anticipation of friends and family. However, when the first guests arrived, they were met with an unsettling silence. The door was unlocked, music was playing softly in the background, and food was sitting on the stove, ready to be served. Yet, Ed and Minnie were nowhere to be found. Their 1969 Chrysler Newport was missing from the driveway, and bank statements were scattered across the floor, a chaotic disruption to their typically orderly lives. Minnie’s purse, an item she never left home without, was tucked behind the couch, a silent distress signal that something was terribly wrong.

The family’s concern turned to panic as night fell and the couple did not return. Minnie’s son, Dennis Hadler, a prominent local figure, immediately contacted the Sheriff’s office. A search was launched, involving deputies and hundreds of volunteers who combed the labyrinth of logging roads that crisscrossed the dense forests surrounding the area. The following morning, the couple’s car was discovered abandoned in the parking lot of a local shopping center called Yard Birds. The interior revealed a grim scene: bloodstained seats and Ed’s hat lying on the floorboard. The investigation shifted immediately from a missing persons case to a homicide inquiry, casting a dark cloud over the holiday season for the entire county.

Witnesses began to piece together a chilling timeline of the previous day. Several locals reported seeing the Maurin’s distinctive green Chrysler driving through the town of Chehalis. They described seeing Ed at the wheel and Minnie beside him, but the couple appeared terrified. In the back seat, witnesses noted the presence of two unkempt men, described as “shadowy figures” who seemed to be controlling the situation. Further investigation revealed that Ed had been forced to drive to his bank, where he withdrew $8,500 in cash. The teller recalled Ed’s extreme nervousness, noting that he was acting under duress, though he managed to complete the transaction without alerting security. It became clear that the Maurins had been abducted from their own home and forced to hand over their life savings.

Tragically, on Christmas Eve, five days after they vanished, a passerby discovered the bodies of Ed and Minnie on a remote logging road. They had been cast aside with a callous disregard for their dignity. The autopsy revealed they had lost their lives to gunshot wounds, executed in a cold and brutal manner. The discovery shattered the community. The couple who had welcomed so many into their lives had been taken in a violent act of greed. As families across the region opened presents, the Maurin family was planning funerals, their joy permanently replaced by grief.

Suspicion quickly fell on two brothers, Rick and John Riffe, who were known in the area for their criminal behavior and drug use. They had previously worked as laborers on the Maurin’s farm, giving them intimate knowledge of the couple’s habits and financial status. However, in 1985, forensic technology was limited. DNA testing was in its infancy, and while there was circumstantial evidence pointing to the brothers, it wasn’t enough to secure an arrest. Compounding the problem was a palpable fear that gripped the potential witnesses. The Riffe brothers were feared figures, and rumors swirled that they had threatened anyone who dared to speak against them.

As the investigation stalled, the Riffe brothers made a strategic move. Shortly after the crime, they left Washington State and relocated to King Salmon, Alaska, a remote fishing village thousands of miles away. Their departure effectively put the case on ice. For decades, the files gathered dust. The Maurin family was left in a state of limbo, gathering for holidays with two empty chairs at the table, the mystery of who took their loved ones hanging over them like a heavy fog. Detectives retired, and new ones took over, but the “Christmas Tree Farm Murders” remained the county’s most haunting cold case.

The breakthrough finally came in the early 2010s when a dedicated detective named Bruce Kimsey decided to re-examine the case with fresh eyes and modern technology. He scanned and enlarged the original witness photos, allowing for clearer identification. More importantly, he revisited the witnesses, many of whom were now older and no longer under the thumb of fear that the Riffe brothers had once commanded. One key witness, who had been a teenager at the time, finally came forward with a crucial piece of the puzzle. He admitted he had seen the Riffe brothers in the car with the Maurins but had been terrified to speak up because of a direct death threat he received from the brothers days later.

Armed with these new testimonies and a consistent timeline, authorities moved to arrest the suspects. By this time, John Riffe had already passed away, escaping earthly justice. However, Rick Riffe was still alive, living a quiet life in Alaska. In 2012, nearly twenty-seven years after the crime, police traveled north to apprehend him. The man they found was no longer the imposing figure of the eighties; he was elderly and in poor health, tethered to an oxygen tank. Yet, the frailty of his body could not erase the brutality of his past actions. He was extradited to Washington to stand trial.

The trial was an emotional reckoning for the community. The courtroom was packed with the Maurin’s relatives, neighbors, and the detectives who had never given up. Witnesses took the stand, pointing to the man who had haunted their memories for nearly three decades. The defense argued that too much time had passed and that memories were unreliable, but the prosecution wove a tight narrative of greed, opportunity, and intimidation. The jury found Rick Riffe guilty on all counts, including robbery, kidnapping, and murder. The verdict was met with tears of relief and a profound sense of closure.

Rick Riffe was sentenced to a prison term that guaranteed he would spend the rest of his days behind bars, a de facto life sentence given his health. He passed away in prison a few years later. For the town of Adna and the Maurin family, the conviction didn’t bring Ed and Minnie back, but it did restore a sense of order and justice. It proved that the truth, no matter how long it is suppressed, has a way of surfacing. The evergreens on the old Maurin farm still grow, standing as silent sentinels to a couple whose legacy is now defined not by how they died, but by the love they shared and the community that refused to forget them.