Sue Morse holds a photo of herself and Tommy Boles on their first day of kindergarten in 1959

August 13, 2005

Four Decades Without Closure
By Joe Nelson

Family's slayings remain a mystery

Sue Morse stayed up all night to watch the space shuttle Discovery land at 5:11 a.m. Tuesday at Edwards Air Force Base. She couldn't help but think that her two childhood friends, Robert and Tommy Boles, would likely have felt the same surge of excitement.

She knew they would have appreciated the advancements in space exploration had they survived.

Before they had the chance to witness the first man walk on the moon, Robert Boles, 13, Thomas Boles, 12, and their parents, James Boles, 43, and Emma Darlene Boles, 37, died in a barrage of gunfire at their Jungfrau Drive cabin in Crestline on Aug. 14, 1965.

Not even the family dog, a dachshund named Barbara, was spared. She was found lying in a pool of blood on the living-room couch.

The family, caught off guard on the evening of their first night in their new home, was hoarded into a rear bedroom of the small cabin, then shot to death one by one. Detectives found 36 .22-caliber shell casings in the living room and bedroom.

Their killer never was caught.

Today, on the 40th anniversary of the Boles' deaths, Morse, 51, of Highland, still feels haunted by the mysterious killings. She said she will visit Westminster Memorial Park in Orange County today, where the family is buried.

"They've been on my mind constantly. It's almost like I've been agitated about it, and I can't tell you why," Morse said. "I think it's a lack of closure, a little bit of apprehension, and a little of not knowing how I'm going to feel when I go to the cemetery."

Morse was 12 years old when the killings occurred. She lived on the same Anaheim street as the Boles family before they moved to Crestline. She was the only girl in her neighborhood, and some of her fondest childhood memories are from those carefree days with the Boles brothers.

"We lived in the typical Donna Reed neighborhood. We used to play ball in the street and climbed trees. We used to build clubhouses, and I wanted to put curtains on the windows," Morse said. "Have you ever seen Leave it to Beaver where the kids come home, grab some cookies, then go out and play? That was us."

Like James Boles, Morse's father worked for Hughes Aircraft. James Boles was working on the Surveyor space project at the time of his death, Morse said.

It was at a time when space exploration was in its infancy, and exciting things were starting to happen.

Forty years ago, the Boles family was settling in their new home, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the San Bernardino Mountains. With the exception of a loud luau party going on at a neighboring cabin, it was a far cry from the violent chaos of the Watts Riots occurring then in Los Angeles.

An intruder disrupted the family's leisure shortly after 8 p.m. Their blood-soaked bodies were found two days later by Floyd Rice, the then 52-year-old brother of Emma Darlene Boles.

Detectives zeroed in on George Robert Stewart as a suspect.

Stewart, then a 25-year-old Southern drifter, was living at a church camp in Twin Peaks at the time of the Boles' murders. He was sought by police in Mobile, Ala., for questioning in connection with the stabbing deaths and molestation of two brothers, ages 9 and 13.

When San Bernardino County authorities found out about that via Teletype, they tracked down Stewart for questioning. Authorities said he failed nearly every pertinent question regarding the Boles' slayings during a polygraph test, but detectives could not gather enough evidence to make murder charges stick.

Stewart was ultimately vindicated in the killings of the two boys in Alabama as well.

"He actually proved he was in New Orleans when it happened. He had a pay stub from a TV repair shop in New Orleans when the boys were killed," said sheriff's Detective Don Lupear, who is currently assigned the Boles' case.

The extremely violent nature of the Boles' killings leads Lupear to believe that it was a crime more passionate and personal in nature, possibly committed by someone who knew the family, perhaps even a relative.