It's the most wonderful time of the year. Booking Hero. On the beach does way more than beach holidays. We know of a millions of combinations of beach holidays, city breaks and cruises. So whether you fancy swimming, sightseeing or sitting on the top deck of a ship, we've got you covered. So stop booking around and whatever your next holiday looks like, get searching at onthebeach.co.uk. After an atoll protected. On the beach. Rhonda Smith sits in the office at Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church, leaning her head on her hand with her elbow on the desk. The computer screen casts a soft blue light in the quiet room, shining in her eyes as she scrolls through yet another dating profile. She exhales a little louder than she means to. She thinks about her last relationship. He lived about an hour away. At first, the drive didn't seem too bad, but over time it felt longer. Their conversations faded. In the end, they both agreed the distance wouldn't work. The breakup was mutual and clean, but still disappointing. She clicks to the next profile. There was a time when rejection like that would have overwhelmed her. Even small setbacks felt like proof that something was wrong with her. Those were the years when depression crept in and stayed too long. Hospitals felt more familiar than home. She didn't trust herself to be alone with her thoughts. But that was before she found the church. Rhonda leans back and lets herself smile. She joined the church a couple of years ago, not to find faith, but because she needed structure. She needed a place to go, something steady. Over time, the congregation got to know her and accepted her. With Pastor Shreve's support, she started to rebuild her life slowly and carefully. Now she has a routine. She has friends, people who count on her, and who let her count on them. That balance means more to her than anything she ever expected. She thinks about her plans for tonight. She's having dinner with Greg, a man she met in her bipolar support group. He might be someone who understands the hard parts without her having to explain. He might be someone who truly gets her. She reaches for the mouse to look at the next profile. Suddenly she hears a sound that doesn't belong in the quiet building. Rhonda sits up in turns. She gasps, barely having time to raise her hand. Then everything goes dark. Welcome to Sword and Scale Nightmares. True crime for bedtime. Where nightmare begins now. Judy Zellner pulls into the church parking lot just after noon. Gravel crunching under her tires. When she gets out the cold, winter air stings her nose and makes it hard to breathe. She notices a car she doesn't recognize so she pulls her coat tighter and hurries to the door. Judy fumbles for her keys and her heavy coat, but finally finds them. When she puts the key in the lock, she realizes it's already unlocked. She gets ready to scold whoever left it open since everyone knows this door should stay locked during the week. She goes inside, closes the door, and locks it behind her. Inside the old church, the familiar smell of wood, bibles, and dust greets her. The building is quiet as she walks toward the office. She sees the light is on, which isn't unusual. Pastor Shrieves often leaves it on, sometimes the radio also. She steps into the office and calls out softly, but no one answers. She sets down her purse, hangs up her coat, and her footsteps echo in the empty space as she moves through the office. As she gets closer to the receptionist's desk, she notices something that shouldn't be there. It takes her a moment to understand what she's seeing. Just long enough for confusion to turn into dread. A woman's body is crumpled up on the floor in an unnatural position. Blood, everywhere. Her dark brown hair matted with it. Judy freezes, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind flashes absurdly to episodes of CSI. She doesn't touch anything. Eventually she worries the person who did this might still be there. She grabs the cordless phone and runs for the door, panicking. When the dispatcher answers, she stumbles over her words. Outside she waits, pacing and crying, trying to keep warm in the January cold. The minutes drag on, every sound feels too loud, and the stillness is heavy. When the sirens finally arrive, they break the silence with both relief and fear. Paramedics rush past her, their boots heavy, their voices quick and focused. They don't notice her. Judy hears herself speak before she realizes it. Look behind the desk, she says. Paramedics find the woman and see something Judy missed. The woman is still breathing. They kneel, check on her and move quickly. She notices the air now smells metallic. The paramedics gently move the body and roll her onto a stretcher. They lift it and the wheels snap out with a hollow sound. Judy steps back and gives them space as they approach the door, her heart pounds as they pass. The sheet shifts and the woman's head turns. It's the first time Judy sees a face. With an audible gasp, she says, that's my friend Ronda. Pennsylvania State Trooper Joseph Stumpo arrives at the church after the ambulance has left. The last emergency lights flicker against the stone walls that have stood since colonial times. The church was established before the United States even existed. It has served the same rural stretch of Bucks County for generations. It's cemetery filled with names that often repeat on headstones. Stumpo has worked on crashes, burglaries and domestic assaults. He's never worked on a homicide. Inside the building remains orderly. The side door shows no signs of forced entry. The office light is still on. The hallway is quiet except for low radio traffic as officers secure the perimeter. In the small office the scene is clear. The desk sits in the center of the room. Inside it, dark bloodstains the carpet in the large pool. The paramedics mark the outline of the body with tape before moving her, keeping the spot where she fell. The shape is unmistakable. Stumpo looks around the room carefully. Nothing is overturned. Drawers are closed. Papers are still stacked on the desk. There are no signs of struggle or a search for money or valuables. If this were a robbery the room would show it. If it were random violence someone likely would have forced their way in. Instead the scene suggests someone was close. They stood near the victim, fired and left without disturbing anything else. Stumpo steps back in the hallway and looks towards the sanctuary beyond the office. For centuries this church was a place of routine and ritual. Today it is the scene of a shooting. Stumpo finds Judy Zellner in her car in the church lot, the engine running to keep warm. Her hands are wrapped tightly around a tissue as he asks her to walk him through the afternoon. Stumpo listens as Judy speaks through sniffles telling him that she didn't know anyone would be there and about the unlocked door. He nearly starts crying when she gets to the part about finding Rhonda. He takes notes as Judy talks about Rhonda. She says Rhonda started coming to the church a couple of years ago. Rhonda spoke openly about her money and her career troubles, all related to her bipolar diagnosis. She had been hospitalized before. There were times when she struggled deeply, even talked about hurting herself. But lately Judy says Rhonda seemed stable. She was dating and making plans for the future. Just a couple of weeks ago she stood in front of the congregation and thanked everyone for their support. Judy's tears burst forward, but Stumpo has to ask an uncomfortable question. Did she ever mention having a gun? He asks. Judy shakes her head, no. At a quiet church in the middle of the day, with no forced entry and no witnesses, one possibility stood out. Rhonda was alone, had a history of depression, and was found with a bullet wound. Stumpo writes this in his notes, though he doesn't think it really fits. By the time Stumpo reached the hospital, doctors confirmed what he suspected. Rhonda had been shot in the head. She was shot twice at close range. She was hit directly on the right side of her head, but also had grazing wounds on her hand and forehead, likely from a shot that missed. Crime scene texts later found a bullet lodged in the church office ceiling. She also had stifling, a sign that the gun was fired up close. Stumpo asks the necessary question. Could she have done this to herself? She listens and takes notes as doctors explain that the way she was found makes it unlikely. Two shots to the head are rare in suicides. The angles didn't show any kind of hesitation, which is common. It's a little harder than you think to put a gun up to your head and pull the trigger. Also, there was no gun at the scene, Stumpo thought. He closed his no pad and thanked the doctors for their work. She asked them to keep him updated about her condition, but they didn't think she would survive the night. The damage was too severe. Rhonda was alive, but barely. Her head and right eye were heavily bandaged. She lay motionless with her tongue protruding from her lips. She was brain dead. Stumpo would learn later that her parents made the hard choice to let her pass that night. As he leaves the hospital, he thinks over the details of the case. His theory has changed. What he first thought might be suicide now points to somewhere else. Rhonda did not shoot herself. Someone else did. Later Mary Jane Fonder, a member of the church, called Rhonda's parents, Joe and Joanne Smith. She said she wanted to bring over a pie. Joanne thanked her, but said she didn't want it. They weren't up for company. They were still trying to make sense of what happened. Mary Jane came anyway. When Joanne opens the door, she recognizes her right away. She's seen her at church, an older woman who sang in the choir with Rhonda. Mary Jane stands on the porch holding a pie dish with both hands. Her wig sits a little off-center. She speaks softly, offering condolences in a tone that sounds practiced. Joanne invites her inside. Mary Jane sits at the kitchen table and folds her hands in her lap. She talks about the church, about how shaken everyone is, and about how much Rhonda meant to the congregation. She asks questions about Rhonda as a child, her favorite things, and what she was like growing up. An hour passes by, then another. Joe thinks to herself, this lady can really talk. As they talk, Joanne notices Mary Jane's shoes. They're cracked and worn thin in the soles, with the edges starting to separate. Before Mary Jane leaves, Joanne offers her a couple of pairs of Rhonda's shoes from the hallway closet. It feels like a small gesture, a way to thank her for coming. Mary Jane accepts them, tries them on, and walks back and forth to see if they fit. After thanking them and saying goodbye, Mary Jane leaves. The pie stayed in the kitchen counter after she left. No one touched it. Trooper Stumpo meets with Pastor Greg Shrieves at the church in the days after the shooting. He tries to size him up before starting the conversation. Shrieves is tall and well-built, a former professional golfer who entered the ministry as a second career. He carries himself with calm assurance, the kind that comes from years of public presence. His transition into pastoral life had been welcomed by the congregation, mostly the women who thought he was just dreamy. When Stumpo asks about Rhonda, Shrieves explains that she was a member of the church who had struggled in the past with bipolar disorder. She had counseled and encouraged her. He helped her find structure. She was improving. Then Stumpo asks if anyone in the church had been behaving unusually in recent months. Shrieves mentions Mary Jane Fonder. She is a longtime member, devoted, rarely missed a service. At first she seemed harmless. She talked too much, trapping people in lengthy conversations, and she never seemed to wear her wig correctly, even backwards sometimes. Then she started requesting meetings with Shrieves. She waited after services to talk to him. She wanted private conversations that drifted beyond church matters. Then it got worse. Mary Jane started calling his home and leaving long, rambling messages. She would call multiple times a day for days on end. The messages became longer, more emotional, and less connected to anything specific. It was almost stream of consciousness, Shrieves said. Eventually he had to turn off his answering machine and block her number. Mary Jane just used her cell phone after that and kept calling. Then she started leaving food for the pastor, except she would leave it inside his home, entering without his permission while he wasn't there. After that he started to lock his door. Then there was the time they decorated the church bulletin boards together. Out of nowhere Mary Jane said, you can't deny what's going on between us. Shrieves said he stopped her right there and told her that she had crossed a line. There was no romance between them. When Stumpo asks whether Mary Jane had reacted to his work with other parishioners, Shrieves recalls comments she made about how often he met with Rhonda. The remarks were not confrontational, he says, but they carried an edge. Stumpo writes the name down carefully. Mary Jane Fonder. He closed his notebook and thanked the pastor for his time. As he prepared to leave he couldn't shake what Shrieves said. Persistent phone calls, unwanted visits, comments about relationships that didn't exist. None of it was a crime, but it was a pattern for sure. Mary Jane was worth looking into. After leaving the church Stumpo meets with the police chief to update him on the case's progress. When he says the name Fonder he notices the chief's signal for him to stop. I know that name, the chief says. Years earlier in 1993 when the chief was still a patrolman there had been a call to the Fonder residence. Mary Jane's father Edward had disappeared. She said she heard him walk out the front door and he's never been seen again. Searches were conducted. Neighbors were questioned. The property was examined. Nothing was ever found. The case went cold. In fact it's still open to this day. Stumpo feels renewed at this lead. The last time Mary Jane's name came across the chief's desk she was a person of interest in her father's disappearance. The interview room at the State Police Barracks is quiet. Stumpo sits across the table from Mary Jane. Beside him is trooper Robert Egan, an older, more seasoned veteran investigator brought in as backup. Egan doesn't speak much at first. He just watches. Just like everything they had heard about Mary Jane she starts to fill the silence. She starts rambling on about any and every subject on her mind. The troopers just let her talk. She talks about the church, about how much it means to her, she talks about Pastor Shreves. He's a real man, Pastor Shreves. He's a hell of a man, a real man, she says. The troopers continue to let her ramble. She goes on and on, jumping from one subject to another then back again. You know the type. Eventually the conversation circles back to Pastor Shreves. I'll tell you, I always liked the pastor. I had very sexual kind of feelings, warm feelings about the man, she says. Then the conversation shifts to Rhonda. She talks about gatherings at the church, dinners and social outings where it seems Rhonda was welcomed but she was not. She brings up the Sunday service where Rhonda stood up and thanked everyone for their help. The whole world's going around this lady and I don't know it, she says. She claims she wasn't jealous but she keeps returning to all the attention, support and inclusion Rhonda got. So it sure sounds like she is. Eventually the troopers bring her back in on January 23rd, the day after the murder. Her alibi is precise. She had a hair appointment in Quakertown at 1130am. She signed in at the salon at 1122am. The salon confirmed it. But Mary Jane wore a wig that day and she left it behind. Investigators collected it and sent it off for gunshot residue testing. If she had fired a gun that morning, residue would have gotten on that wig. For sure. The test results showed that two of the three chemical components of gunshot residue were present. It wasn't enough to arrest but it didn't call any suspicions either. Egan asks about her gun. She acknowledges owning a .38 caliber Rossi revolver for protection. The same caliber gun that shot Rhonda. But she explains she got rid of it many years ago. Egan asks how she got rid of it and Mary Jane replies. I threw it in Lake Nakamixen years ago. She went on to explain that she got depressed after all the negative publicity surrounding her after her father's disappearance and decided to get rid of it after thoughts of harming herself. The troopers glanced at each other. In their experience, people don't discard guns this way unless they have something to hide. Stumpo asks the question directly. Did you shoot Rhonda? Mary Jane leans forward and says, I didn't do it. Both investigators noticed that at that moment Mary Jane's voice changed. It dropped lower, deeper. Her softness disappeared, replaced by something harder, something angrier. As quickly as it changed, it changed back and Mary Jane went back to rambling. As the interview stretched on, Stumpo and Egan saw a pattern. She admitted having romantic feelings for the pastor. She described exclusion from the church and social events. She focused repeatedly on what Rhonda had and what she did not. She denied being involved, but she may have just inadvertently revealed her motive. After the interview, the troopers didn't have a confession. They didn't have a weapon, but they did have enough suspicion to escalate. They decided to seize her car. She didn't fight it, but she did mention getting a lawyer. Stumpo said, that's fine, but we're still taking your car. When the forensic test results return, the findings are positive for particles consistent with gunshot residue. There weren't heavy concentrations, not enough to arrest her, but three separate areas tested positive. The turn signal, the driver's door handle, and the driver's seat. The troopers decide to apply pressure until Mary Jane they found gunshot residue, just to see what she did next. Then they waited. Soon after, an eight-year-old boy was fishing at Lake Nakamixin with his dad. The water in the lake was low. What the boy and his father didn't know was that the lake was low because of the police's previous attempts to find the gun. After a while, the little boy gets bored fishing for trout and gets distracted when he sees a gray heron. He tells his dad he's going to get a closer look and starts making his way towards the large burr. Then a glint catches his eye, an object sticking out of the shallow water. The boy runs over and picks it up, thinking he's found a toy gun. But once it was in his hand, the weight gave it away. It was a real gun. The little boy ran to his father to show him. The father panics when he sees his son with a gun and gently snatches it from him. The gun didn't appear to be rusted. It wasn't something you'd expect to find underwater. He opens the cylinder and finds three spent casings and two live rounds. He dumped them in his hand and, at that, they were done fishing for the day. The boy and his father went home and called the police. The revolver recovered from Lake Nakamixin is sent to the Pennsylvania State Police Crime Lab. The .38 caliber Rossi revolver pulled from the shallow water is the gun that killed Ronda. They stake out the church waiting for Mary Jane to arrive. When she does, they approach her. She isn't hysterical. She isn't combative. According to investigators, she looked at them and said, I figured you'd be coming. She's quickly placed under arrest and charged with the murder of Ronda. I didn't do it, she said. But now the denial has to compete with the gun pulled from shallow water. Prosecutors argued that on the morning of January 23rd, Mary Jane went to the church knowing Ronda would be alone in the office. She brought her .38 caliber Rossi revolver. The first shot grazed Ronda's hand and forehead. The second shot struck the right side of her head at close range. Then Mary Jane left. She drove to a scheduled hair appointment and signed in at 11.22 a.m., like nothing ever happened. Prosecutors would later lay out a simple theory. Mary Jane didn't just kill a stranger. She killed a rival. For months, she had become attached to Pastor Greg Shreves. She called him a, quote, real man. Admitted she had very sexual, warm feelings for him. She interpreted pastoral kindness as intimacy. But then Ronda entered the picture. Ronda met with the pastor for counseling. She received financial help from the congregation. She stood before the church and publicly thanked them. She was welcomed into social gatherings. Mary Jane was not. In the week before the murder, Ronda's life appeared to be stabilizing. She was working at the church, dating, rebuilding. To Mary Jane, that attention felt like displacement. Mary Jane was convicted of first degree murder. She was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Even then, she maintained her innocence. I didn't do this terrible thing, she said. Years passed. From prison, Mary Jane started writing letters to the authors who documented her case. The tone of those letters was different from that of the woman who sat in that interview room, insisting she had done nothing wrong. She wrote about having vivid dreams in which she was back inside the church office. In those dreams, she had the gun. In those dreams, she saw Ronda fall. She started to question herself. She wondered whether something had happened that she couldn't fully remember. She suggested that maybe she had gone to church just to talk. Maybe things escalated. Maybe she blacked out. She never clearly confessed, but she stopped insisting she had not been there. Mary Jane died in prison years later. No accountability was ever taken. The questions about what happened to her father in 1993 remain unanswered. For whatever clarity she may have reached in those dreams, if any, is gone right along with her. Life at the church went on. The pews filled. The choir sang. The office light came on each morning. Pastor Shreve's kept Mary Jane's name on the prayer list long after the trial ended. He prayed for her. Just as he had once prayed for Ronda. In the end, one woman sought belonging and found it, and the other mistook attention for love. If you enjoyed the show, please consider joining Plus at swordandscale.com. But if you can't, consider leaving us a positive review on your preferred listening platform. Sweet dreams and good night.
