The Springfield Three: Vanished Without a Trace

Welcome to Tales of the Twisted. True stories of the strange, weird, bizarre, and eerie. Each episode uncovers the stories that leave more questions than answers. You know, the ones that linger long after the last word.

Today's episode is the Springfield 3.

It was June 6th, 1992, the night of celebration for the graduates of Kickapoo High School in Springfield, Missouri. 18-year-old Stacy McCall and 19-year-old Susie Streeter had spent the day at a pool party, then hopped from one graduation gathering to another, laughing, taking photos, and making plans for the summer ahead.

By 2:00 a.m., the fun was winding down. They’d planned to stay at a friend’s house, Janelle Kirby, but when they arrived, it was overcrowded with guests who had decided to crash there for the night. So, the girls decided to drive just a few miles away to Susie’s house on East Delmar Street, where Susie lived with her mother, 47-year-old Cheryl Levitt.

It was a short, safe drive. They promised their friend Janelle that they’d call her in the morning before heading to Whitewater, a local amusement park. They never did.

When morning came, Stacy’s mother, Janis McCall, grew concerned. She had expected her daughter home early to go shopping before the water park trip, but Stacy wasn’t answering any calls. By late morning, Janis drove to the Levitt home.

What she found would become one of the most chilling mysteries in American history.

The front door was unlocked. All three women’s cars were still in the driveway: Stacy’s red Ford Escort, Susie’s white Ford Escort, and Cheryl’s new black Corsica.

Inside, the house was spotless. No overturned furniture. No sign of a struggle. Susie and Stacy’s purses were lined neatly on the living room floor, their jewelry still inside. Stacy’s makeup and clothing were placed carefully on the dresser. Cheryl’s bed looked as if she had just gotten up for a moment.

Even the family dog, Cinnamon, was there — small, nervous, barking anxiously, but completely unharmed.

But the women were gone.

Then Janis noticed something odd. The porch light was broken, its glass globe shattered on the ground. Neighbors later reported hearing strange noises and seeing a suspicious car around 3:30 or 4:00 a.m., but no one thought much of it at the time.

Inside the house, the phone’s answering machine held an eerie clue. A message had been recorded overnight — but it was accidentally erased by one of the many people who had entered the house that morning. Police later said the message may have contained vital information, but it was never recovered.

By afternoon, police were called, but by then nearly 18 people had already been through the home — friends, family, neighbors — unknowingly contaminating the crime scene.

When detectives arrived, they found no forced entry, no fingerprints, and no struggle. No blood. No signs that anyone had left unwillingly. It was as if the three women had been erased.

Within days, Springfield became gripped by fear. Posters showing the faces of Cheryl, Susie, and Stacy appeared on nearly every window downtown. Billboards went up across the state. Police received hundreds of tips, but few made sense.

Then came the infamous green van.

Several witnesses reported seeing an older green Dodge van in the neighborhood in the early morning hours. One woman said she saw a man sitting in the van watching the Levitt house, staring intently as if waiting. Another claimed to have seen a similar van speeding away later that night.

Police publicly appealed for information about the van, but no credible leads emerged.

Over time, chilling theories surfaced.

One centered around a convicted felon named Robert Craig Cox. Cox was a former Army Ranger and known kidnapper who had previously been convicted of murdering a young woman in Florida, though the conviction was later overturned. At the time of the disappearances, Cox was working in Springfield.

Years later, from prison, Cox told journalists he knew that all three women were dead — and that their bodies would never be found. When questioned by police, he refused to elaborate.

Authorities never found evidence linking him to the case, but his cryptic comments have haunted the investigation ever since.

Then came a new tip, one that sparked hope. A caller phoned the America’s Most Wanted hotline, claiming to know where the women’s bodies were buried. But before police could trace the call, the line disconnected. They never heard from that person again.

In 2002, another lead reignited the case. Crime reporter Kathy Baird received information suggesting the bodies were buried beneath a parking garage at Cox Hospital, just two miles from the Levitt home.

Using ground-penetrating radar, investigators found three anomalies consistent with the size of human graves. But police refused to excavate the site, citing cost and disruption to the hospital.

To this day, those anomalies remain untouched beneath concrete.

More than 30 years later, the fate of the Springfield 3 remains one of the most haunting mysteries in America. Detectives have chased leads as far as Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Texas. Psychics, private investigators, and clairvoyants have all offered theories — but none have led to the truth.

The house at 1717 East Delmar still stands. It’s changed owners, painted over, remodeled — yet neighbors say it never feels like a normal home. Something about it stays heavy, still waiting.

Every year, the families gather in Springfield’s Phelps Grove Park to hold a candlelight vigil. Three names spoken aloud:

Cheryl Levitt. Susie Streeter. Stacy McCall.

And though decades have passed, one question remains:

How does an entire family vanish from their home without leaving even a whisper behind?

You’ve been listening to Tales of the Twisted — true stories of the strange, weird, bizarre, and eerie. If this story unsettled you, follow the show and share it with someone who loves the mysterious and unexplained. Because sometimes the truth doesn’t disappear. It just hides — waiting to be found.