Aug. 4, 2025
Choosing the Unknown – Chapter 5: Brother’s Keeper
In the final miles of the Cocodona 250 ultramarathon, runners descend through Flagstaff, Arizona—terrain as unforgiving as it is redemptive. But beneath the surface of these trails lies a darker history. In 1988, near this same course, 9-year-old Jennifer Wilson disappeared. Her body was later found near Sheep Hill.
This episode tells the story of two brothers: Richard Bible, who would be convicted of Jennifer’s murder, and Mark Bible, the man who turned him in.
Told through the lens of an ultramarathon's final push, Chapter 5 is about betrayal, reckoning, and the high cost of doing the right thing when it’s almost too late. Mark’s call to authorities didn’t just crack open a case—it shattered a lifelong bond.
The finish line isn’t just a place. Sometimes, it’s a decision.
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Choosing the Unknown - Chapter 5
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TV Anchor Person: I executed a convicted murderer and rapist. Today. Richard Bible was given a lethal injection for molesting and killing a nine-year-old Yuma girl in Flagstaff. 23 years ago, ABC fifteens, Brian McElhatton was at the state prison in Florence when Bible was put to death.
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TV Reporter: The execution took Amir nine minutes, strapped to the table.
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While he was still conscious, Richard Bible never once looked over at the family of Jennifer Wilson who've waited 23 years. For this moment,
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justice is served today.
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Jennifer's mother, Nancy, after the execution of Richard Bible, convicted of raping and beating to death, her 9-year-old daughter in 1988, it took authorities and Flagstaff three weeks to find young Jennifer's body then.
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And now the family closes a chapter
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Father: and today needed to happen. And as a family, we start a new healing process. Now, a healing process is gonna take us off to the future.
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TV Reporter: How do you begin to [00:01:00] heal? How do you move forward? The family didn't elaborate, but they did thank the authorities and the community for their support.
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They also showed a great deal of grace.
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Father: We'd like to offer our condolences to the Bible family, the Bible family. They're good people and we know this tough time for them. Also,
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TV Reporter: Bible who declared his innocence until the end died at 11:11 AM Now the Wilson family must continue to go on without their daughter, but today they'll tell you justice has been done.
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Brian McElhatton, A BC 15 News.
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Paul Johnson: I'm your host, Paul Johnson, and this is get some Each week one story. The stories go where they want. We just follow. If you're a fan of great stories that connect, then you've come to the right place [00:02:00] because that's what we do every week. Also, please subscribe to our channel and turn on all notifications so you don't miss any of our weekly uploads.
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Our title for this series is Choosing the Unknown. Today's chapter is part of our special series on the Cocodona 250, a 250 mile foot race across Arizona, a race that takes runners from the desert floor near Phoenix, and eventually to the high mountains of Flagstaff. Okay, let's get into our story.
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Paul Johnson: By now, the runners are deep into the final miles of Cocodona. They crossed the high country and climbed onto the Coconino Plateau. The weather is perfect now. Cool. Clear, calm. The threat [00:03:00] of rain has passed. The sun filters through the pines and the air feels clean, crisp, almost forgiving.
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They've come through 250 miles from Black Canyon to Prescott, from Jerome to Sedona, up Schnebly Hill, and through the Ponderosa, and now Flagstaff. Flagstaff isn't a gentle landing. The final miles demand more. From Wildcat Hill runners descend briefly, then begin the long approach toward Mount Elden. At first, it's subtle twisting single track through pine and cinder a box culvert crossing.
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Then a series of faint junctions where getting lost feels dangerously easy. But at mile 240, the view clears and there it is. [00:04:00] Elden, the climb begins on New Heart Trail, a steady six mile grind gaining nearly 2000 feet Switchbacks carved through pine and Aspen footing is solid, but the grade is unrelenting at the top.
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A ridge line Traverse offers sweeping views of the San Francisco peaks, but the work isn't over. A brutal descent follows three steep switch backed miles down Elden Lookout Trail where loose rock and exhaustion conspire to end dreams early. It's one of the most technical sections of the race. From there, trails Weave West toward the city forces of Nature Pipeline lower Oldham, each crisscrossed by social paths.
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Test navigation runners reach [00:05:00] Trinity Heights, the final aid station, often battered and behind schedule, but this is the last push. One more stretch through Buffalo Park. One more turn onto Birch. And finally Cocodona Alley. The finish in Flagstaff isn't just a banner, it's a reckoning, a climb, a fall. And a final promise kept.
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But in 1988, this was the site of a crime that gripped the entire state, a short distance from where Cocodona runners now pass near a rise called Sheep Hill. A child's body was found, and as runners today pass through this very forest, they unknowingly retrace a corridor of history. A line that divides not just geography [00:06:00] but intention.
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In the final miles of a 250 mile ultra marathon runners are stripped to their core, physically broken down, mentally fractured. The only thing left is willpower, and even that is flickering. Every step feels impossible, yet somehow they keep moving. Something in them refuses to stop. The finish line is close.
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That's the frame we're working with because that's where Mark Bible found himself on June 6th, 1988 alone, conflicted standing in his home on Forest Road 5 56. He wasn't bleeding or limping or sleep deprived like a Cocodona runner, but his internal landscape looked the [00:07:00] same, disoriented, exhausted, morally thread bear.
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The easy thing would've been to stay quiet, to say nothing. Let the world keep spinning Mark Bible crossed a finish line may be much harder than a race. He broke the silence. He gave up loyalty to tell the truth. His story is an ultra marathon in its own right, a long punishing journey through shame, silence, and betrayal, ending in one act of clarity and courage.
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And that's exactly what the Cocodona finish line is. It's a reckoning. A brother is supposed to protect you. Defend you stand up for you when the world turns cold. Mark Bible was the younger of two brothers by about four [00:08:00] years. His older brother was Richard Bible. That's right. I said, Bible few people in the US have the last name Bible.
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Before hearing about this story, I had never heard of anyone with this name. According to us, census data. There are 15,000. Last names more common than Bible. In the 2010 census, fewer than 1800 people in the United States had Bible as their last name. Out of a total population of 308 million people, the name Bible was born by less than 0.001% of the US population.
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The name occurs most frequently in the south and southwest, including Texas, Tennessee, and Arizona regions with strong Anglo Protestant roots. Though the name itself has no [00:09:00] documented biblical or clerical origin, despite its religious connotation. In this case, Bible was simply their last name, coincidental.
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Unearned and unconnected to the events that would follow Mark. Mark. Bible was quiet and observant. Richard was volatile and dominant. They grew up together in a working class household in Northern Arizona, part of a larger, deeply rooted local family. They spent time outdoors with their father hunting, fishing, learning the rhythms of the land.
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Not uncommon in that part of Arizona. Respect for firearms, a working knowledge of wildlife, a culture where young men grew up handling tools, gear responsibility in social [00:10:00] settings, mark was reserved, not shy, just cautious. He would listen more than he spoke, and when he did speak, it was often measured, almost careful.
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He had the tone of someone who had learned it was safer. Not to say too much. In 1981, at the age of 19, Richard Bible was arrested. Tried. And convicted for the kidnapping and sexual assault of his 15-year-old cousin. The assault took place on Sheep Hill, an isolated patch of land east of Flagstaff. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison.
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At that time, mark, mark Bible was approximately 15 years old, a minor. Mark was the same age as his cousin. The impact of that crime would not have been [00:11:00] theoretical. It would've been personal. Mark lived in a town, Flagstaff, Arizona, where families knew each other. The Bible name was not anonymous, and Richard's conviction was no small matter.
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It was the kind of crime that doesn't go away quietly. People talk. Classmates whisper adults, avoid eye contact. Teachers, neighbors, employers, they all remember Mark would've lived through that. Every interaction carried the shadow of what Richard had done. Mark didn't testify at Richard's trial in 1981, but silence does not mean freedom.
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It often means isolation. Shame by association, the burden of being left behind to face the fallout. Following the conviction, Richard was incarcerated [00:12:00] in the Arizona Department of Corrections. He served roughly six years. During that time, mark and Richard had little, if any contact. There are no records of visitations or correspondence made public.
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As far as the record shows the brothers were no longer in regular communication during Richard's imprisonment. What is clear is that Richard's conviction would've separated the brothers, not only physically, but socially and emotionally. Mark would've continued his teenage years and early adulthood in a community.
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Now, mark would've continued his teenage years and early adulthood in a community that now knew his older brother as a convicted sex offender. Mark lived under the weight of his brother's crime. By the late 1980s, mark had entered early adulthood with what looked like stability, a job, a relationship, a desire to stay local and [00:13:00] grounded.
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Mark was average height about five feet, 10 inches, with a lanky, wiry build, narrow shoulders, long limbs. Not someone who took up a lot of space physically or emotionally. He had dark hair, usually cut short or unkempt, deep set eyes that made him look older than he was. He rarely smiled in photos. People often said he looked tired even when he wasn't.
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In May, 1987, Richard Bible was paroled and released from prison. He had served six years for the sexual assault and kidnapping of his young cousin. When he got out, he needed a place to go. That place turned out to be Mark's. Whether Richard asked or Mark offered, the specifics are unclear, but what's clear [00:14:00] is this Mark took him in.
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Maybe it was loyalty, maybe guilt. Maybe he just couldn't say no. Mark lived a quiet life near Sheep Hill, east of Flagstaff, rural isolated, the kind of place where second chances could disappear into the trees and into that space, Richard moved, bringing with him his past, his parole, and the kind of silence brothers sometimes keep for too long.
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It wasn't just a couch to crash on. It was Mark's opening the door to his brother. Mark had come of a mark had come of age in the shadow of what his brother had done. In a small community like Flagstaff, that kind of stain doesn't disappear. It lingers inside conversations in silence and the things people don't say when you walk into a room.
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There is no public statement from Mark explaining why, but the decision itself speaks volumes. It may have been forgiveness, it may have been obligation, it may have been hope that Richard had changed that the years in prison had straightened something out. That a new life was possible. Others around Richard seemed to believe the same.[00:16:00]
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He had a girlfriend, Josephine Sandoval, and by her account, their relationship had moments of normalcy. She said Richard cared for her and loved her young son. She described him at times as a, she described him at times as a pretty nice guy. But there was another side. Sandoval also knew that Richard Bible was an avid drug user, cocaine, methamphetamines, possibly intravenously.
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When he used, she said he was unpredictable when he wasn't, he could be calm, even kind. Richard's own sister confirmed it. He'd used drugs before going to prison, even after his release.
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Richard's own sister confirmed it. He had used drugs before going to prison, but after his release, the use escalated. She said he had recently told her he believed he was having a nervous breakdown. All of this was happening under Mark's roof. Whether Mark knew the full extent of Richard's unraveling is unclear.
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The picture emerges
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Then Mark started noticing things. He suspected Richard was stealing from him. It wasn't just a gut feeling, it was the kind of suspicion that comes from repeated small betrayals items out of place. Money missing lockers or drawers disturbed. Richard had been living with Mark for several months. The signs are piling up, drug [00:18:00] use, erratic behavior, and now missing cash.
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Mark doesn't have proof, but he has enough. Mark came home from work to find the hallway drawer slightly open. Again, that drawer only held one thing extra cash. And it was light. He didn't raise his voice. You take that 20 from the hall closet. Mark asked flat. Richard didn't flinch, didn't look up What drawer?
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The one I keep shut. The one. You know I keep shut. Richard walked over to the sink and lit a cigarette. Why the hell would I take your money, man? Mark, let the question hang. No answer would've been, mark, let the question hang. No answer would've been good enough. Jo said, you've been out late. [00:19:00] He added, she said, you're using again.
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Jo talks too much. She's got a kid to think about, and I've got a house to run. Richard turned. You saying I'm dangerous. Mark didn't answer right away. Then quietly. I'm saying you're not the same when you're high. Richard Scoffed. I did six years mark. You know what it's like in there. You get out and nothing fits.
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You think I wanna be like this? Mark stared at him. Mark stared at him. Then don't do it here. Richard Snapped. Oh, right. Saint Mark. Always clean, always better. That's not what I'm saying. No. 'cause it sure sounds like you forgot who had your back. Mark cut him off. You lost that [00:20:00] when you hurt her. Richard looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't.
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He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. I'm going out. Mark didn't blink. Leave the spare key. The key clattered onto the kitchen counter. The door slammed and Mark stood alone with the drawer. The silence and the sense that something was coming still, mark didn't kick him out. Maybe it was loyalty, maybe inertia.
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Maybe fear of what would happen if he drew a hard line, but the relationship was already fraying. The trust, if it ever fully returned, was unraveling. Day by day, mark had taken a risk, he'd opened the door, and now the person on the other side of it wasn't just a brother with, and now the person on the other side of it.
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It wasn't just a [00:21:00] brother with a past. He was becoming Mark.
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He was beco. He was becoming someone. Mark couldn't ignore or explain away or protect. Not much longer. And Mark would face a choice, but not yet. For now, he lived with it. Whatever the reason. The decision put mark in a position he never asked For a front row seat to a gathering storm.
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Sunday morning, June 5th, 1988, Flagstaff, Arizona. The Coconino County impound lot sat behind a chain link fence near Sheep Hill on the east side of Flagstaff. The impound lot was not guarded. Just a chain link fence, a gate, and a handful of dusty vehicles inside. One of them was a dark green and white, 1981 GMC, Jimmy, a Blazer type truck impounded back in April after a traffic.
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One of them was a dark, green and white, 1981 GMC Jimmy, a blazer type truck impounded back [00:22:00] in April after a traffic stop in Sedona. It had been used to deliver newspapers. The floor was still littered with round rubber bands. The kind used to wrap up morning editions. No bags. Just a scatter of loops stuck in the corners of the seats.
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The footwells, the cargo area. It wasn't spontaneous. Richard Bible had seen the vehicle, the dark, green and white GMC Jimmy. It had sat behind the chain link fence for weeks. Unguarded forgotten, visible from the road near Sheep Hill, exposed. No surveillance. Bible knew the location. This wasn't just a crime of opportunity.
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It was a job. On Sunday morning, he made his move. Bible came prepared. He bypassed the fence either over it [00:23:00] or through it. No forced entry was ever documented, but the result was the same. He got in no alarms, no guards, just a quiet perimeter. And a car. He knew how to take.
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Bible, opened the door, climbed into the driver's seat and got to work. He popped the plastic housing off the steering column, a piece of metal casing, clattered to the floor, a clean cut, exposing the wires beneath. Then with practiced hands, he hotwired the ignition, bypassing the need for keys by manually connecting the ignition wires.
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Paul Johnson: The Jimmy Sputtered to life, he adjusted the rear view mirror, looked around once and rolled out of the yard. No screeching tires, no dramatic exit. Just a clean getaway in broad daylight. Later that afternoon, a [00:24:00] Coconino County deputy made a routine check of the lot. The fence was intact, the gate was closed, but the GMC Jimmy was gone.
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There was no paperwork, no impound release, no tow order. Someone had entered the yard and stolen the vehicle outright.
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Sunday afternoon, June 5th, 1988. Mark Bible's house on Forest Road, 5 56 near Sheep Hill, Flagstaff. It was just before 1:00 PM when a truck rolled into Mark Bible's driveway, not a car. He recognized. Not one Mark had ever seen Richard Drive. It was a GMC Jimmy. Two-tone, dark body white, top dented left rear bumper.
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The kind of vehicle that stands out precisely because it tries not to. A working [00:25:00] man's ride a utility rig, but this one had no plates worth noting. No story volunteered. Richard Bible stepped out of the driver's seat. He approached Mark like everything was fine, like the past didn't hang between them.
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Like the dust cloud behind that truck wasn't loaded with questions. Mark, where'd you get the truck? Richard? Friends, just borrowing it. That was it. No names, no backstory. Richard grabbed a blanket or a jacket from the back and slung it casually over his shoulder. He didn't stay long. Just enough time to show up, say nothing, and then he was gone.
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Back in the truck, back onto the road, the dust settling once again on the quiet pine covered lot near Sheep Hill. [00:26:00] Mark stood there longer than usual watching, listening. Something about the truck. Something about Richard. It didn't sit right, not then, but he wouldn't act on that feeling until the next day.
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Paul Johnson: Monday. Just past noon, June 6th, 1988, forest Road 5 56 just east of Flagstaff. Richard pulled into Mark's driveway, same GMC, Jimmy as the day before green with a white top dented left bumper. Richard climbed out wearing Levi's, a plaid shirt. A camo baseball cap boots. He didn't stay long.
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He didn't say anything to mark. He was in a hurry. Then he was gone a few minutes later. It started [00:27:00] with a low thump of a helicopter circling, pausing, moving on, then circling again. Not common out here. Mark Bible stepped outside his house on Forest Road 5 56 and looked up the chopper. Hovered low over sheep hill.
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Then came the sirens distant at first, but closing fast. A caravan of police cruisers kicking up dust on the washboard road. Forest Road 5 56, normally quiet. Mostly ranch traffic and the occasional logging rig was suddenly crawling with law enforcement and roadblocks. There was a kind of nervous geometry to it.
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Vehicles at angles, radios hissing, officers marking perimeters with cones and tape. [00:28:00] Monday afternoon, June 6th, 1988. Inside Mark Bible's home near Sheep Hill. The TV was on in the background, one of the local stations out of Flagstaff. The TV was on in the background, one of the local stations out of Flagstaff.
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Mark wasn't really paying attention at first, just noise, but then a phrase cut through a 9-year-old girl, Jennifer Wilson, reported missing late this morning. Mark turned up the volume, the anchor read the bulletin with that clipped urgency reserved for serious things. Fires, floods, disappearances.
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Jennifer had been last seen riding her bicycle on a forest service road just east of town, not far from Mount Elden, not far from here. She never arrived at the ranch where she was headed. [00:29:00] Mark sat down processing it, the location, the timing, the road. The news didn't mention a vehicle, at least not yet, but Mark had already started doing the math in his head.
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Richard had come by yesterday in a truck he didn't own. He came back today, same truck, and in a hurry. Now a little girl was missing. And helicopters were circling over. Sheep Hill roadblocks were going up on Forest Road 5 56. Something wasn't right. Mark didn't pick up the phone right away. He just sat there.
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TV buzzing helicopters still thumping somewhere in the distance. The voice on the news already moving on to weather as if nothing had happened, but something had. And Mark knew it. [00:30:00] He stared out the window toward Sheep Hill, toward the road where Jennifer Wilson had vanished. That stretch of dirt he'd driven a hundred times now carried a different weight.
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His brother had driven that road yesterday, had pulled into this driveway, told him the truck belonged to a friend. Mark had believed it or said he did because it was easier. But now. Now it wasn't just about lies and stolen things. Now it was about a girl and Mark felt it, all of it. The guilt of what he knew, the fear of what he didn't, and the dull, awful ache of betrayal.
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Richard was his brother. That used to mean something. Maybe it still did, but right now. Mark was asking a different question. If I stay silent and [00:31:00] something worse happens, what does that make me? Mark stood by the window. His mind drifted uninvited to a different time, back to when he was just a teenager.
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The news had broken quietly then too, a whisper through the family, a charge a trial. Richard had assaulted. I. A charge a trial. Richard had assaulted their cousin. Mark remembered the confusion, the shame, the way his parents didn't explain, just expected silence, the way people looked at him, not just Richard, the way people looked at him, not just Richard,
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the way his parents didn't explain, just expected silence. The way people looked at him, not just Richard differently. Afterward, he was 15 when Richard went to prison, and even back then he'd felt the weight of his brother's choices pressing down on the whole family. Now, years later, standing in this living room now, years later, standing in his living room as police call.
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Now years later, standing in his living room as police combed the woods outside that weight came rushing back. Only this time it was [00:32:00] heavier. It wasn't just about family anymore, it was about a child, a missing one, and that GMC Jimmy with a dented bumper that wasn't just some borrowed ride. Mark knew it now in the marrow of his bones.
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The past wasn't passed. It had pulled back into his driveway. He stood up, took a breath, picked up the phone. He stood up, took a breath, picked up the phone. Monday afternoon, June 6th, 1988. The phone call to Detective Bill Trimble. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't even urgent. It started like most tip calls do with uncertainty.
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Mark dialed the number listed for the sheriff's office. The phone rang once, then twice a calm voice answered. Coconino County [00:33:00] Sheriff's Office, how can I help you? Mark hesitated. Yeah. I need to talk to someone about the girl who went missing a pause. Then hold please a click. Then a new voice came on the line.
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Measured and professional. This is Detective Trimble. Mark Hesitated then said, yeah, I, I think I have something you might wanna know.
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Mark Hesitated then said, yeah, I, I think I have something you might wanna know. He gave his name, mark Bible. Told to the fact he gave his name. Mark Bible told the detective that his brother Richard, lived with him at his house on Forest Road 5 56. Richard had shown up on Sunday driving a GMC Jimmy vehicle, dark green, white, top dented rear bumper, and then slowly Mark started connecting dots.
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Not exactly, but something in his voice said what he wasn't ready to say out loud. I think my brother might be involved in this when he hung up. Mark didn't feel relief. He felt something closer to dread because if he was right, he hadn't just,
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when he hung up, mark didn't feel relief. He felt something closer to dread because if he was right, he hadn't just turned in a tip. He had turned in his brother. But after the phone call, the focus dramatically shifted, and this is what we know.
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When he hung up, when he hung up, mark didn't feel relief. He felt something closer to dread because if he was right, he hadn't just turned in a tip. He had turned in his brother, but after the phone call,
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but after the phone call, the focus dramatically shifts, and this is what we know. On Monday, June 6th, 1988, [00:35:00] shortly after 10:30 AM 9-year-old, Jennifer Wilson began bicycling on Forest Road. 5 56 from where her family was staying in Flagstaff to a ranch a mile away. Jennifer's family passed her while driving to the ranch.
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When Jennifer did not arrive at the ranch, her F. When Jennifer did not arrive at the ranch, her family began to search and found her bicycle by the side of the road, unable to locate the girl. Jennifer's mother frantically called the police. At 11:21 AM the Flagstaff Police arrived within minutes. They called in a helicopter, set up roadblocks and alerted the FBI.
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Jennifer's mother told the police that she saw two vehicles on her way to the ranch. One was a blazer type vehicle. While at the ranch, she saw this same vehicle going in the opposite direction at a high rate of [00:36:00] speed. She described the driver as dark haired, dark complected, Caucasian male, mid to late twenties.
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He had looked at her intently despite the overwhelming response, air support roadblocks, a full court press from every branch of law enforcement. The case was going nowhere. Officers combed the roads and woods. Deputies went door to door. The FBI was called in, but without a suspect or direction. The search had no teeth.
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They had urgency, but not focus. Then Mark Bible called and everything changed. The call didn't just help. It cracked the case wide open. It turned speculation into pursuit, gave the police a suspect, a vehicle, and a location. Gave them traction. Momentum, [00:37:00] a lead that could run without it, Richard Bible might have disappeared again into the forest, into another town, into another life.
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Jennifer Wilson's story might have ended with a question mark,
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but Mark's call closed that door. It turned a missing person search into a manhunt. In a case like this, sometimes there's one moment, one voice that makes all the difference. That voice was Mark. Bibles. Detective Trimble realized that Jennifer's mother's description of the Blazer type vehicle and its driver approximated Richard Bible and the GMC Jimmy at 6:20 PM police officers saw Richard Bible driving the GMC, although it was a different color.
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The officers attempted to stop Bible and a high speed chase began. Bible slammed the vehicle into a [00:38:00] cattle guard, bailed out and disappeared into the woods using a tracking dog. Officers found Bible hiding under a rock ledge, camoflaged with twigs, leaves and branches. At the time of his arrest, Richard Bible was 27 years old.
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He stood just under six feet tall with a lean but solid build. Not bulky, but wiry, hardened the kind of frame shaped less by fitness and more by years of moving through rough environments, prison yards, wooded terrain, back roads. His face was angular with a pronounced jaw and high cheekbones. His skin was light to medium and tone.
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Sun exposed, weathered from time spent outdoors. He had dark hair, thick and unkempt, often parted loosely to one side. His eyebrows were [00:39:00] heavy. His eyes deep set, dark unreadable. His arms bore visible tattoos faded jailhouse style, etched onto his forearms. Photographs taken at the time show a man who didn't shrink from the cameras.
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He didn't smile, but he didn't flinch either. There was no show of remorse, no performance of innocence. Bible confessed to stealing the GMC the previous day and painting the vehicle. Two hours before his arrest, he investigators found blood on Bible shirt, pants, and boots. The spotter.
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Bible confessed to stealing the GMC the previous day and painting the vehicle two hours before his arrest. Investigators found blood on Bible shirt, pants, and boots. The spatter pattern on the shirt was consistent with beating force. Jennifer's body was found later in the forest near sheep Hill. Testing revealed that the blood on Bible shirt was human, the same type as Jennifer's.
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Blood testing showed that the [00:40:00] DNA in the blood and Jennifer's DNA were a match. Richard Bible was charged with first degree murder, kidnapping, and molestation of a child in April, 1990. A jury convicted Bible on all charges and Bible. Was sentenced to death. He remained on Arizona's death row for over 20 years until his execution.
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That phone call wasn't just a tip, it was a door closing for good. Mark never saw his brother again.
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That phone call wasn't just a tip. It was a door closing for good. Mark never saw his brother again. Outside of court, there's no record of any personal contact or reconciliation. No prison visits, no final words exchanged between brothers. And on June 30th, 2011, Richard Bible was executed by lethal injection.[00:41:00]
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Mark Bible did not attend the execution, and now we return to the Cocodona 250 with the finish. Finally in sight. As dawn breaks over Flagstaff, Cocodona runners descend from the heights, legs trembling. minds fogged by days without sleep. Feet blistered from 250 miles of punishing terrain. They've crossed deserts, forests and canyons, climbed sun scorch.
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ridges survived freezing nights. They've run through hallucinations and over doubts, and in the final stretch from Mount Elden to Heritage Square. The course feels like a dream scape. Around mile 2 44, they pass under Highway 89 A through a low culvert, stooping, or crawling, depending on the [00:42:00] fatigue. Soon after the trail begins, its long climb.
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Some see things that aren't there, faces in the dust, shapes in the trail, artwork embedded in the earth. The product of sleep deprivation of sensory overload. Their minds reach for order In the chaos, some runners talk to animals that don't exist. Others can no longer form sentences.
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This is where the race reveals its edge by mile 2 48 runners crest, the Mount Elden Ridge line over 9,000 feet above sea level. The view is wide and unforgiving. Headlamps Bob in the darkness below. Dots of lights scattered like stars, fallen to earth. Each one marks a runner, still climbing, still chasing the finish.
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From there, it's a brutal descent, dropping more than 2000 [00:43:00] vertical feet in under two miles. The Elden Lookout trail throws everything at them tight, dizzying switchbacks, exposed edges. Loose rock and steps big enough to buckle knees. Some use trekking poles, others crab walk. Everyone hurts at the base.
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The forces of nature
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at the base, the forces of nature. Trail winds gently around the mountain, but nothing is gentle by now. Even the flat hurts. Then comes Trinity Heights, aid station. It's quiet here, serene, but beneath that stillness is urgency. The cutoff looms, crews whisper, encouragement, runners sit in chairs with haunted eyes.
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They've come too far to miss the end. The final miles, move fast, if not in pace then in time. The pipeline trail feeds into [00:44:00] Buffalo Park, a wide open space with clean trails and a view of town. Its familiar ground to many. The end is close enough to smell the coffee from downtown. Cafes from Buffalo Park Runners stop
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from Buffalo Park Runners drop into Flagstaff. Onto sidewalks and cinder paths, past traffic, lights and shops, civilization returns, and with it people, crews, locals, cameras, strangers, clapping on porches. A few runners start to jog. Others just keep moving forward. One painful step at a time. At Birch Avenue, they make a final turn.
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Down Cocodona Alley, a narrow funnel of Cheers. Volunteers, family, finish line staff. And there it is. And there it is. Heritage Square. The Cocodona Archway. [00:45:00] No fireworks, just the line, the mark, the end. Some runners raise their arms, others collapse. A few cry. Most just stop, no energy left for ceremony. It's a completion.
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The Cocodona 250 ends in triumph. It ends in truth. And here in the center of the mountain and here in the center of this mountain town with a complicated history. Some runners find more than a medal they find themselves. The finish line is a reckoning,
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and here in the center of this mountain town with a complicated history, some runners find more than a metal, they find themselves. The finish line is a reckoning.
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Paul Johnson: That's it for chapter five of Choosing the Unknown. Thanks for spending time with us. Let me know what you thought of today's episode in the comments, and if you've got a story you think we should tell, reach out and share a few details. It might, uh, and share. And if you've got a story you think we should tell, reach out and share a few details.[00:46:00]
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It might end up in a future episode next week. In the epilogue of choosing the Unknown, we leave the Arizona backcountry and travel somewhere older. It will be a DNF story. A did not finish. Story one without a finish line. We'll meet Baruch. A scribe in the shadow of collapse, ink, clay, and a calling he didn't ask for.
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He wrote down words no one wanted to hear, and then watched his king burn them. But he kept writing just because it had to be done. Baruch didn't get a medal. He didn't get to see how the story ended. That's next time on. Get some. Get some is written, produced and hosted by me, Paul Johnson, music and Sound Design by Epidemic Sound.
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You can find [00:47:00] photos, show notes, and previous episodes at getsomepodcast.com or on our YouTube channel, and if you're enjoying this. If you're enjoying this series, leave a review or share it with a friend. It helps others find these stories. Thanks for being here.
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Thanks for being here. And remember, today is the best day of your life. Now go get some.
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Choosing the Unknown - Chapter 5
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TV Anchor Person: I executed a convicted murderer and rapist. Today. Richard Bible was given a lethal injection for molesting and killing a nine-year-old Yuma girl in Flagstaff. 23 years ago, ABC fifteens, Brian McElhatton was at the state prison in Florence when Bible was put to death.
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TV Reporter: The execution took Amir nine minutes, strapped to the table.
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While he was still conscious, Richard Bible never once looked over at the family of Jennifer Wilson who've waited 23 years. For this moment,
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justice is served today.
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Jennifer's mother, Nancy, after the execution of Richard Bible, convicted of raping and beating to death, her 9-year-old daughter in 1988, it took authorities and Flagstaff three weeks to find young Jennifer's body then.
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And now the family closes a chapter
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Father: and today needed to happen. And as a family, we start a new healing process. Now, a healing process is gonna take us off to the future.
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TV Reporter: How do you begin to [00:01:00] heal? How do you move forward? The family didn't elaborate, but they did thank the authorities and the community for their support.
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They also showed a great deal of grace.
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Father: We'd like to offer our condolences to the Bible family, the Bible family. They're good people and we know this tough time for them. Also,
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TV Reporter: Bible who declared his innocence until the end died at 11:11 AM Now the Wilson family must continue to go on without their daughter, but today they'll tell you justice has been done.
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Brian McElhatton, A BC 15 News.
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Paul Johnson: I'm your host, Paul Johnson, and this is get some Each week one story. The stories go where they want. We just follow. If you're a fan of great stories that connect, then you've come to the right place [00:02:00] because that's what we do every week. Also, please subscribe to our channel and turn on all notifications so you don't miss any of our weekly uploads.
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Our title for this series is Choosing the Unknown. Today's chapter is part of our special series on the Cocodona 250, a 250 mile foot race across Arizona, a race that takes runners from the desert floor near Phoenix, and eventually to the high mountains of Flagstaff. Okay, let's get into our story.
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Paul Johnson: By now, the runners are deep into the final miles of Cocodona. They crossed the high country and climbed onto the Coconino Plateau. The weather is perfect now. Cool. Clear, calm. The threat [00:03:00] of rain has passed. The sun filters through the pines and the air feels clean, crisp, almost forgiving.
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They've come through 250 miles from Black Canyon to Prescott, from Jerome to Sedona, up Schnebly Hill, and through the Ponderosa, and now Flagstaff. Flagstaff isn't a gentle landing. The final miles demand more. From Wildcat Hill runners descend briefly, then begin the long approach toward Mount Elden. At first, it's subtle twisting single track through pine and cinder a box culvert crossing.
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Then a series of faint junctions where getting lost feels dangerously easy. But at mile 240, the view clears and there it is. [00:04:00] Elden, the climb begins on New Heart Trail, a steady six mile grind gaining nearly 2000 feet Switchbacks carved through pine and Aspen footing is solid, but the grade is unrelenting at the top.
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A ridge line Traverse offers sweeping views of the San Francisco peaks, but the work isn't over. A brutal descent follows three steep switch backed miles down Elden Lookout Trail where loose rock and exhaustion conspire to end dreams early. It's one of the most technical sections of the race. From there, trails Weave West toward the city forces of Nature Pipeline lower Oldham, each crisscrossed by social paths.
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Test navigation runners reach [00:05:00] Trinity Heights, the final aid station, often battered and behind schedule, but this is the last push. One more stretch through Buffalo Park. One more turn onto Birch. And finally Cocodona Alley. The finish in Flagstaff isn't just a banner, it's a reckoning, a climb, a fall. And a final promise kept.
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But in 1988, this was the site of a crime that gripped the entire state, a short distance from where Cocodona runners now pass near a rise called Sheep Hill. A child's body was found, and as runners today pass through this very forest, they unknowingly retrace a corridor of history. A line that divides not just geography [00:06:00] but intention.
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In the final miles of a 250 mile ultra marathon runners are stripped to their core, physically broken down, mentally fractured. The only thing left is willpower, and even that is flickering. Every step feels impossible, yet somehow they keep moving. Something in them refuses to stop. The finish line is close.
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That's the frame we're working with because that's where Mark Bible found himself on June 6th, 1988 alone, conflicted standing in his home on Forest Road 5 56. He wasn't bleeding or limping or sleep deprived like a Cocodona runner, but his internal landscape looked the [00:07:00] same, disoriented, exhausted, morally thread bear.
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The easy thing would've been to stay quiet, to say nothing. Let the world keep spinning Mark Bible crossed a finish line may be much harder than a race. He broke the silence. He gave up loyalty to tell the truth. His story is an ultra marathon in its own right, a long punishing journey through shame, silence, and betrayal, ending in one act of clarity and courage.
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And that's exactly what the Cocodona finish line is. It's a reckoning. A brother is supposed to protect you. Defend you stand up for you when the world turns cold. Mark Bible was the younger of two brothers by about four [00:08:00] years. His older brother was Richard Bible. That's right. I said, Bible few people in the US have the last name Bible.
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Before hearing about this story, I had never heard of anyone with this name. According to us, census data. There are 15,000. Last names more common than Bible. In the 2010 census, fewer than 1800 people in the United States had Bible as their last name. Out of a total population of 308 million people, the name Bible was born by less than 0.001% of the US population.
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The name occurs most frequently in the south and southwest, including Texas, Tennessee, and Arizona regions with strong Anglo Protestant roots. Though the name itself has no [00:09:00] documented biblical or clerical origin, despite its religious connotation. In this case, Bible was simply their last name, coincidental.
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Unearned and unconnected to the events that would follow Mark. Mark. Bible was quiet and observant. Richard was volatile and dominant. They grew up together in a working class household in Northern Arizona, part of a larger, deeply rooted local family. They spent time outdoors with their father hunting, fishing, learning the rhythms of the land.
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Not uncommon in that part of Arizona. Respect for firearms, a working knowledge of wildlife, a culture where young men grew up handling tools, gear responsibility in social [00:10:00] settings, mark was reserved, not shy, just cautious. He would listen more than he spoke, and when he did speak, it was often measured, almost careful.
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He had the tone of someone who had learned it was safer. Not to say too much. In 1981, at the age of 19, Richard Bible was arrested. Tried. And convicted for the kidnapping and sexual assault of his 15-year-old cousin. The assault took place on Sheep Hill, an isolated patch of land east of Flagstaff. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison.
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At that time, mark, mark Bible was approximately 15 years old, a minor. Mark was the same age as his cousin. The impact of that crime would not have been [00:11:00] theoretical. It would've been personal. Mark lived in a town, Flagstaff, Arizona, where families knew each other. The Bible name was not anonymous, and Richard's conviction was no small matter.
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It was the kind of crime that doesn't go away quietly. People talk. Classmates whisper adults, avoid eye contact. Teachers, neighbors, employers, they all remember Mark would've lived through that. Every interaction carried the shadow of what Richard had done. Mark didn't testify at Richard's trial in 1981, but silence does not mean freedom.
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It often means isolation. Shame by association, the burden of being left behind to face the fallout. Following the conviction, Richard was incarcerated [00:12:00] in the Arizona Department of Corrections. He served roughly six years. During that time, mark and Richard had little, if any contact. There are no records of visitations or correspondence made public.
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As far as the record shows the brothers were no longer in regular communication during Richard's imprisonment. What is clear is that Richard's conviction would've separated the brothers, not only physically, but socially and emotionally. Mark would've continued his teenage years and early adulthood in a community.
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Now, mark would've continued his teenage years and early adulthood in a community that now knew his older brother as a convicted sex offender. Mark lived under the weight of his brother's crime. By the late 1980s, mark had entered early adulthood with what looked like stability, a job, a relationship, a desire to stay local and [00:13:00] grounded.
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Mark was average height about five feet, 10 inches, with a lanky, wiry build, narrow shoulders, long limbs. Not someone who took up a lot of space physically or emotionally. He had dark hair, usually cut short or unkempt, deep set eyes that made him look older than he was. He rarely smiled in photos. People often said he looked tired even when he wasn't.
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In May, 1987, Richard Bible was paroled and released from prison. He had served six years for the sexual assault and kidnapping of his young cousin. When he got out, he needed a place to go. That place turned out to be Mark's. Whether Richard asked or Mark offered, the specifics are unclear, but what's clear [00:14:00] is this Mark took him in.
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Maybe it was loyalty, maybe guilt. Maybe he just couldn't say no. Mark lived a quiet life near Sheep Hill, east of Flagstaff, rural isolated, the kind of place where second chances could disappear into the trees and into that space, Richard moved, bringing with him his past, his parole, and the kind of silence brothers sometimes keep for too long.
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It wasn't just a couch to crash on. It was Mark's opening the door to his brother. Mark had come of a mark had come of age in the shadow of what his brother had done. In a small community like Flagstaff, that kind of stain doesn't disappear. It lingers inside conversations in silence and the things people don't say when you walk into a room.
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There is no public statement from Mark explaining why, but the decision itself speaks volumes. It may have been forgiveness, it may have been obligation, it may have been hope that Richard had changed that the years in prison had straightened something out. That a new life was possible. Others around Richard seemed to believe the same.[00:16:00]
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He had a girlfriend, Josephine Sandoval, and by her account, their relationship had moments of normalcy. She said Richard cared for her and loved her young son. She described him at times as a, she described him at times as a pretty nice guy. But there was another side. Sandoval also knew that Richard Bible was an avid drug user, cocaine, methamphetamines, possibly intravenously.
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When he used, she said he was unpredictable when he wasn't, he could be calm, even kind. Richard's own sister confirmed it. He'd used drugs before going to prison, even after his release.
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Richard's own sister confirmed it. He had used drugs before going to prison, but after his release, the use escalated. She said he had recently told her he believed he was having a nervous breakdown. All of this was happening under Mark's roof. Whether Mark knew the full extent of Richard's unraveling is unclear.
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The picture emerges
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Then Mark started noticing things. He suspected Richard was stealing from him. It wasn't just a gut feeling, it was the kind of suspicion that comes from repeated small betrayals items out of place. Money missing lockers or drawers disturbed. Richard had been living with Mark for several months. The signs are piling up, drug [00:18:00] use, erratic behavior, and now missing cash.
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Mark doesn't have proof, but he has enough. Mark came home from work to find the hallway drawer slightly open. Again, that drawer only held one thing extra cash. And it was light. He didn't raise his voice. You take that 20 from the hall closet. Mark asked flat. Richard didn't flinch, didn't look up What drawer?
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The one I keep shut. The one. You know I keep shut. Richard walked over to the sink and lit a cigarette. Why the hell would I take your money, man? Mark, let the question hang. No answer would've been, mark, let the question hang. No answer would've been good enough. Jo said, you've been out late. [00:19:00] He added, she said, you're using again.
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Jo talks too much. She's got a kid to think about, and I've got a house to run. Richard turned. You saying I'm dangerous. Mark didn't answer right away. Then quietly. I'm saying you're not the same when you're high. Richard Scoffed. I did six years mark. You know what it's like in there. You get out and nothing fits.
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You think I wanna be like this? Mark stared at him. Mark stared at him. Then don't do it here. Richard Snapped. Oh, right. Saint Mark. Always clean, always better. That's not what I'm saying. No. 'cause it sure sounds like you forgot who had your back. Mark cut him off. You lost that [00:20:00] when you hurt her. Richard looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't.
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He grabbed his coat and headed for the door. I'm going out. Mark didn't blink. Leave the spare key. The key clattered onto the kitchen counter. The door slammed and Mark stood alone with the drawer. The silence and the sense that something was coming still, mark didn't kick him out. Maybe it was loyalty, maybe inertia.
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Maybe fear of what would happen if he drew a hard line, but the relationship was already fraying. The trust, if it ever fully returned, was unraveling. Day by day, mark had taken a risk, he'd opened the door, and now the person on the other side of it wasn't just a brother with, and now the person on the other side of it.
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It wasn't just a [00:21:00] brother with a past. He was becoming Mark.
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He was beco. He was becoming someone. Mark couldn't ignore or explain away or protect. Not much longer. And Mark would face a choice, but not yet. For now, he lived with it. Whatever the reason. The decision put mark in a position he never asked For a front row seat to a gathering storm.
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Sunday morning, June 5th, 1988, Flagstaff, Arizona. The Coconino County impound lot sat behind a chain link fence near Sheep Hill on the east side of Flagstaff. The impound lot was not guarded. Just a chain link fence, a gate, and a handful of dusty vehicles inside. One of them was a dark green and white, 1981 GMC, Jimmy, a Blazer type truck impounded back in April after a traffic.
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One of them was a dark, green and white, 1981 GMC Jimmy, a blazer type truck impounded back [00:22:00] in April after a traffic stop in Sedona. It had been used to deliver newspapers. The floor was still littered with round rubber bands. The kind used to wrap up morning editions. No bags. Just a scatter of loops stuck in the corners of the seats.
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The footwells, the cargo area. It wasn't spontaneous. Richard Bible had seen the vehicle, the dark, green and white GMC Jimmy. It had sat behind the chain link fence for weeks. Unguarded forgotten, visible from the road near Sheep Hill, exposed. No surveillance. Bible knew the location. This wasn't just a crime of opportunity.
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It was a job. On Sunday morning, he made his move. Bible came prepared. He bypassed the fence either over it [00:23:00] or through it. No forced entry was ever documented, but the result was the same. He got in no alarms, no guards, just a quiet perimeter. And a car. He knew how to take.
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Bible, opened the door, climbed into the driver's seat and got to work. He popped the plastic housing off the steering column, a piece of metal casing, clattered to the floor, a clean cut, exposing the wires beneath. Then with practiced hands, he hotwired the ignition, bypassing the need for keys by manually connecting the ignition wires.
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Paul Johnson: The Jimmy Sputtered to life, he adjusted the rear view mirror, looked around once and rolled out of the yard. No screeching tires, no dramatic exit. Just a clean getaway in broad daylight. Later that afternoon, a [00:24:00] Coconino County deputy made a routine check of the lot. The fence was intact, the gate was closed, but the GMC Jimmy was gone.
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There was no paperwork, no impound release, no tow order. Someone had entered the yard and stolen the vehicle outright.
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Sunday afternoon, June 5th, 1988. Mark Bible's house on Forest Road, 5 56 near Sheep Hill, Flagstaff. It was just before 1:00 PM when a truck rolled into Mark Bible's driveway, not a car. He recognized. Not one Mark had ever seen Richard Drive. It was a GMC Jimmy. Two-tone, dark body white, top dented left rear bumper.
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The kind of vehicle that stands out precisely because it tries not to. A working [00:25:00] man's ride a utility rig, but this one had no plates worth noting. No story volunteered. Richard Bible stepped out of the driver's seat. He approached Mark like everything was fine, like the past didn't hang between them.
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Like the dust cloud behind that truck wasn't loaded with questions. Mark, where'd you get the truck? Richard? Friends, just borrowing it. That was it. No names, no backstory. Richard grabbed a blanket or a jacket from the back and slung it casually over his shoulder. He didn't stay long. Just enough time to show up, say nothing, and then he was gone.
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Back in the truck, back onto the road, the dust settling once again on the quiet pine covered lot near Sheep Hill. [00:26:00] Mark stood there longer than usual watching, listening. Something about the truck. Something about Richard. It didn't sit right, not then, but he wouldn't act on that feeling until the next day.
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Paul Johnson: Monday. Just past noon, June 6th, 1988, forest Road 5 56 just east of Flagstaff. Richard pulled into Mark's driveway, same GMC, Jimmy as the day before green with a white top dented left bumper. Richard climbed out wearing Levi's, a plaid shirt. A camo baseball cap boots. He didn't stay long.
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He didn't say anything to mark. He was in a hurry. Then he was gone a few minutes later. It started [00:27:00] with a low thump of a helicopter circling, pausing, moving on, then circling again. Not common out here. Mark Bible stepped outside his house on Forest Road 5 56 and looked up the chopper. Hovered low over sheep hill.
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Then came the sirens distant at first, but closing fast. A caravan of police cruisers kicking up dust on the washboard road. Forest Road 5 56, normally quiet. Mostly ranch traffic and the occasional logging rig was suddenly crawling with law enforcement and roadblocks. There was a kind of nervous geometry to it.
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Vehicles at angles, radios hissing, officers marking perimeters with cones and tape. [00:28:00] Monday afternoon, June 6th, 1988. Inside Mark Bible's home near Sheep Hill. The TV was on in the background, one of the local stations out of Flagstaff. The TV was on in the background, one of the local stations out of Flagstaff.
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Mark wasn't really paying attention at first, just noise, but then a phrase cut through a 9-year-old girl, Jennifer Wilson, reported missing late this morning. Mark turned up the volume, the anchor read the bulletin with that clipped urgency reserved for serious things. Fires, floods, disappearances.
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Jennifer had been last seen riding her bicycle on a forest service road just east of town, not far from Mount Elden, not far from here. She never arrived at the ranch where she was headed. [00:29:00] Mark sat down processing it, the location, the timing, the road. The news didn't mention a vehicle, at least not yet, but Mark had already started doing the math in his head.
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Richard had come by yesterday in a truck he didn't own. He came back today, same truck, and in a hurry. Now a little girl was missing. And helicopters were circling over. Sheep Hill roadblocks were going up on Forest Road 5 56. Something wasn't right. Mark didn't pick up the phone right away. He just sat there.
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TV buzzing helicopters still thumping somewhere in the distance. The voice on the news already moving on to weather as if nothing had happened, but something had. And Mark knew it. [00:30:00] He stared out the window toward Sheep Hill, toward the road where Jennifer Wilson had vanished. That stretch of dirt he'd driven a hundred times now carried a different weight.
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His brother had driven that road yesterday, had pulled into this driveway, told him the truck belonged to a friend. Mark had believed it or said he did because it was easier. But now. Now it wasn't just about lies and stolen things. Now it was about a girl and Mark felt it, all of it. The guilt of what he knew, the fear of what he didn't, and the dull, awful ache of betrayal.
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Richard was his brother. That used to mean something. Maybe it still did, but right now. Mark was asking a different question. If I stay silent and [00:31:00] something worse happens, what does that make me? Mark stood by the window. His mind drifted uninvited to a different time, back to when he was just a teenager.
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The news had broken quietly then too, a whisper through the family, a charge a trial. Richard had assaulted. I. A charge a trial. Richard had assaulted their cousin. Mark remembered the confusion, the shame, the way his parents didn't explain, just expected silence, the way people looked at him, not just Richard, the way people looked at him, not just Richard,
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the way his parents didn't explain, just expected silence. The way people looked at him, not just Richard differently. Afterward, he was 15 when Richard went to prison, and even back then he'd felt the weight of his brother's choices pressing down on the whole family. Now, years later, standing in this living room now, years later, standing in his living room as police call.
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Now years later, standing in his living room as police combed the woods outside that weight came rushing back. Only this time it was [00:32:00] heavier. It wasn't just about family anymore, it was about a child, a missing one, and that GMC Jimmy with a dented bumper that wasn't just some borrowed ride. Mark knew it now in the marrow of his bones.
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The past wasn't passed. It had pulled back into his driveway. He stood up, took a breath, picked up the phone. He stood up, took a breath, picked up the phone. Monday afternoon, June 6th, 1988. The phone call to Detective Bill Trimble. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't even urgent. It started like most tip calls do with uncertainty.
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Mark dialed the number listed for the sheriff's office. The phone rang once, then twice a calm voice answered. Coconino County [00:33:00] Sheriff's Office, how can I help you? Mark hesitated. Yeah. I need to talk to someone about the girl who went missing a pause. Then hold please a click. Then a new voice came on the line.
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Measured and professional. This is Detective Trimble. Mark Hesitated then said, yeah, I, I think I have something you might wanna know.
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Mark Hesitated then said, yeah, I, I think I have something you might wanna know. He gave his name, mark Bible. Told to the fact he gave his name. Mark Bible told the detective that his brother Richard, lived with him at his house on Forest Road 5 56. Richard had shown up on Sunday driving a GMC Jimmy vehicle, dark green, white, top dented rear bumper, and then slowly Mark started connecting dots.
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Not exactly, but something in his voice said what he wasn't ready to say out loud. I think my brother might be involved in this when he hung up. Mark didn't feel relief. He felt something closer to dread because if he was right, he hadn't just,
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when he hung up, mark didn't feel relief. He felt something closer to dread because if he was right, he hadn't just turned in a tip. He had turned in his brother. But after the phone call, the focus dramatically shifted, and this is what we know.
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When he hung up, when he hung up, mark didn't feel relief. He felt something closer to dread because if he was right, he hadn't just turned in a tip. He had turned in his brother, but after the phone call,
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but after the phone call, the focus dramatically shifts, and this is what we know. On Monday, June 6th, 1988, [00:35:00] shortly after 10:30 AM 9-year-old, Jennifer Wilson began bicycling on Forest Road. 5 56 from where her family was staying in Flagstaff to a ranch a mile away. Jennifer's family passed her while driving to the ranch.
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When Jennifer did not arrive at the ranch, her F. When Jennifer did not arrive at the ranch, her family began to search and found her bicycle by the side of the road, unable to locate the girl. Jennifer's mother frantically called the police. At 11:21 AM the Flagstaff Police arrived within minutes. They called in a helicopter, set up roadblocks and alerted the FBI.
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Jennifer's mother told the police that she saw two vehicles on her way to the ranch. One was a blazer type vehicle. While at the ranch, she saw this same vehicle going in the opposite direction at a high rate of [00:36:00] speed. She described the driver as dark haired, dark complected, Caucasian male, mid to late twenties.
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He had looked at her intently despite the overwhelming response, air support roadblocks, a full court press from every branch of law enforcement. The case was going nowhere. Officers combed the roads and woods. Deputies went door to door. The FBI was called in, but without a suspect or direction. The search had no teeth.
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They had urgency, but not focus. Then Mark Bible called and everything changed. The call didn't just help. It cracked the case wide open. It turned speculation into pursuit, gave the police a suspect, a vehicle, and a location. Gave them traction. Momentum, [00:37:00] a lead that could run without it, Richard Bible might have disappeared again into the forest, into another town, into another life.
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Jennifer Wilson's story might have ended with a question mark,
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but Mark's call closed that door. It turned a missing person search into a manhunt. In a case like this, sometimes there's one moment, one voice that makes all the difference. That voice was Mark. Bibles. Detective Trimble realized that Jennifer's mother's description of the Blazer type vehicle and its driver approximated Richard Bible and the GMC Jimmy at 6:20 PM police officers saw Richard Bible driving the GMC, although it was a different color.
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The officers attempted to stop Bible and a high speed chase began. Bible slammed the vehicle into a [00:38:00] cattle guard, bailed out and disappeared into the woods using a tracking dog. Officers found Bible hiding under a rock ledge, camoflaged with twigs, leaves and branches. At the time of his arrest, Richard Bible was 27 years old.
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He stood just under six feet tall with a lean but solid build. Not bulky, but wiry, hardened the kind of frame shaped less by fitness and more by years of moving through rough environments, prison yards, wooded terrain, back roads. His face was angular with a pronounced jaw and high cheekbones. His skin was light to medium and tone.
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Sun exposed, weathered from time spent outdoors. He had dark hair, thick and unkempt, often parted loosely to one side. His eyebrows were [00:39:00] heavy. His eyes deep set, dark unreadable. His arms bore visible tattoos faded jailhouse style, etched onto his forearms. Photographs taken at the time show a man who didn't shrink from the cameras.
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He didn't smile, but he didn't flinch either. There was no show of remorse, no performance of innocence. Bible confessed to stealing the GMC the previous day and painting the vehicle. Two hours before his arrest, he investigators found blood on Bible shirt, pants, and boots. The spotter.
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Bible confessed to stealing the GMC the previous day and painting the vehicle two hours before his arrest. Investigators found blood on Bible shirt, pants, and boots. The spatter pattern on the shirt was consistent with beating force. Jennifer's body was found later in the forest near sheep Hill. Testing revealed that the blood on Bible shirt was human, the same type as Jennifer's.
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Blood testing showed that the [00:40:00] DNA in the blood and Jennifer's DNA were a match. Richard Bible was charged with first degree murder, kidnapping, and molestation of a child in April, 1990. A jury convicted Bible on all charges and Bible. Was sentenced to death. He remained on Arizona's death row for over 20 years until his execution.
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That phone call wasn't just a tip, it was a door closing for good. Mark never saw his brother again.
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That phone call wasn't just a tip. It was a door closing for good. Mark never saw his brother again. Outside of court, there's no record of any personal contact or reconciliation. No prison visits, no final words exchanged between brothers. And on June 30th, 2011, Richard Bible was executed by lethal injection.[00:41:00]
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Mark Bible did not attend the execution, and now we return to the Cocodona 250 with the finish. Finally in sight. As dawn breaks over Flagstaff, Cocodona runners descend from the heights, legs trembling. minds fogged by days without sleep. Feet blistered from 250 miles of punishing terrain. They've crossed deserts, forests and canyons, climbed sun scorch.
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ridges survived freezing nights. They've run through hallucinations and over doubts, and in the final stretch from Mount Elden to Heritage Square. The course feels like a dream scape. Around mile 2 44, they pass under Highway 89 A through a low culvert, stooping, or crawling, depending on the [00:42:00] fatigue. Soon after the trail begins, its long climb.
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Some see things that aren't there, faces in the dust, shapes in the trail, artwork embedded in the earth. The product of sleep deprivation of sensory overload. Their minds reach for order In the chaos, some runners talk to animals that don't exist. Others can no longer form sentences.
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This is where the race reveals its edge by mile 2 48 runners crest, the Mount Elden Ridge line over 9,000 feet above sea level. The view is wide and unforgiving. Headlamps Bob in the darkness below. Dots of lights scattered like stars, fallen to earth. Each one marks a runner, still climbing, still chasing the finish.
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From there, it's a brutal descent, dropping more than 2000 [00:43:00] vertical feet in under two miles. The Elden Lookout trail throws everything at them tight, dizzying switchbacks, exposed edges. Loose rock and steps big enough to buckle knees. Some use trekking poles, others crab walk. Everyone hurts at the base.
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The forces of nature
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at the base, the forces of nature. Trail winds gently around the mountain, but nothing is gentle by now. Even the flat hurts. Then comes Trinity Heights, aid station. It's quiet here, serene, but beneath that stillness is urgency. The cutoff looms, crews whisper, encouragement, runners sit in chairs with haunted eyes.
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They've come too far to miss the end. The final miles, move fast, if not in pace then in time. The pipeline trail feeds into [00:44:00] Buffalo Park, a wide open space with clean trails and a view of town. Its familiar ground to many. The end is close enough to smell the coffee from downtown. Cafes from Buffalo Park Runners stop
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from Buffalo Park Runners drop into Flagstaff. Onto sidewalks and cinder paths, past traffic, lights and shops, civilization returns, and with it people, crews, locals, cameras, strangers, clapping on porches. A few runners start to jog. Others just keep moving forward. One painful step at a time. At Birch Avenue, they make a final turn.
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Down Cocodona Alley, a narrow funnel of Cheers. Volunteers, family, finish line staff. And there it is. And there it is. Heritage Square. The Cocodona Archway. [00:45:00] No fireworks, just the line, the mark, the end. Some runners raise their arms, others collapse. A few cry. Most just stop, no energy left for ceremony. It's a completion.
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The Cocodona 250 ends in triumph. It ends in truth. And here in the center of the mountain and here in the center of this mountain town with a complicated history. Some runners find more than a medal they find themselves. The finish line is a reckoning,
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and here in the center of this mountain town with a complicated history, some runners find more than a metal, they find themselves. The finish line is a reckoning.
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Paul Johnson: That's it for chapter five of Choosing the Unknown. Thanks for spending time with us. Let me know what you thought of today's episode in the comments, and if you've got a story you think we should tell, reach out and share a few details. It might, uh, and share. And if you've got a story you think we should tell, reach out and share a few details.[00:46:00]
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It might end up in a future episode next week. In the epilogue of choosing the Unknown, we leave the Arizona backcountry and travel somewhere older. It will be a DNF story. A did not finish. Story one without a finish line. We'll meet Baruch. A scribe in the shadow of collapse, ink, clay, and a calling he didn't ask for.
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He wrote down words no one wanted to hear, and then watched his king burn them. But he kept writing just because it had to be done. Baruch didn't get a medal. He didn't get to see how the story ended. That's next time on. Get some. Get some is written, produced and hosted by me, Paul Johnson, music and Sound Design by Epidemic Sound.
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You can find [00:47:00] photos, show notes, and previous episodes at getsomepodcast.com or on our YouTube channel, and if you're enjoying this. If you're enjoying this series, leave a review or share it with a friend. It helps others find these stories. Thanks for being here.
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Thanks for being here. And remember, today is the best day of your life. Now go get some.
