Bizarre Death Puzzles Police 36 Years Later
In January of 1979, Clyde Peterman moved to Grand Junction for a fresh start. An openly gay man who struggled with addiction, Clyde worked to get his life back on track, attending the local alcohol treatment facility known as Bridge House.
After being fired from his previous job in Wisconsin, Clyde held down steady employment as the janitor of a local hotel. He even moved his way up to running the cleaning crew he was part of in only a few months.
During his free time, Clyde kept to himself, reading books in his modest, one-bedroom apartment at 246 Belford Avenue.
But when Clyde didn’t show up for his shift on March 19, 1979, his boss at the hotel became worried.
[quote]Clyde was found dead in his bathtub, partially clothed and covered in blood. He was 45.[/quote]
After calling Clyde with no answer, his boss drove to the apartment complex to check up on his employee. There was no answer at Unit 6 where Clyde lived. The apartment door was locked.
“The boss was able to contact the landlord, and the landlord provided Clyde’s boss with a key so he could check on Clyde,” said Detective Julie Stogsdill of the Grand Junction Police Department. “Then he found the body.”
Clyde was found dead in his bathtub, partially clothed and covered in blood. There was also blood in other areas of the small apartment. There were multiple cuts on his body, and he suffered blunt-force trauma to the head, which a coroner would later confirm was the decisive cause of death.
Clyde was 45.
For the last 36 years, Clyde’s case has gone unsolved. “It was one of those bizarre crime scenes,” said Stogsdill. “We don’t know specifically what caused the trauma to his head.”
Despite the severity of the wounds, the cuts, and the blood found throughout the apartment, Stogsdill stated that Clyde’s injuries could have been self-inflicted.
“We have to look at the possibility that this could have been an accident that looks really suspicious based on his intoxication level at the time.”
But there are additional details that make this cold case even more unusual.
The apartment was locked from the inside. There were no signs of forced entry. Nothing was missing. The last time anyone saw Clyde was the day before when he entered his apartment.
The complex itself had restricted access and consisted of 25 units which faced inward toward a courtyard. Yet no one, including those who lived next to Clyde, reported that they heard a struggle, screams, or anything suspicious.
“You would think that if this was indeed someone breaking into his apartment to kill him,” said Stogsdill, “with the neighbors and how close they are, that there should have been something in the report that they heard anything.”
Clyde did have an ex-roommate who moved out only days before, but the roommate was in Kansas at the time of the incident, according to an alibi that police later confirmed.
Last year, the Grand Junction Police Department reopened a handful of cold cases, including Clyde’s death. “We went back and looked at all the evidence obtained at the time,” said Stogsdill. “We submitted evidence we thought might be usable to CBI (Colorado Bureau of Investigation) and had them process for DNA.”
[quote]CBI is currently backlogged and has not returned with the analysis of the blood from Clyde’s case.[/quote]
Back in 1979, a large amount of DNA evidence (such as blood) was required to obtain a positive identification on an individual. But now, only a small portion is required. Unfortunately, CBI is currently backlogged and has not returned with the analysis of the blood from Clyde’s case.
There was a set of fingerprints found in the apartment that did not belong to Clyde. When CBI processed the prints, there were no matches. Stogsdill stated the prints could belong to someone who was never arrested or is already deceased.
Even if the owner of the prints is found, that doesn’t mean a guilty suspect has been identified. “The prints could have been anybody who was in his apartment at any given time, and not necessarily anybody that caused him any harm.”
For now, Stogsdill is waiting on the results of the blood evidence from CBI. “There may be some luck in the DNA processing, there may not be. We’re kind of in a hold pattern.”
There is the possibility that Clyde’s death was the result of a hate crime. The Daily Sentinel in Grand Junction reported that some people had a problem with “his lifestyle.”
But while Stogsdill stated it’s possible Clyde’s death was related to him being gay, “we don’t know that. They went through the line of suspects and eliminated the individuals close to him at that time.”
Born in 1933, Clyde grew up in Beloit, Wisconsin where he worked as a librarian at the local college, surrounded by the books he loved to read. When Clyde lost his job, his sister and mother (mother now deceased) tried to get him some help.
Det. Stogsdill indicated that Clyde may have tried to commit suicide at one point, but this information could not be verified. Clyde was, however, admitted to a mental institution in Janesville, Wisconsin in October of 1978.
He was then to report to a halfway house in Madison, Wisconsin, but Clyde never arrived. Instead he surfaced in Colorado, choosing Grand Junction as the place to put his life back together — an opportunity he never got the chance to fully realize.
Stogsdill is hopeful she’ll make progress with the reopened cold case, asking anyone who was a part of the original investigation in 1979 to come forward.
“I’d like to make sure that I hear from people who provided information in the past, so I can look through and make sure the information is documented and do as thorough of a job as possible based on the information we have.”
Stogsdill added: “Don’t assume that we know everything or that all the questions were asked in the first investigation that was conducted.”
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Greetings. I’m Mike. People call me Mike. I’m just a gay guy trying to be creative before I’m kicked off this spinning, planet-sized spaceship hurdling through the void of space. Writing and photography are the creative outlets I spill my brain into when mental monsters start clawing at the back of my eyes. I only hope these articles provide readers with a few insights I’ve carefully gathered in cupped hands, cracked hands that have dueled for decades with these nebulous shadows that haunt so many lives. Plus, writing is a great way to pass the time on this planet-sized spaceship hurdling through the void of space.
