Transcript of Death in the High Desert

The body lay on the shop floor, the man's shaven head leaning against the front left tire of a service truck. There was a dime sized hole in his chin and a pool of blood slowly congealing on the concrete floor. Scarlet stained the front of his shirt, which was stiffening in the dry desert air. A few feet away lay a bullet and a line of broken fluorescent glass, white and powdery, like a line of drugs. For more than an hour, silence hung over this scene of death and disorder.

A quiet broken only by the occasional sound of a big diesel rig out on the highway. Then shortly before 7 PM, a man scheduled to work second shift walked in, and that silence was replaced by screams.

Tell me exactly what happened. I opened the garage door, and there's a light bulb busted out. Uh-huh. I get in the office, tore up, and he's on the ground bleeding out of his head. Okay.

Oh my god.

This is the story of what happened that afternoon in 2014 and why, but it's also about much more. It's about long shadows cast by old sins.

It starts as a Playboy Channel fantasy, but this is real life and there are real complications.

It's about the pairings of flawed souls, unholy alliances that spiraled out of control.

It had everything. It had sex, religion, the seemingly perfect, beautiful family that had all these secrets.

It's about faith and faithlessness, murder, and the thrill of moral escapism.

God's given us a purpose, and he's given us a chance with that purpose.

This murder was God's work.

They spoke about that many times. They were doing God's work.

In this podcast, you'll hear from people who loved that man found lying on the shop floor in August 2014.

He became my best buddy, like everybody else is.

You'll hear from some who wanted him dead.

I had a frank disgust for him that was developing and contributing to me being very dismissive of his life ultimately.

And you'll hear from the newly minted homicide detective whose job it was to find the killer or killers responsible.

That was the first homicide that, I had arrived to and was assigned as a lead detective.

It's a pretty big first case.

It is a big first case.

I'm Josh Mankiewicz, and this is deadly mirage, a podcast from Dateline. Episode 1, death in the high desert. Life in the Mojave Desert can be tenuous. It's remarkable, really, that anything survives in this vast, dry version of nowhere. The sun, high and blinding, bone chilling nights, days so hot, the highway seemed to ripple and heave in the heat.

Even at high speed, the Mohave looks formidable. Distant mountains seem to recede. Shimmering dry heat causes visions of water to appear on sandy plains in front of you. Nevertheless, thousands of people live here, many in communities scattered along the highway between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. 1 of those towns, about 2 hours east of LA, is Helendale.

It's the primary setting for much of the story you're about to hear.

Helendale is a city out in the middle of the desert.

That's Michael Fleeman, a true crime writer whose book about this case is titled Better Off Dead.

And within Helendale is an oasis within the oasis, and that's called Silver Lakes. Sort of a bedroom community, stucco houses, golf course, 2 lakes, clubhouse. It's this beautiful little bedroom community out in the middle of nowhere.

Yes. Like a mirage, lushly green Silver Lakes is about as genuine as a plastic Christmas tree in front of a chemical yule log. Regardless, it's home sweet home to the retirees and young families who've chosen to live there.

It was sort of Palm Springs light, the big spacious houses, families with kids running around, bikes in the streets. It looked like kind of the American dream neighborhood.

Sounds kinda wholesome, doesn't it?

It is. And if you go there, it's it's almost something out of, almost something out of, a Disney movie.

It's no wonder real estate boosters dubbed Helendale as the happiest place in the high desert. And Silver Lakes? Well, it might have been the happiest place of all.

No worries. Take it out.

You see, a dozen or so years ago, there was a close group of 30 somethings in Silver Lakes, and they liked to party hardy.

Play it now. Play it now. Play it now. Play it now. Play it now.

They called themselves a wolf pack, maybe because whenever they got together, they howled. Whoo. When the wolf pack wasn't living it up at house parties, they hired babysitters and took the show on the road. Whoo.

The rock. He knows how to perform.

Yes, he does.

I was playing. I hate to see it.

There were boisterous takeovers of local bars.

Wow. That was impressive.

Yeah. Thank you.

And some wild adults only weekends on the Colorado River. A casual observer might be excused for thinking them a group of high schoolers on spring break. Oh no. The wolf pack all had jobs, mortgages, and kids.

We don't want you to stress, though. This is a stress free zone.

Of the 6 to 7 couples that made up the core of the wolf pack, 1 foursome stood out, the Bernatins and the Lamones. They were inseparable and always seemed to be at the center of the action. Kelly Bernatine first met Sabrina Lamone back in 2008 when Sabrina came into Kelly's place to get her hair done.

She was super nice, friendly, like over the top friendly.

That's Kelly Bernatine. Later, she says Sabrina invited Kelly and her husband Jason over for dinner. That was when the Bernatins met Sabrina's husband, Rob Lamone. The 2 couples hit it off immediately.

He was just kinda like her, like, super friendly, just really positive, way outgoing. They're both extremely outgoing and welcoming, hospitable. If you could think of a perfect friend, it was the both of them.

You remember that first dinner?

Yeah. I remember the first time I met Rob. He he's actually kind of a scary dude.

That's Jason Bernatine.

He's got tattoos all over his arm, and he's got his last name tattooed on the back of his head. So his his appearance was not like his his personality.

No. Rob Lamone was a teddy bear. And as far as the wolf pack was concerned, he was the straw that stirred the drink. A lot of drinks. When someone had a few too many, Rob drove them home.

If someone needed help with a home project, Rob was there.

He would always be fixing fixing something, painting something, welding something, cutting the grass, helping a friend. He helped anyone he could.

Above all, Rob Limone was a railroad man through and through. Most days, he worked amid a blurring rush of metal and movement at the busy Burlington Northern and Santa Fe rail yard in Barstow, inspecting and maintaining the railroad's rolling stock.

Yeah. He was really proud of it, really proud of working for the railroad.

Maybe it was the smell or sound of trains that appealed to Rob. Maybe it was the feeling of freedom that came from working outside under the great bowl of the western sky. But whatever it was, Rob loved it. He loved it so much that he'd frequently drive an hour and a half to Tehachapi to make some extra money at the railroad shop there. When working in Tehachapi, Rob filled in as a rapid responder, meaning it was his job to be on call and repair any of the freight trains that broke down while climbing the mountain pass west of town each day.

Those were some long days, 12 hours, 7 to 7. Well, the money was good, and Rob had a family. The Bernatins remember being with Rob 1 Saturday night when a call came in asking if he could cover for a friend. The Wolfpack gang was having 1 of their nights out, this 1 at a baseball game.

It's just our little minor league team. And so we all went and, you know, got beers and hot dogs and sat around. And I was taking pictures of everybody and, you know, like, hey, Rob, say cheese, and he gives the whole, you know, thumbs up.

It was on just after that that he got the overtime. He got a phone call and said, hey, I just got overtime tomorrow in Tehachapi, and we were supposed to do a fantasy football draft the next day, and he couldn't make it because he got that overtime.

The next day was Sunday, August 17th. Rob Limone rose before dawn. He dressed in the dark, kissed his sleeping wife, looked in on his 2 children. Robbie was 11, Leanna was 8. Then he eased out the front door.

For the next 90 minutes, Rob Limone would have been alone with his thoughts. He had an 85 mile drive from his home to Tehachapi. The night sky was clear that morning, dusted with a 1000 stars. And as the sky slowly lightened, revealing mountains rising like camel humps in the distance, Rob Limon might well have considered himself a fortunate man, lucky to have a good family and cool friends, lucky to witness another dawn in the desert. Of course, he had no way of knowing that just days past his 38th birthday, this morning would be his last.

Sorry. Just know what the address of your emergency? It's 1582 Cedric Road. I'm sorry. 1582.

What's the name of the road? Goodrick Road.

The first sign of trouble came at 6:48 that evening when Sean Ware, the rapid responder who was supposed to be relieving Rob called 911.

What's the telephone number you're calling from? So I don't even know, but I need someone to get pissed because I think he's dead.

Years later, Sean remembered that when he pulled up to the shop, something seemed as wrong as 2 left shoes.

I found the shop completely closed up. At this point, I was thinking something's off because he normally did not have the shop in that state when he was there.

Sean says once he opened the large garage door, he saw Rob's service truck parked inside and a shattered fluorescent bulb on the floor in front of it. The door to the office was open, and the office had been ransacked.

I turned back out of the office. Directly across is a it's kind of a kitchenette. I started walking towards the refrigerator and the truck. That's when I caught a glimpse of blood on the floor. That's kinda when I seen him, and I kneeled down to him and was trying to talk to him and trying to get him to wake up.

That wouldn't happen. Rob Limone, a solid 6 foot 200 pounder, wasn't going to wake up ever. Rob's bald head had a huge lump on top of his skull. Blood was crusted on 1 side of his face, and there was a hole in the little tuft of beard he always wore on his chin.

Alright. Would I be able to flat on his back? Okay. Very gently. As easy as you can, turn him over flat on his back.

He's got a big knot on his head. Okay. Can't hear me. Okay. Okay.

Yeah. You think you can get him flat on his back? I can't get him on his back. Okay. Alright.

Put put your hand on his back or his chest and see if you can feel any air coming in and out. Now when I push on his chest a little bit, but it comes out of his mouth.

At about that time, 85 miles away in Silver Lakes, Sabrina Limone was beginning to wonder why she hadn't heard from her husband. It was past 7 PM. Rob should have been on his way home by now. This was normally a time when they would talk. On this Sunday night, nothing.

He wasn't picking up, and he wasn't responding to her texts.

Always, when or close to, Robert coming home, I I would always talk to him. And, the kids wanted to talk to him.

That's the voice of Sabrina Limon. Over the next hour, she made 11 calls to her husband's phone, some merely minutes apart. All of them went to voicemail.

I was wondering, and it became, a concern. Concerned but not panicked.

Maybe, but by 8:13, panic was setting in. She called her older sister Julie and her parents who also lived in Silver Lakes and told them she was worried. And then she sent another text to Rob, each line of it punctuated with exclamation points. Babe, I'm worried about you. Call me.

Liana wants to say goodnight. 10 minutes later, she made her last call to her husband's number, no answer, and then came a knock at the door. Out on the porch stood 2 officials from BNSF, the railroad Rob worked for. Sabrina's sister Julie Cordova was there when the railroad man told Sabrina her husband had been seriously injured on the job, something to do with his head.

And when we got there, Sabrina was beside herself. There were 2 guys there from the railroad, and I wanna say they were at the door. They weren't even inside yet.

What'd she look like? What was she saying?

Oh, no. She was fell to the ground, and she was crying and just pacing and trying to be strong for the kids all at the same time.

And what'd they tell you what happened?

You know that Rob got hurt at work.

At about the time the railroad men were leaving Sabrina Lamone's house in Silver Lakes, a red headed man stepped out of the darkness and ducked under the fluttering crime scene tape in Tehachapi.

7 hour flight for you, Roger.

That man was Kern County senior deputy sheriff Randall Meyer. He didn't choose this case. It kind of chose him. Meyer was the on call detective that night. He'd been at home in Bakersfield when word came there'd been a murder.

I checked in with the, officer who was manning the crime team tape and then stepped into the the area and waited for the other detectives to arrive.

Okay. How many of you worked that scene?

That evening, I believe we had 4 detectives at the time.

After a quick briefing from first responders, the sergeant told Meyer to take the lead. That was a big moment because even though detective Meyer had been a lawman for 17 years, he'd only been with the county's robbery homicide unit a few months.

That was the first homicide that, I had arrived to and was assigned as a lead detective.

It's a pretty big first case. It is

a big first case.

The night had turned chilly by the time detective Myers stepped into the railroad shop to take a look at the crime scene. Everything there was just as it had been when Sean Ware arrived 2 hours earlier.

During our walk through, we were able to approach the body. I noticed there was blood pooling underneath the deceased. It appeared that they had been shot twice.

Cartridge casings on the ground?

We did not locate any shell casings on the ground.

No cartridge casings, but there was a bullet found on the cement floor, a big 1, maybe a 44 or a 45. The lab techs would have to figure that out. The door to the fridge in the kitchenette area was open, blood spatter inside the door. Bottles of water and Gatorade were on the floor. It looked as if maybe there'd been a struggle.

Over in the office area, evidence techs dusted for prints and took photos. Right from the start, Mayer thought the office scene looked staged. How do you formulate that theory so quickly?

It did not appear that somebody had gone through all the drawers in the business. And if they're there to do a burglary, they're gonna take items of value. There was still a computer inside the office.

Fact was there were no signs of forced entry. Robbery didn't make sense. Neither did the idea that Rob Lamone's murder was somehow work related. Coworkers had nothing but good things to say about Rob.

They told me that Rob Limon is somebody who, would help anybody out if they needed help at any point in time.

Good guy.

Good guy.

Once everything had been photographed, measured, and dusted, the team from the coroner's office bagged Rob Limon's hands to protect whatever evidence might be under his fingernails, and they removed his wallet from his hip pocket. Then they wrapped him in clean white bedsheets and zipped him into a black body bag for transport to the coroner's office in Bakersfield. Inside the wallet, the detective found an ID which confirmed what he already knew. Rob Lamone, age 38, lived in Hallandale in San Bernardino County, about 90 miles to the southwest. Home address?

A house on Strawberry Lane. In the office area, the detective found a Samsung flip phone which appeared to be Rob's. The last outgoing from that phone was at 528. It was Rob telling a friend that he briefly checked out a car show that was in town earlier that afternoon. That meant Rob had been killed sometime after 528, and before Sean Ware discovered his body an hour and 20 minutes later.

The last text on Rob's phone came in at 8:13. It was that text from Rob's wife, the 1 that read, babe, I'm worried about you. The detective figured that text was to Rob from his wife, and he knew he'd have to talk with her sooner or later. But first, he wanted to review security camera video from that afternoon. The industrial complex where Rob Limon was murdered is on the way to nowhere.

Shaped like a wine bottle, there's only 1 way in and 1 way out. With 5 security cameras stationed around the warehouse complex, detective Meyer thought he had a decent chance at catching a glimpse of Rob's killer through at least 1 of those lenses. Here's the tale of the tapes. At about 4:11 that Sunday afternoon, Rob Limon could be seen headed west leaving the complex, presumably on his way to check out that car show he texted his friend about. At 4:15, the same camera picked up a motorcycle rider headed east in the direction of the railroad shop.

At 5:11, Rob Limone's truck returns. On video, you can see Rob returning to the warehouse where

he was killed. Yes, sir.

Is he alone?

Yes, he was alone in the vehicle.

And everything looks normal?

Yes. Then at 5:21, 10 minutes after Rob was seen headed back to the shop, a hunched figure is seen walking in the same direction before passing out of sight. 18 minutes later, at 5:39, the same figure is seen limping away from the direction of the railroad shop. The images were grainy, and blurry, and too far away to see anything identifiable. That said, they were absolutely intriguing.

We did show it to several, people who worked there, and they were unable to identify the person.

So no 1 who worked there could come up with a

good reason why there would be this limping guy on the property?

No. Given that the last outgoing text on Rob's phone was at 528, the detective thought there was a good chance that limping man could be the killer. So now here's the thing. Remember that motorcyclist, the 1 that was headed toward the railroad shop at 5:15? Well, a security camera caught a glimpse of that motorcyclist leaving the complex a half hour later.

Had there been 2 different people in the area of the railroad shop when Rob Limone was murdered, or were the limping man and the motorcycle man the same man. Detective Meyer couldn't be sure.

It did appear to be an older motorcycle, a street bike type.

And the rider's wearing a helmet.

Yes. It wore a helmet.

But appears to be a man?

It appeared to be a man. The bike, appeared to be a smaller motorcycle. You could tell his his his legs and knees were high up on the gas tank of the motorcycle.

It was about 1:30 in the morning when detective Meyer, who was still at the scene, finally finished looking at the security videos and found a quiet place to call Rob Lamone's widow.

Hello? Hi.

This is detective Meyer with the Kern County Sheriff's Office.

Hi. Hi, detective. What what happened to my husband?

By then, Sabrina had heard through the railroad grapevine that Rob was dead. No 1 had told her he'd been murdered.

Right now, Sabrina, we're at the very preliminary stages of this whole investigation, and we don't have a lot of information right now.

What happened to him?

That that's it. We just don't we don't know. She sounded pretty upset. I could hear some voices in the background. Maybe some friends were over the residence, to, console her.

She was crying, asked what happened to her husband, and I basically told her we didn't have a lot of answers.

But she said it was a homicide?

We didn't actually tell her it was a homicide at the time. I told her he was, deceased.

That seemed to be enough for 1 night. The detective knew the widow would have many more questions once he said the word murder, and he wanted to have answers. So no, words like murder and homicide would have to wait. This was not the night for that. At 9:30 Wednesday morning, 3 days after Rob Limone was shot to death, his remains arrived at a Bakersfield lab for autopsy.

Doctor Robert Whitmore, a forensic pathologist under contract to the Kern County coroner's office, unzipped the body bag and unwrapped the 3 white sheets that had been used to enshroud Rob's body on Sunday night in Tehachapi. As evidence tech snapped photos, doctor Whitmore and his team removed the clothes Rob Lamone had worn to work that day. With dictaphone in hand, the doctor began describing the body before him, orange safety shirt, black tank top, gray pants and boxers, black belt, socks, and shoes. For the next 2 and a half hours, the wounds on Rob Limone's body were examined. The clinical facts were clear.

Rob Limone had been shot twice with a large caliber weapon, once in the chest, once in the face. Either wound would have been fatal. The chest wound was most likely the first shot fired and the most deadly. The bullet's path was at an extreme upward angle. Abrasions around the entrance suggested it had probably been fired at point blank range during a struggle.

This was a somewhat unusual gunshot wound.

That's the voice of doctor Whitmore.

The bullet enters the front of the chest at an upward angle and from right to left.

From there, the bullet ripped through neck muscle, severed the jugular vein, and entered the brain. That was it, the quick and brutal facts of death. Now it was time for detective Meyer to go see Rob Lamone's widow, and learn more about his life. On Friday, August 22nd, 5 days after Rob Lamone's murder, detective Randall Meyer and a partner hit the road. It was a 2 hour drive to Helendale, east on Highway 58, up through the Tehachapi mountain pass and a phalanx of windmills, and then across the sun punished plains of the high desert.

There would have been a lot to talk about on that ride, the crime scene, the limping man, the motorcyclist seen riding in that industrial park on the day Rob Limon died. Everyone who'd worked with Rob had liked him. Nice guy, they all said. Family man. What about his wife, Sabrina Limone?

What would she say? Once they hit Helendale, the 2 detectives wound their way towards Silver Lakes and the Lamone home on Strawberry Lane. They found the front door tucked away on the left, just past the garage. Inside, the front living room was full of friends and neighbors murmuring softly. Sabrina Limon was a tall, thin blonde.

She greeted them. She looked pale and drawn but composed. The detectives flashed their badges and asked if there was some private place where they could speak. Sabrina led them to a back bedroom.

She was, very composed, actually. I think a couple times during the interview, she did get upset and began to cry. And she seemed to be handling it pretty well.

Alright. What picture of Rob Lamone emerged from his wife?

His wife said he's a great person, would help anybody if they ever needed help with anything.

Did she mention anybody that might have a problem with her husband?

No. She said that everybody loved Rob.

By then, Sabrina knew her husband had been murdered, so the detective asked the question all good detectives ask when speaking with someone whose partner has just died suddenly in a particularly violent or mysterious way.

Do you guys ever have any problems or anything or any any issues with infidelity or anything like that?

No. We like to party. Nothing that would harm the kids or anything like that. But we like going to the river and like drinking.

At any point in time, did you ever think that maybe Rob may have had a girlfriend or anything? Never. How about yourself? Have you ever had a boyfriend or anything like that? No.

No?

Okay. Then the detectives asked about Rob. They'd found pictures of topless women on his phone, selfie shot on a boat. Not unusual. Cops find plenty of stuff like that on people's phones.

Even so, they had to ask.

I'm not sure if maybe those are just photos from the Internet or or if they're personal photos. That's why we're asking. But so there are some of you on there? Mhmm. Okay.

Alright. We're trying to limit the fact that if maybe he had a girlfriend, if her husband or boyfriend found out was trying to harm him.

If I saw him, him, they might they might be, like, some of my girlfriends.

Did you guys have an open relationship then?

No. Just maybe

out partying at the river? Partying at the river. Okay.

I'm, like,

on the zip

line. Okay.

The detectives thanked Sabrina Lamone for her time. On their way out the door, detective Meyer handed out a few business cards, and the 2 detectives left town. Both felt the Lamone marriage deserved a closer look. This had not seemed the right time or place to press that issue. Rob's memorial service was less than 24 hours away.

We come in here hurt. We come in here grieving, and we come in here angry, and we come in here confused. And those are all normal feelings.

Hundreds of mourners packed the sanctuary and an overflow room of the Grace Bible Church that Saturday.

How blessed are we to have known Rob Limon?

Rob became my best friend. And the amazing thing about Rob is I know there is at least 10 guys in this room that would also call Rob as their best friend.

People say they love their friends, but Rob showed how much he valued them.

Rob's widow, Sabrina, had been too upset to plan the service or to speak. So Kelly Bernatine, 1 of her closest friends, did that.

When I met Sabrina, I thought that she was too sweet to be true. When I met Rob, I couldn't believe that she came with the match. They were 2 of a kind, and he became my best buddy, like everybody else is.

When a video played which showed pictures of Rob's life from childhood to fatherhood, there was not a dry eye in the sanctuary. Those were the images of Rob Lamone, his friends remembered. It was a life now reduced to memory, both bittersweet and sad. Little did anyone suspect that in the weeks months to come, 1 of those in that room that day would become a murder suspect. Coming up this season on Deadly Mirage, boiling passion in the desert heat.

Wife swappers, husband swappers. They would get drunk, they would party, they would take off their clothes, and then anything goes.

He was like nobody I'd ever met before.

That was probably the most cold blooded killer I've come across and I've been doing murder trials for a number of years.

Deadly Mirage is a production of Dateline and NBC News. Tim Beecham is the producer. Brian Drew, Kelly Law Dean, and Marshall Hausfeld are audio editors. Carson Cummins is associate producer. Adam Goren Fein is co executive producer.

Paul Ryan is executive producer, and Liz Cole is senior executive producer. From NBC News Audio, sound mixing by Katie Lau. Bryson Barnes is head of audio production.