The 30-Year Mystery of Tent Girl: How the Internet Helped Restore Barbara Ann Hackman’s Identity

In May 1968, a passerby made a shocking discovery along U.S. Route 25 near Georgetown, Kentucky. Wilbur Riddle, a local well digger searching for antique glass insulators, noticed an unusual bundle of green canvas tarp secured with twine. His curiosity turned to horror when a simple nudge sent the bundle rolling down a 30-foot embankment, revealing the decomposing body of a young woman. The discovery stunned the local community and left authorities with a case that, due to limited forensic technology, would remain unsolved for decades.

The victim, estimated to be between 16 and 19 years old, was initially described as a young white female with short brown hair. Investigators worked tirelessly to trace her identity, cross-referencing missing persons reports and appealing to the public for leads, yet the trail quickly went cold. Newspapers dubbed her the “Tent Girl,” and in 1971, she was laid to rest in Georgetown Cemetery with a modest headstone that read:

 

“Tent Girl. Found May 17, 1968 on US Highway 25N. Died about April 26 to May 3, 1968. Age about 16–19 years. Height 5’1″. Weight 110–115 lb. Reddish-brown hair. Unidentified.”

For nearly three decades, Tent Girl remained an enigma—a silent monument to a life tragically cut short, visited by locals who left flowers and candles but never knew her true name. The case, dormant yet haunting, would eventually find its resolution thanks to one determined internet sleuth: Todd Matthews.

Todd Matthews: From Curiosity to Commitment

Born on May 3, 1970, in Livingston, Tennessee, Todd Matthews was described by those who knew him as generous, driven, and unafraid of pursuing challenges that mattered. After graduating from Livingston Academy in 1988, Todd married the daughter of Wilbur Riddle. It was through his father-in-law that Todd first learned of Tent Girl—a case that had lingered in Wilbur’s memory for decades.

What began as casual curiosity evolved into a personal mission. In the early 1990s, as the internet began to emerge as a public resource, Todd saw an opportunity to bring attention to the cold case. He scoured newspapers, library archives, missing persons reports, and public message boards, piecing together fragments of information. In 1997, he launched a dedicated website for Tent Girl, collating her sketch, grave details, and investigative leads. His goal was clear: to get her story in front of the right people who could help identify her.

Todd’s tenacity was extraordinary. He interviewed key witnesses, revisited the crime scene, and even endured personal sacrifices—strained finances, late nights, and emotional stress—all in pursuit of a truth that had eluded authorities for decades. As he later explained to Vice, the case was “more than an obsession. It felt like an obligation.”

A Breakthrough Across State Lines

The turning point arrived in 1998. While browsing a missing persons forum late at night, Todd found a post from a woman in Arkansas searching for her missing sister, last seen in Lexington, Kentucky—just 15 miles from Georgetown. Details aligned: the missing woman had been married with an infant daughter at the time of her disappearance. Todd immediately reached out, sharing all he had gathered about Tent Girl.

The family responded with cautious optimism. They noted striking similarities: the gap between her front teeth, build, hairstyle, and even well-manicured nails matched their missing relative. Though found without clothes, the recovery of cloth and a diaper from the crime scene corresponded with the existence of a young child in the family. Todd had connected Tent Girl to Barbara Ann Hackman, a woman who had vanished nearly thirty years earlier.

From Identification to Justice

Following Todd’s lead, authorities exhumed Tent Girl’s remains to obtain DNA confirmation. On April 26, 1998, the mystery was finally solved. Barbara Ann Hackman had been 24 years old at the time of her death. Surviving siblings Rosemary Westbrook, Jan Dagel, and Mary Copeland, as well as her now-grown daughter in Ohio, were reunited with her story. Her estranged husband, George Earl Taylor, a carnival worker who died in 1987, remained a prime suspect, with circumstantial evidence suggesting he may have been involved, though no conclusive proof was ever established.

Barbara’s reburial in Georgetown Cemetery honored her real identity, with the family choosing to exclude her husband’s name from the headstone. What had once been an anonymous grave became a place of closure, remembrance, and respect.

Legacy of a Digital Detective

Todd Matthews’ efforts extended far beyond this singular case. He co-founded the nonprofit organization Dough Network and assisted in creating “Edan or Everyone Deserves a Name,” mobilizing volunteer artists and sculptors to reconstruct faces of unidentified persons. Todd’s pioneering use of the internet for cold case investigations inspired a generation of cyber sleuths, demonstrating the potential of digital collaboration in criminal justice.

Tragically, Todd passed away unexpectedly on January 3, 2024, at the age of 53. Yet his contributions endure, providing both closure to families and a framework for others seeking justice for the missing. The Tent Girl case exemplifies how persistence, technology, and empathy can converge to solve even the most daunting mysteries.

Young Couple Disappears in Appalachians — 10 Years Later, Bones Found in Sleeping Bag in Tree... - YouTube

The story of Tent Girl, ultimately revealed as Barbara Ann Hackman, underscores the transformative power of modern investigation. It reminds us that even in an era of technological limitations, human determination, and digital ingenuity can illuminate decades-old mysteries. Todd Matthews’ work not only restored a name to a forgotten woman but also reshaped the way we approach cold cases, proving that no disappearance is beyond the reach of relentless pursuit.

For those captivated by unsolved mysteries, the Tent Girl case serves as a testament: vigilance, compassion, and innovative thinking can rewrite history—even thirty years after a tragedy.