You know that creepy feeling when someone’s watching you? Now imagine that feeling multiplied by a thousand, stretched over years, and delivered straight to your phone. Welcome to the digital nightmare that was the Cari Farver case — a twisted tale that makes those cheesy Lifetime movies look like Disney productions.
In November 2012, Cari Farver vanished after spending the night at Dave Kroupa’s apartment in Omaha. They’d been dating for exactly two weeks. Not exactly the anniversary most couples celebrate, but apparently long enough to trigger someone’s murderous jealousy. (I’m already triple-checking my door locks just thinking about it.)
What followed wasn’t your garden-variety disappearance. Instead, Dave started receiving thousands — and I mean THOUSANDS — of threatening messages supposedly from Cari. We’re talking the digital equivalent of the bunny-boiling scene from Fatal Attraction, but stretched out over three excruciating years.
The Digital Ghost
The messages were as subtle as a bloodstain on white carpet: “I hate you,” “I’m watching you,” and other charming sentiments that would make anyone consider changing their phone number, address, and possibly their entire identity.
But here’s where it gets properly twisted. Cari wasn’t sending these messages. She wasn’t watching from the shadows or plotting revenge. The horrifying truth about the Cari Farver case was much darker: Cari was already dead, and someone else was wearing her digital skin.
That someone? Shanna “Liz” Golyar — another woman Dave was casually seeing. (Ryan always says my dating stories are dramatic, but at least none of my exes murdered each other. Yet.)
The Woman Behind the Screen
Liz Golyar wasn’t just your average jealous date. She orchestrated what investigators later called one of the most calculated digital impersonation schemes they’d ever seen.
After murdering Cari (allegedly in Kroupa’s apartment — sleep tight, everyone!), Golyar created an elaborate digital afterlife for her victim. She sent over 50,000 emails and countless text messages pretending to be Cari. She created fake Facebook profiles. She even sent messages to Cari’s mother and son, cruelly extending their uncertainty about what happened to their loved one.
Would I have survived this crime? Absolutely not. I would’ve changed my name and moved to a technology-free commune after the first 100 messages.
The Perfect Digital Crime?
What makes this case so fascinating (in that can’t-look-away-from-a-car-crash kind of way) is how Golyar nearly got away with it. The detailed investigation into Cari’s disappearance revealed how Golyar used digital tools to cover her tracks — switching IP addresses, using different devices, and creating an intricate web of fake accounts.
It’s like she was running her own one-woman IT department dedicated entirely to stalking. The level of commitment is almost impressive if it weren’t so utterly horrifying.
The case highlights how modern technology has created new hunting grounds for predators. Stalking used to require physical presence — now it just requires WiFi and a disturbed mind with too much free time.
The Psychological Profile
What drives someone to this level of obsession? Golyar’s fixation on eliminating her perceived romantic rival went beyond normal jealousy and straight into psychological thriller territory.
The digital impersonation wasn’t just about harassment — it was about possession. By becoming Cari online, Golyar could simultaneously erase her victim and control the narrative. It’s identity theft taken to its most sinister extreme.
Experts in advanced information retrieval systems have studied cases like this to understand how digital footprints can be manipulated and how law enforcement can better track these sophisticated crimes.
The Aftermath
Eventually, Golyar’s digital house of cards collapsed. Investigators found photos of Cari’s decomposing body on Golyar’s phone (because apparently taking murder selfies is a thing now). She was convicted of first-degree murder in 2017 and sentenced to life in prison without parole.
The case serves as a chilling reminder of how technology can amplify obsession. In the pre-smartphone era, stalkers were limited by physical constraints. Today, they can haunt you through every device you own.
So tonight, when you’re scrolling through your phone in the dark (don’t pretend you don’t), maybe take a moment to check your privacy settings. And maybe, just maybe, be a little more careful about who you swipe right on.
Because as this case proves, sometimes the real monsters aren’t hiding under your bed — they’re hiding behind a screen, crafting the perfect text message to ruin your life.