Have you ever wondered what it would be like to completely disappear, but somehow still exist online? Like, your physical body vanishes into thin air, but your digital footprint keeps growing? That’s exactly what happened to Cari Farver in one of the most twisted cases of digital impersonation I’ve ever obsessed over (and trust me, my browser history would make my therapist need therapy).
On November 13, 2012, Cari Farver vanished from Omaha, Nebraska. A 43-year-old single mom with a good job as a computer programmer, she had spent the night at her new boyfriend Dave Kroupa’s apartment. Dave left for work that morning, and Cari… well, Cari was never seen again.
But here’s where it gets properly messed up (like “check your locks twice tonight” messed up): for the next FOUR YEARS, Cari appeared to be very much alive online. She sent thousands of texts and emails to Dave, her own mother, her employers, and others. She broke up with Dave via text. She harassed Dave’s ex-girlfriend. She even applied for jobs.
Except it wasn’t Cari. Not even close.
The Real-Life Gone Girl (Except Way Worse)
The digital trail eventually led investigators to Shanna “Elizabeth” Golyar, another woman Dave had casually dated before meeting Cari. Turns out, Golyar had spotted Cari leaving Dave’s apartment the morning of November 13th and… well… let’s just say she didn’t handle jealousy well. (Understatement of the century, like calling Hannibal Lecter “a bit peckish.”)
Golyar didn’t just murder Cari in a jealous rage—she stole her entire identity and maintained the charade for years. She sent over 15,000 emails and countless text messages pretending to be Cari. She created fake Facebook accounts. She even sent messages from “Cari” claiming she had run away to start a new life.
Meanwhile, poor Dave was being bombarded with messages from both “Cari” and Golyar herself, who was playing the victim of Cari’s supposed harassment. It was like watching someone play both roles in a twisted psychological thriller, except real people were suffering.
The Evidence That Finally Cracked The Case
Despite having no body (which is usually a pretty big hurdle in murder cases, as my criminology professors drilled into me), prosecutors built an airtight case against Golyar using digital forensic evidence that would make any tech nerd’s jaw drop.
The smoking gun? A photo of a decomposing foot with a tattoo matching Cari’s, found on a memory card in Golyar’s possession. (I literally gasped when I read this in the case files—Ryan had to bring me water because I was choking on my popcorn.)
Investigators also found searches on Golyar’s devices for things like “how to delete sent emails” and “how to burn a body.” Not exactly subtle, but then again, most killers aren’t criminal masterminds—they just play them on TV.
The Conviction That Made Legal History
In 2017, Golyar was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison, despite Cari’s body never being found. The case set a precedent for how digital evidence can be used to secure murder convictions when physical evidence is limited.
What makes this case so bone-chilling (besides, you know, EVERYTHING) is how Golyar didn’t just want to eliminate her perceived competition—she wanted to become her. She studied Cari’s writing style, knew details about her life, and maintained the digital charade with a dedication that would be impressive if it weren’t so utterly disturbing.
The Warning Signs We All Missed
Looking back at the horrific stalking case, there were red flags waving so hard they could’ve generated electricity. Golyar had a history of obsessive behavior with exes. She’d shown up uninvited to Dave’s home. She’d created multiple fake online personas before.
The scariest part? In today’s world, most of us would probably just block someone sending weird messages and move on with our lives—not realizing that behind those messages might be someone capable of murder.
This case haunts me because it shows how vulnerable we all are in the digital age. Someone can literally steal your entire identity, and for a while at least, the world might not even notice you’re gone.
Would I have survived this crime? Honestly, probably not. I share way too much online (as evidenced by this entire article), and I’m about as observant as a goldfish with ADHD when it comes to noticing subtle changes in people’s messaging styles.
So tonight, maybe change your passwords, check your privacy settings, and remember—that weird text from your friend might not be your friend at all. Sweet dreams!