Episode 28 - The Disappearance of Laura Elizabeth Moore

We’re diving into the case of Laura Elizabeth Moore, an 18-year-old college freshman with dreams of becoming an architect, who vanished after an evening walk, leaving behind a trail of elusive clues and a mystery that remains proofless without her body or clear resolution. This is a story of a young woman brimming with ambition, a fleeting moment that altered everything, and a family’s unyielding quest for truth. So, settle in for an expansive journey into a case that continues to echo through Charleston’s palmetto-lined avenues. 

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:18):
Welcome to the twenty eighth episode of Proofless, where we
navigate the haunting labyrinth of America's unsolved mysteries, cases that
linger like whispers in the wind, defying answers and anchoring
families to a relentless hope shadowed by grief. I'm your host,
Anna Burger, and today we're stepping into the historic streets

(00:40):
of Charleston, South Carolina, a city of cobblestone charm, low
country elegance, and hidden shadows, where a young woman's disappearance
in nineteen seventy five shattered a community's sense of safety
and left an enduring mystery. We're diving into the case
of Laura Elizabeth Moore, an eighteen year old college freshman

(01:00):
with dreams of becoming an architect, who vanished after an
evening walk to the battery, leaving behind a trail of
elusive clues, her torn sketch book, a cracked flashlight, a
discarded jacket, and a case that remains proofless without her
body or clear resolution. This is a story of a
young woman brimming with ambition, a fleeting moment that altered everything,

(01:23):
and a family's unyielding pursuit of the truth. A quest
that has spanned five decades in reshaped a city, so
settle in for an expansive, unbroken journey into a case
that continues to echo through Charleston's palmetto lined avenues. A
tale of loss, resilience, and unanswered questions that still beg

(01:43):
for answers. It's September nineteen seventy five in Charleston, a
coastal city of about seventy thousand, nestled where the Ashley
and Cooper Rivers converge into the Atlantic, crafting a landscape
of salt marshes, historic plantations, and pastel hwed homes gleam
under the low country sun. Charleston is a jewel of

(02:03):
the South, its cobblestone streets and colonial architecture drawing tourists
to the Battery's grand mansions, the French quarters, art galleries,
and the bustling docks where shrimp boats bob in the harbor.
The city pulses with a blend of tradition and vitality.
Gulla storytellers weave tales in the market. Church bells ring
from Saint Michael's, and the scent of she crab soup

(02:26):
wafts from local kitchens. Neighborhoods like Ansonborough, with its brick
row houses, wrought iron gates, and shaded courtyards, offer middle
class stability, a place where neighbors share iced tea on
porches and children play hopscotch on sidewalks. The mid nineteen
seventies are a time of cultural transition. Gerald Ford is president,
navigating a nation recovering from Watergate and Vietnam. Jaws is

(02:50):
terrifying moviegoers packing theaters with its tale of unseen danger,
and Fleetwood Max Rumors is climbing the charts, its melodies
drifting from transistor radios. Charleston's economy thrives on tourism, shipping,
and the nearby naval base, where sailors and crisp whites
mingle with locals, but beneath the city's charm lies an

(03:11):
undercurrent of unease. The FBI's nineteen seventy five Uniform Crime
Report notes a troubling rise in violent crime across southern
port cities, with abductions and assaults ticking upward, often targeting
young women in areas frequented by transients, dock workers, tourists,
and drifters drawn to Charleston's port and highways like I

(03:33):
twenty six. Ansonborough, where Laura Moore lives, is a tight
knit enclave of church suppers, community book clubs, and front
porch conversations, but its proximity to downtown's lively nightlife, with
its bars and music venues and the transient traffic along
every twenty six, creates pockets of vulnerability, especially after dusk

(03:57):
when street lights are sparse. Charleston Harbor, with its deep,
churning channels and surrounding marshes stretching into the Francis Marian
National Forest, is both a scenic wonder and a formidable
keeper of secrets, its murky depths capable of concealing evidence
for decades. Laura Elizabeth Moore is an eighteen year old

(04:19):
with a radiant smile, a quick laugh, and a passion
for design that lights up her green eyes. Born on
April tenth, nineteen fifty seven to William and Catherine Moore,
she's their only child, a cherished daughter who fills their
modest home with creativity and warmth. With her shoulder length
blonde hair, often tied back with a scarf and a

(04:40):
smattering of freckles across her nose, Laura is a familiar
sight in Ansonborough, pedaling her blue roleigy bike, or sitting
on a bench sketching Charleston's historic buildings in her leather
bound notebook. A nineteen seventy five graduate of Bishop England
High School, where she was voted most artistic, La is
a freshman at the College of Charleston studying architecture, with

(05:03):
dreams of designing modern buildings that harmonize with the city's
colonial esthetic, perhaps a sleek library with gabled roofs, or
a community center echoing the low Country's charm. Her father, William,
a burly dock worker with calloused hands, spends long days
unloading cargo at the port, while her mother, Catherine, a seamstress,

(05:26):
crafts intricate quilts sold at local markets. Their home on
Meeting Street is a cozy, two story row house, its
walls adorned with Laura's pencil sketches of rainbow row and
her water colors of palmetto trees. Laura is a straight
A student, her professors praising her meticulous designs and her
ability to blend practicality with beauty. She's active in the

(05:50):
college's art club, organizing gallery nights, and volunteers at the
Charleston Museum, cataloging eighteenth century artifacts with a reverence for history.
Friends describe her as creative yet grounded, a planner who
dreams big but always calls home by her nine pm curfew.
Laura's life captures the vibrant spirit of a nineteen seventies

(06:13):
teenager in a city steeped in tradition. She works part
time at the Booknook, a cozy bookstore on King Street,
shelving novels and saving for a professional drafting table she's
eyed in a catalog. Her free time is spent at
Folly Beach, where she sketches driftwood or swims with her
best friend, Sarah Evans, a fellow freshman. She loves evening

(06:33):
strolls through the Battery, capturing the sunset's glow over Fort Sumter,
or wandering the French Quarter sketching church steeples while listening
to Simon and Garfunkel or James Taylor on her portable radio.
Laura rides her Raleigh bike everywhere, its basket often stuffed
with art supplies, weaving through Charleston's narrow streets with a

(06:55):
care free grace. She dates casually, meeting classmates at coffee shops,
life the daily grind, but in September nineteen seventy five,
she's single, pouring her energy into her studies and sketches.
Sarah recalls a troubling detail. Laura mentioned an unsettling customer
at the book nook, a man in his late twenties

(07:16):
with a scruffy beard who'd linger at the counter asking
about her classes and weekend plans. Laura laughed it off,
saying he's probably just bored, but grew cautious, double checking
the storre's locks and avoiding closing shifts alone. These moments,
fleeting in the warm September light, would later cast a
long shadow over her case. On the evening of September twelfth,

(07:40):
nineteen seventy five, Charleston is warm and humid, with temperatures
hovering in the high seventies and a salty breeze drifting
in from the harbor. The city is alive with early
fall energy. Tourists stroll the market, Locals sip sweet tea
on porches, and the distant hum of a jazz band
floats from a nearby tavern. Laura finishes her homework at

(08:02):
the kitchen table around seven p m. Her architecture text book,
opened to a chapter on Gothic revival. She tells Catherine
she's going for a walk to the battery, a half
mile from home, to sketch the sunset over the harbor,
a ritual she loves for its calm and inspiration. Dressed
in a yellow sun dress that catches the evening light,

(08:22):
white sandals, and a denim jacket with a small palmetto
patch she sewed herself, Laura grabs her sketch book, a pencil,
and a small, ever eaty flashlight. A precaution for the
dimming streets. William, engrossed in the Post and Courier, looks
up from an article about the port's expansion and reminds
her stick to meeting in East Bay. Laura no short cuts.

(08:46):
She nods, her blonde hair bouncing as she heads out,
promising to be back by eight thirty p m. A neighbor,
missus Helen Pritchard, a sixty year old retiree watering her azaleas,
sees Laura walking down Meeting Street around seven fifteen p m.
Her flashlight beam cutting through the gathering dusk. Missus Pritchard
waves and Laura calls back just sketching the harbor. Tonight

(09:07):
at the battery, a street vendor named John Tate, selling
sweet grass baskets, notices Laura around seven thirty pm, perched
on a bench near the sea wall, sketching the horizon
as the sky blazes orange. She's alone, focused, her pencil
moving swiftly. This is the last confirmed sighting of Laura
Elizabeth Moore. Laura's usual route home follows East Bay Street,

(09:32):
a busy road lined with historic homes and gas lamps,
though its edges near downtown grow quieter as night falls.
When she doesn't return by nine pm, Catherine grows uneasy,
her hands trembling as she dials Sarah's number, learning Laura
didn't meet friends that evening. By ten pm, the Moors
call the Charleston Police Department CPD, their voices tight with worry.

(09:58):
Officer Robert Hayes, a young patrolman, takes the report at
the meeting street home, noting Laura's description five feet five inches,
one hundred twenty pounds, blonde, shoulder length hair, green eyes,
last seen in a yellow sun dress and denim jacket,
carrying a sketch book and flashlight. The CPD initially classifies

(10:19):
her as a potential runaway, a common assumption for an
eighteen year old in nineteen seventy five, when missing persons
cases were often misjudged as youthful rebellion. William, his face
flushed with frustration, insists Laura is reliable. She's never missed curfew.
Her savings for the drafting table are untouched, and her

(10:40):
bike sits in the garage, its blue frame gleaming under
a tarp. Catherine, clutching a photo of Laura at her graduation,
her cap tilted jauntily tells Hayes something's wrong. She wouldn't
just leave. The officer nods, promising a search, but the
Moor's sense the initial dismissal a reflection of an era

(11:01):
when missing teens were often underestimated. The next morning, September thirteenth,
a jogger named Peter Sullivan, a thirty five year old lawyer,
finds Laura's sketch book in a grassy lot off East
Bay Street, about four hundred yards from the battery. The
leather bound book, a gift from Catherine, is torn, several

(11:22):
pages ripped out, with a half finished sketch of the
harbor smudged by dirt, nearby, Sullivan spots Laura's flashlight, its
plastic lens cracked but still functional, its batteries rattling inside.
He recognizes Laura's name from a radio bulletin and calls
the Spade. Detective Samuel sam Wheeler, a fifteen year veteran

(11:44):
with a reputation for dogged persistence, takes charge of the case.
His notebook already filled with leads from other missing persons files.
Wheeler's team descends on the lot, a weedy patch near
a vacant warehouse, cordoning it off as volunteers gather neighbours
from Antetsonborough, classmates from the College of Charleston, and members
of First Presbyterian Church, where the Moors worship. The search

(12:08):
spreads across the battery's sea wall, the marshes along the
Ashley River, and the harbour's muddy banks, with volunteers calling
Laura's name into the humid air. On September fourteenth, a
dog walker, seventy year old George Ramsay, finds Laura's Denham jacket,
its hem torn and palmetto patch frayed, in a ditch
off conquered street, about two hundred yards from the sketchbook. Catherine,

(12:32):
her hands shaking, confirms its Lauras, recognizing the stitching she
taught her daughter. The items are sent to the South
Carolina Law Enforcement Division SLED lab in Columbia, where analysts
search for clues, but the results are frustratingly sparse. No blood,
no fingerprints, only soil and marsh grass fibers consistent with

(12:52):
the lot's terrain. The discoveries escalate the case to a
suspected abduction, and Wheeler establishes a command post at the
CPD's downtown station. A cramped office buzzing with officers, maps,
and ringing phones, Wheeler's team works meticulously to reconstruct Laura's
final moments. Sarah Evans, her best friend, confirms Laura was

(13:13):
excited about a design project, sketching ideas for a modernized
Charleston market, with no plans to leave town. She last
spoke to Laura at school, where they planned to attend
a gallery opening in the next weekend. John Tate, the
battery vendor, provides a vivid account Laura was seated on
a bench, her sketchbook open, capturing the harbor's silhouette as

(13:36):
sailboats drifted past. He noticed a man in a dark
shirt and jeans about thirty feet away, leaning against a
lamp post, watching her intently. Tate, busy with customers, thought
little of it, assuming he was a tourist, but the
man's lingering presence stuck in his memory. The fog rolling

(13:56):
in from the harbor obscured his face, and Tate couldn't
recall distinct features. Another witness, Mary Collins, a forty five
year old taxi driver, reports seeing a girl matching Laura's
description on East Bay Street around seven forty five pm,
walking briskly near a parked green van with rusted fenders. Collins,
driving a fair didn't stop, and the dim street lights

(14:19):
left her uncertain if the girl was Laura. A third witness,
a fisherman named Henry Brooks, claims he saw a young
woman near Conquered Street at eight p m walking alone,
but a man in a baseball cap trailed her at
a distance of about twenty yards. Brooks, preparing his boat,
didn't intervene, assuming it was a coincidence, but later regretted

(14:41):
his inaction when he heard of Laura's disappearance. The CPD
Canvas's East Bay and Conquered Streets knocking on doors and
questioning shopkeepers, but the area's mix of tourists and locals
yields conflicting accounts. A partial tire track is found in
the mud near the jacket, but heavy rain on September
thirteenth washes away details, rendering it useless for casting. Cadaver

(15:05):
dogs brought in on September fifteenth alert to a faint
scent in the grassy lot, suggesting the presence of human
remains or biological material, but a three day excavation with
volunteers digging through roots and clay uncovers only trash, broken bottles,
a rusted hubcap, and a soggy newspaper wheeler. In a
rare moment of candor with the Post and Courier admits

(15:29):
we're chasing ghosts here. We need a witness or a break.
The case seizes Charleston's imagination, dominating local media and stirring
a city known for its genteel calm. The Post and
Courier runs a front page story on September fifteenth. College
freshman vanishes near battery, accompanied by Laura's senior yearbook photo,

(15:50):
her blonde hair framing a hopeful smile that tugs at
reader's hearts. WCSCTV air's nightly updates showing grainy footage of
the batteries, sea wall and interviews with tearful classmates. The
Moors appear on WCIVTV on September sixteenth, standing in their
living room. William's voice steady but strained as he pleads,

(16:13):
if you know anything, please help us bring Laura home. Catherine,
clutching a sketch of a palmetto tree Laura drew at sixteen,
ads she's our only daughter. We just need to know
she's safe. The family offers of four thousand dollars reward
scrape together from their savings, which grows to sixty thousand
dollars by October with donations from local businesses like Husk Restaurant,

(16:37):
Pugin's Porch, and the Preservation Society. The community rallies Ansonborough
neighbors print flyers at a local Kinko's, stapling them to
telephone polls and slipping them under windshield wipers. The College
of Charleston holds a vigil on September eighteenth, with four
hundred students and faculty gathering in cistern yard, lighting candles

(16:58):
that flicker against the live Oaks. Pastor James Thompson, a
first Presbyterian, leads a prayer calling Laura a light in
our city, tips pour in. A gas station clerk in
Myrtle Beach reports a nervous teen resembling Laura. On September fourteenth,
a fisherman claims he saw a girl near Edistow Island,

(17:19):
forty miles south. A tourist at a Savannah motel describes
a blonde girl with a man. The CPD chases each lead,
sending officers to motels and marinas, but most are mistaken
identities or dead ends, the descriptions too vague to confirm.
The FBI joins the investigation on September seventeen, citing the

(17:40):
possibility of interstate travel along Urns twenty six, a major
artery connecting Charleston to Columbia and beyond. Agents focus on
the port, where transient dockworkers and sailors create a fluid
population and explore a trafficking angle. Noting a nineteen seventy
five FBI report on rising abductions in coastal cities. Divers

(18:04):
search the Charleston Harbor, navigating its thirty foot depths and
strong currents While helicopters equipped with early infrared technology scan
the marshes of the Francis Marian National Forest, a two
hundred fifty thousand acre expanse of pine and swamp, no
trace of Laura emerges, and by October nineteen seventy five,
the CPD reclassifies the case as a suspected homicide, though

(18:28):
the absence of a body or forensic evidence stalls progress. Wheeler,
his desk piled with witness statements, tells the Post and Courier,
we're missing a piece of the puzzle without a body
or a crime scene. Were stuck the moors. Meanwhile, cling
to hope, William driving his pick up to rural John's Island,
and Catherine walking the battery daily scanning the horizon as

(18:51):
if Laura might appear. The cp day pursues several persons
of interest, each lead a mix of promise and frustration.
Thomas Tommy Garrett, a twenty nine year old dock worker
and regular at the Buoknook, matches the description of the
unsettling customer Laura mentioned to Sarah. Garrett, with a scruffy
beard and a habit of loitering, had asked Laura about

(19:12):
her college classes, and once followed her to the store's exit,
offering to carry her bag. Questioned on September eighteenth, Garrett
claims he was at the Blind Tiger, a King Street bar,
until ten p m. On September twelfth, drinking with friends.
The bartender, however, only vaguely recalls him and no patrons

(19:34):
confirm his presence past eight p m. A search of
Garrett's one bedroom apartment near the port finds a pair
of work boots with soil matching the grassy lot's red clay,
but the soil is common to Charleston's Lowlands, offering no
definitive link. Garrett fails a polygraph, his hands shaking as
he cites anxiety from police pressure, but without direct evidence fibers,

(19:57):
blood or a witness tying him to Laura. Released on
September twentieth, though Wheeler keeps him under surveillance. Another suspect,
David Dave Lawson, a twenty four year old delivery driver,
was seen near the battery on September twelfth, driving a
green van with rusted fenders that matches Mary Collins's description.

(20:18):
Lawson with a nineteen seventy three arrest for stealing from
a warehouse claims he was delivering produce to a downtown
restaurant until nine pm, an alibi partially backed by a
coworker who says Lawson left around eight thirty pm. A
search of his van and small North Charleston home finds
no evidence, no hair, no sketchbook pages, no signs of Laura.

(20:41):
His tires don't match the partial track, and he's cleared
but remains a name in Wheeler's notes. A third lead
points to Eddie Holt, a thirty three year old drifter
known for panhandling near the market. A tourist reported seeing
Holt on East Bay Street on September twelfth, carrying a
Duffel bag, but he's located in Savanna on September twenty second,

(21:02):
with a shelter log confirming he was there on September
eleventh and twelfth, ruling him out the transient population. A
constant in Charleston's Port complicates the investigation. Many potential witnesses
are gone by the time police canvass. Theories about Laura's
fate multiply, each shadowed by uncertainty and the lack of

(21:22):
concrete evidence. The leading hypothesis is an opportunistic abduction. The
torn sketch book, cracked flashlight, and frayed jacket suggests a
violent struggle in the Grassy Lot, a dimly lit area
known as a shortcut for locals. The cadaver dogs alert
in the lot supports this, indicating Laura may have been

(21:42):
attacked and her body moved, possibly to the Charleston Harbor,
where currents could carry remains to the Atlantic, or the
marshes of the Francis Marion National Forest, a vast wilderness
where searches are like finding a needle in a haystack.
In nineteen seventy six, a tip for I'm a Shrimper
about a suspicious sack weighted with stones in the forests

(22:04):
tidal creeks prompts a week long search with boats and dogs,
but only driftwood and crab traps are found. Another theory
posits a targeted attack by someone who knew Laura's routine,
possibly through her bookstore job. The customer's persistent questions and
lingering behavior point to stalking, with Garrett as the prime fit,
though the lack of forensic evidence a hair a fiber

(22:27):
a confession keeps him free. Wheeler investigates Laura's classmates and
co workers, including a bookstore colleague, Mark Reynolds, who'd flirted
with her but was in Myrtle Beach on September twelfth,
verified by hotel receipts. A third theory, less likely, but
fueled by Charleston's role as a shipping hub, suggests human trafficking.

(22:48):
A nineteen seventy five FBI report notes coastal ports as
conduits for such crimes, and a tip in November nineteen
seventy five claims a young woman resembling Laura was seen
at a truck stop near I twenty five x six,
accompanied by an older man. The lead fizzles when the
woman is identified as a runaway from Columbia. The trafficking
angle persists in public speculation, amplified by fear, but no

(23:12):
evidence ties Laura to such a network. The Moors become
fierce advocates, their lives reshaped by loss. William, his weathered
face etched with worry, takes unpaid leave from the docks
to organize searches, driving his pickup to John's Island, wadmo
Law and the forest's edges, combing marshes with volunteers from

(23:32):
the Long Shoreman's Union. Catherine, soft spoken but resolute, spends
hours at a local print shop, producing thousands of flyers
with Laura's photo, her green eyes staring out from telephone
poles and shop windows across Charleston. They appear on Good
Morning America in March nineteen seventy six, standing in their
living room, surrounded by Laura's sketches, pleading for information. By

(23:56):
nineteen seventy eight, their reward fund reaches eighty thousand dollars,
bolstered by community fundraisers, bake sales at First Presbyterian, a
charity concert at the guy Yard Center, and donations from
King Street merchants. In nineteen seventy seven, they found the
Laura Moore Foundation, a non profit dedicated to missing persons
cases in safety education, funding searches for six other South

(24:20):
Carolinians by nineteen eighty and partnering with schools to teach
abduction prevention, reaching eight thousand students by nineteen eighty five.
The emotional toll is profound. William Battle's anger, his fists
clenched when leads evaporate, confiding to a Post and Courier
reporter in nineteen seventy seven, I load ships, but I

(24:41):
can't carry this weight. Catherine keeps Laura's room untouched, her
yellow sun dress folded on the bed, her sketch book
opened to a drawing of Saint Michael's steeple, its lines
precise and hopeful. Annual vigils at the battery draw hundreds
with candles illuminating Laura's photo. Her smile a beacon of

(25:01):
what's lost, Catherine tells WCSCTV in nineteen seventy nine, every
sunset I see, I think Laura's sketching it somewhere. The
investigation sees multiple revivals, each reigniting hope and frustration. In
nineteen eighty two, Detective Laura Bennett, a rising star in
the CPD's Cold Case Unit, reopens the file, driven by

(25:25):
a personal connection her own cousin went missing in nineteen seventy.
Bennett reinterviews key witnesses. Missus Pritchard, now sixty seven, sticks
to her story of seeing Laura on Meeting Street, though
her memory of the time seven fifteen or seven thirty
PM waivers. John Tait, the vender, now a grandfather, recalls

(25:47):
the man in the dark shirt more vividly, noting a
scar on his cheek. A detail he omitted in nineteen
seventy five due to nerves. Bennett questions Tommy Garrett, now
thirty six and living in an in Columbia where he
works as a mechanic. Garrett denies involvement, claiming he barely
knew Laura, but fails another polygraph, blaming medication. A search

(26:11):
of his current home finds a sketchbook page with a
palmetto tree, but it's a common design sold at tourist shops,
not Laura's. Bennett also tracks down David Lawson, now in Atlanta,
who refuses to talk without a lawyer. His nineteen seventy
five alibi still holds, though his coworker's testimony is less
certain with time. In nineteen eighty nine, a hiker in

(26:33):
the Francis Marion National Forest reports finding a buried sandal
size six, matching Laura's white sandals. The CPD using early
ground penetrating radar a cutting edge tool in nineteen eighty nine,
excavates a one hundred yard area with volunteers sifting through mud,
but finds only animal bones and the sandal, unrelated to Laura.

(26:58):
The effort, though fruitless, sparks renewed media coverage, with WCIV
TV airing a special Laura Moore fourteen Years Gone, featuring
interviews with her professors who recall her talent and determination.
In two thousand five, the CPD's cold Case unit, led
by Detective Maria Gonzalez, retests Laura's denim jacket using advanced

(27:22):
DNA techniques, hoping to isolate touch DNA, a method unavailable
in nineteen seventy five. The jacket, stored in a climate
controlled evidence locker, is degraded by Charleston's humidity, and no
usable profiles are extracted. Gonzales also analyzes soil samples from
the grassy lot using mass spectrometry to detect chemical traces,

(27:46):
but finds only common fertilizers in marsh sediment. The investigation
leverages new technology, geographic profiling, which maps crime patterns to
pinpoint a suspect's likely residence. The profile I'LL suggests the
abductor lived within five miles of the battery, possibly in
Ansonborough or downtown, aligning with Garrett's nineteen seventy five address,

(28:09):
but offering no definitive proof. In twenty eighteen, a podcast,
Low Country Lost, hosted by Charleston journalist Emily Tran dedicates
a twelve episode season to Laura's case, weaving interviews with
her friends, family, and Wheeler, now retired. The podcast, with
its evocative storytelling, garners five million downloads by twenty twenty five,

(28:32):
bringing national attention. A twenty twenty tip spurred by the
podcast comes from a Charleston retiree who claims his deceased uncle,
a former dock worker, confessed in nineteen ninety five to
hiding a girl in nineteen seventy five. The CPD investigates,
identifying the uncle as Richard Hayes, who died in nineteen

(28:53):
ninety six, but his work records show he was at
sea on September twelfth, nineteen seventy five, ruling him out.
In twenty twenty three, the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit provides
a psychological profile of the abductor, a local male aged
twenty to thirty five in nineteen seventy five, likely with

(29:13):
a history of voyeurism or minor assaults, possibly triggered by
rejection or opportunity. The profile fits Garret and to a
lesser extent, Lawson, but its broad strokes can't narrow the
suspect pool without new evidence. Forensic advancements offer glimmers of hope,
but no breakthroughs. In twenty twenty four, a tip from

(29:34):
a kayaker about unusual debris in the Ashley River prompts
a search with drones and LDAR, a laser based mapping
technology that can penetrate marsh vegetation. The operation, spanning three
hundred acres, involves the CPDSLED and volunteers, but finds only
driftwood and fishing nets. Genetic genealogy, used to solve cases

(29:57):
like the Golden State killer, is considered, but without crime
scene DNA or a body it's Inapplicable Ground penetrating radar,
now standard in cold case searches, is redeployed in twenty
twenty five to scan the grassy lot, but urban development
a parking lot built in nineteen ninety eight has buried
potential clues under asphalt. I spoke with doctor Elizabeth Harper,

(30:22):
a criminologist at Clemson University who specializes in missing persons cases.
Harper notes that nineteen seventies abductions often involved opportunistic predators
exploiting low visibility areas like East Bay Street's darker stretches,
Laura's case is typical of the era. She says, a
young woman alone at dusk in a transitional zone residential

(30:46):
but near commercial activity, predators, new police lacked tools like
DNA or CCTV. Harper highlights the psychological toll of ambiguous loss,
where families like the Moors grieve without clothes, josure a
limbo more painful than confirmed loss. The bau's profile suggests
the abductor was familiar with Charleston's layout, choosing a disposal

(31:10):
site like the harbor or forest to evade detection, possibly
someone who blended into the port's transient workforce. Charleston's response
to Laura's disappearance reshapes the city. By nineteen seventy six,
Ansonborough residents petition for forty new street lights along East
Bay and Conquered streets, funded by a city grant and

(31:30):
installed in nineteen seventy seven. Their soft glow a quiet
tribute to Laura. The College of Charleston implements a safety
escort program requiring students to travel in pairs after dark,
a policy still in place in twenty twenty five. The
Laura More Foundation becomes a regional force supporting thirty missing
persons cases by twenty twenty five and funding Amber Alert

(31:54):
precursors in South Carolina. Williams's testimony before the state legislature
in nineteen seven eight, his voice breaking as he recounts
Laura's dreams, helps pass the South Carolina Missing Person's database
in nineteen eighty, which tracks one thousand, five hundred cases
annually by twenty twenty five. The Post and Courier runs
a nineteen seventy seven series, Charleston's Hidden Dangers, exploring risks

(32:19):
to young women in urban areas, prompting school workshops on
stranger awareness, with Laura's story as a cautionary tale. Online
reddits RT Unsolved Mysteries and ex posts keep the case alive,
with users like U called Low Country Sleuth debating a
serial killer theory linking Laura's disappearance to a nineteen seventy

(32:40):
four case in Savannah and a nineteen seventy six case
in Myrtle Beach. At twenty twenty three, x thread by
at Charleston Cold Cases with twelve thousand likes speculates about
a transient predator tied to the port, but no evidence
confirms a connection. The Moors now in their early eighties
remain in the meeting street home. It's paint peeling, but

(33:03):
Laura's room preserved like a museum, her yellow sun dress folded,
her sketchbook open, her pencils sharpened. William, slowed by heart trouble,
still walks the battery weekly, his eyes scanning the horizon,
while Catherine maintains the Laura Moore Foundation's website, Lauramorefoundation dot org,
which logs sixty thousand visits annually and offers a tip

(33:26):
portal linked to the CPD. In a twenty twenty five
Posting Courier interview, Catherine, her voice soft but resolute, says,
Laura's still drawing somewhere. I feel her in every sketch
I see. Annual vigils now live streamed on x draw
Global support with a two thy twenty five event featuring
a mural of Laura at the battery, her green eyes

(33:49):
painted above the words forever Charleston's Daughter. The proofless heart
of Laura's case lies in its unanswered questions. Was she
taken by a stranger like Garrett, a local like Lawson,
or a drifter passing through? Did the harbor or Marsh's
claim her remains, or does she lie hidden in a
place yet unsearched. The absence of a body keeps the

(34:12):
case in limbo, a poignant reminder of a life paused
and a truth elusive for listeners. Laura's story is a
call to action. The CPD's Cold Case Unit, reachable at
eight four three five seven seven seven four three four,
welcomes tips no matter how small. The Laura Moore Foundation's

(34:33):
website offers resources and a tip portal. Share your thoughts
on our website, Proofless podcast dot com, or on X
using number sign Laura Moore. Theories persist on Reddit, users
propose a link to a nineteen seventy serial predator, while
X posts from at missing an sc urge new searches
with advanced sonar. Each tip, each share keeps Laura's name alive.

(35:01):
That's all for the twenty eighth episode of Proofless. Laura
Elizabeth Moore's disappearance is a tragedy that reshaped a historic
city and exposed the fragility of youth. Her sketches, her dreams,
her light. They endure in the hearts of those who
love her. If you have information, contact the Charleston Police
Department or visit Laura Moore Foundation dot org. Join us

(35:23):
next time for another journey into the unknown. Until then,
keep searching for answers.