Lt. Darryl Hill of the Michigan State Police said a cold case is basically any unsolved crime. But the ones that get the headlines are the violent ones: kidnapping, murder and sexual assault.

Most Oakland County law enforcement agencies, mainly because of staffing and budgetary concerns, do not have dedicated squads assigned to investigate cold cases.

Troy police recently took the step of assigning a detective to investigate cold cases full time. The detective, who did not want to be named, is working to solve several homicides, some dating back to the 1970s, said Lt. Gerry Scherlinck. He'll re-examine the evidence, using new advances in technology to try to crack the case.

"We're looking at those cases now," Scherlinck said. "We felt it was time. There might be evidence in these old cases that could be resubmitted to the crime lab."

One cold case that has frustrated detectives in Troy is the slaying of Heinrich Bachmann. The 42-year-old Bachmann was found dead in his home Aug. 11, 1997. With no sign of forced entry and nothing missing from Bachmann's home, officials have long suspected that he knew his killer. They have a suspect but simply lack the evidence to make an arrest.

That's how some cold cases are ultimately solved - evidence is resubmitted for testing or analysis and a suspect is identified. The other way cases get cracked is someone comes forward with new information they might not have felt comfortable sharing in years past.

First, detectives do a full review of the case file. They read reports, interviews and statements, reviewing photographs, lab reports and evidence.

Next, detectives run evidence and forensic data - such as fingerprints, ballistic reports and DNA - through national databases, hoping for a match.

If the case remains cold, detectives go out and re-interview witnesses, suspects, neighbors, associates of the victim and family members. They are looking for that tidbit of information that could open up the case.

The leads from the interviews are then followed up by detectives, who try to piece together the new information in the context of the case. The new evidence might mean other information needs to be reviewed by the crime lab.

With luck, detectives catch a break - and a criminal. But if they don't, sometimes law enforcement seeks the help of the media to drum up tips. Sometimes, as in Cummings' case or the Coral Watts case, that's all it takes.

In a case that remained unsolved for nearly two decades, two brothers are serving life sentences for the deaths of two hunters who went missing Nov. 25, 1985, in Oscoda County.

The disappearance of Ognjan and Tyll - both 27 and longtime friends - sparked a massive manhunt and national attention, but no trace of either was ever found.

The investigation centered on the Duvall brothers from the start, but there was not enough evidence to charge them. The brothers had bragged about the slayings to friends and relatives, saying they had fed the bodies of Tyll and Ognjan to pigs.

Investigators say media attention can help drum up tips in a long-forgotten case. But not every tip pans out. That's why investigators have to follow up on every lead, because they never know which tip is going to be the one that could make a difference and win a conviction.

Sgt. William Ware said an anonymous tip came in two years ago to the family of a man slain in his furniture shop in Pontiac. The person said that someone acquainted with Burt Duchin was involved in his murder. The case was reinvigorated after that tip, and investigators continue to search for his killer. While an arrest has not been made, investigators remain dedicated to solving the Duchin murder.

Royal Oak Police Department Deputy Chief Christopher Jahnke said his detectives periodically review cold cases, looking for new leads and following up on tips.

Sometimes, they get lucky. In April 2006, a rape case that had been passed down from retiring detective to new detective over the years was solved with the sentencing of Gary Gene Garlinghouse, a former motorcycle gang leader.

The 1979 attack on the woman was brutal. She was escorted to her car by Garlinghouse, who worked as a bouncer at the woman's place of employment. Police and prosecutors say Garlinghouse and his friend, Robert Baker Smith, kidnapped the then-19-year-old woman in Royal Oak and repeatedly raped and beat her at Garlinghouse's Royal Oak home.

When the woman overheard Garlinghouse and Smith speak of killing her, she jumped from a second-story window and onto a tree branch, then ran for help.

Smith was arrested in 1981. But Garlinghouse was harder to find. Jahnke said a tipster led authorities to Garlinghouse, who was living in Texas under the name Gary Wiseman.

According to offi cials, Garlinghouse pleaded no contest to one count each of kidnapping and conspiracy to murder as well as to six counts of first-degree criminal sexual conduct. He was sentenced to three to 10 years in prison.

Farmington Hills Police Chief William Dwyer said: "These cold cases are never forgotten. We're always waiting for something or somebody to come forward. Obviously, we want every case to get solved."

Kerry Arnett Beatty, 41, was gunned down in December 2005 in the parking lot of the Village Green apartment complex on Haggerty Road. Beatty, of Southfield, had been seriously injured previously in another shooting in Detroit.

A known drug dealer, Beatty was visiting someone in the complex when he was gunned down. A search warrant executed on the apartment Beatty was to visit turned up $145,000 in cash, drugs and other items.

It was the second executionstyle slaying in Farmington Hills in 18 months. Armond Dasean Hickmon, 21, was gunned down in the hallway of his Independence Green apartment complex at Halsted and Grand River in June 2004. It appears the slaying was a case of mistaken identity, as it was Hickmon's brother who had testified in a federal drug case.

In the Hickmon case, Dwyer said, officials know who called in the hit. Detectives in his department continue to work with federal officials in the hopes of solving that murder.

Sometimes, offi cials believe they know who is responsible for a crime, but there is a lack of evidence. So detectives bide their time, waiting to see if someone comes forward with more information.

One such case is the death of Kristi Frontera. The 31-year-old Frontera went missing from her Farmington Hills home March 20, 1993. For eight years, no one knew what happened to her. Then, there came a break in the case. The woman's skull was found by police divers in the Detroit River in September 2001.

In Hazel Park, the slaying of Dhia Albakal remains unsolved, but authorities say they believe they know who is responsible. Albakal, 39, was shot and killed inside Tenny Plumbing on Eight Mile Road in October 2003. He had gone into the store because he did not want to make a Michigan left to go to his regular stop.

"There hasn't been a lot of new information or leads in the case," said Lt. Martin Barner. "It's unfortunate. This is a very difficult case. We need someone to come forward."

The first suspect is about 5 feet 7 inches tall and weighs about 150 pounds. He has a medium build and a dark complexion and was armed with a .32-caliber semiautomatic pistol.

So what happens when charges are brought in a cold case? Trying to persuade a jury to convict someone in a decades-old case is a special skill, officials say, and often prosecutors have to contend with witnesses who have died or cannot be found, decaying or missing evidence and the perception that if the case was so strong, why did it take so long to file charges?

Chief Deputy Prosecutor Deborah Carley said prosecuting cold cases can be difficult, but getting a conviction for the victim's family is worth the effort.

"We've had a couple cold cases lately, and we're working on a couple more now," she said. "They always present a challenge because of the time delay."

She said defense attorneys can use the time delay against the prosecution to create doubt about the strength or accuracy of the evidence. Also, as time passes, the memories of witnesses can decay and perceptions can change. It can also be hard to fi nd witnesses from the past, as people move and others die, Carley said.

"We continue to review old cases to see if there is anything new," she said. "We continue to benefit from a number of new investigatory techniques. Scientifi c evidence always helps."

And there are always the victims and their family members. Carley and Pendergast said prosecutors can become close to victims and family members, sometimes keeping in touch for years. Bringing a case to a close with a conviction is something all prosecutors want to do for the closure it brings to victims and families and the sense that justice should always prevail.

"Cold cases take a tremendous personal toll," Carley said. "People talk about closure, but there never really is any. And to know that someone out there is getting away with a crime is excruciating."

As Pendergast said: "What is closure? You never really know why something happens. But at least you can move forward when you know what happened. But I don't think anyone will ever really understand."

Are some cases too highprofile to ever be solved? Has every lead already been tracked down? Investigators say every case can be cracked, and recent cases in the national media seem to back that up.

In March 2005, a 30-year reign of terror in Kansas ended after Dennis Rader was arrested for being the BTK serial killer. Rader, who later pleaded guilty to the crimes and is serving a life sentence, was ultimately identifi ed as the BTK through DNA evidence. His daughter, Kerri Rader, lived in Oakland County at the time of his arrest and is believed to have given a DNA sample that helped implicate her father.

Seeing a 30-year-old case solved gives hope not only to victims and family members, but also to investigators. It can be done, they say, and no case is ever a lost cause.

Cook, of the Bloomfi eld Township Police Department, said the community has only one real "cold case," but it's a big one: The disappearance of Hoffa, Teamsters boss and presumed mob victim.

While Cook and others have been mum on recent developments in the case - the FBI dug up a Milford horse farm in May, finding nothing - he said tips come in with regularity.

The victims were 12-yearold Mark Stebbins, abducted while walking near his Ferndale home Feb. 15, 1976; 12-year-old Jill Robinson, taken in Royal Oak on Dec. 22, 1976; 10-year-old Kristine Mihelich, snatched near her Berkley home Jan. 2, 1977; and 11-year-old Timothy King, kidnapped from a grocery store parking lot near his home in Birmingham on March 16, 1977.

The killer was dubbed "the baby sitter" because he kept his victims alive for days, feeding and bathing them before slaying them and leaving their bodies for others to find. Two of the children were raped.

Foy said he's suffered depression and guilt, seeking therapy in the months after the trial. He said he has a connection with Watts' victims and struggles every day with his decision not to chase after Watts.

"Maybe I should have done something," he said. "That bothered me. It still does. I don't want any pity though. It's something that happened to me. It's mine. It's my little hell."

Does Foy consider himself one of Watts' victims? Yes. The killer took his peace, his freedom. Dutcher's death was a weight on his shoulders, something that will follow him for the rest of his life.

Cummings said she'll never forgive her husband's killer. Foy has written Watts a threepage letter, begging him to confess to his other crimes.

And he's imploring others who witness crimes to come forward and report what they've seen. He said it's a person's civic duty to speak up, if only to gain justice for the victims.

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