On a warm June weekend in 1992, three women disappeared without a trace from a quiet Springfield neighborhood. Sherrill Levitt, her daughter Suzanne “Suzie” Streeter, and Suzie’s close friend Stacy McCall were celebrating a milestone. Graduation night should have been filled with joy. Instead, it became a haunting mystery.
They left behind everything. Cars still in the driveway. Purses and jewelry untouched. Cigarettes, makeup wipes, and a half‑finished can of soda sat where they had been placed hours earlier. Even the family dog was there, alive and frantic, as if waiting for someone to return.
The story of the Springfield Three has lingered in public memory for more than three decades. It has baffled seasoned detectives and fueled countless theories. Each detail of that night offers clues, but none have led to answers. The women’s fate remains unknown, and their case remains active.
A Night Meant for Celebration
Suzie Streeter and Stacy McCall had just graduated from Kickapoo High School on June 6, 1992. Their day was spent with proud parents, family dinners, and a whirlwind of parties. Sherrill Levitt, Suzie’s mother, cheered from the stands, unaware of how little time remained with her daughter.
After posing with her graduation cake and receiving a cocker spaniel puppy, Stacy left for a friend’s house. Suzie also headed out, her night a blur of celebrations across Springfield. At each stop the girls talked of summer plans, friendships, and the future. By midnight, the group had shifted venues multiple times.
At one party, police broke things up shortly before two in the morning. Suzie and Stacy, along with their friend Janelle Kirby, returned to Kirby’s house in Battlefield. But Kirby’s house was full of relatives. Wanting somewhere quieter to sleep, the girls decided on a new plan. They would stay at Suzie’s house on East Delmar.
The Last Known Movements
Sherrill Levitt had spoken with a friend by phone at around 11:15 p.m. on June 6. She mentioned varnishing a piece of furniture in her bedroom and sounded relaxed. By all accounts, she was home alone, waiting for Suzie to return from her evening out.
Around two in the morning, neighbors overheard Suzie and Stacy preparing to leave Kirby’s house. “Follow me to my house,” Suzie said. “Okay, I will,” Stacy replied. It was assumed they reached the Delmar residence. Their belongings and cars were found there the next day, confirming they had arrived.
By sunrise on June 7, something unimaginable had happened. At nine that morning, Kirby and her boyfriend drove to the house after the girls failed to show up for plans at a water park. The front door was unlocked. The house was silent. The dog, Cinnamon, was agitated and alone.
A House of Clues
Inside, there were signs of normal life abruptly paused. Purses were neatly placed on the bedroom floor. A book, “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” rested on the headboard. Makeup wipes were used and discarded. Clothing was folded as though the women had changed into sleepwear before vanishing.
One detail stood out to friends: Suzie and her mother’s cigarettes remained in the house. Sherrill was a heavy smoker. It was unthinkable that she would willingly leave without them. An unfinished soda sat next to Suzie’s cigarettes. A television buzzed with static in the dark room, left on after a movie.
The only visible sign of trouble was outside. The glass cover of the porch light had been shattered. A friend later swept the shards away, unaware that he might be erasing evidence. Police would later lament how many well‑meaning visitors had entered the home before they arrived.
Phone Calls That Made Skin Crawl
While Kirby was in the house that morning, the phone rang. On the other end was a male voice making sexual remarks. She hung up. The phone rang again. More obscene comments. She hung up once more. Police later said prank calls had been reported at the house before.
These calls were chilling but inconclusive. Investigators believed they were unrelated to the disappearance. Yet they added to the eerie atmosphere. What happened between two in the morning and nine that morning remains the single most important unanswered question in the case.
A Crime Scene Compromised
By the time police were notified, hours had passed. McCall’s mother had tried to call her daughter repeatedly. Friends had come by. Some tidied the home, clearing ashtrays and cups. Investigators estimated that 10 to 20 people entered the house before it was treated as a crime scene.
When officers arrived, they found no clear evidence of a struggle. Levitt’s bed appeared slept in. A window blind hung awkwardly bent. Everything else, from money to car keys, was left behind. The women seemed to have vanished in the space of a few dark hours.
Theories and Suspects
Police chased hundreds of leads. They considered Suzie’s ex‑boyfriend, Dustin Recla, who had been involved in stealing gold fillings from a mausoleum. Suzie had given a statement about that crime. But no evidence linked him to her disappearance.
Attention later turned to Larry Dewayne Hall, a suspected serial killer who roamed the Midwest attending Civil War reenactments. His confessions to a former FBI informant suggested he had killed dozens of women. Yet no direct tie to Springfield could be proven.
In 1997, Robert Craig Cox, a convicted kidnapper, claimed he knew the women were murdered and buried. He said their bodies would never be found. Authorities never considered him credible, but his words kept the case alive in headlines.
The Mysterious Call
One of the most frustrating turns in the investigation came on December 31, 1992. Someone phoned the America’s Most Wanted hotline, offering details about the disappearance. The call was dropped while being transferred to Springfield detectives. The man never called back.
Police described the caller as someone with “prime knowledge” of the crime. They issued public pleas for him to come forward. Decades later, he remains unidentified. That missed call is one of the haunting “what ifs” surrounding this case.
The Parking Garage Rumor
Over the years, tips poured in. One persistent rumor suggested the women were buried beneath a hospital parking garage built months after they vanished. A ground‑penetrating radar scan in 2007 showed three anomalies beneath the concrete.
Investigators declined to excavate, citing costs and the lack of solid evidence. The tip had reportedly come from someone claiming to be psychic. For families desperate for answers, the refusal to dig felt like a door closing. For police, it was a lead without merit.
Lives Interrupted
All three women had busy lives planned. Levitt had a doctor’s appointment and a week of salon work ahead. Stacy was due at her job at a gymnastics center. Suzie was scheduled for a movie theater shift. None of them showed up. None of them ever called.
The case has generated more than 5,000 tips. Memorials have been dedicated in their names. Their disappearance has been featured on television specials and podcasts, keeping public interest alive. But despite every effort, no trace of them has surfaced.
The Weight of Unanswered Questions
Detectives have described the case as a puzzle with missing pieces. Each timeline detail is cross‑checked, each rumor investigated, yet the story refuses to resolve. For the families, the lack of closure is a wound that deepens with time.
Friends remember Suzie’s sense of humor, Stacy’s responsibility, and Sherrill’s devotion to her daughter. They were more than victims of an unsolved case. They were women with plans, dreams, and everyday routines that suddenly stopped.
A Small Town’s Lingering Mystery
In Springfield, the story is a cautionary tale whispered at graduation parties and family dinners. Residents still drive past the house on Delmar Street, glancing at the porch where glass once shattered. It stands as a silent monument to lives interrupted.
Law enforcement continues to keep the case open. They say they still receive leads. Advances in technology bring hope that one day new evidence will surface. Until then, the Springfield Three remain a mystery suspended in time.
The Legacy of the Springfield Three
As years have turned into decades, the case has inspired countless theories. Some believe the women were taken by someone they knew. Others think it was a random act. All agree that the absence of answers has only intensified public fascination.
Podcasts, documentaries, and online forums continue to examine every detail. Investigators who worked the case have retired, but their files remain. Somewhere, someone knows what happened on that quiet June night.
The Springfield Three are more than a headline. They are a reminder that even in a world of constant surveillance and endless information, people can disappear completely. And when they do, the search for truth can become a lifetime’s work.
