Robert James Wykel (born May 18, 1930; disappeared February 23, 1996) was a retired sheet metal worker from Burien, Washington, United States, who restored classic cars. He has not been seen by anyone who could positively identify him since 1996, when he went to see a Ford Thunderbird he was interested in purchasing. Myron Wynn, who accompanied him at that time, was convicted 15 years later of murdering Wykel. Wynn maintains that he is innocent and that Wykel went to Argentina.
The case was treated as a missing person investigation for years, despite early suspicion centering on Wynn, whom police named as a person of interest shortly afterwards. Prosecutors charged him with the crime in 2009, although they had not found Wykel's body. They relied on his conflicting and evasive statements to police during the initial investigation, and a diamond Wynn gave to his then girlfriend shortly after Wykel's disappearance. Police believed the diamond belonged to Wykel, suggesting robbery as his motive for the murder. After Wynn's first trial in 2010 ended in a hung jury, he was retried, convicted and sentenced to 20 years in prison. The verdict was sustained on appeal. The case has been featured in an episode of the Investigation Discovery series Disappeared. Wykel's body remains undiscovered.
Background Wykel, a native of Illinois who had owned restaurants there and in New Mexico, The closed captions from the Disappeared episode. had gone west to work on the Alaska pipeline. His work had also taken him to foreign countries.
In the early 1990s, he settled in the Seattle suburb of Burien, where he had had a successful career as a sheet metal worker and was able to take advantage of the area's abundant opportunities for the outdoor recreation activities he enjoyed. His former wife still lived in Illinois, near their daughter and her family, but the two had been talking about reconciling and reuniting.
After retiring, he supplemented his pension by buying classic cars at auto auctions, restoring them, and reselling them for a profit. He restored a 1989 Mercedes-Benz, which he drove as his own. His other passion, fine jewelry, showed in a ring with a 1.25-carat diamond in a distinctive European cut, which he wore constantly, even when working on cars.
He often met with other retirees mornings to socialize over coffee at a White Center McDonald's . In early 1996, the men were joined by Myron Wynn, a younger man who sometimes went by the name of Myron Holdredge or Michael Holdredge. He gravitated toward Wykel, seeking out opportunities to associate with him. At the time Wynn was unemployed, supported by a girlfriend, with whom he lived.
Wynn told Wykel that he had learned that a soldier at Fort Lewis, near Tacoma, was offering a mid-1950s Ford Thunderbird for sale. Wykel, who had long been looking for one, gave Wynn a thousand dollars as a deposit on the eventual sale of the car. Bank records show that Wykel also withdrew $5,200 from his account in cash, the way he preferred to pay, to complete the transaction.
Wynn put off Wykel repeatedly when the older man pressed him as to when he could get the car. Wykel in turn was growing increasingly frustrated with his putative middleman. At a weekly poker game with friends and neighbors whom he excitedly told about the Thunderbird on previous occasions, Wykel said he was either going to get his money back from Wynn or the car. On February 21, Wykel said he had finally made arrangements to pick up the car the next morning.
Disappearance No one who knew Robert Wykel saw or heard from him after that. His initial absence was not unusual, as his trips to get cars sometimes took a few days. John Ogdon, a younger neighbor, who was part of the same weekly poker game, was a little surprised at first that Wykel had not come to his house to show off the car he had been waiting so long to get, as he often did.
When Wykel did not attend the next poker game, Ogdon became concerned. He noticed that Wykel's Mercedes was not in his driveway, either. He called 9-1-1 to report Wykel missing, but was told that it was not against the law if Wykel had chosen to disappear.
Meanwhile, in Illinois, Wykel's family there was also concerned. He was not returning any phone messages, something he usually did within a short time. Their messages on his answering machine showed their increasing worry.
Ogdon kept an eye on Wykel's house, noting that mail piled up. He looked through it over the next couple of weeks for clues that might explain Wykel's absence. On March 13, he found a notice that Wykel's Mercedes, which had apparently been in a nearby park and ride lot, had been impounded.
This news disturbed Ogdon. The car's location was not unusual; he knew Wykel customarily took public transportation when he expected to buy a car, so that he could return home in the new purchase. However, the lot was only five blocks from his house, so he usually walked to it. Even if he had driven, he would not have used the Mercedes. Indeed, Wykel would often park the Mercedes in Ogdon's driveway when he left the area .
Furthermore, Ogdon read in the impound notice that the car had first been seen at the lot a few days earlier, while Wykel had been gone for three weeks. He believed someone else, familiar with Wykel's habits, might have put the car there. When Ogdon called police with this information, they agreed to open a missing persons investigation.
Investigation A detective with the King County Sheriff's Office (KCSO), who responded, entered Wykel's house. In the kitchen, he found dishes in the sink and food, rotting on the countertop, coffee in the pot and an unfinished drink. Wykel's closets were full, and his luggage was in the house. Police concluded that Wykel had not expected to be gone long and intended to return.
Police opened the Mercedes and searched for clues. They found no fingerprints, but did find Wykel's empty wallet.
After Ogdon informed Rebecca Lee, Wykel's daughter, that her father had been missing for two weeks and police were investigating, she came to the Seattle area to assist in the search. She informed the media, who ran stories about the case. Police were hoping that someone might come forward with information about a botched robbery or accident, but no leads developed.
From his daughter, police learned of Wykel's background and theorized that he might have decided to travel abroad. He had taken his children to Argentina, a country he particularly liked, once when he worked there so they could experience another culture. He still had friends there and talked of returning some day. However, his passport was still in the house, the police found no records of travel plans, and his bank account showed no activity since the withdrawal of the $5,200.
The only other possibility was the Thunderbird Wykel had been ready to purchase with that money. Ogdon recalled that Wykel had been losing his patience with the person, who had said he could arrange the purchase, but never heard Wykel mention the man's name. Lee learned of her father's breakfasts at the McDonald's and went to visit the men herself.
They, too, had noticed and been concerned by Wykel's disappearance. They told her that the younger man, who had told Wykel about the car and that they recalled as Mike, had also not returned to eat with them since the time Wykel disappeared. They found his last name, Wynn, in his signature on a goodbye card the group had given the restaurant's manager, who was about to leave the job.
Focus on Wynn Before anyone else could find Mike Wynn, he called Lee at her hotel, and told her he had gotten her number from her father's landlady. He said he had only recently returned from a trip out of town and learned about Wykel's disappearance. As far as he knew, he told her, Wykel had gone on an extended trip to an auto auction in California. Police found that unusual, because Wykel had uncharacteristically not told his closest friends about such plans, yet Wynn knew.
Eventually detectives were able to talk to Wynn themselves. He told them he had not himself seen Wykel since breakfast on February 20. At first, he claimed that the two had never discussed any cars Wykel was interested in purchasing. When police told him that other men at the breakfasts recalled that they had, he said that the deal they had made did not work out.
Wynn became more interesting to police when they investigated his past. They found he had used several aliases and been charged with drug trafficking and violence against women on several occasions. His girlfriend told them that he said he was going to work every day when he left the house, but she knew he never held a job. "He [was] basically a con man," one detective later told Disappeared.
At Wykel's house, police found messages from Wynn amidst those from his friends and family on the answering machine. Wynn's stood out, because they did not show the increasing concern and worry that Wykel's friends expressed when days passed without return calls. One of Wynn's later messages even implied that Wykel had returned a message.
One detective suggested that Wynn take a lie detector test, and he agreed. However, he never came when he said he would, or asked to delay the test. Police found that he was lying about why. In one instance, he claimed to have a dental appointment, but a detective, who watched the dentist's office in question, never saw Wynn enter. Later, the dentist said Wynn was not a patient. They became convinced he was a pathological liar.
A review of Wykel's phone records led to the first break in the case. On February 20, the day before he disappeared, Wykel made two calls to Mother Nature's Acres, a RV park with its own woods and trails outside Yelm, in Thurston County, south of Tacoma. Wynn's family owned and operated it.
The King County detectives went there and talked to the employees. One of them, Wynn's sister Robyn, recalled that he had come down on February 23. He was with a man who matched Wykel's description, and drove a black Mercedes similar to Wykel's. They claimed they were just killing some time while they waited for a car the other man was trying to purchase became available. Robyn recalled that the man, who appeared to be Wykel, made a telephone call and seemed increasingly impatient.
Other employees at the RV park corroborated Robyn's account. If it was Wykel, it was the last time he had been seen. Detectives now believed they had proof that Wynn had lied to them again when he claimed he and Wykel had never seriously pursued the purchase of the Thunderbird, and when he claimed to have last seen Wykel three days earlier. Robyn's account also linked him to Wykel's Mercedes during the time it was unaccounted for.
They looked forward to talking to Wynn again and asking him to explain these latest discrepancies in his account. When he was arrested on an outstanding warrant for a traffic violation on April 11, they thought they had their chance. Instead, Wynn invoked his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination and refused to tell them anything more until he spoke to a lawyer.
After he was released, he left the Seattle area. Detectives had come to believe Wykel had met with foul play, and designated Wynn a person of interest in the case. Since they had no new leads, the case soon grew cold.
The diamond For the next three years the KCSO detectives worked mostly on other cases, but never quite left the Wykel case behind, staying in touch with the family infrequently. Lee said later she felt they had given up on her father. In 1999, one detective, Jon Holland, took over the case and took a more aggressive approach, putting up flyers in the area that made clear the police thought Wykel had come to harm.