Ever notice how true crime stories focus on the killer and the killed, while everyone else becomes background noise? Like extras in a horror movie who disappear after their one line? The Cari Farver case is basically a masterclass in how one murder creates dozens of victims—most of whom never get the spotlight.
When I first stumbled across this case (at 2 AM, naturally, with my skeptical husband Ryan snoring beside me), I couldn’t wrap my head around the psychological warfare that unfolded.
Cari Farver disappeared in November 2012 after spending the night at Dave Kroupa’s apartment. But unlike most missing persons cases where silence follows, Cari seemed to be everywhere—texting, emailing, posting on social media. Except it wasn’t Cari at all.
It was Shanna “Liz” Golyar—a woman so obsessed with Dave that she murdered Cari and then spent YEARS pretending to be her. We’re talking thousands of messages. Years of deception. A digital ghost haunting everyone Cari ever loved.
The Victims You Never Think About
The primary victim is obvious—Cari Farver, whose life was stolen in the most literal sense. But the blast radius of Golyar’s actions extended far beyond the crime scene (which, by the way, investigators never actually found—as subtle as Golyar was not).
Dave Kroupa received over 12,000 harassing messages that he believed came from Cari. Imagine checking your phone to find another death threat from someone you briefly dated. For years. The psychological torture would make Hannibal Lecter slow clap.
Nancy Raney, Cari’s mother, spent years receiving texts supposedly from her daughter—cruel messages saying Cari wanted nothing to do with her family. Nancy’s grief was perpetually suspended in a terrible limbo: was her daughter alive and hateful, or dead and gone?
And Max, Cari’s teenage son, watched his mother seemingly abandon him through text messages. The emotional damage there is immeasurable—and rarely discussed in the splashy Netflix documentaries.
The Psychological Ripple Effect
Golyar’s deception created a unique form of trauma for everyone in Cari’s orbit. It’s one thing to grieve someone who’s gone; it’s another level of psychological torture to have them seemingly alive but transformed into someone unrecognizable.
This case fascinates me because it exposes how technology has created new ways to victimize people. Golyar didn’t just kill Cari—she stole her identity and weaponized it against everyone Cari loved.
The community impact spread further than most realize. Friends and coworkers were left questioning their judgment. How many of us would recognize if someone we knew was being impersonated online? (I’d like to think I would, but let’s be real—I still fall for those “Which Golden Girl Are You?” quizzes.)
When Justice Feels Incomplete
When Golyar was finally arrested in 2017—FOUR YEARS after the murder—the damage was already catastrophic. The investigation revealed she had gone to extraordinary lengths, including setting fire to her own home and shooting herself in the leg to frame another woman.
She’s now serving life in prison, but that doesn’t undo the psychological wreckage she left behind. The unseen victims of this case will spend decades processing what happened.
What makes this case particularly disturbing is how it exposes our vulnerability to digital deception. If someone took over your social media accounts tomorrow, how long would it take for your loved ones to realize it wasn’t you? (Personally, my friends would catch on the moment “I” posted anything positive about running or kale.)
The Support System Gap
The recent Netflix documentary about the case brought renewed attention to this story, but there’s still minimal focus on supporting secondary victims of such elaborate crimes.
Traditional victim services aren’t designed for people who’ve been manipulated by someone impersonating their murdered loved one. There’s no pamphlet for that in the grief counselor’s office.
For those left behind, the healing process is complicated by years of manufactured trauma. How do you reconcile the hateful messages you thought came from your daughter with the knowledge that she was already dead when they were sent? That’s a psychological pretzel no one should have to untangle.
The Cari Farver case isn’t just about murder—it’s about how one person’s actions can create concentric circles of victims, many of whom remain unseen and unsupported. And in our increasingly digital world, I can’t help but wonder if we’re prepared for more crimes like this one.
Would you recognize if someone you loved was being impersonated online? Or worse—would they recognize if it happened to you?
Sleep tight! (Triple-check those door locks, though.)