Ever had that feeling someone was watching you? Now imagine if they were pretending to BE you. (Cue the true crime podcast intro music.)
When Cari Farver disappeared in November 2012, nobody could have predicted the twisted digital nightmare that would unfold. Her case isn’t just another missing persons story—it’s a masterclass in how technology can be weaponized by someone with enough determination and a seriously disturbed mind.
The Digital Afterlife Nobody Asked For
Here’s the thing about Cari’s case that keeps me up at night (besides literally everything else about true crime that keeps me up at night): she didn’t just vanish. She appeared to still be very much alive—texting, emailing, and Facebook messaging for YEARS after her disappearance.
Except it wasn’t her. It was her killer.
Shanna Golyar, fueled by psychotic jealousy that would make Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction look like a reasonable ex, murdered Cari after a brief encounter with a man they were both dating. Then—and this is where it gets next-level disturbing—she spent the next four years pretending to be Cari online.
We’re talking about tens of thousands of messages. THOUSANDS. My husband Ryan walked in on me researching this case and said, “That’s more texts than you’ve sent in your entire life.” (Not wrong, but unnecessary commentary, Ryan.)
The Family Left Behind
While Golyar was busy crafting this digital zombie version of Cari, her real family was living in a special kind of hell.
Imagine getting hostile messages from your missing daughter. Imagine watching her Facebook profile remain active, posting updates about a new life she supposedly chose. Imagine the police telling you, “Well, she seems fine based on these communications.”
Cari’s mother Nancy Raney knew something was wrong. Mothers always know. (My mom can tell I’m lying through a text message. It’s terrifying.) Nancy insisted the messages weren’t from her daughter, but who would believe her against the digital “evidence”?
The Supreme Court case details are enough to make your skin crawl when you realize how thoroughly the justice system can be fooled by digital manipulation.
The Media Obsession
True crime shows love this case because it has everything: jealousy, stalking, digital deception, and that special “could happen to anyone” factor that makes viewers triple-check their door locks. (I personally have a nightly ritual that involves checking the locks, windows, garage door, and under the bed—in that order. Don’t judge me.)
Coverage of the case has evolved from “mysterious disappearance” to “horrific stalking case” as more details emerged about Golyar’s elaborate scheme. The case has been featured on Dateline, 20/20, and countless podcasts—each trying to unravel how someone could maintain such an extensive digital charade.
The Investigation Game-Changer
What makes this case so significant for true crime enthusiasts and law enforcement alike is how it changed the game for digital evidence.
Before Cari’s case, many departments weren’t equipped to handle the complexity of digital impersonation at this scale. Detective Jim Doty and his team had to essentially create a new investigative playbook, tracking IP addresses, analyzing writing patterns, and building a murder case without a body.
The conviction ultimately hinged on digital breadcrumbs—a precedent that has influenced countless investigations since. Now investigators routinely check for digital manipulation in missing persons cases, something that might have saved years of heartache for Cari’s family.
The Questions That Haunt Us
Could this happen today? (Spoiler: absolutely yes, and possibly more convincingly with AI tools. Sleep tight!)
The scariest part of Cari’s case isn’t just what happened to her—it’s how vulnerable we all are to having our digital identities hijacked. In an age where we exist as much online as we do in physical space, the line between presence and absence has never been blurrier.
Every time I post a vacation photo or check in somewhere, I think about Cari’s case. How our digital footprints can be manipulated, how easily someone could slip into our online skin if they wanted to badly enough.
The Legacy That Matters
While the case fascinated true crime followers, what truly matters is how it changed investigative approaches to missing persons cases. Law enforcement now looks more critically at continued digital activity after disappearances—a direct result of lessons learned from Cari’s case.
For families of missing persons, Cari’s story serves as both a warning and, strangely, a source of hope. Digital activity no longer automatically means your loved one is safe, but it also means investigators have new tools to track down the truth.
And for the rest of us? Maybe think twice about who has access to your accounts, who knows your passwords, and how much of your life exists in a space where identity is fluid and presence doesn’t require a pulse.
Would I have survived this crime? Honestly, probably not. But I’d like to think my excessive true crime knowledge would help someone figure out what happened to me a little faster.
Lock your doors tonight. And maybe change your passwords while you’re at it.