Jerald Wingeart

Wow, I had an experience with him in 1974.
I was living in Lennon, Mi. In April 1974. I was 17. I heard my brother was home in St.Ignace from Florida and decided to hitchhike to the UP to see him. I left in the morning from Lennon and got a ride to Owosso. A turquoise International Scout pulled out of the police post and pulled over to give me a ride. I thought it may be an off duty officer. As soon as I got in, I knew it was bad. It was still cold and I was wearing a short brown suede jacket, jeans, and was carrying a small blue suit case.
He said “You should be wearing a bikini.”
Me- Well, it’s cold out.
Him- Where are you going?
Me- St.johns, to meet my boyfriend (a lie)
Him- Where in St.Johns? I’m from there (lie)
Me- The gas station, and I pulled out a cigarette, As I was nervous.
Him- He pulls out a lighter and reaches over to light it while rubbing my breast with his arm.
Me- please stop and let me out.
Him- NO. I’m going to kill you, and smiles.
Me- Why?
Him- I’ve done it before.
Me- I was visualizing a newspaper stating my body was found and I’d been murdered.
Him- Turns right down a gravel road.
Me- where are you going?
Him- I know a short cut to St.johns (lie)
Me- I see kids playing in a field by the road. I pretended to throw my cigarette out the window, rolled it all the way down and threw my little suitcase out the window. I thought it would help someone find my body. Kids started running toward the road.
Him- Slams on the brakes (maybe to get the suitcase) sees the kids and stomps on the gas.
Me- I opened the door and jumped out. Hit the gravel and rolled into the ditch. Tried to read the license plate because he stopped to come back and get me. I started running and he tore out the other way.
I ran to a house and an older lady came to the door. She let me use the phone to call the police. They came. They said the license plate came up on a blue Pontiac in Detroit.
I asked him for a ride back to Lennon because I was afraid he’d come back after me.
He did. Thank You Sir.
When I got home, my brother was on my doorstep. He stopped to see me on his way home. Ironic.
So, I never forgot my close brush with death. 46 years later I researched murders in Owosso in the 70’s. Found Dawn Magyar. Looked at her killer and it was HIM. I’ll remember that face as long as I live. He was actually taking me to the same area her left her body.
If he ever gets out of prison, I will hunt him down and shoot him. Sorry, not sorry.