November 20, 2025 • 31 mins
Discover the shocking true crime story of Emily Roark, a 17-year-old high school junior from Tustin, California, who was brutally murdered after uncovering a horrifying family conspiracy in January 2018. This gripping episode of True Crime Case Files explores Emily’s quiet, observant life, her part-time job at a frozen yogurt shop, and her dream of becoming a journalist. Follow the investigation as detectives uncover dark secrets involving her parents, Claire and Dr. Daniel Roark, including hidden art projects, identity theft, and financial fraud. Learn how Emily’s courage and curiosity ultimately led to her tragic death, the shocking twists revealed through forensic evidence and security footage, and the aftermath that left the Tustin community reeling. Don’t miss this detailed true crime documentary, featuring the investigation, arrests, and the controversial trial that stunned Orange County and beyond.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
This is true crime case Files. Today, we travel to
the quiet suburb of Tustan, California, in January of twenty eighteen,
where a teenage girl's curiosity led her to uncover a
dark family secret, one that would cost her life. What
began as a private argument inside a well kept home
ended in a brutal killing, but stunned a community and
(00:21):
exposed a conspiracy no one saw coming. This is the
story of Emily Rourke, a seventeen year old high school
student who was murdered after discovering the truth about her
family in January of twenty eighteen. Emily Rourke was seventeen
years old and living with her parents, doctor Daniel Rourke
and Claire Rourke, in a quiet culd deest sac on
(00:42):
Orchard View Lane in Tustin, California. The Rourke home was
tidy and modern, with trimmed hedges, white shutters, and a
silver Tesla parked in the driveway. From the outside, their
life looked picture perfect. A successful doctor, a stay at
home mother, and a bright, well behaved teenage daughter. Emily
was a junior at Beckmann High School, a large public
(01:03):
school known for its strong academics and clean, palm lined campus.
She was the kind of quiet, observant student teachers loved, polite, articulate,
and always writing in a small, leather bound journal she
carried everywhere. She sat near the back of her English class,
jotting notes about people and moments, always watching, always thinking.
Outside of school, Emily worked part time at Yogurthaven, a
(01:26):
frozen yogurt chop near the Tustin Marketplace. She usually worked
evening shifts, wiping down counters, greeting customers, and earning enough
money to buy used books and refills for her favorite
black ink pens. Her dream was to become a journalist,
and she often stayed up late reading stories from the
Los Angeles Times or watching documentaries on Netflix about famous
(01:46):
crimes and corruption cases. Her classmates described her as sweet
but serious, a girl who preferred quiet nights over loud parties.
She didn't hang out with a popular crod, but had
a close circle of friends who admired her honesty and
deep sense of curiosity. Her best friend, Kayla Hines, once
said Emily noticed things other people missed. She could walk
(02:07):
into a room and sense when something was off. That ability,
the one her friends thought made her special, would later
prove fatal. In the days leading up to her death,
Emily had seemed distracted and uneasy. Her teachers noticed her
staring out windows during class. Her boss at Yogurhaven said
she had been quieter than usual, spending breaks scribbling in
her journal instead of chatting with coworkers. When Kayla asked
(02:31):
if she was okay, Emily finally confided that something wasn't
right at home. She said she found things in the
house that were immoral and even evil. Kayla later told
police she said her parents were far worse than who
they said they were. Emily didn't go into details, but
she hinted that she had found documents or photographs hidden
somewhere in the house. She told Kayla she was close
(02:53):
to understanding everything and that she might have to tell
someone soon, maybe even the police. At home, her parents
said she spent long hours in her room door locked
headphones on typing or writing, but neighbors recalled seeing her
sitting in the backyard late at night, bundled and hoodie,
staring at the sky, or flipping through her journal by flashlight.
(03:13):
On the last week of her life, Emily wrote in
that journal, I think I know the truth now I'm scared,
but I can't ignore it any more. Just two days later,
she would be dead. The morning of January twelve, twenty eighteen,
began like any other cool winter morning in Tustin, California.
The sun had just started to rise and the streets
of Orchard View Lane were quiet except for the distant
(03:35):
hum of cars heading toward the freeway. The air was
crisp around fifty five degrees, and small patches of dew
covered lawns and garden fences. At six forty five am,
Pauline Hensley, the Roark's next door neighbor, left her house
to walk her small golden retriever, Daisy. Pauline, a retired teacher,
took the same route every morning, passing the Roarkes backyard.
(03:57):
As Daisy sniffed along the hedges, the roor comb looked peaceful,
lights off, curtains drawn, but something caught Pauline's attention that day.
Near the back edge, she saw what looked like a
pile of blankets or clothing lying on the damp grass.
At first, she thought maybe one of the Rourke's patio
cushions had blown off during the night's light wind, but
when Daisy began barking and refusing to move. Pauline stepped closer.
(04:21):
That's when she saw a hand. It was pale, motionless,
and sticking out from beneath a gray hoodie. Pauline gasped
and froze for several seconds before realizing it was a person,
a young woman, lying face down near the garden light.
Her first thought was that it might be Emily, though
she prayed it wasn't. Panicking, Pauline dropped Daisy's leash and
(04:42):
ran toward her phone, which she kept in her jacket pocket.
Her hands shook so badly that she almost couldn't dial
nine one one. There's a girl, she told the despatcher,
her voice trembling. I think she's dead. She's in the
works yard. Please send someone fast. Within minutes, police cars
and an ambulance arrived, their red and blue lights flashing
across the quiet neighborhood. Paramedics rushed through the gate while
(05:05):
officers tacked off the area. Pauline stood in the driveway,
clutching Daisy's leash, watching in disbelief. A paramedic knelt beside
the body, checked for a pulse, and then shook his head.
Emily Rourke was pronounced dead at six point fifty nine am.
She had suffered a severe blow to the head with
a heavy object later determined to be a lens grinder
(05:25):
from her father's medical office. Neighbors began to step outside
in their roads, whispering among themselves as police led Pauline
away to give her statement. The once quiet cul de
Sac filled with flashing lights, camera crews, and the low
murmur of stunned disbelief. By seven thirty m, news of
the tragedy had spread across town. Students at Beckmann High
(05:46):
School received text messages in social media posts saying that
Emily had been found dead. Teachers held back tears as
they prepared to tell her classmates. What no one yet
knew was that the truth behind Emily's death would soon
expose something far darker than anyone could imagine. By seven
ten a m. On January twelve, twenty eighteen, the quiet
(06:06):
neighborhood of Orchard View Lane was no longer peaceful. Red
and blue police lights flashed against the pale orange glow
of the sunrise. Yellow tape stretched across the works driveway,
and neighbors watched from behind half closed blinds as detectives
moved carefully through the yard. Detective Marisol Cortes and Detective
Brian Kettering of the Tusten Police Department were the first
(06:27):
lead investigators on scene. Cortes, thirty seven, was known for
her sharp instincts and calm approach, while Kettering, a former
patrol officer with a reputation for noticing small details, handled
the evidence documentation. The backyard was cold and damp from
overnight sprinklers, and the grass shimmered under the weak January light.
Emily's body lay near a broken garden light, her long
(06:50):
hair matted with blood. Her gray hoodie was pulled slightly
to one side, suggesting a struggle had taken place nearby.
One of the patio chairs was overturned and faint. The
scuff marks could be seen in the dirt leading back
toward the house. There was no sign of forced entry.
The sliding glass door was unlocked but not damaged, and
nothing in the house appeared to be missing. Emily's phone
(07:12):
and her small leather bound journal, however, were nowhere to
be found. Her backpack, shoes, and school jacket were still inside,
folded neatly by the kitchen counter. Detective Cortes crouched near
the body and noted the injury, a deep crushing wound
to the side of the head. It was clear Emily
had been struck with a heavy blunt object. Later that day,
(07:33):
the Orange County Forensics Unit identified the weapon as a
lens grinder taken from her father's medical office in Irvine.
The tool, used to shape prescription lenses, was roughly the
size of a small hammer and weighed several pounds. Inside
the house, police moved slowly and methodically. They used ultra
violet scanners and luminol to search for hidden bloodstains. Under
(07:54):
the bright blue light, faint smears appeared on the kitchen
counter and near the sink, later confirmed to be Emily's blood.
There were also small droplets leading from the kitchen to
the sliding glass door, suggesting the attack may have begun
inside before moving outside. Investigators estimated that the murder occurred
between eleven PM and midnight, roughly an hour after Emily
(08:15):
was last seen alive. According to a neighbor's statement, she
had been heard arguing quietly with her mother in the
kitchen around ten forty five pm. No one reported hearing screams. Afterward,
detectives collected fingerprints from the door handles, countertops, and patio furniture.
They also bagged a pair of rubber gloves found near
the garbage bin, and a half empty glass of red
(08:35):
wine from the kitchen island. As the coroner's van arrived
to take Emily's body away, Cortes stood silently by the
back gate. Something happened in this house last night, she
told kettering, something the family isn't saying. By the end
of that cold January morning, the peaceful image of the
Rourke family home had shattered, and what police found inside
would raise more questions than answers. The first person detective's
(08:59):
question was doctor Daniel Rourke, Emily's father. At forty nine
years old, Danigel was one of Tustan's most respected ophthalmologists,
known for his steady hands, careful speech, and well kept appearance.
Around town, he was considered a model citizen, calm, meticulous,
and deeply private. He drove a silver Tessel MODELUS, taught
(09:19):
Sunday school at a nearby church, and served on the
board of a local charity for vision research. From the outside,
his life looked orderly and successful, but investigators would soon
learn that appearances could be deceiving. Detectives Marisol Cortes and
Brian Kettering visited doctor Rourke at his office in Irvine
on the morning of January thirteen, twenty eighteen, less than
(09:39):
twenty four hours after Emily's body was found. His office
was spotless, the blinds perfectly even, and framed certificates lying
the walls. Daniel sat stiffly behind his desk, his wedding
ring glinting under the fluorescent lights. He told police he
had been working lay on the night of January eleventh,
catching up on patient reports. According to him, he left
the office close to midnight, drove straight home and went
(10:02):
to bed, But when detectives checked security footage from the
medical building's parking lot, they discovered that his tesla had
excited at nine fifty seven pm, more than two hours
earlier than he claimed. When confronted with that detail, Daniel
appeared calm but defensive. He said he had stopped for
gas and coffee on his way home, though detectives noted
(10:23):
that his card didn't need gas and no coffee purchases
were found on his credit card. To outsiders, Daniel was
known as composed and professional, but former employees painted a
different picture. A former receptionist described him as cold and controlling,
especially when it came to his wife Claire. He always
needed to know where she was. She told police he'd
(10:44):
call the house between appointments just to check in. It
was strange. Investigators began reviewing the Rourke's financial records and
found something even more suspicious. Over the previous six months,
doctor Rourke had made a series of untraceable cash withdrawals
totaling more than forty thousand dollars. When asked about the money,
he claimed it was for taxes and private business expenses,
(11:06):
though he offered no receipts or records to support that statement.
Detective Cortes noted that his explanation seemed rehearsed. He was
too polish, she later recalled, like someone used to controlling
the story. Police also found that his phone had been
turned off for nearly three hours on the night of
the murder, from ten five p m To twelve fifty
eight a m, which directly covered the time frame of
(11:27):
Emily's death. When asked why, Daniel said his battery had died,
but his Tesla's data log showed it had been charging
in his home garage during those same hours. His motive
was unclear, was it anger, fear of exposure? Financial protection?
Detectives began to suspect that Daniel might have been involved
in something far more complex than family tragedy. Before leaving
(11:50):
the interview, Cortes asked one final question, did Emily ever
seem afraid of you? Daniel paused his jaw tightening slightly
before replying, no, My daughter loved me. She just didn't
understand everything that goes on in this family. It was
a short answer, but it told investigators plenty. The second
person detectives questioned was Claire Rourke, Emily's forty six year
(12:12):
old mother. In the quiet suburban streets of Tustin, California,
most people saw Claire as a graceful and private woman.
She had the polished, detached charm of someone who had
spent years keeping up appearances. Neighbors described her as elegant
but distant, the kind of woman who smiled politely but
rarely stopped to chat. On cool January mornings in twenty eighteen,
(12:35):
she was often seen pruning her rose bushes or jogging
in silence with her air pods in One neighbor told
police she looked like she was in her own world,
totally calm, totally unreachable. Claire had met Daniel in medical school,
though she had never practiced medicine herself. Instead, she managed
the home, planned charity events, and kept a strict daily routine.
(12:57):
Every morning began with black coffee, a yoga session, and
a perfectly timed run around the neighborhood. To most, the
roorkhouse looked like a picture of success, large, quiet and spotless,
but investigators soon discovered that what was hidden beneath that
perfect surface was anything but ordinary. When detectives Marisol Cortes
(13:17):
and Brian Kettering searched the Ark home on January fourteen,
twenty eighteen, they noticed something odd in the basement hallway,
a heavy steel door secured with a digital keypadlock. Claire
had told them it was her scrap booking studio, a
private hobby space, but when police entered, using a search
warrant and a locksmith, they found something far stranger than
(13:38):
arts and crafts. The room was cold and smelled faintly
of glue and metal polish. Along the back wall stood
dozens of plastic storage boxes, neatly labeled with women's first names.
Tessa Lorne Maya Caitlin. Inside each box were photographs of
young women, mostly in their late teens or early twenties.
Some were candid, smiling in parks or classrooms, while others
(14:01):
were posed, dressed in strange costumes or partially undressed. Alongside
the photos were personal items, hair ties, necklaces, lit stick tubes,
and several worn bracelets. One box contained a small notebook
filled with dates and initials, but the most disturbing fine
was a pair of old dental braces, carefully mounted in
a glass display case like a museum piece. When confronted,
(14:24):
Claire seemed nervous but not shocked. She explained that the
collection was part of an art project she had been
working on for years, something she described as an exploration
of female sexuality and a woman's right to pleasure. She
told detectives she had photographed women from art schools and
social media collecting personal items with their permission, but when
police asked for model releases or proof of consent, she
(14:47):
had none. Detective Cortes later described the room as beautiful
and terrifying at the same time. Every box was perfectly organized,
every photograph precisely arranged. When asked about Emily's death. Claire
denied any involvement, but admitted she and her daughter had
argued the night before she said horrible things. Claire told
detectives she accused me of things that aren't true. Police
(15:11):
noted that her tone remained calm and almost emotionless. She
didn't cry or asked to see her husband. Instead, she
simply crossed her legs, adjusted her sweater, and said, if
you're looking for someone to blame, it isn't me. By
the time detectives left, they were no longer sure what
to make of her. The elegant mother with the secret
room full of strangers faces On Sunday, January fourteen, twenty eighteen,
(15:35):
two days after Emily Rourke's body was found, detectives with
the Tusten Police Department received an unexpected call from a
self storage facility in Santa Ana, about fifteen miles from
the Roar Come. It was a chilly morning, with gray
skies and temperatures in the low fifties, typical for southern
California in January. The facility manager had been reviewing footage
(15:56):
from the night of January eleventh when something caught his attention.
Claire Rourke's silver Lexus R x three hundred and fifty
had entered the property just before midnight, hours before Emily
was killed. Even more troubling, the video showed that the
Lexus had arrived with another person already inside. When police
traced the vehicle and searched it, they found a young
woman curled up under a blanket in the back seat.
(16:19):
Her name was Amber Keen, a twenty two year old
from Riverside who appeared weak and disoriented. She told officers
she had been trapped inside the car for almost two days,
surviving only on bottled water and a granola bar left
in the console. Amber's story was both confusing and chilling.
She explained that she had met Claire Rourke through an
online group for aspiring artists. Claire had promised to help
(16:42):
her build a portfolio and invited her to participate in
what she called a confidential modeling project. Amber said Claire
picked her up from a coffee shop in Irvine on
the night of January eleventh, drove her to the storage
facility and told her to wake quietly. Claredon, ever, came back.
When detectives to Namber at Saint Joseph Hospital, she said
(17:02):
something that made every officer in the room pause. That
girl knew too much, she whispered, referring to Emily. Investigators
realized this statement could mean that Emily had discovered something
dangerous about her parents, something involving Claire's secret projects. Detectives
obtained additional surveillance footage from the storage facility, and what
they found deepened the mystery. A second car, registered to
(17:25):
doctor Daniel Rourke, arrived at the same facility roughly an
hour after Emily's estimated time of death. The vehicle stayed
only seven minutes before leaving, driven by a person whose
face was hidden under a hood. Police also examined Daniel's
phone records and found several late night messages to a
contact saved only as Or. The texts were brief but
(17:46):
suspicious phrases like it's done and clean it up. Investigators
later came to believe Or might be another of Claire's recruits,
possibly one of the women from her Lock Basement art project.
As the evidence came together, a disturbing picture began to form.
Detectives concluded that both parents were entangled in a web
of deception and exploitation. Claire had allegedly lured vulnerable young
(18:10):
women by pretending to mentor them, offering guidance, art opportunities,
or emotional support. Daniel meanwhile, appeared to be using those
same women's identities to create false financial accounts, routing money
through shell companies connected to his medical clinic in Irvine. Emily,
it seemed, had discovered more than her parents ever intended
or to. She had noticed the late night phone calls,
(18:33):
the hidden storage you mc key, and the lock basement room,
and true to her curious nature, she had started asking questions.
By mid January twenty eighteen, police no longer viewed the
works as victims of tragedy, but as possible architects of
something far darker. By January fifteen, twenty eighteen, the name
Amber Keen had become central to the growing mystery surrounding
(18:54):
the death of seventeen year old Emily Rourke. Detectives first
learned about Amber two days early after finding her in
the backseat of Claire Rourke's silver Lexus Rix three hundred
and fifty, parked at a self storage facility in Santa Ana.
The car had been sitting there for nearly forty eight hours,
its windows fogged from the cold and damp air of
a southern California winter morning. When officers opened the vehicle,
(19:18):
they found Amber twenty two, disoriented, dehydrated, and terrified. She
was barefoot, wearing a thin hoodie in lightings, and clutching
a half empty water bottle. Paramedics at the scene said
she appeared to have gone several days with little food
or rest. At first, she refused to speak, repeating only
I didn't mean to over and over. Once stabilized at
(19:41):
Saint Joseph Hospital in Orange, Amber finally began to talk.
She told investigators she had been living with their works
for weeks, claiming that Claire had offered her a modeling
opportunity through what she called a wellness retreat in Orange County.
Amber said she had been struggling to get her life
together after leaving Las Vegas. She worked as an exotic
(20:01):
dancer under the stage name Roxy. Her social media posts
from late December twenty seventeen backed up parts of her story.
On Instagram, she had shared photos of beach sunsets and
green juice smoothies captioned with phrases like starting over in
California with a new mentor. Another post from January third
read feeling safe and seen for the first time, thank
(20:22):
you see. But police quickly realized that c was not
the kind of mentor Amber believed her to be. When
detectives questioned Amber about the night of Emily's death, she
seemed frightened and evasive, often glancing toward the door as
if someone might walk in. Her answers were short and vague.
When detective marysol Cortes gently asked what she knew about Emily,
(20:44):
Amber paused for several seconds before whispering that dumb blund
knew too much. She refused to elaborate. Investigators described Amber
as terrified, confused, and unwilling to say much. She insisted
she had nothing to do with the murder and begged
police to keep Claire away from me. When officers searched
the Lexus, they found two Duffel bags, a burner cell phone,
(21:06):
and a small USB drive taped under the passenger seat.
The USB contained digital copies of medical forms and IDs
belonging to multiple young women, none of whom were Amber.
Detectives believed the files might be part of the same
identity theft operation linked to doctor Daniel Roick's clinic. Amber's
timeline also raised new questions Surveillance footage confirmed that Claire's
(21:29):
Lexus entered the storage facility around ten thirty seven pm
on January eleventh, roughly an hour before Emily was killed.
That meant Amber had likely been sitting in the car
waiting when the murder happened. As detectives pieced together the evidence,
a chilling pattern emerged. Claire seemed to target women like Amber, vulnerable,
financially desperate, and looking for guidance, while Daniel used their
(21:52):
personal information to move money through fake medical accounts. By
mid January twenty eighteen, police were no longer sure whether
Amber was a victim, a witness, or something in between.
But one thing was certain. She had seen the works
world up close, and whatever she knew about that night,
she was still too afraid to say. By January nineteen,
(22:13):
twenty eighteen, investigators with the Tusten Police Department finally had
enough evidence to make an arrest. After a week of interviews,
forensic testing, and the discovery of Emily Rourkes's missing journal,
detectives confirmed what many had begun to suspect. The person
responsible for Emily's death was her own mother, Claire Rourke.
Forensic teams at the Orange County Crime Lab had been
(22:35):
analyzing a blood stained metal object found buried beneath boxes
in the family's garage. The item turned out to be
an othalmic lens grinder, a heavy circular tool used in
doctor Daniel Rourke's eye clinic. When investigators dusted the surface
for prints, they discovered Claire's fingerprints on the handle and
traces of Emily's blood on the base. It was, without
(22:56):
question the murder weapon. When detectives Marisol Qortes and Brian
Kettering confronted Claire at the family's page two story house
on Orchard View Lane, she appeared calm and polished, as
if expecting them, sitting at her marble kitchen counter, dressed
in a cream sweater and pearls. She didn't deny being
at home the night of the murder. Instead, she offered
(23:17):
a chilling explanation. According to Claire, Emily had turned violent
after discovering her private art studio, the locked basement room
filled with photographs and personal items belonging to young women.
Claire claimed Emily had misunderstood the project and threatened to
expose her online. She was hysterical. Claire told police she
came at me I defended myself, but investigators already had
(23:40):
Emily's journal, which told a very different story. The small, brown,
leatherbound notebook had been found days earlier in the storage
unit linked to Claire's lexus, wrapped in a scarf and
hidden beneath stacks of photographs. In its final pages, written
in neat, slanted handwriting, Emily had recorded what she'd uncovered
about her mother's secret life. Mom says she helps them
(24:02):
start over, Emily wrote, but I think she keeps something
from each one. The entries described Claire meeting young women online,
often through wellness retreats or art programs, and promising them money, mentorship,
or emotional support. Emily suspected that several of the women
had disappeared after visiting their home, leaving behind personal belongings
that later appeared in Claire's studio. The final entry, dated
(24:25):
January tenth, twenty eighteen, read simply, I think I know
what they're doing. I'm going to tell someone tomorrow. Detectives
now believe that on the night of January eleven, Emily
confronted her mother in the kitchen sometime after eleven PM,
demanding the truth and threatening to call police. The argument
turned violent. Claire likely struck her daughter with a lens grinder,
(24:47):
the same tool her husband used work, before dragging her
body into the backyard, staging the scene to look like
an outside attack. That evening, at eight thirty PM, officers
arrested Claire Rourke at her home without incident. She showed
no emotion as they placed her in handcuffs, asking only
one question, will this ruin Daniel's practice? Outside, neighbors gathered
(25:09):
on the quiet culled the sack, holding candles and small
bouquetes of flowers. Emily's friends stood silently beneath the winter sky,
whispering prayers for the girl who had tried to tell
the truth and died for it. Doctor Rourke watched from
the doorway, saying nothing as his wife was led away.
The trial of Claire Rourke began in April twenty twenty
two at the Orange County Superior Court, more than four
(25:32):
years after the shocking death of seventeen year old Emily
Rourke in Tustin, California. Outside the courthouse, the streets were
busy with spring traffic, and the air was crisp but sunny,
typical of April and Orange County News crews lined the sidewalks,
and neighbor's friends and Emily's former classmates gathered to watch
the proceedings. Many held candles, small bouquets, and photographs of
(25:56):
Emily in her Beckmann high uniform. Inside the courtroom, the
tension was palpable. Rows of Emily's classmates sat quietly, some
fidgeting with their hands or holding tightly onto photos of
her smiling face. Emily's father, doctor Daniel Rourke, remained silent
seated near the front. Claire appeared calm and composed, dressed
in a muted blazer and skirt, or expression unreadable. The prosecution,
(26:20):
led by Lydia Chen, aged forty one, presented a strong case.
Chen described Claire as a predator who killed her own
daughter to cover up a lifetime of secrets. She highlighted
the forensic evidence linking Claire to the murder, including fingerprints
on the heavy lens grinder and the journal Emily had
kept in her final days, which detailed Claire's pattern of
(26:41):
luring young women under false pretenses. Chen painted a portrait
of Claire as a manipulative and dangerous figure intent on
hiding her illicit activities. The defense, headed by Graham Lentz,
aged fifty six, argued that Claire was mentally unstable and
had acted in self defense during a confrontation with Emily.
Lenz also emphasized Claire's work as an artist, describing her
(27:04):
feminist art project as misunderstood and praising her attempts to
explore female identity and empowerment. He suggested that Emily's death
had been a tragic accident, not a premeditated act. However,
the trial took a dramatic turn when evidence surfaced regarding
Detective Marisol Cortes, the lead investigator. Court records revealed that
during the initial twenty eighteen investigation, Cortes had written praiseful
(27:28):
messages about Claire's art, calling it beautiful and powerful, and
had developed a personal sexual relationship with Claire. The defense
argued that this relationship compromised the investigation, raising serious questions
about the objectivity of the evidence, including the chain of
custody for Emily's journal and the murder webon. The judge,
after reviewing the new evidence, determined that the investigation had
(27:50):
been tainted by bias and personal involvement. On April twenty eighth,
twenty twenty two, the court threw out all charges against
Claire Rourke with d prejudice, meaning she could not be
retrieved for Emily's murder. Claire left the courthouse quietly, flanked
by her legal team while reporters called out questions outside.
Emily's friends and classmates wept silently, lighting candles and holding
(28:14):
photos of the young girl. Many expressed shock and heartbreak.
One teacher whispered she deserved justice. Emily's voice has been
silenced again. Doctor Daniel Rourke, meanwhile, was later charged with
fraud related to his financial dealings and served six years
in federal prison. For Emily's family and friends, the dismissal
of Claire's case was a bitter blow. Though some felt
(28:36):
relief that the truth of Emily's investigative work had been recognized,
the lack of accountability for her death left a deep
and lasting wound. The verdict brought no peace, only a
sense of betrayal and unanswered questions about the girl whose
curiosity and courage had cost her life. By April twenty
twenty two, more than four years after the murder of
(28:57):
Emily Rourke, the quiet streets of Tusston, California, had settled
back into a fragile routine, but the shadow of the
case remained. The Rourke family home on Orchard View Lane
now stands empty, its bage walls boarded up, and the
garden overgrown. Neighbors say the house has become a symbol
of the tragedy, a reminder of the secrets hidden behind
(29:18):
polished facades. Detective marrisol Cortes, once the lead investigator on
the case, was promoted to lieutenant in the Tusten Police
Department despite the controversy surrounding her conduct during the trial.
She says she still keeps Emily's small, leatherbound germal in
her office. It's a reminder to pay attention to the
small voices, Cortes told reporters in a quiet interview. Sometimes
(29:40):
the quietest person in the room sees the most. Amberkene,
the young woman found in the back of Claire Rourke's lexus,
entered witness protection following the trial. She now lives under
a new name in an undisclosed location. Law enforcement sources
say she is receiving counseling and slowly rebuilding her life
far from Orange County. Doctor Daniel Rourke, Emily's father, served
(30:02):
six years in federal prison for fraud related to his
financial activities and the false accounty set up in connection
with Claire's schemes. After his release in twenty twenty four,
he reportedly moved to Nevada, where he has maintained a
low profile, avoiding media of tension and former acquaintances in Tustin. Meanwhile,
Emily's friends and classmates have worked to honor her memory
(30:24):
in tangible ways. Kayla Hines, Emily's best friend, established a
scholarship at Beckman High School for students pursuing careers in journalism.
Each spring, students gather under the large oak tree in
the school courtyard where Emily used to sit and write,
leaving small notes on the branches or tucked into the roots.
Many of the notes echo Emily's own words from her journal,
(30:46):
I notice things too. Local teachers and alumni have also
held annual remembrance events, sharing stories of Emily's curiosity, her quiet, determination,
and her passion for writing. The Beckman High Library now
features a small display case containing Emily's favorite note books, hens,
and photographs, ensuring that new generations of students understand the
(31:06):
girl who always paid attention to the details others overlooked.
Though the legal system failed to convict Claire Rourke, the
community has found ways to keep Emily's memory alive. Her
influence remains in the work of young journalists, the stories
they pursue, and the way they approach life with careful observation.
In April twenty twenty two, Tustan is calm on the surface,
(31:28):
but under that calm the legacy of Emily Rourke. Her courage, curiosity,
and insight continues to inspire those who knew her and
those who never had the chance to meet her. In
the end, Emily Rourke's curiosity uncovered a family's darkest secret,
one built on lies, greed, and manipulation. Her courage exposed
(31:48):
the truth, even when it costs her everything. This has
been true Crime Case Files. Thank you for listening.
This is true crime case Files. Today, we travel to
the quiet suburb of Tustan, California, in January of twenty eighteen,
where a teenage girl's curiosity led her to uncover a
dark family secret, one that would cost her life. What
began as a private argument inside a well kept home
ended in a brutal killing, but stunned a community and
(00:21):
exposed a conspiracy no one saw coming. This is the
story of Emily Rourke, a seventeen year old high school
student who was murdered after discovering the truth about her
family in January of twenty eighteen. Emily Rourke was seventeen
years old and living with her parents, doctor Daniel Rourke
and Claire Rourke, in a quiet culd deest sac on
(00:42):
Orchard View Lane in Tustin, California. The Rourke home was
tidy and modern, with trimmed hedges, white shutters, and a
silver Tesla parked in the driveway. From the outside, their
life looked picture perfect. A successful doctor, a stay at
home mother, and a bright, well behaved teenage daughter. Emily
was a junior at Beckmann High School, a large public
(01:03):
school known for its strong academics and clean, palm lined campus.
She was the kind of quiet, observant student teachers loved, polite, articulate,
and always writing in a small, leather bound journal she
carried everywhere. She sat near the back of her English class,
jotting notes about people and moments, always watching, always thinking.
Outside of school, Emily worked part time at Yogurthaven, a
(01:26):
frozen yogurt chop near the Tustin Marketplace. She usually worked
evening shifts, wiping down counters, greeting customers, and earning enough
money to buy used books and refills for her favorite
black ink pens. Her dream was to become a journalist,
and she often stayed up late reading stories from the
Los Angeles Times or watching documentaries on Netflix about famous
(01:46):
crimes and corruption cases. Her classmates described her as sweet
but serious, a girl who preferred quiet nights over loud parties.
She didn't hang out with a popular crod, but had
a close circle of friends who admired her honesty and
deep sense of curiosity. Her best friend, Kayla Hines, once
said Emily noticed things other people missed. She could walk
(02:07):
into a room and sense when something was off. That ability,
the one her friends thought made her special, would later
prove fatal. In the days leading up to her death,
Emily had seemed distracted and uneasy. Her teachers noticed her
staring out windows during class. Her boss at Yogurhaven said
she had been quieter than usual, spending breaks scribbling in
her journal instead of chatting with coworkers. When Kayla asked
(02:31):
if she was okay, Emily finally confided that something wasn't
right at home. She said she found things in the
house that were immoral and even evil. Kayla later told
police she said her parents were far worse than who
they said they were. Emily didn't go into details, but
she hinted that she had found documents or photographs hidden
somewhere in the house. She told Kayla she was close
(02:53):
to understanding everything and that she might have to tell
someone soon, maybe even the police. At home, her parents
said she spent long hours in her room door locked
headphones on typing or writing, but neighbors recalled seeing her
sitting in the backyard late at night, bundled and hoodie,
staring at the sky, or flipping through her journal by flashlight.
(03:13):
On the last week of her life, Emily wrote in
that journal, I think I know the truth now I'm scared,
but I can't ignore it any more. Just two days later,
she would be dead. The morning of January twelve, twenty eighteen,
began like any other cool winter morning in Tustin, California.
The sun had just started to rise and the streets
of Orchard View Lane were quiet except for the distant
(03:35):
hum of cars heading toward the freeway. The air was
crisp around fifty five degrees, and small patches of dew
covered lawns and garden fences. At six forty five am,
Pauline Hensley, the Roark's next door neighbor, left her house
to walk her small golden retriever, Daisy. Pauline, a retired teacher,
took the same route every morning, passing the Roarkes backyard.
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As Daisy sniffed along the hedges, the roor comb looked peaceful,
lights off, curtains drawn, but something caught Pauline's attention that day.
Near the back edge, she saw what looked like a
pile of blankets or clothing lying on the damp grass.
At first, she thought maybe one of the Rourke's patio
cushions had blown off during the night's light wind, but
when Daisy began barking and refusing to move. Pauline stepped closer.
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That's when she saw a hand. It was pale, motionless,
and sticking out from beneath a gray hoodie. Pauline gasped
and froze for several seconds before realizing it was a person,
a young woman, lying face down near the garden light.
Her first thought was that it might be Emily, though
she prayed it wasn't. Panicking, Pauline dropped Daisy's leash and
(04:42):
ran toward her phone, which she kept in her jacket pocket.
Her hands shook so badly that she almost couldn't dial
nine one one. There's a girl, she told the despatcher,
her voice trembling. I think she's dead. She's in the
works yard. Please send someone fast. Within minutes, police cars
and an ambulance arrived, their red and blue lights flashing
across the quiet neighborhood. Paramedics rushed through the gate while
(05:05):
officers tacked off the area. Pauline stood in the driveway,
clutching Daisy's leash, watching in disbelief. A paramedic knelt beside
the body, checked for a pulse, and then shook his head.
Emily Rourke was pronounced dead at six point fifty nine am.
She had suffered a severe blow to the head with
a heavy object later determined to be a lens grinder
(05:25):
from her father's medical office. Neighbors began to step outside
in their roads, whispering among themselves as police led Pauline
away to give her statement. The once quiet cul de
Sac filled with flashing lights, camera crews, and the low
murmur of stunned disbelief. By seven thirty m, news of
the tragedy had spread across town. Students at Beckmann High
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School received text messages in social media posts saying that
Emily had been found dead. Teachers held back tears as
they prepared to tell her classmates. What no one yet
knew was that the truth behind Emily's death would soon
expose something far darker than anyone could imagine. By seven
ten a m. On January twelve, twenty eighteen, the quiet
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neighborhood of Orchard View Lane was no longer peaceful. Red
and blue police lights flashed against the pale orange glow
of the sunrise. Yellow tape stretched across the works driveway,
and neighbors watched from behind half closed blinds as detectives
moved carefully through the yard. Detective Marisol Cortes and Detective
Brian Kettering of the Tusten Police Department were the first
(06:27):
lead investigators on scene. Cortes, thirty seven, was known for
her sharp instincts and calm approach, while Kettering, a former
patrol officer with a reputation for noticing small details, handled
the evidence documentation. The backyard was cold and damp from
overnight sprinklers, and the grass shimmered under the weak January light.
Emily's body lay near a broken garden light, her long
(06:50):
hair matted with blood. Her gray hoodie was pulled slightly
to one side, suggesting a struggle had taken place nearby.
One of the patio chairs was overturned and faint. The
scuff marks could be seen in the dirt leading back
toward the house. There was no sign of forced entry.
The sliding glass door was unlocked but not damaged, and
nothing in the house appeared to be missing. Emily's phone
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and her small leather bound journal, however, were nowhere to
be found. Her backpack, shoes, and school jacket were still inside,
folded neatly by the kitchen counter. Detective Cortes crouched near
the body and noted the injury, a deep crushing wound
to the side of the head. It was clear Emily
had been struck with a heavy blunt object. Later that day,
(07:33):
the Orange County Forensics Unit identified the weapon as a
lens grinder taken from her father's medical office in Irvine.
The tool, used to shape prescription lenses, was roughly the
size of a small hammer and weighed several pounds. Inside
the house, police moved slowly and methodically. They used ultra
violet scanners and luminol to search for hidden bloodstains. Under
(07:54):
the bright blue light, faint smears appeared on the kitchen
counter and near the sink, later confirmed to be Emily's blood.
There were also small droplets leading from the kitchen to
the sliding glass door, suggesting the attack may have begun
inside before moving outside. Investigators estimated that the murder occurred
between eleven PM and midnight, roughly an hour after Emily
(08:15):
was last seen alive. According to a neighbor's statement, she
had been heard arguing quietly with her mother in the
kitchen around ten forty five pm. No one reported hearing screams. Afterward,
detectives collected fingerprints from the door handles, countertops, and patio furniture.
They also bagged a pair of rubber gloves found near
the garbage bin, and a half empty glass of red
(08:35):
wine from the kitchen island. As the coroner's van arrived
to take Emily's body away, Cortes stood silently by the
back gate. Something happened in this house last night, she
told kettering, something the family isn't saying. By the end
of that cold January morning, the peaceful image of the
Rourke family home had shattered, and what police found inside
would raise more questions than answers. The first person detective's
(08:59):
question was doctor Daniel Rourke, Emily's father. At forty nine
years old, Danigel was one of Tustan's most respected ophthalmologists,
known for his steady hands, careful speech, and well kept appearance.
Around town, he was considered a model citizen, calm, meticulous,
and deeply private. He drove a silver Tessel MODELUS, taught
(09:19):
Sunday school at a nearby church, and served on the
board of a local charity for vision research. From the outside,
his life looked orderly and successful, but investigators would soon
learn that appearances could be deceiving. Detectives Marisol Cortes and
Brian Kettering visited doctor Rourke at his office in Irvine
on the morning of January thirteen, twenty eighteen, less than
(09:39):
twenty four hours after Emily's body was found. His office
was spotless, the blinds perfectly even, and framed certificates lying
the walls. Daniel sat stiffly behind his desk, his wedding
ring glinting under the fluorescent lights. He told police he
had been working lay on the night of January eleventh,
catching up on patient reports. According to him, he left
the office close to midnight, drove straight home and went
(10:02):
to bed, But when detectives checked security footage from the
medical building's parking lot, they discovered that his tesla had
excited at nine fifty seven pm, more than two hours
earlier than he claimed. When confronted with that detail, Daniel
appeared calm but defensive. He said he had stopped for
gas and coffee on his way home, though detectives noted
(10:23):
that his card didn't need gas and no coffee purchases
were found on his credit card. To outsiders, Daniel was
known as composed and professional, but former employees painted a
different picture. A former receptionist described him as cold and controlling,
especially when it came to his wife Claire. He always
needed to know where she was. She told police he'd
(10:44):
call the house between appointments just to check in. It
was strange. Investigators began reviewing the Rourke's financial records and
found something even more suspicious. Over the previous six months,
doctor Rourke had made a series of untraceable cash withdrawals
totaling more than forty thousand dollars. When asked about the money,
he claimed it was for taxes and private business expenses,
(11:06):
though he offered no receipts or records to support that statement.
Detective Cortes noted that his explanation seemed rehearsed. He was
too polish, she later recalled, like someone used to controlling
the story. Police also found that his phone had been
turned off for nearly three hours on the night of
the murder, from ten five p m To twelve fifty
eight a m, which directly covered the time frame of
(11:27):
Emily's death. When asked why, Daniel said his battery had died,
but his Tesla's data log showed it had been charging
in his home garage during those same hours. His motive
was unclear, was it anger, fear of exposure? Financial protection?
Detectives began to suspect that Daniel might have been involved
in something far more complex than family tragedy. Before leaving
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the interview, Cortes asked one final question, did Emily ever
seem afraid of you? Daniel paused his jaw tightening slightly
before replying, no, My daughter loved me. She just didn't
understand everything that goes on in this family. It was
a short answer, but it told investigators plenty. The second
person detectives questioned was Claire Rourke, Emily's forty six year
(12:12):
old mother. In the quiet suburban streets of Tustin, California,
most people saw Claire as a graceful and private woman.
She had the polished, detached charm of someone who had
spent years keeping up appearances. Neighbors described her as elegant
but distant, the kind of woman who smiled politely but
rarely stopped to chat. On cool January mornings in twenty eighteen,
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she was often seen pruning her rose bushes or jogging
in silence with her air pods in One neighbor told
police she looked like she was in her own world,
totally calm, totally unreachable. Claire had met Daniel in medical school,
though she had never practiced medicine herself. Instead, she managed
the home, planned charity events, and kept a strict daily routine.
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Every morning began with black coffee, a yoga session, and
a perfectly timed run around the neighborhood. To most, the
roorkhouse looked like a picture of success, large, quiet and spotless,
but investigators soon discovered that what was hidden beneath that
perfect surface was anything but ordinary. When detectives Marisol Cortes
(13:17):
and Brian Kettering searched the Ark home on January fourteen,
twenty eighteen, they noticed something odd in the basement hallway,
a heavy steel door secured with a digital keypadlock. Claire
had told them it was her scrap booking studio, a
private hobby space, but when police entered, using a search
warrant and a locksmith, they found something far stranger than
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arts and crafts. The room was cold and smelled faintly
of glue and metal polish. Along the back wall stood
dozens of plastic storage boxes, neatly labeled with women's first names.
Tessa Lorne Maya Caitlin. Inside each box were photographs of
young women, mostly in their late teens or early twenties.
Some were candid, smiling in parks or classrooms, while others
(14:01):
were posed, dressed in strange costumes or partially undressed. Alongside
the photos were personal items, hair ties, necklaces, lit stick tubes,
and several worn bracelets. One box contained a small notebook
filled with dates and initials, but the most disturbing fine
was a pair of old dental braces, carefully mounted in
a glass display case like a museum piece. When confronted,
(14:24):
Claire seemed nervous but not shocked. She explained that the
collection was part of an art project she had been
working on for years, something she described as an exploration
of female sexuality and a woman's right to pleasure. She
told detectives she had photographed women from art schools and
social media collecting personal items with their permission, but when
police asked for model releases or proof of consent, she
(14:47):
had none. Detective Cortes later described the room as beautiful
and terrifying at the same time. Every box was perfectly organized,
every photograph precisely arranged. When asked about Emily's death. Claire
denied any involvement, but admitted she and her daughter had
argued the night before she said horrible things. Claire told
detectives she accused me of things that aren't true. Police
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noted that her tone remained calm and almost emotionless. She
didn't cry or asked to see her husband. Instead, she
simply crossed her legs, adjusted her sweater, and said, if
you're looking for someone to blame, it isn't me. By
the time detectives left, they were no longer sure what
to make of her. The elegant mother with the secret
room full of strangers faces On Sunday, January fourteen, twenty eighteen,
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two days after Emily Rourke's body was found, detectives with
the Tusten Police Department received an unexpected call from a
self storage facility in Santa Ana, about fifteen miles from
the Roar Come. It was a chilly morning, with gray
skies and temperatures in the low fifties, typical for southern
California in January. The facility manager had been reviewing footage
(15:56):
from the night of January eleventh when something caught his attention.
Claire Rourke's silver Lexus R x three hundred and fifty
had entered the property just before midnight, hours before Emily
was killed. Even more troubling, the video showed that the
Lexus had arrived with another person already inside. When police
traced the vehicle and searched it, they found a young
woman curled up under a blanket in the back seat.
(16:19):
Her name was Amber Keen, a twenty two year old
from Riverside who appeared weak and disoriented. She told officers
she had been trapped inside the car for almost two days,
surviving only on bottled water and a granola bar left
in the console. Amber's story was both confusing and chilling.
She explained that she had met Claire Rourke through an
online group for aspiring artists. Claire had promised to help
(16:42):
her build a portfolio and invited her to participate in
what she called a confidential modeling project. Amber said Claire
picked her up from a coffee shop in Irvine on
the night of January eleventh, drove her to the storage
facility and told her to wake quietly. Claredon, ever, came back.
When detectives to Namber at Saint Joseph Hospital, she said
(17:02):
something that made every officer in the room pause. That
girl knew too much, she whispered, referring to Emily. Investigators
realized this statement could mean that Emily had discovered something
dangerous about her parents, something involving Claire's secret projects. Detectives
obtained additional surveillance footage from the storage facility, and what
they found deepened the mystery. A second car, registered to
(17:25):
doctor Daniel Rourke, arrived at the same facility roughly an
hour after Emily's estimated time of death. The vehicle stayed
only seven minutes before leaving, driven by a person whose
face was hidden under a hood. Police also examined Daniel's
phone records and found several late night messages to a
contact saved only as Or. The texts were brief but
(17:46):
suspicious phrases like it's done and clean it up. Investigators
later came to believe Or might be another of Claire's recruits,
possibly one of the women from her Lock Basement art project.
As the evidence came together, a disturbing picture began to form.
Detectives concluded that both parents were entangled in a web
of deception and exploitation. Claire had allegedly lured vulnerable young
(18:10):
women by pretending to mentor them, offering guidance, art opportunities,
or emotional support. Daniel meanwhile, appeared to be using those
same women's identities to create false financial accounts, routing money
through shell companies connected to his medical clinic in Irvine. Emily,
it seemed, had discovered more than her parents ever intended
or to. She had noticed the late night phone calls,
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the hidden storage you mc key, and the lock basement room,
and true to her curious nature, she had started asking questions.
By mid January twenty eighteen, police no longer viewed the
works as victims of tragedy, but as possible architects of
something far darker. By January fifteen, twenty eighteen, the name
Amber Keen had become central to the growing mystery surrounding
(18:54):
the death of seventeen year old Emily Rourke. Detectives first
learned about Amber two days early after finding her in
the backseat of Claire Rourke's silver Lexus Rix three hundred
and fifty, parked at a self storage facility in Santa Ana.
The car had been sitting there for nearly forty eight hours,
its windows fogged from the cold and damp air of
a southern California winter morning. When officers opened the vehicle,
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they found Amber twenty two, disoriented, dehydrated, and terrified. She
was barefoot, wearing a thin hoodie in lightings, and clutching
a half empty water bottle. Paramedics at the scene said
she appeared to have gone several days with little food
or rest. At first, she refused to speak, repeating only
I didn't mean to over and over. Once stabilized at
(19:41):
Saint Joseph Hospital in Orange, Amber finally began to talk.
She told investigators she had been living with their works
for weeks, claiming that Claire had offered her a modeling
opportunity through what she called a wellness retreat in Orange County.
Amber said she had been struggling to get her life
together after leaving Las Vegas. She worked as an exotic
(20:01):
dancer under the stage name Roxy. Her social media posts
from late December twenty seventeen backed up parts of her story.
On Instagram, she had shared photos of beach sunsets and
green juice smoothies captioned with phrases like starting over in
California with a new mentor. Another post from January third
read feeling safe and seen for the first time, thank
(20:22):
you see. But police quickly realized that c was not
the kind of mentor Amber believed her to be. When
detectives questioned Amber about the night of Emily's death, she
seemed frightened and evasive, often glancing toward the door as
if someone might walk in. Her answers were short and vague.
When detective marysol Cortes gently asked what she knew about Emily,
(20:44):
Amber paused for several seconds before whispering that dumb blund
knew too much. She refused to elaborate. Investigators described Amber
as terrified, confused, and unwilling to say much. She insisted
she had nothing to do with the murder and begged
police to keep Claire away from me. When officers searched
the Lexus, they found two Duffel bags, a burner cell phone,
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and a small USB drive taped under the passenger seat.
The USB contained digital copies of medical forms and IDs
belonging to multiple young women, none of whom were Amber.
Detectives believed the files might be part of the same
identity theft operation linked to doctor Daniel Roick's clinic. Amber's
timeline also raised new questions Surveillance footage confirmed that Claire's
(21:29):
Lexus entered the storage facility around ten thirty seven pm
on January eleventh, roughly an hour before Emily was killed.
That meant Amber had likely been sitting in the car
waiting when the murder happened. As detectives pieced together the evidence,
a chilling pattern emerged. Claire seemed to target women like Amber, vulnerable,
financially desperate, and looking for guidance, while Daniel used their
(21:52):
personal information to move money through fake medical accounts. By
mid January twenty eighteen, police were no longer sure whether
Amber was a victim, a witness, or something in between.
But one thing was certain. She had seen the works
world up close, and whatever she knew about that night,
she was still too afraid to say. By January nineteen,
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twenty eighteen, investigators with the Tusten Police Department finally had
enough evidence to make an arrest. After a week of interviews,
forensic testing, and the discovery of Emily Rourkes's missing journal,
detectives confirmed what many had begun to suspect. The person
responsible for Emily's death was her own mother, Claire Rourke.
Forensic teams at the Orange County Crime Lab had been
(22:35):
analyzing a blood stained metal object found buried beneath boxes
in the family's garage. The item turned out to be
an othalmic lens grinder, a heavy circular tool used in
doctor Daniel Rourke's eye clinic. When investigators dusted the surface
for prints, they discovered Claire's fingerprints on the handle and
traces of Emily's blood on the base. It was, without
(22:56):
question the murder weapon. When detectives Marisol Qortes and Brian
Kettering confronted Claire at the family's page two story house
on Orchard View Lane, she appeared calm and polished, as
if expecting them, sitting at her marble kitchen counter, dressed
in a cream sweater and pearls. She didn't deny being
at home the night of the murder. Instead, she offered
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a chilling explanation. According to Claire, Emily had turned violent
after discovering her private art studio, the locked basement room
filled with photographs and personal items belonging to young women.
Claire claimed Emily had misunderstood the project and threatened to
expose her online. She was hysterical. Claire told police she
came at me I defended myself, but investigators already had
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Emily's journal, which told a very different story. The small, brown,
leatherbound notebook had been found days earlier in the storage
unit linked to Claire's lexus, wrapped in a scarf and
hidden beneath stacks of photographs. In its final pages, written
in neat, slanted handwriting, Emily had recorded what she'd uncovered
about her mother's secret life. Mom says she helps them
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start over, Emily wrote, but I think she keeps something
from each one. The entries described Claire meeting young women online,
often through wellness retreats or art programs, and promising them money, mentorship,
or emotional support. Emily suspected that several of the women
had disappeared after visiting their home, leaving behind personal belongings
that later appeared in Claire's studio. The final entry, dated
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January tenth, twenty eighteen, read simply, I think I know
what they're doing. I'm going to tell someone tomorrow. Detectives
now believe that on the night of January eleven, Emily
confronted her mother in the kitchen sometime after eleven PM,
demanding the truth and threatening to call police. The argument
turned violent. Claire likely struck her daughter with a lens grinder,
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the same tool her husband used work, before dragging her
body into the backyard, staging the scene to look like
an outside attack. That evening, at eight thirty PM, officers
arrested Claire Rourke at her home without incident. She showed
no emotion as they placed her in handcuffs, asking only
one question, will this ruin Daniel's practice? Outside, neighbors gathered
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on the quiet culled the sack, holding candles and small
bouquetes of flowers. Emily's friends stood silently beneath the winter sky,
whispering prayers for the girl who had tried to tell
the truth and died for it. Doctor Rourke watched from
the doorway, saying nothing as his wife was led away.
The trial of Claire Rourke began in April twenty twenty
two at the Orange County Superior Court, more than four
(25:32):
years after the shocking death of seventeen year old Emily
Rourke in Tustin, California. Outside the courthouse, the streets were
busy with spring traffic, and the air was crisp but sunny,
typical of April and Orange County News crews lined the sidewalks,
and neighbor's friends and Emily's former classmates gathered to watch
the proceedings. Many held candles, small bouquets, and photographs of
(25:56):
Emily in her Beckmann high uniform. Inside the courtroom, the
tension was palpable. Rows of Emily's classmates sat quietly, some
fidgeting with their hands or holding tightly onto photos of
her smiling face. Emily's father, doctor Daniel Rourke, remained silent
seated near the front. Claire appeared calm and composed, dressed
in a muted blazer and skirt, or expression unreadable. The prosecution,
(26:20):
led by Lydia Chen, aged forty one, presented a strong case.
Chen described Claire as a predator who killed her own
daughter to cover up a lifetime of secrets. She highlighted
the forensic evidence linking Claire to the murder, including fingerprints
on the heavy lens grinder and the journal Emily had
kept in her final days, which detailed Claire's pattern of
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luring young women under false pretenses. Chen painted a portrait
of Claire as a manipulative and dangerous figure intent on
hiding her illicit activities. The defense, headed by Graham Lentz,
aged fifty six, argued that Claire was mentally unstable and
had acted in self defense during a confrontation with Emily.
Lenz also emphasized Claire's work as an artist, describing her
(27:04):
feminist art project as misunderstood and praising her attempts to
explore female identity and empowerment. He suggested that Emily's death
had been a tragic accident, not a premeditated act. However,
the trial took a dramatic turn when evidence surfaced regarding
Detective Marisol Cortes, the lead investigator. Court records revealed that
during the initial twenty eighteen investigation, Cortes had written praiseful
(27:28):
messages about Claire's art, calling it beautiful and powerful, and
had developed a personal sexual relationship with Claire. The defense
argued that this relationship compromised the investigation, raising serious questions
about the objectivity of the evidence, including the chain of
custody for Emily's journal and the murder webon. The judge,
after reviewing the new evidence, determined that the investigation had
(27:50):
been tainted by bias and personal involvement. On April twenty eighth,
twenty twenty two, the court threw out all charges against
Claire Rourke with d prejudice, meaning she could not be
retrieved for Emily's murder. Claire left the courthouse quietly, flanked
by her legal team while reporters called out questions outside.
Emily's friends and classmates wept silently, lighting candles and holding
(28:14):
photos of the young girl. Many expressed shock and heartbreak.
One teacher whispered she deserved justice. Emily's voice has been
silenced again. Doctor Daniel Rourke, meanwhile, was later charged with
fraud related to his financial dealings and served six years
in federal prison. For Emily's family and friends, the dismissal
of Claire's case was a bitter blow. Though some felt
(28:36):
relief that the truth of Emily's investigative work had been recognized,
the lack of accountability for her death left a deep
and lasting wound. The verdict brought no peace, only a
sense of betrayal and unanswered questions about the girl whose
curiosity and courage had cost her life. By April twenty
twenty two, more than four years after the murder of
(28:57):
Emily Rourke, the quiet streets of Tusston, California, had settled
back into a fragile routine, but the shadow of the
case remained. The Rourke family home on Orchard View Lane
now stands empty, its bage walls boarded up, and the
garden overgrown. Neighbors say the house has become a symbol
of the tragedy, a reminder of the secrets hidden behind
(29:18):
polished facades. Detective marrisol Cortes, once the lead investigator on
the case, was promoted to lieutenant in the Tusten Police
Department despite the controversy surrounding her conduct during the trial.
She says she still keeps Emily's small, leatherbound germal in
her office. It's a reminder to pay attention to the
small voices, Cortes told reporters in a quiet interview. Sometimes
(29:40):
the quietest person in the room sees the most. Amberkene,
the young woman found in the back of Claire Rourke's lexus,
entered witness protection following the trial. She now lives under
a new name in an undisclosed location. Law enforcement sources
say she is receiving counseling and slowly rebuilding her life
far from Orange County. Doctor Daniel Rourke, Emily's father, served
(30:02):
six years in federal prison for fraud related to his
financial activities and the false accounty set up in connection
with Claire's schemes. After his release in twenty twenty four,
he reportedly moved to Nevada, where he has maintained a
low profile, avoiding media of tension and former acquaintances in Tustin. Meanwhile,
Emily's friends and classmates have worked to honor her memory
(30:24):
in tangible ways. Kayla Hines, Emily's best friend, established a
scholarship at Beckman High School for students pursuing careers in journalism.
Each spring, students gather under the large oak tree in
the school courtyard where Emily used to sit and write,
leaving small notes on the branches or tucked into the roots.
Many of the notes echo Emily's own words from her journal,
(30:46):
I notice things too. Local teachers and alumni have also
held annual remembrance events, sharing stories of Emily's curiosity, her quiet, determination,
and her passion for writing. The Beckman High Library now
features a small display case containing Emily's favorite note books, hens,
and photographs, ensuring that new generations of students understand the
(31:06):
girl who always paid attention to the details others overlooked.
Though the legal system failed to convict Claire Rourke, the
community has found ways to keep Emily's memory alive. Her
influence remains in the work of young journalists, the stories
they pursue, and the way they approach life with careful observation.
In April twenty twenty two, Tustan is calm on the surface,
(31:28):
but under that calm the legacy of Emily Rourke. Her courage, curiosity,
and insight continues to inspire those who knew her and
those who never had the chance to meet her. In
the end, Emily Rourke's curiosity uncovered a family's darkest secret,
one built on lies, greed, and manipulation. Her courage exposed
(31:48):
the truth, even when it costs her everything. This has
been true Crime Case Files. Thank you for listening.
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