You can call me Jefferson Morrison Doe or Jeff Doe for short. This is until we can find my family and I can be returned to my proper identity!
In 1977, a strange series of events took place. Or at least you’ll probably think they're strange. It made good sense to me at the time. Not that I was happy about any of them. Now it’s time for you to help the police figure out who I am, then maybe they can solve the puzzle of what actually happened to me.
Here we go: I’m Native American (or Asian or Hispanic) about 20 to 24 years old, I stood about 5'7"or 5'8" in height and weighed somewhere between 125 and 145 lbs. I had great dark brown hair about 5 inches in length. Get this. I had small feet. I only wore a size 5 shoe!
On February 13, 1977, some hikers found me. I had been wrapped tight in a sleeping bag located at the bottom of a 100-foot embankment. You and I both are hoping I wasn’t tossed off that! The location was roughly near US Hwy 285 about one mile south of Colorado Hwy 8. The police estimate I was probably left there about thirty to sixty days before those hikers found me.
Before I died, something odd happened. Around mid-December 1976, I approached this small-town motel called the Twin Folks Motel. I needed to use the phone. They were kind enough to allow me use it. Unfortunately, the person I called didn’t answer. The person who allowed me to use the phone gave me a coat to wear. Silly me, I was only wearing pants and a shirt, and I guess it was a cold night. That was a pretty nice thing to do. I told this person my story. I could see they were curious noticing the cuts on my face. Not that the cuts were major or scary, simple minor cuts but they were fresh and bleeding. I explained that my brother and I had a fight. This fight resulted in him kicking me out of the car and me kicking the window out of the car. It was a pretty explosive fight. Since no one had answered the call I placed, and this person already gave me a coat to wear, I figured I should depart as I’ve probably worn out my welcome. Here’s the thing a short time later I came back to that motel with an unknown man (to you), it’s believed he was my brother. I wanted to return the coat. So I did. Then we left.
You probably figured out by now that I died not long after my brief encounter at that motel. Could my brother have been that angry? Was that even my brother? These are all things I know, but can’t tell you. It’s a mystery the police will have to solve. What I need from you, the general public, is help getting my story and my picture out! Someone out there has got to know who I am. Can you help me do that? Don’t forget to tell them I only wore a size 5 shoe; I think that will help figure out who I am.
Thank you, Jeff Doe
If you have any information regarding this case:
Jefferson County Coroners Office
VIEW HIS PROFILE DATA AT A GLANCE: Jefferson Colorado John Doe February 1977