The shadow is still there. If you drive the stretch of Route 101 or Route 10 that snakes through the borderlands of New Hampshire and Vermont, you feel it. It’s a quiet, scenic area. Green mountains, rolling fog, and the kind of deep woods that seem to swallow light. But back in the 1980s, these roads were a hunting ground. A man—or perhaps men—preyed on women in a way that felt random yet terrifyingly specific. People call him the Connecticut River Valley Killer, and honestly, the fact that he was never caught is one of the biggest failures in New England law enforcement history.
It’s frustrating.
We’re talking about at least six confirmed victims, though the number likely reaches seven or eight. All of them were stabbed. Multiple times. The killer didn't use a gun. He didn't use a rope. He used a knife, and he used it with a level of frenzied aggression that suggests a specific type of rage. Yet, despite a survivor looking him right in the face, the case grew cold. It stayed cold for decades.
The Night Everything Changed for Jane Boroski
Most serial killer stories end with a body in a ditch. This one almost did, too. On August 6, 1988, Jane Boroski was seven months pregnant. She was tired. She stopped at a closed vending machine outside a market in Swanzey, New Hampshire, just looking for a soda.
Suddenly, a Jeep Wagoneer pulled up.
A man got out. He didn't look like a monster. He looked... normal. He asked Jane if the payphone worked. Then, without warning, he accused her of hitting his car. Before she could even process the absurdity of the claim, he was on her. He stabbed her 27 times. Think about that number. It isn't a quick kill; it's an ordeal. Boroski somehow survived by playing dead, then crawling back into her car and driving toward a friend's house.
She saw him again.
As she drove, she realized the Wagoneer was following her. He eventually passed her and disappeared into the night. Jane lived. Her baby lived. She provided a description. She gave the police a lead on the vehicle. And yet, the Connecticut River Valley Killer remained a ghost. You'd think a pregnant woman being stabbed 27 times would trigger a manhunt so intense it would end in an arrest within a week. It didn't.
A Trail of Bodies Along the Valley
The timeline of the Connecticut River Valley Killer is a grim map of the mid-80s. It started, most believe, with Mary Elizabeth Critchley in 1984. She was a student at the University of Vermont. She was hitchhiking—which everyone did back then—and her body was found in the woods off I-91. Then came Bernice Courtemanche. Then Ellen Fried.
The pattern was usually the same. Women would go missing, often while out on the road or near transit points, and their remains would be found months or years later in wooded areas. The cause of death? Usually "multiple sharp force injuries."
- Bernice Courtemanche (17): Disappeared in May 1984. Found in April 1986.
- Ellen Fried (26): Disappeared in July 1984. She was talking on a payphone when she was likely abducted. Her skeletal remains weren't found until 1985.
- Eva Morse (27): Last seen hitchhiking in 1985. Found by a logger in 1986.
- Lynda Moore (36): Killed in her own home in 1986. This broke the pattern. She wasn't abducted; she was attacked in Saxtons River, Vermont.
The sheer geographic spread of these crimes made coordination between New Hampshire and Vermont police a nightmare. In the 80s, they weren't sharing digital databases. They weren't jumping on Zoom calls. They were mailing files. They were calling each other on landlines. The killer exploited the "seams" between jurisdictions.
Why Haven't We Caught Him?
The DNA problem is real. Many of these victims were found as skeletal remains. When a body sits in the damp, acidic soil of the New England woods for a year or two, biological evidence vanishes. Rain, snow, and scavengers destroy the very things modern forensic scientists need to build a profile.
Then there's the Michael Nicolaou theory.
A lot of true crime followers and even some investigators have pointed at Nicolaou. He was a Vietnam vet with a history of extreme violence. He lived in the area during the killings. He had a vehicle that matched descriptions. Most telling? After he killed his wife and stepdaughter in 2005 before taking his own life, people started looking at his past. Some believe he fits the psychological profile perfectly. But without a direct DNA match to the Valley crime scenes, it's just a theory. A "strong" theory, sure, but you can't indict a dead man on vibes.
Another name that pops up is Gary Westover. He died in 1997. According to some reports, he made a deathbed confession to his family about killing women in the valley. Again, police investigated. They looked for physical links. They came up short.
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The Complexity of the Profile
John Philpin, a noted forensic psychologist who worked on the case, has spoken extensively about the killer’s behavior. This wasn't someone "snapping." The killer was organized enough to abduct women and move them, but disorganized enough to leave Jane Boroski alive.
Wait. Did he leave her alive on purpose?
Some profilers think the killer got what he wanted—the thrill of the attack—and simply didn't care if she survived because he was done with the "experience." Others think he was interrupted by headlights or his own mounting panic. Honestly, the idea that he might have just walked away, bored or satisfied, is almost scarier than the idea that he failed to kill her. It suggests a level of detachment that is hard to wrap your head around.
What People Get Wrong About the Case
Most people think these killings stopped because the killer died or went to jail for something else. That’s the "Ted Bundy" or "BTK" logic. But we don't actually know that. Some investigators believe the Connecticut River Valley Killer simply evolved. Or moved.
There is a theory—and it's a controversial one—that the killer might be linked to the disappearance of Kelly Cook in Alberta, Canada, or even crimes as far south as Massachusetts. When you have a mobile killer who uses a vehicle as a primary tool, the "borders" we set for their crimes are usually wrong. We define them by where we found the bodies, not where the killer actually lived or worked.
Also, the "hitchhiking" narrative is a bit of a trap. While some victims were hitchhiking, others were simply living their lives. Ellen Fried was on the phone. Lynda Moore was at home. This wasn't a "dangerous behavior" problem; it was a "predatory human" problem.
The Current State of the Investigation
New Hampshire’s Cold Case Unit is one of the best in the country, but they are fighting an uphill battle. They’ve re-examined the evidence from the Boroski attack multiple times. The hope is that "touch DNA"—the kind of microscopic skin cells left behind on clothing or surfaces—might eventually yield a result through modern sequencing or genetic genealogy.
Genetic genealogy has solved the Golden State Killer case and the Bear Brook murders (another horrific New Hampshire case). It’s the best shot we have. If there is even a tiny sample of the killer's DNA on Jane's clothing or at one of the other scenes, the net could finally close.
But time is the enemy. Witnesses die. Memories fade. The Wagoneer is probably a pile of rusted scrap metal in a junkyard by now.
Actionable Steps for the Curious and the Concerned
If you’re someone who follows cold cases, or if you live in the New England area, there are actual things you can do besides just listening to podcasts.
- Review the Victim List: Sometimes people remember a "weird" encounter from decades ago that they never reported. Maybe you saw a Wagoneer in a place it shouldn't have been in 1987. Names to keep in mind: Mary Elizabeth Critchley, Bernice Courtemanche, Ellen Fried, Eva Morse, Lynda Moore, Barbara Agnew.
- Support Cold Case Legislation: Many states are underfunded when it comes to DNA testing. Support initiatives that provide grants for "M-Vac" systems (which suck DNA out of porous materials like clothing) and genetic genealogy research.
- The Jane Boroski Podcast: Jane has been incredibly vocal. She has a podcast called Invisible Tears where she talks about the case and gives a voice to the victims. Listening to the survivor’s perspective changes how you view the "facts" of the case.
- Contact the NH State Police Cold Case Unit: If you have actual information—not just a hunch, but a specific memory or a piece of physical evidence passed down—don't assume they already know it.
The Connecticut River Valley Killer isn't just a campfire story. He was a real person who tore a hole in the fabric of dozens of families. Whether he’s dead in a grave or sitting in a nursing home somewhere, the truth is likely still out there, buried in a file or a basement. We just haven't looked in the right box yet.
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To move forward with your own research, you should look into the "Shadow of the Valley" investigative reports which detail the specific coordinates of where the bodies were found. This often reveals more about the killer's familiarity with the backroads of the I-91 corridor than any psychological profile ever could. Pay close attention to the proximity of these sites to logging roads; it's a recurring theme in the disposal of the victims.
The case remains open. The New Hampshire State Police and Vermont State Police continue to accept tips. No detail is too small when you're trying to piece together a forty-year-old puzzle. Focus on the timeline between 1984 and 1988, specifically looking for individuals who had access to Jeep Wagoneers and had reasons to travel frequently between Claremont, NH and Brattleboro, VT.
Next, you might want to look into the specific forensic differences between the Lynda Moore case and the others, as some experts still debate if she was a victim of the same man or a tragic coincidence in a violent era.