It was the kind of discovery no one forgets. On December 20, 1976, just before the holidays, a teenage boy walking near the Lehigh River in White Haven, Pennsylvania, noticed something strange. Three suitcases—one tan plaid, two striped red, white, and blue—lay scattered near the riverbank, far from any traveler’s reach.
They weren’t just lost luggage. They were hiding someone who had been missing far longer than anyone knew.
Inside were the remains of a teenage girl and her unborn child, carefully packed away as if someone wanted them to disappear without a trace. The scene was quiet, remote, and deeply unsettling. And for the next 44 years, no one could even say her name.
The Clues They Had
From the start, investigators knew this wasn’t random. The girl had been dismembered—not with precision, but with some degree of control. She had been carefully placed into the suitcases, along with bedding, straw, packing foam, and pages from a 1976 New York Sunday News—a detail that pointed investigators toward northern New Jersey. The bedspread was orange-red chenille, embroidered with yellow and pink flowers. It had absorbed water from the river.
The suitcases had been thrown from a bridge on Interstate 80, about 300 feet above the Lehigh River. It looked like whoever did it intended them to land in the water and vanish. Instead, two landed in the woods, and one—holding the girl’s head and fetus—rested along the riverbank.
Authorities guessed she was around 15 to 20 years old. She had dark brown hair, blood type O, a couple of facial moles, and a small scar above one heel. She was between 4’11” and 5’4″ and had signs of dental care—but also severe decay. A fractured incisor would have made it painful to eat. It looked like she hadn’t seen a dentist in some time.
But No Name
They called her “Beth Doe.” No one knew where she had come from, and no one stepped forward to claim her.
For years, the case was a mystery. Composite sketches were made, her fingerprints sent to the FBI, and her dental records compared against missing person cases across the U.S. and Canada. Nothing matched.
Over time, investigators ruled out at least a dozen missing girls from across the country. In 2007, they exhumed the remains to gather more forensic evidence and create new facial reconstructions. They also turned to isotope analysis—using her teeth, hair, and bones to trace where she may have lived. The results were surprising. Despite her Hispanic appearance, the tests suggested she may have spent her early childhood in Central or Eastern Europe, and her teen years in the southeastern U.S., possibly Tennessee. That added more confusion, not clarity.
One More Strange Detail
On her left palm, someone had written letters and numbers in ink. Possibly WSR and the digits 4, 5, or 7. If she wrote it herself, it implied she was right-handed. But no one could figure out what the message meant—or whether it had anything to do with what happened to her.
Nothing about this case was typical. Even the suitcases had been altered. All three had their handles cut off and had been spray-painted black. They were the same size and made of vinyl. Whoever had prepared them had taken time and care.
When no answers came, she was buried in 1983 under a name she never chose: Beth Doe.
A Public Mystery
By the late 2010s, her case had become one of the most well-known unsolved cases in Pennsylvania. She was the subject of forums, podcasts, amateur sleuth blogs. In 2019, police even considered a match with a runaway girl named Madeline “Maggie” Cruz, who had disappeared in the 1970s after making a call saying she was pregnant. But Maggie turned out to be alive—and the trail went cold again.
What haunted investigators most was the lack of alarm. Why hadn’t anyone reported this girl missing? Who had she trusted in her final days?
They had no way of knowing the answers were hiding just a few states away—in Jersey City, New Jersey.
A Face, a Family, and a Breakthrough
For over four decades, Evelyn Colon’s relatives wondered what happened. They had last heard from her in late 1976. At 15, Evelyn had moved in with her boyfriend after becoming pregnant. He was someone her parents knew—he had been their neighbor. She had called her mom once asking for soup, but when her mother showed up at the apartment, no one was there.
Later, a letter arrived, stamped from Connecticut. Written in Spanish, it claimed Evelyn had given birth to a boy and was doing fine. It was signed by her boyfriend, not Evelyn. Her family grew suspicious. But when they tried to report her missing, they were told the letter was proof she was safe.
They were wrong.
But in 2021, Evelyn’s nephew uploaded his DNA to a genealogy site. What came back stunned everyone—and solved one of Pennsylvania’s longest-running mysteries.
The Truth That Took 44 Years
In March 2021, the mystery that had haunted Pennsylvania for more than four decades was finally cracked—not by a new eyewitness or a confession, but by a quiet act of curiosity. Evelyn Colon’s nephew, Luis Colon Jr., had uploaded his DNA to a public genealogy site. He wasn’t trying to solve a crime. But in doing so, he connected a nameless girl in a Pennsylvania cemetery to a family in New Jersey who had never stopped wondering what happened.
“Beth Doe” was Evelyn Colon. She was 15 years old when she vanished in 1976.
The Life She Left Behind
Evelyn grew up in Jersey City, New Jersey, in a Puerto Rican household. At 15, she started dating 19-year-old Luis Sierra, who lived next door. Her family eventually allowed her to move in with him after learning she was expecting a child. But her connection to her family didn’t end there. She still called. She still reached out.
One day, Evelyn phoned her mother and said she wasn’t feeling well. She asked her to bring soup. But when her mother arrived at the apartment, it was empty. Neighbors said Evelyn and Sierra had moved out suddenly. Then came the letter.
Stamped from Connecticut and written in Spanish, it was from Sierra. He claimed Evelyn had delivered a baby boy and that everything was fine. He told them not to worry—she would reach out if she needed anything. It was enough to stop an official search. When the family later tried to file a report, the police turned them away because of that letter.
But Evelyn never contacted them again.
The Arrest
Once investigators linked the DNA to Evelyn’s family, they traced her final known companion: Luis Sierra. In March 2021, they found him living in Ozone Park, New York. He was now 63 years old.
Sierra was arrested and charged in Pennsylvania. The charges stemmed from the 1976 discovery of Evelyn’s remains in White Haven, including the forensic evidence, family testimony, and the timeline leading up to her disappearance.
For the first time in 44 years, there was a name. There was an official accusation. There was a path forward for justice.
Evelyn’s surviving family members expressed sorrow and relief. She had been part of their daily lives, their holidays, their prayers—and yet her absence had existed in silence. They now had a gravesite they could visit. A name to say out loud.
But the case wasn’t over.
When Justice Slipped Through
In January 2025, nearly four years after the arrest, the charges against Luis Sierra were dismissed.
The reason wasn’t about the evidence. It wasn’t about doubt. It was about jurisdiction.
Although Evelyn’s remains were found in Pennsylvania, authorities determined that her life had most likely ended in New Jersey. And because Pennsylvania couldn’t prove the incident happened on their soil, their courts had no authority to move forward. Sierra walked out of court, not because he had been cleared—but because the trial couldn’t legally happen there.
New Jersey has not filed new charges as of this writing. No active investigation has been announced in that state. For now, the case remains in limbo.
A Grave With a Name
Evelyn was laid to rest in Weatherly, Pennsylvania, in a cemetery near the river where she had been found. Her original grave marker had once read Unknown.
After the identification, her family raised funds to replace it. Distant relatives from Puerto Rico and the mainland United States organized visits and tributes. Her story became a symbol—of what technology can do, of how long truth can stay buried, and of the quiet tragedies that happen when young people go missing and no one looks hard enough.
Her niece said it simply:
“She was never forgotten. We just didn’t know where to look.”
What the System Missed
There’s a hard truth behind Evelyn’s story. A 15-year-old girl moved out with a much older boyfriend, got pregnant, vanished, and no one opened an official case. Why wasn’t her family’s concern taken seriously? Why wasn’t the 1976 letter investigated more thoroughly? And why did it take a DNA upload, over four decades later, to bring her home?
Evelyn’s case shows the gaps in how vulnerable teens—especially those who fall out of sight—are treated. She had dental records. She had distinct scars. Her remains were carefully examined and documented. But because no one filed the right paperwork at the right time, she became untraceable.
In the years after her identification, cold case teams across the country began revisiting other long-unidentified individuals. Her case became a model of what’s possible with forensic genealogy—and what happens when the justice system moves too slowly to catch up.
The Legacy She Left
Evelyn Colon’s story isn’t just about closure. It’s about the consequences of delay. It’s about what happens when silence wins for too long. But it’s also about what can be reclaimed.
Today, she’s not a sketch on a cold case board. She’s a person whose life mattered—someone who should’ve had the chance to be a mother, to grow up, to be more than a mystery.
She was Evelyn. And now the world knows her name.
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