A Mother’s Lifetime of Searching

Karen Kramer pulled her wide-eyed, 22-year-old daughter, Becky, into a hug. She held her daughter tight, so she could hear her heart beating rapidly. As Karen kissed her daughter’s blonde head, tears rolled down Karen’s cheeks onto Becky’s pale, bruised skin. The two sat for hours, talking and crying. Karen begged Becky to stay. To stay there in her embrace and never leave. Karen told Becky that if she left, she feared the next time she would see her was in a body bag.

“Wear my wedding ring because if you go back to him, this is the only way we will be able to identify your body,” Karen said to a confused Becky.

Four days later Becky went back to him. Eight months later, Becky disappeared.

Karen has been searching for her daughter for almost 12 years. She has quit her job, lost friends, neglected her family, and left her marriage in shambles looking for her daughter. She will not rest until Becky is home, even if she has to find Becky herself. This is not just a search for her daughter. This is Karen Kramer’s life.

In the days before Becky went missing, Sunday was family time. Becky and her four siblings, Sabrina, Jimmy, Katy and Robert, would go to their parents’ Oconomowoc home with their spouses, girlfriends or boyfriends for a meal. Becky used to bring her friends and boyfriends. She would joke and laugh with her family. Becky, the second eldest child, was always looking for the next adventure.

“She was a jokester, she loved to embarrass me,” Karen said. “We would go to Pick-n-Save and she would always go into the Depends aisle, grab a box of Depends and scream halfway across the store: ‘Hey mom! What size Depends do you wear?’ I’d laugh so hard I’d be crying and she does it with a straight face. ‘Really, Mom, now you don’t want your Depends?’ It was always a joke to her, but then she always thought she could fix things too.”

At 20, Becky moved out of her parents’ house to get married. Michael Marzo was a family friend who was always there for Becky. Her family could not contain their excitement for the pending nuptials.

But not long after their marriage began, life started to put a strain on the newlyweds. It started when Michael lost his job. Becky was working at Menard’s to support them.

“Becky was working and going to school and Mike just had no ambition. He wasn’t working, he sat at home with his buddies and watched TV, played video games…and Becky wanted more. She just wasn’t happy,” Karen said.

Michael filed for divorce in December 2002, but the relationship ended long before that. Becky did not participate in the divorce proceedings. Michael later told Milwaukee police he left because Becky smoked marijuana and he suspected she was cheating on him.

The Menard’s job led Becky to her next love affair, with Carl Rodgers Jr.

“When she first told me about Carl, she said he was 12 years older, divorced and had a couple kids, but he was a really nice guy … I think that was the attraction for Becky,” Karen said. “Carl was this big strong guy. He was a racer and professional dragster and that intrigued her, because she loved cars.  The first few weeks they were going everywhere, he was buying her gifts, and she loved that because that was different than how her husband was with her.”

Carl was a strong father of two, with short dark hair and deep brown eyes.  He had a variety of jobs, but his passion was professional drag racing.  Becky would come home and tell her mom about this cute man who would come to the store just to see her.

Karen was wary of Carl because of the large age difference.  Only a few months into the relationship, Carl asked Becky to move in with him. He continued to take care of Becky when she moved in. She adjusted to her life in Milwaukee, still going home once a week for family Sundays.

After she started dating Carl, Becky would sometimes bring his son along on Sundays, but never Carl. Soon Becky was only at one family get-together a month. She would call home and say she was busy or that Carl didn’t want her to go.  If she did come to the family gatherings, she would have bruises on her arms and face. She refused to talk to Karen about it, and eventually stopped coming altogether.

“She wouldn’t tell me where he lived or even what his number was, so I never met him,” Karen said.

Becky showed up on her parents’ doorstep on March 31, 2003 with a black-and-blue face and a chipped tooth.  She saw her mother and broke down in her arms. Karen held her daughter and begged her not to go back. Karen and her husband took Becky to the hospital and brought her home, to Oconomowoc, that night.  After giving her wedding ring to her daughter, Karen tried to figure out what to do.

She and her husband went to a counselor, who told the Kramers the best thing for Becky was to lay down ground rules. These rules would help her decide to come back home on her own.

A short time later, Becky called her mother for help.

Karen said she picked up the phone to the sound of her distressed daughter’s voice. Becky’s car broke down on the way to work. Becky said Carl would not come and get her, her friends would not come, and she needed her mom. With the counselor’s voice in the back of her mind, Karen said she would only pick up Becky if she promised to leave Carl. Becky refused. All Karen heard next was a dial tone.

“That’s when she needed me, and I wasn’t there. And I live with that,” Karen said.

Karen did not hear from her daughter for days and began to worry.  She received a phone call from an unknown number; Carl was on the other end.

“He said he had not seen Becky for a few days and he wanted to know where she was,” Karen said.

A few days passed. Carl kept calling Karen, who tried to get a hold of Becky. Becky would not answer her phone. She ignored Karen’s messages and a knot began to twist in Karen’s stomach. Carl told Karen that Becky was in Florida working in a strip club, and that he was going there to bring her back. Karen knew her daughter would not just leave without saying anything to her, so she thought something must be wrong.

According to police reports:

Karen went to the Oconomowoc Police Department and tried to file a missing persons report, but the police refused to take the report, saying Becky was a grown woman and could go where she wanted.

The knot in her stomach pulling tighter and tighter, Karen kept calling police until they went to the FBI, who took Becky’s case. Karen received a call from an FBI agent in Florida, Eric Miller, who said he was searching for Becky in Miami.

Nightmares of her daughter being forced to work in a strip club, scared and alone in an unfamiliar environment kept Karen awake for days.

Miller located Becky in a gentleman’s club called Gold Rush in Miami.

“We found Becky,” Miller told Karen.

Every muscle in Karen’s body released. Thousands of questions flooded her brain, but before Karen could utter a single one, Miller told her Becky had no intention of speaking with her.

According to Milwaukee police:

“Becky told [Agent Miller] that she had never been kidnapped or was being held against her will. Becky stated she hated her parents and wants nothing to do with them.”

Karen could feel the pain in her stomach growing. She still called her daughter to try and talk to her, but Becky would let the calls go to voicemail.

In August 2003, sick of being told what to do and where to go in Miami, Becky moved back to Wisconsin, Becky’s friend Lisa Randall told Milwaukee police.

Karen had heard that Becky was back in Milwaukee from Randall, but she never spoke to Becky herself. She still wanted Becky to come home, to be safe, but Becky was still angry with her.

Becky stayed with Randall, but flitted back and forth between Carl and a friend named Jemar Allen, who had earlier picked her up when her car broke down and taken her to Florida.

“Becky couldn’t make up her mind as to wanting to stay with [Jemar] or Carl and had been going to both of their homes. Carl then eventually did talk Becky into living with him,” Randall told Milwaukee police.

Becky continued to ignore her mother’s phone calls and pleas to come home, but Karen kept calling. Every day she would call and leave a voicemail.

According to another friend, Kristina Randall, she, Becky, and Lisa Randall went to Conversations, a night club, and hung out until 2:30 a.m. on Dec. 1, 2003. Throughout the night, Becky was bombarded with calls from Carl. Becky told Kristina she thought she might be pregnant, and Carl wanted her to take a pregnancy test.

Kristina grudgingly drove Becky home, waiting for her to wave from an upstairs window to show she was OK. Kristina stared at the house waiting for Becky to make it up the stairs, noting Carl’s vehicle in the driveway. She looked up and saw Becky waving in the window; she waved back and drove away.

“Kristina was the last person to see Becky alive,” Karen said.

Karen kept calling her daughter’s cell, thinking that she was ignoring her calls. The voicemail box never filled up so she didn’t think anything was wrong. She knew nothing of her daughter’s mysterious disappearance.

“I didn’t know anything until my niece called me sometime in January and said ‘Auntie Karen I think something is wrong with Becky.’”

In January 2004, Karen returned to the Oconomowoc Police Department and again tried to file a missing persons report. But because of the last time Becky went missing, police thought she was worried for nothing.

Karen was not going to sit and wait for police. She needed to find her daughter and if no one was going to help her, she would do it herself.

Karen got Carl’s address from the Randalls and was up before the sun, walking Carl’s neighborhood, talking to neighbors and strangers, trying to find her daughter. She put a picture of Becky on every telephone pole and blank wall in the area.

On Oct. 13, 2004, Karen reported her daughter missing to the Milwaukee police.  Karen told police she believed Carl had sent Becky to Florida.

Milwaukee police brought Carl in to the station. Then they put Karen and Carl in a room together. Police wanted Karen to tell Carl what she thought he had done to Becky, Karen said.

This was Karen’s first time seeing Carl. She was uneasy and anger burned inside her. She told him that she believed he was the reason Becky was missing. According to Karen, Carl said he did not know what she was talking about, and that Becky was taken from his house by two black men sometime in December.

“Carl states that a day or two later [after Becky was taken], he received a threatening phone call on his cell phone from a black male stating he was going to cause a lot of damage to his house and his red car if he didn’t stay away from Becky,” Milwaukee Police Officer Robin Ortiz wrote in a police report.

Carl had never filed a report with police for any damage or stolen property prior to that interview. Karen couldn’t believe this was happening. She knew she was on her own.

Her first step was hiring a private investigator. She was contacted by a man from Madison who said he could help her. She and her husband paid him to investigate for months, with no results.

More time passed and no one heard from Becky. Not her friends, not her employer. She never even picked up her last paycheck.

In May 2004, another private investigator, Kevin Kaiser of Milwaukee, called Karen and asked if he could help. Fatigued from her previous experience with a private investigator, Karen reluctantly said yes.

Kaiser worked diligently.

According to Karen, Kaiser found phone records from Becky’s cell, showing she did not make any phone calls after December 2003. Kaiser also found that Carl had received parking tickets outside a Milwaukee funeral home owned by his uncle the morning after Randall dropped Becky off.

Karen’s mind was racing. Almost a year later and she finally had a lead.

In May 2004, police searched Carl’s house.

They found evidence of Becky’s blood and bone in Carl’s house, according to Karen, but they could not charge him because the police could not tell if it was from a previous beating or one that could have killed her.

Karen continued to make a weekly pilgrimage to different Milwaukee police district stations trying to find someone to help her. She told them what Kaiser had found. According to Karen, the police were less than receptive to the information she gave them. They told her they were still investigating whether Becky had run away to Florida again.

In July 2005, Karen felt the police were ignoring her and being inconsiderate, and if they believed that Becky was in Florida, then she was going to go check it out.

She stepped out of the airport and went on her search.  She investigated high and low for Becky and did not find a trace of her. Every blonde walking down the street made her turn and stare. She prayed for just one sighting of her daughter, that she was wrong, that her daughter was not kidnapped, but had run away. She met the owner of Gold Rush; he had little memory of Becky and said he had not seen her. That was when Karen knew she would never hear her daughter’s heartbeat ever again.

She would not stop until her daughter was brought home to rest. The Milwaukee Police were not giving her answers and her private investigator hit a dead end. So Karen focused all of her attention on Carl.

“I was a stalker. I put flyers by his home, by his ex-wife’s house. I tried to talk to his ex-wife and her family,” Karen said.

Carl’s uncle, Grandville Rodgers, owned three funeral homes; one in Alabama, one in Racine, and one in Milwaukee. None of the funeral homes have crematoriums, according to Karen.

Three people who were buried from the Milwaukee funeral home between the time of Becky’s disappearance and January 2004. Karen did not like those facts. Her daughter could be buried with one of those people. After searching for answers for years, Karen was led to take extreme action: She would have to exhume a grave.

In 2007, Karen stood near a grimy, dirt-ridden coffin. The family of the person being exhumed stood watching, staring, numb. Karen felt their gaze but was distracted by her thoughts: “Could this be it? Will I finally get to bring my daughter peace?” Unable to stand still but unable to move, Karen swayed staring down at the casket. Milwaukee police removed the top and tears rushed to Karen’s eyes.

It was not her daughter.

“It is expensive and I have to pay for it, and it is terrible for those families, too,” Karen said.

Karen and her family have exhumed another grave since then, with no luck. She is hoping to exhume a third this year.

“If I would have gone (to pick her up when her car broke down), she would still be alive today. But I didn’t. I was doing that tough love … It’s just my own fault. She was angry at me  … If I would have said, ‘Tell me where you are I’ll be right there,’ she would be alive today,” Karen said, throwing her hands up.

After Becky’s disappearance, Karen found a lot of support from neighbors, friends and family, but mostly from strangers who have been in the same kind of situation.  On Becky’s birthday every year since Karen’s return from Florida, she convinced a group of 40 to 50 people to call Carl. They would tell him to wish Becky a happy birthday.

Almost 12 years later, Karen is still searching for Becky. She thinks her body is somewhere in the Milwaukee area. She still routinely calls and visits the Milwaukee police to check on their progress.

When Becky’s case hit a standstill, Karen transferred her energy to helping reform prisoners who have killed women and children just like Becky.

In this work, Karen walks to the front of a dingy prison room. Lines of murderers, rapists, and wife-beaters sit in front of her. She stares back at them with soft eyes and a kind heart. Karen tells them who she is and who Becky was. Then she tells her family’s story.

“They don’t realize at that time they aren’t just hurting that one person. There are families involved, even their families hurt, because they’re in prison,” Karen said. “One thing that I tell the women and the men is … if you have that much anger, you never know when that last hit or kick is going to cause the death of your partner.”

Karen ends her talk by putting in a video and slide show of Becky.

“I let them watch videos, I let them look at the pictures, because then Becky is humanized. They look at that video of Becky growing up, with all of her pictures, and baby pictures, and it makes her human. She was not just another person that was killed,” Karen said.

Karen asks the room for questions or comments and leaves them with one closing statement: “I forgive you for what you’ve done. As the victim, as the mother of somebody who has been murdered in the city of Milwaukee, I forgive you. You have to find forgiveness in yourself in order for you to be a productive human being, and walk out of here and change your life.”

Karen just moved out of her family’s home into a small, one-bedroom apartment. Becky’s disappearance was hard on her parents’ marriage.

“We have been married for 35 years and we didn’t want to be a statistic, but it looks like we are going to be,” Karen said. “For me, I have to keep pushing forward. For him, he’d rather stop and pretend like it never happened or like she was never born. Well, I had her for 23 years; it’s pretty hard to forget.”

October 5, 2007, Carl got home from work, went out to the garage, closed the door, and started his car.

Carl left a suicide note and voice recording that said, “I never killed that girl, and I don’t know what it will take to get people to believe me.”

He was never charged in Becky’s disappearance.

“I forgive Carl… I don’t forgive him for committing suicide. He took his secrets with him to the grave … I will never forgive him for that,” Karen said.

One thing is for certain: Karen will not stop searching until her daughter is found.

“I know we are going to find her sooner rather than later. I pray for that every day.”

-This story is part of a series of true-crime narratives produced in a JAMS crime reporting class.