The 22-year-old University of North Dakota senior had just finished her shift at Victoria’s Secret in the Columbia Mall in Grand Forks on November 22, 2003, when she called her boyfriend, Chris, to share her excitement about a discounted purse she had bought for her mother. As she walked through the bitterly cold parking lot, still on the phone, Chris heard her say “okay, okay” followed by “oh my God,” and then the line went dead. It would be the last normal conversation anyone would have with Dru Sjodin.
Chris initially thought the call had simply dropped, as he was busy carrying boxes and knew she had another shift to get to. But hours later, at 7:40 p. m.
, he received a second call from her phone. This time, there was only static, wind, and the sound of numbers being pressed. After 20 seconds, the call cut off.
Panic set in. Chris called Dru’s roommate, Meg, who confirmed Dru had not returned home. Meg then called the El Roco bar, where Dru was supposed to work her second shift, but she had not shown up.
By 11:00 p. m. , with the temperature plummeting and snow beginning to fall, police were dispatched to the mall parking lot.
Officers quickly spotted Dru’s red car. The back seats were cluttered with clothes, bags, and food wrappers, but there were no signs of a struggle. Her wallet, with money and cards still inside, was left behind, ruling out robbery.
Then, by the left rear tire, they found a small black case for a knife. The investigation took a dark turn. Crime scene experts identified the sheath as part of a set sold at Menards stores, a regional chain selling everything from tools to toys.
No blood was found in the car, and the locks were not forced, leading investigators to believe Dru had been abducted at knifepoint as she reached her vehicle.
Authorities quickly ruled out her boyfriend, Chris, and her ex-boyfriend, Adam, as suspects. The focus shifted to tracking the location of the second call, which had originated near Crookston, Minnesota, about 25 miles from the mall. This meant Dru had been taken across state lines, bringing in the FBI and other federal agencies.
The case exploded into a high-profile media frenzy. One investigator recalled TV trucks lining the streets, with requests for interviews so numerous he could not handle them all alone. Flyers with Dru’s face were plastered everywhere, and 1,300 volunteers answered the call to search for her.
The search was brutal. The weather was freezing, with thick snow and ice covering the ground, making every step a challenge. Busloads of volunteers were transported from Grand Forks to the area near Fisher, Minnesota, where Dru’s phone had pinged a cell tower until about 8:00 p.
m. several days later, when it either died or was turned off. ATVs, dogs, helicopters, and massive search groups scoured the land, but there was no sign of Dru.
Every stone was overturned and checked twice, but the harsh conditions hindered progress.
Four days after Dru vanished, a tip came in that felt different. A caller reported seeing a known 𝒔𝒆𝒙 offender shopping at the Columbia Mall at the same time Dru was there. Alfonso Rodriguez Jr.
, a level three 𝒔𝒆𝒙 offender, had been released from prison just six months earlier after serving a 23-year sentence for a series of violent attacks. In 1974, he had been convicted of aggravated rape and attempted aggravated rape after attacking two young women, one of whom he held against her will and sexually assaulted, and another
