The 20-Year Mystery of Cindy Barret: A Chilling Tale of Obsession, Murder, and Secrets Buried in the Smoky Mountains

On June 18, 1990, 26-year-old Cindy Barret vanished without a trace. Cindy, a quiet, meticulous librarian from Knoxville, Tennessee, had been planning a brief escape into the serene wilderness of the Great Smoky Mountains. She had just secured a small cabin near Gatlinburg for a two-week vacation—time she intended to spend reading, walking the trails, and contemplating her future. Yet, what began as a peaceful retreat into nature would become one of the most haunting unsolved disappearances in Tennessee’s history—a mystery that would linger, unanswered, for two decades.

Cindy’s colleagues remembered her as the epitome of responsibility. She had worked for four years at Knoxville’s central library, helping visitors locate books, organizing weekend children’s activities, and cataloging new acquisitions. She lived alone in a modest apartment on Sycamore Street, drove an old blue Civic from 1987, and kept an extraordinarily detailed journal, documenting even the smallest events of her day. Quiet, respectful, and diligent, she had no close friends at work, but everyone spoke well of her. On the surface, her life seemed ordinary, almost painfully mundane—but beneath that calm exterior, Cindy’s personal life was complicated.

Until February 1990, Cindy had lived with her boyfriend, Randall Krueger, a man ten years her senior. Randall was an electrician and construction worker, seemingly reliable and skilled, qualities that attracted Cindy, who had grown up without a father. However, after six months of living together, Cindy began to notice troubling patterns. Randall had a volatile temper and was deeply jealous. By January 1990, the relationship had become controlling. He demanded constant updates on her whereabouts, rifled through her belongings, and read her personal correspondence. When Cindy tried to set boundaries, he would explode in anger, pounding walls with his fists.

The defining incident occurred on February 14, 1990. Randall, drunk, returned home around midnight to find Cindy speaking on the phone with her cousin Deborah, who lived in Atlanta. He snatched the phone from her hands, accusing her of infidelity, and shook her violently. Cindy managed to lock herself in the bathroom for the night. By morning, she had packed her belongings and moved in with her library colleague, Margaret Foster. Three days later, she filed a police complaint. While authorities spoke to Randall and noted the incident, they took no official action, as there were no direct threats at that time. Cindy moved on, found her own apartment, and distanced herself from Randall. Her life appeared to stabilize: she enrolled in French classes, began visiting the gym, and even started seeing a history professor named David.

On June 12, 1990, Cindy rented a small cabin near Gatlinburg. She arrived alone, paid in cash for a week’s stay, and carried a large bag of books, a folding chair, and a small cooler. For two days, she was seen reading on the porch and walking the trails, calm and introspective. But on June 16, a man in a gray, old pickup truck arrived at her cabin. Earl Simons, the property owner, heard a loud argument between Cindy and the man. He did not see the man’s face, but the voices were unmistakable: Cindy sounded terrified, the man aggressive. Half an hour later, the man left with a forceful slam of the truck door. Cindy was left in tears. She explained to Earl that it was her ex-boyfriend, Randall, who had somehow found her address. She declined his offer to call the police, insisting she could handle it herself.

The next morning, June 17, Cindy packed a small backpack and told Earl she would spend the day in the park, enjoying nature. That was the last confirmed sighting of her alive. At 8:30 a.m. on June 18, she parked her Civic at the trailhead of Old Settlers Trail, a popular path rich with remnants of 19th-century settlements. She stopped to ask the park ranger, James Harris, about trail conditions and received a warning that upper sections might be slippery. Cindy thanked him and continued onto the trail, her final steps into the wilderness that would swallow her fate.

A couple from Ohio, Robert and Linda Miller, saw her about a mile into the trail. Cindy walked slowly, photographing ruins, asking for directions to an old cemetery, and then disappeared into the forest. The Millers never saw her again. By evening, Cindy had not returned. Earl checked the car; the doors were locked, windows closed, and the backpack remained untouched inside. There were no signs of struggle or sudden departure. He contacted park rangers at midnight. A search operation began the following morning.

For six days, over 40 volunteers scoured the trail. Dogs traced her path to a bridge over Don Creek but then lost the scent. Investigators combed through old paths, animal trails, caves, and ruins. Helicopters from the National Guard flew overhead. But Cindy Barret had vanished without a trace. By June 24, the official search was suspended, and the case transferred to the Sevier County Sheriff’s Department’s Missing Persons unit.

Detective Ralph Anderson took the case, interviewing coworkers, neighbors, and her ex-boyfriend, Randall Krueger. Randall denied seeing her since February and had an alibi for June 18: he was working construction in Knoxville. The detective found no reason to suspect him. Over the years, leads dried up. Reports of Cindy sightings in other states proved false. Private investigators and even a medium hired by her uncle Walter Barret offered no breakthroughs. Cindy became one of those people who simply vanish, leaving loved ones with questions and anguish but no answers.

Twenty years passed. Cindy Barret’s case remained dormant, a cold file gathering dust in the sheriff’s office. In 2007, her mother died without ever knowing what happened to her daughter. Her uncle Walter, now ill and frail, clung to the faint hope that the truth would emerge—but the years had eroded his optimism.

Then, in October 2010, heavy machinery rumbled through the Smoky Mountains. Workers were clearing fallen trees near Ramsey Cascades Trail, three miles from the main tourist route. Around 2 p.m., a worker named Denise spotted something unusual among the roots of a fallen oak: a vertical wooden post wrapped in a thick chain, its base moss-covered and partially rotted. As branches were moved, she realized the post held a skeleton—shackled with industrial chain, a large padlock securing the links. The remains were partially covered in moss, and the skull bore a gaping fracture. Tattered remnants of blue clothing clung to the bones, while fragments of a camera, a shoe, a thermos, and a folding knife lay scattered nearby. Denise immediately called park rangers and the sheriff.

Forensic pathologist Margaret Stewart examined the skeleton onsite. The bones suggested a female, 20–30 years old, roughly five feet four inches tall. The skull fracture indicated death by blunt force trauma, and the body appeared to have been in the forest for at least 15 years. Detective Steve Connel, now handling cold cases, connected the discovery to long-unsolved disappearances. Initial clues—like a Timberland shoe with a repair tag dated June 1990, bearing the initials “GH”—led him to a cobbler’s record confirming repairs for Cindy Barret. DNA analysis from her uncle’s kept toothbrush confirmed the identity beyond doubt.

Cindy Barret’s disappearance was no longer a mystery—it was murder. Connel turned attention to Randall Krueger, despite his alibi for June 18, 1990. Revisiting old witnesses, he learned from Earl Simons that a man had arrived at Cindy’s cabin on June 16, arguing loudly before leaving behind a dented beer can. Though the can had long been discarded, forensic science in 2010 could extract potential DNA evidence even from decades-old objects.

Connel tracked Randall to Memphis. He had vanished from his workplace, leaving unpaid bills, perishable food, and personal belongings behind. In a hidden suitcase, Connel discovered chilling evidence: photos of Cindy taken secretly, her wallet containing identification and credit cards, and a two-foot industrial chain matching the one used to bind Cindy’s body. Most revealing was Randall’s diary, full of obsessive notes about Cindy. He wrote in February: “Cindy thinks she can leave. She doesn’t understand we are forever. No one can break this bond.” By June 17, he had noted, “She is going to the mountains. Tomorrow everything will be resolved. She will understand she belongs to me. If I cannot have her, no one can.”

Connel issued an arrest warrant, but Randall had vanished. Days later, a trucker spotted a man hitchhiking near Jackson, Arkansas. The hitchhiker, appearing nervous and exhausted, introduced himself as “Randy Craig”—but authorities recognized him as Randall Krueger. He was found staying at a homeless shelter in Little Rock, isolated and ill. On December 5, 2010, the shelter’s physician diagnosed him with advanced heart disease. Randall refused hospitalization. The next morning, he was found dead of a heart attack.

In Randall’s belongings, investigators discovered a final diary entry: he detailed Cindy’s murder and the events of June 18, 1990. He confessed to striking her with a rock during a confrontation, then transporting her body to the abandoned logging camp he knew from childhood. He chained her to a post, intending to return later—a return that never came. “I loved her,” he wrote, “but love made me insane. Now, soon, I will be with her, and we will discuss everything.”

With Randall’s death and confession, Detective Connel closed the case. Though justice in the legal sense was impossible, the truth about Cindy Barret’s tragic fate was finally revealed. Her uncle Walter, though frail and sick, could bury his niece with dignity. On December 14, 2010, a small funeral was held in Knoxville. The few attendees—family, library colleagues, and Connel—witnessed the somber ceremony. Cindy Barret, after twenty years, finally found peace.

Yet the story leaves a chilling aftertaste. How did Randall track her so meticulously? How could someone live with a secret murder for twenty years? And in the shadows of the Great Smoky Mountains, a forest that witnessed both life and death, the haunting question remains: how many secrets remain hidden among the trees, waiting for someone to stumble upon them? Cindy’s story is a grim reminder of the thin line between love and obsession—and the darkness that can linger beneath the calmest exteriors.

Twenty years passed, lives were changed forever, and a killer died without facing a court of law. But the memory of Cindy Barret, her quiet life interrupted by rage and obsession, endures—a haunting echo in the Smoky Mountains, a story that shocks, captivates, and refuses to fade.