Unanswered Questions: Exploring the Enigma of Ted Conrad
Our podcast "My Fugitive Dad" & the questions that remain
Documentary Is Not Finality
I've mentioned this before in a newsletter dedicated to the story of Brenda Kerber, but I believe the glut of documentary content available today has led us astray. We've veered off course in our understanding of what documentaries truly represent—especially within the ever-evolving landscape of podcasting. The breakneck speed of the industry's evolution and the convoluted intricacies of digital media have obscured our vision. The story and its packaging are conflated. We want finality, concision, and certitude in our entertainment. Things life itself of course never affords us.
Watching Ashley & I discussing our lingering questions in a recent IG Live.
This false expectation holds true across the spectrum of documentary storytelling. Despite our best efforts, we can never hope to encapsulate the full complexity of a narrative within the confines of a neatly packaged product. Yet, in our relentless pursuit of perfection, both creators and consumers often find themselves yearning for closure—a tidy resolution that neatly ties up loose ends and brings the story to a satisfying conclusion. However, lurking beneath the surface of these polished productions lie a plethora of unanswered questions, stubbornly resisting our attempts at resolution.
For me, personally, these lingering questions serve as a constant reminder of the inherent limitations of our craft. Despite our best intentions, there will always be aspects of a story that remain shrouded in mystery, painfully out of reach.
No questions remain more vexing than the ones I was left with after two years of investigating the case of Ted Conrad.
Ted Conrad's Vanishing Act & The Pursuit of Truth
In the annals of unsolved mysteries, few stories are as enigmatic as that of Ted Conrad, a seemingly ordinary vault teller at Society National Bank in Cleveland, Ohio. His disappearance on the heels of his 20th birthday would go on to captivate the nation's imagination for decades to come. It was a seemingly innocuous day in 1969 when Ted executed his vanishing act, calmly strolling out of the bank's front doors with a nondescript brown paper sack cradling a fortune in cash. His departure was as unremarkable as it was inexplicable—a polite farewell to his unsuspecting colleagues, a genial exchange with the bank manager, and then, without warning, he was gone.
For fifty years, Deputy US Marshal John Elliott and his son Pete, now the incumbent US Marshal of Northern Ohio, dedicated their lives to unraveling the mystery of Ted's disappearance. Yet, despite their tireless efforts, the truth remained elusive, a tantalizing mirage shimmering on the horizon, always just out of reach.
Over half a century later, the first cracks in the facade began to appear. It was then that a man named Tom Randele, hailing from the quiet town of Lynnfield, Massachusetts, stepped forward to claim Ted's elusive mantle.
“My Fugitive Dad” sought to tell not only the story of Ted the artful dodger, but also Tom the dad, golfer, husband, and friend.
Ashley Randele, Tom’s daughter, and I embarked on a journey that transcended a biographical inquiry. It was both memoir, and investigation. It was both for the record, and for Tom’s humanity.
Tom's Double Life
In the aftermath of Tom's revelation, Ashley and I found ourselves grappling with a myriad of unanswered questions that lingered in the wake of the My Fugitive Dad project. While our investigation shed light on many aspects of Ted's life, there remained elusive truths that defied explanation.
Foremost among these mysteries was the question of Ted's introspection—did he ever pause to gaze back upon the life he left behind, or was his resolve ironclad, unwavering in its commitment to the path he had chosen? Is blood truly thicker than water?
And then there were the whispers of Ted's finances—rumors swirling in the ether, suggesting a quiet erosion of wealth over the passage of time. Was his fortune, amassed through an act of audacious theft, squandered in the pursuit of anonymity? Or did it serve as a silent testament to Ted's meticulous planning, a financial legacy, the paper trail for which has long been erased? He would’ve spent about the equivalent 200 grand a year for almost a decade…perhaps not international billionaire level money…but for someone who bought nothing and never travelled? Seems like quite a bit.
He’d promised, allegedly, to care for his mother. Would he truly just turn his back? Or did the money make it to her somehow? Without a way to trace the money, and what would appear to be a disciplined new life that drew no connections to his past…Tom has kept me wondering.
Who Told The Cops?
For Ashley, the gnawing question is a live, and potentially solvable one. Ashley and Kathy had always planned to tell law enforcement of Tom’s true identity…but that plan was preempted when US Marshal Pete Elliot and Eric Midac showed up unannounced at their home on Carter Road shortly after Tom’s passing. They’d received an anonymous tip from someone who’d seen Tom’s obituary and put two and two together. His mothers’ name was both rare and unchanged…Ruthabeth Krueger. A select few knew of Tom’s identity within their circle of friends and family. Is It really possible that a sleuther would’ve found this out on their own? Or did someone from the family turn them in?
Questions will always remain. I have a graveyard in my head where these live and like the undead pop up occasionally to haunt me. They serve as a stark reminder that stories are seldom done when we want them to be.
If you find yourself possessed of knowledge or insight into the mysteries that continue to elude us? You know where to find me.