The Deadly Friend - The Murder of Lori Ann Slesinski

May 5, 2025

In this episode, Payton and Garrett dive into the missing person case of Lori Slesinski. When she misses a girls' night, her friends sound the alarm—uncovering a trail that leads straight to her killer.

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AUDIO TRANSCRIPT

You're listening to an Oh No Media podcast.

Hey everyone, welcome back to the podcast. This is Murder With My Husband. I'm Payton Moreland.

And I'm Garrett Moreland.

He's the husband.

And I'm the husband.

Happy Monday, happy May, happy life!

Yeah, I don't know... What's the date this Monday? May the 5th?

Nothing really going on on the 5th—not after the 4th, that’s for sure.

That's what I'm saying: "May the 4th be with you." You know what I'm saying?

I hate that.

Hope everyone's doing good. My hair is—my hair's coming in.

You guys might be sick of hearing that, but I'm going to say it.

I played pickleball this morning and I am tired.

It's sunny outside, it's getting warm.

Payton and I are probably—this is my 10 seconds, by the way—Payton and I are probably going to go on a date night tonight.

Don't know where we're going. We could end up at Texas Roadhouse, you know?

Or we could end up at—I don't know—somewhere else, a nicer restaurant.

But Texas Roadhouse does hit sometimes.

Yeah, I like the rolls.

Hope you guys are all doing good.

We love you. Thank you for buying our merch.

Thank you for supporting us. Thank you for listening, downloading, reviewing, commenting, liking—everything.

We seriously appreciate it so much.

We love that we can do this and be here with you guys every Monday.

Aww, that was sweet.

Thanks. That’s what I got. That’s what my 10 seconds is.

Alright, you guys, we are going to get into the sources for this week:

longcrime.com, cbsnews.com, charleyproject.org, basementfortproductions.com, sanhillsexpress.com, wtvm.com, whnt.com, wbrc.com, montgomeryadvertiser.com, thesun.com, wsfa.com, wjtv.com, and findagrave.com.

Can you just find anyone's grave in the world?

If it's uploaded on there. So, no, you can't find just anyone's.

Interesting. I didn’t know that.

Most of us have friends from all different chapters in our life, right?

We have our childhood friends, our college friends, then there’s the newer adulthood friends—work colleagues, other parents, neighbors.

And the whole point of establishing a new friendship is getting to know someone on a more personal level.

What interests do they have?

What are their personalities like?

What happened to them in the past?

But there's no way to know it all.

And even with those friends that you've had for decades, how can you be so sure that you ever know their full truth?

That's why I don't have friends.

Exactly.

Because while a friendship is built on honesty, trust, and loyalty, it doesn't mean that someone has to reveal all of their secrets to you.

So today, I want you to ask yourself:

How well do you really know the friends in your life—even the closest ones?

Do you know what their parents do for a living?

Do you know what happened in their home when they were young?

And how shocked would you be if you found out that this long-term friend had an entire chapter of their life that they never shared with you—

one that ultimately could save your life, if you only knew the truth?

Honestly, this is why you don’t trust anyone—except yourself.

I know some people might disagree with that, but like—I love my wife.

I love her very much.

Do I trust her 100%?

99%.

That extra 1%? You just never know.

You don’t. You’re not them.

You never know.

I don’t trust Daisy. She woke me up three times last night.

Today we are going to dial the clock back to 2006. We’re traveling to Auburn, Alabama to meet 24-year-old Lori Anne Slesinski.

Now, Lori—who was born on September 21, 1981—isn't an Alabama native. She, her older brother Paul, and her parents, Arlene and Casey, are all originally from New York. But by 1994, when Lori was 13, the family had moved down south to a rural Alabama farm to start a slower life than the one they lived in New York.

Which was amazing for Lori, because she loved animals. So she was more than thrilled to have an entire horde of new pets she could take care of. And that happiness Lori felt in the move to Alabama also showed through in other areas of her life.

Friends said she was always incredibly friendly, outgoing, warm, and nurturing. She excelled in school—even though she moved at 13—so much so that she was the valedictorian of her high school class when she graduated.

Which was why, when Lori got accepted to Auburn University around 2001, her parents offered to get her something special. They bought her her own little mobile home to live in, right outside of campus.

Now, I’m not sure how far away Lori’s parents were living at the time, but I know it was far enough for them to worry about Lori quite a bit. Her mom, Arlene, would call and check on her every day just to see how college life was going.

But Lori was thriving there just as much as she had been back home. She was getting a degree in psychology and criminology, and after graduating in 2005, she actually had plans to go on and pursue a master’s degree.

Around that time, Lori also adopted a little dog that she named Peanut, who was the love of her life—probably after missing all her pets back home. She also got a job at the East Alabama Mental Health Center.

Now for Lori, this was just a stepping stone until she completed her master’s. She thought the job was okay—it was a lot of work for the low salary she was being paid—but it still left time for her other hobbies: bike riding, recreational sports, video games, and of course, plenty of time to just be a young twenty-something enjoying her days with friends.

Which was exactly what Lori was up to on the Saturday afternoon of June 10th, 2006.

That day, Lori was hanging out with her friend, 25-year-old Rick Andis. But that evening, she had plans to meet up with a few friends for a girls’ night—just some drinks and a movie. It was nothing wild.

So around 6:30 p.m. that night, Lori calls her friend, Lindsey Braun, who was going to be hosting the girls’ night. She tells Lindsey, “Hey, I'm just going to swing by the store in a few minutes, pick up some drink mixes, and then I’ll head over to your house.”

Lindsey’s like, “Great! Yeah, we’ll see you at girls’ night soon.”

7:00 p.m. rolls around and Lori’s a little late, but not by much. That’s when Lindsey gets another call from her. It rings once, so Lindsey doesn’t even get to the phone in time to answer it. But she does see it was Lori who called, so she calls her back—only there’s no answer.

In fact, it goes straight to voicemail.

And then an hour goes by.

Lori never shows up.

Another hour.

Lori does not come to girls’ night at all—despite calling and saying, “I’m picking up drinks now and on the way.”

So the whole thing is weird and definitely out of character for Lori, which is why the following day—June 11th—Lindsey, her friend, starts calling her and leaving a bunch of voicemails on her home answering machine.

Now, the day after that—Monday, June 12th—Lori doesn't make it to work for her shift at the mental health center. She's a no-call, no-show. Same thing the following afternoon, Tuesday, June 13th.

From what I can tell, Lindsey also used to work at this mental health center with Lori. So when she hears from one of her former co-workers that, "Hey, Lori literally just didn’t show up to work and didn’t even call," Lindsey’s like, "Oh my gosh—she never came to my house, she's not answering my phone. Something is up. Something is not right."

So Lindsey drives over to Lori’s trailer home that day. And when she gets there, she sees that Lori’s car is gone. So she doesn't expect her to be home. But the door to her trailer is unlocked.

Lindsey lets herself in. She walks around hesitantly, not knowing what she’s going to find. It feels a little weird. And while she doesn't see Lori in the trailer home, she does find Lori’s dog, Peanut, there. He's locked away in his crate, but he's wagging his tail. He seems to have been fed, and his crate isn’t soiled—which, to her, suggests that someone has been letting him out and taking care of him.

Maybe that’s a good sign. Like, maybe Lori actually has been around.

But there are a few other things that definitely make Lindsey question the situation. For example, Lori usually had three little rugs on the floor of her kitchen—because Peanut would slip on the tile, so she put them down to make it easier. But now, they’re gone.

As was Lori’s trash bin outside her home, and a bin Lindsey knew Lori kept all her gardening tools in.

And then, even stranger—Lindsey had left Lori a lot of messages that weekend. Like first, she just skips girls’ night and never says why. She’s not answering the phone. But when Lindsey goes to the answering machine, she notices that it’s been unplugged—so none of her messages have been saved.

So as Lindsey is doing her own little investigation inside Lori’s trailer, Lori’s mother, Arlene, is also getting a call from Lori’s boss at work, saying, "Hey, we’re a bit worried. We haven’t seen or heard from your daughter in two days."

So Arlene hops in her car and races to Auburn—to Lori’s house. And when she gets there and finds Lindsey already there, Arlene also finds something else that’s a bit unsettling: the phone in Lori’s bedroom is missing its cord.

So this is definitely scary enough for Arlene to call the police that day, after learning everything Lindsey knows as well.

You know what's kind of funny? I bet there are people—I mean, I don't know, maybe not—but younger people listening who probably have no idea, like, why it's a big deal that the phone even had a cord. They’re like, “The charging what?” And it’s like—that was a big deal. That the cord was unplugged. That the answering machine was unplugged. Home phones.

It’s kind of crazy that that's just not a thing anymore.

I know! Bring it back.

I know. It was so fun. I loved just going in my dad’s office, picking that phone up, calling my bestie—“Can you play?”

Arlene calls the police—her mother—and when they arrive at the scene, the police notice a few other things that Lindsay and Arlene had actually missed. For one, they point out that Lori's front door looks a little splintered and broken, and they find a small amount of blood on Lori's front door as well.

So, police bag a bunch of other evidence while they're there, including Lori's bed sheets. In the meantime, they learn from Lindsay that Lori was actually with someone before she failed to come over that night a few nights ago, on girls' night. Remember, it was her old friend Rick Andis.

Now, Lindsay knew Rick was the last person to see Lori that night, but to her, that wasn’t at all alarming when Lori went missing, because Lori and Rick had a good friendship. They met back when she was still a student at Auburn University—but not through school. Lori actually went to the bowling alley where Rick worked, and the two got to know each other that way and became friends.

The friendship was always just platonic between the two of them, though—even in December of 2005, when Lori asked her mother, “Hey, can I invite my friend Rick over for Christmas dinner? He doesn’t have any family.” And Arlene told her, “Yeah, of course.” So even her mother had met Rick. Arlene said Rick was polite and friendly—that she also had no reason to question him or his intentions.

But when Rick is called in by police for questioning, he tells police about another side of his missing friend Lori—one that seemingly her mother and her best friend Lindsay were not aware of.

Rick tells police, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I understand what you're saying—Lori’s missing. And we were actually growing marijuana together.” He says that on the night of June 10th, Lori left him to go to Lindsay’s, but first she had to make a drop—and it was to a few shady characters that definitely might have had something to do with her disappearance.

Now that's crazy.

Police like Garrett are a little hesitant to believe the story, but only because they find zero evidence that Lori’s been growing or dealing weed out of her trailer. But before they can even fully look into Rick’s claim, there is a major break in the case.

The following afternoon, on Wednesday, June 14th.

That day, around 4:41 in the morning, police get a call that a car has just exploded in a cul-de-sac outside of a construction site. And when they ask, “Okay, what’s the make and model?” they hear it's a 2005 Mazda Tribute.

Now police know Lori—who’s missing—drives a 2005 Mazda Tribute. So they rush over to the scene, terrified of what they're going to find inside of the vehicle.

And they are somewhat relieved to discover that Lori is not inside of it—but it is 100% her car.

So now the question is: who would do this? Did Lori blow up her own vehicle and flee the scene?

Likely not. But police find a few clues near the car as well.

First, they find a hand-rolled cigarette, which they collect as evidence. Second, they find an empty gas can in the woods close by.

Now remember—just a few hours before this explosion, police were questioning her good friend Rick Andis. Now, all of a sudden, they are standing in front of Lori’s torched car. To them, they’re like, “We pull him in, we put on the pressure, and now her car comes up burnt?” They don’t feel like it’s a coincidence.

Which is why that day, they actually decide to get Rick back in for another interrogation—especially because Lori’s parents tell police, when they report back to them what Rick had said, there’s no way their daughter was growing and selling weed. She’s never even been into drugs. She was valedictorian. She’s going on to get her master’s. To them, Rick’s got to be lying.

And police are starting to suspect that too, because this time, they notice something they didn’t before: Rick has some scratches on his arms and hands. And when they ask him about them, like, “Hey, what happened?”—he doesn’t really give them an answer. He also changes some of his story from what he had told the police the day before.

I think that if he is lying, telling the police that they grow marijuana together is pretty far-fetched.

Yeah, it’s kind of crazy. That’s not a great lie. But if you’re trying to make it seem like she was around dangerous people, you would have to tell a lie like marijuana—instead of just saying, “Oh, we deal it,” or “We smoke a lot,” I don’t know. You know what I’m saying?

Yeah, I think if it’s fake, in his mind he just needed to get her around shady people.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it.

So at this point, police are like, “We’re not sure about this Rick guy. We’re going to get a warrant to search his car.”

And this is where things in the case really take a turn.

Inside of Rick Andis’s car—the last person that they know of to see Lori alive—they find a knife, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, tiki torches, flare bottles, air fresheners, a scrub brush, and a giant box of cleaning supplies.

Now, when Rick is asked about some of this stuff in his car, he says he can explain the brush and cleaning supplies because his dog has her period once a month since she isn’t fixed. So, he’s like, “She’s always in my car. I’ve got to clean it up.”

Anyone who knows animals knows dogs do not have their periods once a month. They go into heat twice a year.

So police are like, “Bro, this is definitely a lie. That does not add up.”

But the more Rick talks, the more he just keeps digging himself into a hole. And the more police begin to talk to other people who know Rick, the worse he looks.

So, remember that empty gas can police found close to the burnt car? Well, they speak to a friend and coworker of Rick’s—someone who also worked at the bowling alley—named Jeremy. And Jeremy tells police this:

On June 9th, the day before Lori went missing, Rick called Jeremy at his house to ask him for a favor. He says, “Hey, my car ran out of gas. Could you possibly run some over to me? I’m parked at a local church in Auburn.”

So Jeremy, being a good friend, is like, “Yeah, sure.” He grabs an empty gas can he sees lying around behind the bowling alley, gets it filled, and brings it to Rick. And Rick says, “Hey, um, can I keep the empty gas can?”

Jeremy tells him no. He’s like, “I borrowed it from the bowling alley. It doesn’t belong to me.”

But that’s not even the strangest part. Jeremy watches Rick start his car with zero trouble after this. And Jeremy knows cars—he knows that when they completely run out of gas and then get a boost like this, it usually takes a few revs of the engine to get it going again.

Jeremy doesn’t really think too much of it at the time. He brings the gas can back to work and goes about his day. But a day or two later, he realizes that the gas can—the one he had dropped off to Rick and then brought back—is now missing.

Which makes him really suspicious of Rick, especially when he hears about Lori’s car exploding on June 14th.

And especially because he knew something about Rick that not a lot of other people knew.

And what was it?

Rick was in love with Lori.

He had written her a letter and given it to her just a few days before Lori vanished. When Jeremy asked Rick, “Hey, how did it go?”—Rick didn’t offer much, but Jeremy could tell it didn’t go the way Rick had hoped.

It seemed like Rick had finally confessed his secret love to his friend, and Lori didn’t return his affections.

Yeah.

This is a statement that was also validated by Lindsay Braun—remember, Lori’s best friend. She said Lori had told her about the letter but wasn’t at all interested in being romantic with Rick. She really just wanted to keep it platonic.

And seemingly, Rick had accepted that, since the two were still hanging out on the night she vanished.

Or maybe Rick wasn’t accepting it.

Here’s what’s interesting though: if you recall, Lori told Lindsay she was going to pick up some mixers and then head over to Lindsay’s house, right before she went missing. And Lori is found on security camera footage at Walmart, shopping shortly after making that call to her friend.

And even more interesting—she appears to be alone.

So she was with Rick when she made that call, but then she’s alone in the Walmart after telling her friend she’ll be right over. Almost like—“Yeah, I said goodbye to one friend, went to Walmart…”

But then she disappears.

So police have to consider the possibility that maybe Rick wasn’t with her when she vanished.

And while Rick does appear to have a motive—and definitely some shady, circumstantial evidence: the scratches, the things in his car, the gas can story—police think they just don’t have enough to build a case against him for trial.

So what happens?

Rick is not arrested.

Instead, Rick begins trying to sell off a bunch of his things—his motorcycle—and then, less than a week after Lori’s car is found, he moves.

He moves out of Auburn, Alabama.

That’s so annoying.

To South Carolina.

Come on, guys.

But the following year—so the case has grown cold. They think they know who did it, but they have no evidence.

Rick’s former roommate from Auburn decides to randomly go into the police station one day. I don’t know what took him so long, but he has some pretty interesting evidence.

He says, “Hey, like, this whole thing happened a year ago—all this drama—Rick gets up and leaves, sells everything. But he left behind three rugs when he moved out. And I think they might be of interest to you.”

Lo and behold, those three rugs were the ones Lindsay and Arlene noticed were missing from Lori's kitchen floor at her house—the ones she had so Peanut could walk on the tile floor. Why would he leave them behind? That's insane.

Well, the former roommate says Rick told him they were a gift from Lori. But this is really just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Rick Andis, because the more police keep digging, the more they realize Lori clearly had no idea who she was friends with.

So I'm going to jump back into Rick's past now. It's 1993 in Montgomery, Alabama. On March 5th, a police dispatcher gets a call from a random driver saying a car appears to have driven off the highway. It struck a fence, so they should send someone out to make sure everyone's okay.

A state trooper named John Clark is sent to the scene. As he gets there, his headlights shine on what appears to be a boy—like, not much more than 12 years old. So State Trooper Clark gets out and asks the 12-year-old if he's okay, and the boy says he's fine, but then tells the state trooper, "I've actually stolen my parents' car."

Clark searches the kid's backpack, which the kid is cooperative about, and that's when Clark finds a kitchen knife and some loose ammunition. Now Clark’s like, "All right, kid, you're going to have to come down to the station with me so we can call your parents. You drove the car off the highway."

That's when the 12-year-old looks Clark dead in the eyes and says, "You can't call my parents. I killed them both."

Something about the way this kid—this young kid—says it tells Clark that he's not joking. He's not messing around. So they immediately send police over to the boy's home address, and sure enough, they find the dead bodies of his mother, Dolly Flowers, who had been shot and beaten to death with a baseball bat—oh my gosh—as well as the body of the boy’s stepfather, Eddie Flowers, who had also been shot in the face.

And he's not in prison for the rest of his life?

Well, apparently the bodies at the house had been dead for at least two days by that point, which, according to witnesses, didn’t stop that little boy from going to school in the meantime. So he shot and killed his parents, kept going to school, and then two days later stole the car and ended up driving it off the highway.

Who’s this little boy?

Rick.

Twelve-year-old Rick Andis.

Rick told police he did it because his parents had been wanting to move, and he didn’t want to switch schools. But the police find something else chilling inside the house: a hit list. And on it were the names of Rick’s three stepsisters as well—who, luckily, Rick did not get to in time to kill.

Now, under Alabama law, Rick was only sentenced to nine years in a juvenile detention center for this crime.

That is absolutely insane.

This actually happens a bit. I don’t understand. I know some people might disagree—and they’re children and, yeah—but that child’s a demon. Needs to go back to where he came from.

So when Rick turns 21, he is released.

It was around this time that he moved to Auburn with this huge secret that he had served a prison sentence for murdering his parents.

I just... I'm sorry, I just don't understand how the system thinks that this 12-year-old boy brutally killed two people and had a hit list. I think, okay, if we put him in prison for nine years and let him out, he probably won’t do it anymore, right? Like, I think we'll be okay. It blows my mind.

He moves to Auburn, starts a new life, gets a job at a bowling alley, and happens to meet Lori—nightmare.

So here’s what’s wild, though. As police are investigating Lori’s case, they know this about Rick, and they still don’t think they have enough evidence to prosecute him. A big part of that is the fact that they don’t even know if they have a murder case—there is no body.

Lori’s body is still missing, and I hate this so much, but this department is really operating on a "no body, no crime" mentality here. This is despite the fact that the tips against Rick keep coming into the Auburn Police Department, including one from a new coworker Rick made living in South Carolina.

The witness actually called the police and says they asked Rick, “Oh, what made you move out of Auburn?” And Rick flat out told them, “I got into trouble there. I needed to get the heck out of Dodge."

But there’s more. Rick also told this coworker that he’d been talking to a woman in Auburn, but she only wanted to be friends, so he strangled her. He told someone this. He tells his coworker this. He described this woman as a piece of quote “trailer park trash,” which, might I add, her parents had bought her that home to live in while she went to college—and also just rude.

Now, once this witness does their research, they see there’s a missing girl in Auburn and an open investigation into her death, which is why they called the Auburn police with this information. This girl lived in a trailer park, and the coworker’s like, “This guy’s weird. He just confessed to murdering someone. I don’t know if he's telling the truth,” looks into it, and is like, “Oh my gosh, I have to tell the police.” And still, it goes nowhere.

Ten years after Lori’s disappearance, the case is in the same spot as it was before. It’s not until 2016, when the Alabama State Bureau of Investigations creates their cold case unit, that Lori’s disappearance gets the attention it deserves.

Special Agent Mark Whitaker is the one to take the lead on Lori’s case in 2016, and immediately, he’s baffled by how much evidence there is against Rick Andis. It’s like, we don’t even have—like, we have the guy, and he’s still out here living life like nothing happened.

He and a partner are spending their days digging through old files trying to build a case against Rick, when one night, around 1:00 in the morning, Mark’s partner calls him, says, “Hey, I just found an old box of evidence and files”—it’s literally collecting dust—and inside was an envelope that had never even been opened or read by the authorities. It was in regards to the evidence that had been collected from Lori’s trailer. And this unopened report said that Rick’s DNA was found—his semen was found on Lori’s bed sheets and in the blood on the front door of her mobile home.

Which means if Lori wasn't interested in Rick romantically, like she told her friend, Rick had likely assaulted Lori and had clearly gotten into a violent scuffle with her inside her house for the blood to be on the door. This was a report from 2007, nine years earlier, and because someone didn’t open it, nobody knew that Rick Andis had DNA at her house.

By the way, Mark also finds the three rugs that Rick's roommate handed over to police when he moved. Once he sends those through DNA analysis, they find Rick's blood on one of those as well. But it doesn't stop there.

Lori’s car was too destroyed in the blaze to gather any evidence off of it, but remember that there was some stuff collected near the explosion. One of them was a rolled cigarette butt. This was something they never sent out for DNA testing back at the time, but now Mark and his team made sure to get it analyzed. Rick's DNA is all over that cigarette butt that was found near her burnt car.

Which means he's now also tied to blowing up Lori's car.

Holy crap.

He's tied via blood and semen to her house as the last person to see her alive, and now he's tied to a completely different location where her car was blown up. I mean, duh.

So, on August 6th, 2018, Rick is celebrating his 37th birthday in his new home in rural Virginia. He's there getting ready to cut a cake with his new fiancée, the local school librarian.

How does he have a fiancée now?

When their house is surrounded by SWAT teams that day, Rick Andis is finally arrested and charged with two counts of capital murder, burglary, and kidnapping—12 years after Lori disappeared.

Glad he's caught. 12 years later. Absolutely unacceptable, but I mean, better than never.

Question: If you found out, like right now, all of a sudden, that I had killed my parents…

I would leave. I’m not one to give up on marriage. I’m really, really not. To me, murder is a whole new level. Like, you might murder me. You’re already a danger to me. What I’m saying is, you’re already a danger to me, and if I found out that you had murdered someone in your family before, I don't know how I could live with you and not have one eye open all the time.

No, I agree. I think that’s... you know what I mean? I think it's crazy. I think if you kill someone—okay, like first-degree murder, second-degree murder—I’m not going to count like manslaughter, like the DUIs, I’m going to leave those out. First-degree, second-degree murder—I don’t know. I don’t... I don’t know. I guess maybe it’s just something we don’t know until we’re in that situation.

Oh, I hope I'm never in that situation, but I mean, like, I don’t even know if I can speak on it. Like, I don’t think I could be friends with someone who killed someone. I don’t know, like first-degree murder, yeah, but what if you didn’t know?

That’s why I started out this case being like, do you actually even know people? I wouldn’t talk to them because what if they kill me? It’s just scary. Can’t trust nobody.

Now, obviously, it’s a COVID case. The trial was delayed for years until 2022. It shouldn’t have been a COVID case, but on April 1st of that year, Rick Andis was paraded into the courtroom, and shockingly, they let him testify in his own defense.

The entire time, he swears he didn’t kill Lori. In fact, he says, "No, no, no, we just had consensual sex in her house the night she went missing."

Despite the fact that all of Lori's friends were like, "No, she literally told us she wasn't interested in him," he said, "Oh, the scratches on my arm came from my dog." And he retained his story he told 16 years ago: "We sold marijuana, she went out to meet with someone and never came home."

What’s even more outlandish is that Rick claimed someone deliberately planted his DNA at the scene of the blown-up car to pin the crime on him, which doesn’t really make sense because they never even tested that DNA.

So, if back then officers or investigators planted his DNA, they then just took it and never even tested it, which defeats the purpose of planting DNA. Dude, this guy is insane.

And, you know, obviously, because he testifies, he’s confronted with: "Well, you told a coworker you strangled a girl. You killed your parents." Unfortunately, he didn’t have an answer at all, and he doesn’t say what he did with Lori’s body.

But the jury was not going to make the same mistake the police did. For them, "No body, no crime" was not an option. After deliberating for 2 days, the jury found Rick Andis guilty of all charges.

So, finally, thank goodness, after 16 years without justice, the Slesinski family had some peace.

After the verdict was announced, one of Rick’s stepsisters, who was on his hit list, came forward and released her own public statement. Because Rick’s previous convictions could not be included in the court hearing of Lori’s case, she wanted the world to know, "Guys, this guy that just got convicted also murdered my father and stepmother."

Yeah, initially, the prosecution was hoping to pursue the death penalty, but Lori’s mother, Arlene, actually said, "Can you not?" The reason being that it would cost them years of appeals and more legal hurdles. Like, he’s just going to appeal, we’re going to have to come to more things, and we just don’t want to.

So Arlene agreed: "We'll just go with life in prison."

Yeah, give him life in prison.

And that’s exactly what Rick got when he was sentenced. The man who had killed her daughter was finally going to be put behind bars—a man who’d been in her house, by the way.

However, Rick continues to maintain his innocence, and because of that, he is trying to appeal his conviction.

Rick, you—Rick, you're a loser.

But the only thing anyone really wants to hear from Rick is, "Where is Lori’s body?" To this day, what happened in the final hours of Lori’s life, from the time she called her friend and was heading to girls’ night and then went missing, is still a mystery, as is her final resting place.

All we can hope for is that one day Rick Andis has a change of heart, an ounce of morality, and finally shares what he did to the woman that he calls his friend. And that is the story of Lori Ann Slesinski.

That’s sad when the parents can't have closure, right? But I think, I mean, I'm not the parents, I've never been in this situation. I would assume having closure from the person who did it, saying "Okay, yeah, I did do it," is just a different—I don’t know, feeling.

It’s like you never even get full closure, but you can get levels of closure, and they really only have like the bottom-tier level. You at least know you're not being lied to or—

Yes, it's like someone being convicted, someone saying, "I did it," someone telling the details, letting you know what happened—where is the body?

You can keep adding, and honestly, he’s given the bare minimum.

Yeah, what a loser.

All right, you guys, that was our case this week, and we will see you next time with another one. I love it.

And I hate it.

Goodbye.

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