One day, a young man came out of the forest alive. He went straight to the police.  He sat down and told them everything.  A report was filed, and then somehow that report disappeared from the system until something happened that made investigators look back—at the report and at the man whose execution had just ended 27 years of questions .

  So what was in that report and why did it take so long for anyone to listen? Welcome back to the Redmark Files.  Before we continue, if this is your first time here, hit the like button and subscribe to this channel so you never miss stories like this.  These cases deserve to be told .  Now let’s get down to business.  Before we talk about what happened in those woods, you should know who Richard Allen Montgomery was.

  Richard was born in the early 1970s.  In the spring of 1996, he was 21 years old. He lived with his sister in southwest Florida, a quiet, simple life. No big ambitions that cause stress, no problems, just a young person looking for his way. People who knew Richard always described him the same way: easygoing, warm, someone who made the room brighter just by his presence.

He didn’t have a steady job, and money was always tight, but that wasn’t unusual for his age.  He wasn’t in crisis, he was just young. He had no children. Court documents do not mention a long-term partner.  Instead, he had family and friends: a mother, a sister with whom he shared a home, a circle of people who genuinely enjoyed being around him.

  On the afternoon of April 16, 1996, Richard was spending time with a group of these friends. One day he mentioned, almost casually, that he was going to make a couple hundred dollars. One of his friends asked him directly, ” Is this legal?”  Richard just smiled. He didn’t answer. Then he left.  His friends didn’t know that a few weeks earlier, Richard had told his mother something important.

  One man approached him with a proposal. $200 for posing for nude photos.  Richard didn’t describe it as something to be afraid of. He described this man as one would describe someone they trust.  A new acquaintance, a nurse, a nice guy, he said.  His name was Daniel Callaghan. Richard’s mother later told this story to investigators.

  This became one of the first real threads that tied the whole thing together.  Richard Montgomery was 21 years old, trying to find his way in life.  He trusted the wrong person, and the very next day, road workers, passing through the woods near Highway 41, saw a human skull on the ground. Now let’s talk about the man Richard trusted.

Daniel Owen Callaghan Jr. was born on May 11, 1954, in Charlotte, North Carolina. Shortly after his birth, his family moved to Punta Gorda, Florida. He grew up in a middle-class family.  At first glance, nothing in his childhood foreshadowed what he would eventually become.  As a teenager, Cunanan came to terms with his homosexuality.

His parents didn’t take it very well.  They took him to several psychiatrists, perceiving his sexuality as something that needed fixing. He later told investigators: “In the 1970s, it was not customary to talk about this openly, but I found a gay bar, and if I came early, they didn’t check my documents .”  “Being gay is also part of God’s plan.

”  His classmates from Miami-Norland High School, class of 1973, later described him as a quiet loner who was present but never quite in the group.  In 1977, he joined the United States Navy, where he served at the Great Lakes base in Illinois.  By 1978, he was almost put on trial for taking officers off base for sex.

  He was eventually fired after a fight in which he tried to force another man to perform oral sex. Court records indicate that this pattern of coercion did not end there. She was chasing him.  He spent about 13 years in Chicago before returning to Punta Gorda in 1993 to live with his elderly parents. Two years later, in 1995 , he received his nursing license, graduating at the top of his class from Charlotte Vocational and Technical Center.

He later began working at Charlotte Regional Medical Center.  Colleagues saw him as a calm, skilled physician. The neighbors saw him as a devoted son.  But Conahan himself told the detectives something telling.  I learned that there were a lot of hitchhikers on US 41 from North Port to Fort Myers , and some of them were looking for sex work.

  This one sentence says it all about how he perceived the men he targeted. Here’s what most people don’t know about this case. Two years before Richard Montgomery’s murder, a young man named Stanley Burden nearly died in the same woods.  And what happened to him is almost identical, down to the smallest detail, to what would later happen to Richard.

This was in 1994. Stanley Bearden was going through tough times.  Without a steady income, almost no money and no prospects.  Then a man approached him with a proposal.  $100 to $150 to pose for nude photos in a wooded area near Fort Myers.  Bearden needed money. He agreed. Conahan took him to a remote area of ​​the forest.

  He spread a tarp on the ground.  He took out his Polaroid camera and started taking pictures, just as he had promised.  For a moment, everything looked as it should be.  Then something changed. Conahan took a brand new package of clothesline from his bag .  He cut her into pieces and told Bearden he wanted to take a bondage-style photo .

  He asked him to stand closer to the tree.  Bearden walked over to the tree. As soon as he did, Conahan stepped over the trunk.  He pulled the rope tight, wrapping it around Bearden’s arms, then his legs, then his chest, and twice around his neck. He pulled continuously for 30 minutes.  Bearden craned his neck to the side to get some air.

  Conahan hit him on the head to stop him from resisting.  At some point during those 30 minutes, Conahan stopped pulling and asked Bearden a question.  “Why do n’t you just die?” Bearden continued to fight.  Eventually, Conahan gathered his things and left that forest.  He went home.  Stanley Burden was freed from his bonds.

He went to the hospital. He told everything: the name , the proposal, the rope, the tree, the question Conahan had asked while his hands were tied to the trunk.  Court records confirm that his report was registered by law enforcement and then archived. No arrest, no investigation. Stanley Burden did everything right.

  He told the truth.  And that report lay in a drawer for two whole years, while more and more bodies were found in the same forests. Daniel Kanahan did not cooperate with anyone. He didn’t need it.  Instead, he had his own method, which he quietly developed and tested over time. He knew exactly where to look, what to say, and how to make the proposal sound safe to hear.

  His victims were always the same: homeless men, without a stable home or steady income, walking the long stretch of Highway 41 between North Port and Fort Myers—a road that, if you knew it, was famous for its peculiar foot traffic. Vulnerable people who would not be immediately noticed missing.  The offer never changed.

  Cash, usually $100 to $200, in exchange for nude or bound photos in the woods. Enough money to make it worth thinking about. It’s not enough to seem suspicious .  He simplified everything because simplicity worked.  His transportation was his father’s car—a blue Mercury Capri.  He borrowed it regularly.  This car would later become one of the most important pieces of evidence in the entire case.

  Then David Payton appeared .  Payton agreed to drive up with a stranger in a blue Mercury Capri.  Same offer, same approach, same destination.  But on the path leading to the forest, the car got stuck in the mud. The driver got out to push her out.  While he was outside, Payton looked into the back seat.  There was a bag lying there in plain sight.

Inside is rope, tarpaulin, and a knife.  As soon as the wheels were out of the mud, Peyton jumped into the driver’s seat, put the car in gear, and drove away.  What the driver did next should not be done by any guilty party.  He calls the police himself. If this matter concerns you as deeply as it does me, subscribe so you don’t miss any stories like this.

Now let’s go back to April 16, 1996. April 16, 1996, Charlotte County, Florida. The day starts as a normal afternoon.  Richard Montgomery with friends. He is relaxed, in good humor, as carefree as he has always been known to be.  At a certain point, he almost casually mentions that he’s going to make a couple hundred dollars.

  One of his friends stops him and asks bluntly, “Is this legal?”  Richard smiles.  He doesn’t answer.  He just leaves.  Sometime between 4:00 PM and 7:00 PM, Richard gets into the car.  This is the last time anyone saw him alive.  At 7:06 p.m., while Richard’s friends are still wondering where he’s gone, Daniel Conahan is standing at the checkout counter at a Walmart store in Punta Gorda.

Credit card details, later recovered by detectives, clearly show what exactly he is buying. Clothesline, Polaroid film, pliers, and a utility knife. One transaction, no hesitation.  A few minutes later, a nearby ATM camera captures him withdrawing cash.  He looks calm, unhurried, a man running errands.  Court records would later establish something extremely disturbing about that knife.

  The medical examiner determined that the injuries inflicted on Richard Montgomery’s body required an instrument as sharp as a scalpel, consistent with what Conahan had placed in the bag at 7:06 p.m. that evening.  Conahan drives Richard in his father’s blue Mercury Capri to a remote patch of woods off Highway 41 in northern Charlotte County.

  This place is overgrown, isolated, the kind where county workers only drive by by chance.  He spreads a tarp on the ground.  He takes out a Polaroid camera.  He starts taking pictures, just as he promised.  For a while, he keeps his word.  Then he unzips the clothesline. He cuts her into pieces. He asks Richard to stand by a tree for bondage-style shots.

  Richard approaches the tree. Conahan goes behind the tree and pulls.  The medical examiner’s report tells the rest of the story with forensic accuracy.  The rope marks on Richard’s throat and wrists are deep in the front, but do not wrap around his neck or arms in the back.  This means that Richard was not lying.

  He stood tied to the tree in front, alive , while someone stood behind the trunk and pulled. When a police dog later examines the scene, it runs straight into a palm tree, a few feet from where the body was found.  One side of the trunk is stripped down to the wood and flattened.  It’s the same tree.  Richard’s body was mutilated.

  He was covered with a piece of carpet backing and thrown into the dirt. The next day, April 17, 1996, two county utility workers walk through this wooded area, look down, and find a human skull. Sheriff’s deputies arrive immediately. Under the carpet padding lies the naked body of a young man with rope marks on his neck, wrists, and waist.

  He is identified as Richard Allen Montgomery, who had been dead for less than 24 hours.  When the detective saw exactly how it had been done—a man tied to a tree and strangled from behind—one name from the report from two years ago immediately came to mind.  The day after Richard Montgomery’s body is found, Daniel Conahan goes to work.

  No nervous breakdowns, no visible signs of despair.  He comes to Charlotte Regional Medical Center and takes over the shift .  Court records confirm that while detectives worked the scene in the woods of Charlotte County, Conahan was performing his duties as a nurse—calm, reserved, unremarkable .  In the evenings, he continued to visit bars along US 41.

 He continued to approach men with the same offer.  There was nothing in his behavior that would betray a person with something to hide. Meanwhile, Richard’s family was devastated. It was his mother who gave investigators the first real clue. She told them about a conversation she had with Richard a few weeks before he disappeared.

An offer of $200 for nude photos, a man he described as a new friend, a nurse, a nice guy.  His name, Richard said, was Daniel Conahan of Punta Gorda Isles.  This conversation—mother and son discussing something that seemed trivial at the time— became one of the first and most important threads in the entire investigation.

Richard’s sister, with whom he lived, was left without answers.  One of Richard’s friends later said: “It’s just crazy to think that so much time has passed and this man, even behind bars, has saved his own life, even though he ended Richard’s life so early.”  But when the sheriffs finished searching the surrounding woods, they found something that made the situation even worse.

    A second body, later identified as 25- year-old Kenneth Lee Smith , was found not far from where Richard lay. Smith’s sister contacted police after recognizing the tattoo in a photo of unidentified remains in the news. Two bodies, same patch of forest, same method.  The press dubbed those forest hunting trails “The Pig Trail,” and the murders became known in Charlotte County as the ” Pig Trail Murders.

” By mid-1996, investigators faced a problem they could not easily solve. Multiple bodies, overlapping locations , the same general method repeated in the same patch of woods, but no credible suspect in hand.  Burden’s 1994 report, in which a young man described being tied to a tree and strangled for 30 minutes, was in a separate folder in Fort Myers.

  No one has yet linked this to the active murder investigation in Charlotte County.  The two cases were kept in completely different drawers, and while detectives tried to piece together the puzzle, Conahan was still at large, still driving along US 41 and still making his offers.  At some point, investigators put Conahan under active surveillance.

    A disguised sheriff’s deputy takes up position next to Kanahan in a local park. Kanahan approaches him.  He starts from afar, testing the waters with a modest proposal.  Then, during the next meeting, he speaks directly. $150 for posing for nude photos in the woods.  The same words, the same amount, the same approach he used regarding Stanley Burden in 1994 .

  The same approach he used on Richard Montgomery. Meanwhile, detectives are gathering evidence from various sources.  They demand Kanahan’s credit card records .  The Walmart transaction dated April 16, 1996, is clearly recorded in black and white.  The Mercury Capri, his father’s car that Daniel regularly borrowed, becomes the main object of attention.

Forensics officers remove paint particles from Richard Montgomery’s body. Laboratory analysis confirms that they are identical to the paint on the same car.  A search of Kanahan’s home reveals ropes, cameras, and stained underwear. The very materials his method required were quietly stored in the family home. Detectives detain him for questioning.

  He denies everything.  Then he says something that will haunt him all the way to the courtroom. I had fantasies about getting tied up and stuff , but I did n’t do it.  He admits to fantasy.  He denies the murders. Investigators know exactly what they are dealing with. The moment when a case is truly solved does not come from the laboratory.

  He comes thanks to a phone call. After David Payton steals a Mercury Capri and drives off that dead-end road, Kanahan does something no man with a bag of rope and a knife in the backseat should ever do.  He calls the police. He claims his own car was stolen.  Officers check license plates.  Registration indicates Daniel Owen Kanahan Jr.

 of Punta Gorda.  At this point, investigators receive a direct connection connecting the live potential victim with the car owner. A man whose car contained rope, tarpaulin, and a knife on the road leading to the forest.  Peyton is taken to the police station.  He recognizes Kanahan in the photo without hesitation.  He is taking a lie detector test.

Now the detectives are returning to Fort Myers.  They bring up the Stanley Burden report from 1994, the one that was shelved and forgotten for two whole years.  They compare it to everything they know about the murder of Richard Montgomery. The result is stunning.  The same money offer, the same Polaroid camera, the same clothesline cut into pieces, the same remote wooded location, the same technique of tying the man to a tree from the front and pulling him from behind.

Every detail matches.  And Stanley Burden is still alive to tell the story .  Two years after the attack, the marks from the rope are still visible on his body. He is a living, real-life testament to exactly how Daniel Conahan operated.  On July 3, 1996, Daniel Owen Conagh Jr. was arrested and transported to Lee County.

  The initial charge was attempted murder in connection with the 1994 attack on Stanley Bearden. A search of his home during the arrest yields rope, cameras, and additional materials. Physical confirmation of everything investigators already suspected.  Then, in February 1997, the most important charges were brought: first- degree murder, kidnapping, sexual assault, all in connection with the death of Richard Allen Montgomery.

Attempted murder charges against Stanley Burden have been officially dropped.  Burden will not testify as a victim in that case.  He will testify as the prosecution’s main witness at trial.  By the time this case reached the courtroom in 1999 , investigators had spent 3 years building what they believed to be an unassailable case.

  What happens next surprises almost everyone watching.  Conahan waives the right to a jury trial at the guilt phase .  He puts his fate entirely in the hands of one man—Judge William Blackwell. His defense team presents this as a strategic decision. Legal commentators at the time were less forgiving.  Many argue that Conahan understood exactly how a jury of 12 ordinary people would react to the evidence against him.

  The guilt phase begins in August 1999. The prosecution’s most important witness takes the stand with rope scars on his body. Stanley Bearden describes the 1994 attack in the woods of Fort Myers with the kind of detail that only comes from having experienced something.    A rope, a tree, 30 minutes of continuous pressure on the throat, and a question that Conahan asked while his hands were tied and his air was running out.

  “Why do n’t you just die?” Defense attorneys are trying to discredit Bearden by pointing out that he is currently serving prison time in Ohio for other crimes.  But physical evidence doesn’t require Burden to stand alone. Paint chips from a Mercury Capri, a Walmart debit card transaction dated April 16, 1996 , rope marks on Richard Montgomery’s body consistent with a strangulation method in front of a tree.

  And Conahan’s own words to detectives, his admission of bondage fantasies that he said he never acted out .  On August 17, 1999, Judge Blackwell took 25 minutes to reach a decision.  He announces a guilty verdict of first-degree murder and kidnapping.    The sexual assault charge ends in an acquittal.

  The sentencing phase is moved to Collier County, and this time a jury is present.  The medical examiner takes the stand and tells the jury what death by rope strangulation actually involves.  How quickly consciousness fades, but how death itself requires sustained, deliberate pressure over a long period of time.  She bluntly calls it a horrible way to die.

Kenagen’s former partner testifies that he had long harbored fantasies about tying up men in the woods.  When Kenagen gives his testimony under oath, he confirms that this is true.  The defense calls his aunt. She describes him as kind and gentle, a devoted caregiver to his dying mother.  The jury listens and then deliberates.

  They return with a unanimous recommendation, 12 votes to zero, in favor of the death penalty.  On December 10, 1999, Judge Blackwell formally sentences Daniel Owen Kenaghan Jr. to death. He is being transferred to death row at Union Correctional Institution in Rayford, Florida.  Daniel Kenaghan spent 27 years on death row.

  For 27 years, he told anyone who would listen that Florida convicted the wrong man.  And for 27 years, every court he went to told him the same thing .  No.  In 2003, the Florida Supreme Court upheld both his convictions and death sentence, rejecting all five of his main appeals, including challenges to the sufficiency of the evidence and allegations of prosecutorial misconduct.

  That same year, the United States Supreme Court refused to review this decision.  In 2010, a court hearing was held on 20 separate claims after the verdict was delivered .  The district court denied each of them.  In 2013, the Florida Supreme Court upheld this denial and denied his petition for habeas corpus.  In 2017, he filed another motion based on what he called newly discovered evidence related to Stanley Burton.

    The Florida Supreme Court rejected it.  In 2018, the court considered his objections in accordance with the decision in the case of Hurst v. Florida. Florida and found that any constitutional error was immaterial beyond a reasonable doubt, given that the jury’s recommendation for the death penalty was unanimous.  In 2023, United States District Judge John E.

 Steele denied his federal petition for habeas corpus.  In 2024, the 11th Circuit Court denied a certificate of appeal and denied the petition for review.  In January 2025, as his final legal step, Kenagen requested a DNA test of evidence removed from Richard Montgomery’s body. He claimed that advances in technology could detect third- party DNA under Montgomery’s fingernails.

  On August 11, 2026, Governor Ron DeSantis signed his death warrant.  A day later, the Florida Supreme Court denied the request for a DNA test, ruling that even if another person’s DNA were found, it would not change the outcome, given the full weight of the evidence at trial.  On September 8, 2026, the United States Supreme Court denied his final request for a stay of execution.

September 10, 2026, Florida State Prison, Stark. Kenagen wakes up at 5:30 in the morning. Prison officials report that he was calm throughout the day. No riots or outbursts of anger.  His last meal: chicken, baked potatoes, corn, soda, and pumpkin pie. The only person who came to him was a spiritual guide. No family, no friends, no visitors.

A man who has insisted on his innocence for 27 years walks to his cell all alone.  At 6:00 PM, the curtain rises.  He is already strapped to a gurney, an IV is installed.    The spiritual guide kneels at his feet and prays continuously .  The supervisor asks to have the last word.  Two words: “No, sir.”  At 6:01 p.m.

, the lethal injection procedure with three drugs begins.  He breathes heavily, then shudders briefly and freezes.  At 6:11 p.m., a medic enters to check vital signs.  At 6:12 p.m., Daniel Owen Conahan Jr. is pronounced dead. He was 72 years old. Fifteenth execution in Florida in 2026. Among the 20 witnesses in the room are 11 family members of the victims.

About 60 protesters gathered near the prison. Members of Our Lady of Lourdes Church and representatives of the organization ” Floridans for an Alternative to the Death Penalty.”  The State of Florida found Daniel Conahan guilty of one count of murder.  Investigators have always believed that the true number is much higher.

  In 2007, eight skeletons were found in the Fort Myers area .  The find that became known as the “Fort Myers Eight.”  Four of those victims were later identified through DNA. Gerald Lombard’s name was announced in 2021.  Robert Sowden, known as Bobby, was identified in 2022.  Four more remain in police databases as facial reconstructions.

They don’t have names. Joan Rodman, sister of alleged victim William Melaragno, said this after the execution.  Finally, the gates of hell will open and you will be able to join the other soulless bastards of the devil. Unfortunately, you will not feel the pain or fear that he horribly inflicted on his victims. Melaragno’s niece, Emma, added: “When you took the lives of your victims, you not only killed them, you also took a piece of the heart from every family member and friend who was affected.

” Richard Montgomery was 21 years old.  He just needed $200.  The four men in those Fort Myers woods still have no names.  And Daniel Conahan, the man who asked Stanley Burden why he wouldn’t just die, spent 27 years begging Florida for time, expertise, and mercy.  He received nothing from what he gave to others.

  His last two words: ” No, sir.”  Silence fell in the room .  Time is up.  What moment in this case struck you the most?  Write about it in the comments below.  I read every one of them, and if this is your first time here, subscribe and turn on notifications.  These stories deserve to be told.