Beneath the Current: The Vanishing of Linda Howard & Jonathan Mitchell

They planned a simple getaway — just three days in Yosemite, a chance to breathe fresh air, walk trails, sleep beneath stars.
But when they never came home, a quiet mystery settled in.
For 19 years.

Until the river revealed what the forest had hidden.

Chapter 1: The Last Known Moments

In late June 1994, summer heat still hung heavy over California.
Linda Howard, 22, was finishing her studies in biology at UC Berkeley. Jonathan Mitchell, 23, was working in computer repair, saving to open his own shop. Together two years, they were stable, watchful, grounded — a small-town couple with big dreams.

They loaded a gray Ford Tempo with all they needed: a tent, sleeping bags, a fishing rod, food, clothes, and Linda’s small travel camera. On June 29, at 5:42 p.m., they made a stop in Fresno. A grocery cashier would later remember them: friendly, unhurried; buying canned goods, bread, water, matches — the kind of supplies you pack when you expect to be off the grid.

The next day, at 1:17 p.m., a camera at the park entrance captured their car rolling into Yosemite.
That would be the final confirmed image of them together.

At 4:24 p.m., Linda placed a short phone call to her mother from Yosemite Village. In under a minute, she said they had set up camp and planned to build a fire later that night. The weather was “cloudy,” she noted, with a breeze to the northwest. Then she hung up.

No one ever heard from her again.

Chapter 2: The Silence Grows

Morning came and went.
At the rendezvous point with two of Jonathan’s friends, no sign of the couple.
Attempts to call them produced only dead lines.

On July 2, Linda’s mother contacted the park.
No record of their departure. No sightings of their car.

By July 3, the families filed missing persons reports.
On July 4, rangers and rescue teams fanned out — helicopters, K9 units, foot patrols — scanning rivers, ridgelines, forest floor. The Ford Tempo was nowhere to be found.

Weeks passed. No trace. No log entries. No individuals claiming to have met them after their last call.

In August, authorities reclassified the case as a long-term missing persons investigation.
Rumors swirled: a tragic fall, a freak accident, or even foul play. But without evidence, each theory became as hollow as the silence.

Chapter 3: The River Speaks (April 2013)

Nearly two decades later, nature intervened.

After weeks of heavy rains, in early April 2013, water levels at the Merced River plunged. Along Old El Portal Road, guides leading a tour spotted a rectangular, unnatural shadow beneath the muddy current.

Divers arrived the next morning. Four meters deep, trapped between boulders, lay the outline of a car.
A gray Ford Tempo.

Its license plate—“4 ABT…” — partially visible and matching Jonathan Mitchell’s registration.

Hours of effort yielded the car from its watery grave. Its frame was deformed and corroded; doors sealed tight by sediment and time.

When investigators pried open the trunk, they found two skeletons. Bound together, side by side, with a military-style belt.

Inside that metal shell lay the bodies of Linda Howard and Jonathan Mitchell — the missing couple whose fate had been a ghost story for 19 years.

Chapter 4: Murder and Evidence

The autopsies were clear: this was no accident.

Linda’s bones bore multiple stab wounds to her ribs and pelvis. Jonathan’s skull was fractured — consistent with blunt force trauma.

They had been murdered.

The killer — or killers — had concealed the bodies in their own car, locked them away, and submerged the vehicle in a river. The passage of time and water would become their accomplices.

Within the car, investigators found a few fragile clues:

A flashlight missing its batteries

A plastic container

A scrap of paper scrawled with route directions

A grocery receipt from Fresno dated June 29

Most critical of all: traces of DNA.

Two matches: Linda and Jonathan.
One unknown profile: male, not in the system at the time.

That unknown thread became the slender lifeline to the truth.

Chapter 5: Reinvestigation & New Leads

With the remains identified and the case reopened, investigators retraced every moment.

They poured over records from 1994, reinterviewed past witnesses, and reexamined archived statements. One account stood out: a camper claimed to have seen a “tall man in a dark jacket” speaking to the couple by the campfire. At the time, the description led nowhere. Now, with modern technology, it would.

The unknown DNA profile was submitted to CODIS. Months passed.

Then a match: David Harris.

Harris was no stranger. He’d been close to the family — known to Linda’s parents, helpful with chores, in Jonathan’s social circle. Some friends had hinted he’d always had an intense side, though nothing overtly dangerous.

In 1994, Harris had given a robust alibi — helping his uncle in Sacramento — confirmed by two acquaintances. Authorities cleared him and closed the door.

But DNA is relentless.

His genetic code sat within the trunk, on the belt used to bind the bodies, on the car interior.

Handwriting experts also matched the scrawled note found within the vehicle to samples of his school notebooks: “Check gas. Leave by 7.”

Moreover, one of the men who had corroborated his alibi admitted, years later, that he had lied. Harris had pressed him to do so. The second alibi witness had since died.

Bit by bit, the walls caved in.

Chapter 6: Arrest & Confession

January 2014.
Early morning in Sacramento.

Sheriff’s deputies and FBI agents gathered around an unassuming suburban home. At 6:35 a.m., David Harris, now in his 40s with a family of his own, answered the door quietly. He was arrested without resistance.

In interrogation, Harris was measured, calm.

He admitted visiting Yosemite that summer, claimed he might have touched things while “helping” the couple set up camp. But that story could not explain his DNA in the trunk or on the belt. Or why the handwriting matched. Or why his alibi was false.

He then shifted his account: he claimed there had been an argument. He said Jonathan lashed out at Linda; he intervened, things escalated, a blow was struck, chaos ensued. He insisted he never intended to kill anyone.

But the ferocity of Linda’s wounds and the deliberate binding of two bodies told a different story — one that spoke of premeditation, rage, obsession.

By March 2014, prosecutors were ready. Harris was charged with two counts of first-degree murder.

Chapter 7: Verdict & Aftermath

The courtroom was hushed as the evidence unfolded:

Harris’s DNA found on the binding belt and inside the trunk

A partial handwriting match

Witness testimony placing him near the fire that night

The unraveling of his alibi

The prosecution painted a chilling motive: an unrequited passion, a man too invested, a friend turned predator. Harris had followed them to Yosemite, confronted them that fateful night, and committed a heinous act of violence — then hidden the bodies so deeply time would erase them.

In June 2015, the jury returned its verdict: guilty on both counts.
Life in prison — no parole.

The courtroom held an unspoken relief: the mystery solved, the perpetrator named, the silence broken.

Linda’s mother wept. “For 19 years I lived with no answer. Now I finally have one.”
Jonathan’s father, voice heavy, said, “The hardest part was never knowing. Now, we can bury him.”

The remains were returned. Linda buried in Oakland beside her grandmother; Jonathan in Sacramento in his family plot. Two ceremonies, two grieving families — forever linked by tragedy.

Epilogue: Truth Carried on the Water

This case now stands as a testament to patience, persistence, and science.
Without improvements in DNA matching, without the courage to reopen cold files, David Harris might never have been caught.
The forest might still have held its secret. The river might have kept its secret forever.

But time has a way of peeling back its layers.
Rivers shift. Sediment moves. Evidence once lost can resurface.
And when it does — justice can finally speak.

Linda and Jonathan’s voices were silent for too long.
But the currents delivered their story.
Because the river remembers.