Enders Doe – Do you know?

In my twenties, I wore my brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. I was styling. I stood about 5'7" and weighed 140 lbs. I had brown eyes and this darn mole on my right ear. Sure, I sported a mustache. Oh my pride, my four-inch braided goatee. I said, I was styling!

You can call me Enders Doe. Why? Well, because you don’t know my name. When you figure it out, ditch the loser doe name and we’ll be square. I’d like to tell you a story about the last day of my life.

On September 5, 1977, my lifeless body was found at the Enders State Park in Granby, Connecticut. A passing motorist found me and called the authorities. The police say I died about 24 hours earlier. I suffered fractures to my face, larynx, and skull. They found contusions on my brain. You guessed it; I was killed. Here’s the pisser. They don’t know my name. They have no clue who I am.

I was found wearing a couple articles of clothing they had hoped would help identify me. Thanks to a local who reads the local paper, I can share with you what those two items were.

“…a white shirt that had a print of storefront scenes. One of the stores was of a barbershop that had the name "Lewis" on it. Underneath his shirt, was a T-Shirt that was stamped with the name "Ferguson.”

The police think my name might have been “Ferguson,” or I had some affiliation or connection to that name. It’s been over thirty years and so far and even with this information available on that thing you call the “net,” no one has come forward to identify me yet.

I forgot to tell you about my scars. Maybe, those can help someone figure out who I am. Yeah, right! I had two circular scars on my right knee and one comma-shaped scar on my upper right chest.

Also I had chipped some teeth and a few were missing. There was no mention if any of that could have happened during my homicide or if those were preexisting. I’m going with preexisting, but don’t let my dentals stop you from telling the world who I am because the person you knew had perfect teeth. Maybe that wasn’t the first fight I had been in. Maybe, I suffered some other struggles along that path to my death.

My case remains an unsolved homicide. The locals buried me in an unmarked grave at the local cemetery. Nice. Someday, I’d like a headstone that says “Rest in Peace” with my real name in big bold letters. You know, the name no one can seem to figure out. Look it’s been over thirty years, someone somewhere better get busy.

I told you I would tell you a story about the last day of my life and I still will as soon as you tell me my name. Good, it’s a date. Come back when you figure out who I am and I’ll share that story with you then. Sounds like a good deal to me!

If you have any information about me call the police:

Granby Police Department
860-844-5335

VIEW HIS PROFILE DATA AT A GLANCE: Hartford Connecticut John Doe September 1977

1977

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Jeff Doe: I wore a size 5 shoe!

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
303- 271-6482

VIEW HIS PROFILE DATA AT A GLANCE: Jefferson Colorado John Doe February 1977

I have a not so funny story to tell you.

You can call me Sallie Mae until my true name is discovered. On August 14, 1977, I was found rotting away in Everett, Snohomish County, Washington.

I guess I took a ride from some guy who killed me. Turns out they have identified who killed me, but not me. So my killer went to jail, but I remain imprisoned without identity and without family resolution. Nice, huh?

They caught the guy because he was talking about picking up a hitchhiker and her resisting his advances according to witnesses (as reported by the Doe Network). The police were able to match the bullets with a weapon owned by the jerk who shot me several times.

Like I said, not so funny a story, but it’s my story. Now it’s your turn. Do you know me? Can you help them figure out who I am? 

I was wearing cut-off blue jeans, a white, blue, green, and pink striped tank top and pink panties. Blue and white tennis shoes, “Mr. Sneeker” brand, men’s size 7. I also had a watch on my left wrist, brown leather band and yellow metal face.

If you’re from the Everett Washington area, I was found 1.5 blocks off Emander Road on 113th Street. The Doe Network also reported that witnesses claim when I spoke with the jerk who killed me; I told him I lived with two guys. Maybe, you remember a chick (me) who lived with two guys one day and never was seen again? They must not have been very good guys for never reporting me missing, or coming forward when I was killed. Hopefully, you were from around there and maybe we spoke or we were nice to each other and you can come forward and just tell them my name. Don’t worry about those two guys I lived with, the guy who killed me went to jail. I just need someone to tell them my name. Can you do that for me? Please?

If you can please contact:
ME/C Contact Information
Name: Deborah Hollis
Agency: Snohomish County Medical Examiner's Office
Phone Number: 425.438.6200

VIEW HER PROFILE DATA AT A GLANCE: Snohomish Washington Jane Doe August 1977