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Criminal Records - Most Wanted |
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Profile |
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Name: Eric George Rosenstrom
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Race: White |
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Age Now: 48 |
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Height: 6'0" |
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Weight: 195 lbs. |
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Hair (Color, Description, Facial Hair): Brown
Has a bald spot on the back of his head
Usually has a mustache |
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Eyes (Color and Correction): Hazel |
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Wanted for :
Murder, Rockport, TX;
Aug 16, 2001
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Location(s) |
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Last Seen : Rockport, TX |
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Possible Location : Texas |
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Last Known : Unkown |
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Traits |
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Acquaintances say he is arrogant |
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Acquaintances say he is a know-it-all |
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Acquaintances say he has a quick temper |
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Acquaintances say he likes to control situations and surrounds himself with people he can manipulate |
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Cops say he dates vulnerable women and will live off of their income |
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Acquaintances say he is a compulsive liar |
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Police say he claims to have worked as a police officer |
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Police say he has falsely claimed to work for the Federal Government |
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Has extensive experience in crime scene investigation, though he has never been a police officer |
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Has worked as a crime scene investigator |
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Police say he has claimed to have played professional football in Canada even though he is not good at it |
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May have a police badge and handcuffs with him |
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Has worked as a short-story writer and may be writing a true-crime novel |
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Appears to be fascinated with the Civil War |
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Case Story |
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New Employee Fumbles |
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In April 1997, Sheriff Phil Ryan of Wise County, Texas met a man named Eric Rosenstrom. Rosenstrom seemed intelligent and convinced the Sheriff that he could do a lot for the department. His resume showed that he'd worked for the Southwest Medical Examiner in Dallas and had numerous degrees and qualifications. He seemed like a perfect new hire.
At first, Rosenstrom was working out great. He'd even begun teaching courses in crime scene investigation. However, one incident made the Sheriff stop and question everything he'd been told about his new investigator.
According to Sheriff Ryan, Rosenstrom asked whether he could start an office-sponsored flag football team. Rosenstrom even said he'd played professional ball in Canada. But when the team went out for their first practice, Rosenstrom had little on-field prowess.
Immediately, Sheriff Ryan knew Rosenstrom's football-playing claim was a lie, and he soon learned that Rosentrom's resume was full of falsehoods -- and by December 1998, the sheriff fired Rosenstrom. |
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New Locale, Same ol' Lies |
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Rosenstrom left Wise County and headed east, landing in Rockport, Texas, a resort town known for some of the best salt-water fishing in the United States.
Rosenstrom told friends in his new community that he was planning on drawing on his vast law enforcement experience to become a true-crime novel writer. To supplement his income, he took a job at the Hunt's Castle Waterfront Resort. He was hired by owner Erik Lower to work the front desk.
It didn't take long before Lower and Rosenstrom were at odds. Rosenstrom believed Lower owed him money for overtime he'd worked, and Lower suspected Rosenstrom was stealing from the hotel.
The relationship spiraled downward until Lower was forced to fire Rosenstrom. Rosenstrom was bitter and friends say he wanted revenge.
Cops say after three months of brooding, Rosenstrom decided to get payback. On August 16, 2001, cops say Rosenstrom packed his bags and headed out to Hunt's Castle.
Shortly before midnight, Erik Lower was in the office of the hotel doing paperwork. According to police, Lower and Rosenstrom had a confrontation, and then there was a single gunshot. Minutes later, Lower lay bleeding in the breezeway of the hotel and police say Rosenstrom was on his way to Corpus Christi.
Police say Rosenstrom slept a couple of hours in a Corpus Christi motel, even signing in under his own name. When he left that motel, cops say Eric Rosenstrom ceased to exist. They suspect he'd obtained false identification and has been living under a fake name ever since.
His last airing on AMW produced almost fifty tips -- but so far, none has led to Rosenstrom's capture.
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True Crime Writer |
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Here is an excerpt from one of Rosenstrom's short stories:
I own you.
From the moment you thought the thought, you were my property. You don't believe it; hell, you didn't even imagine it. You were so sure I'd never catch you, sure you could draw heart's blood twice and just walk away. But you should have saved yourself some trouble, called 911 yourself. Right from the start, you were a gift.
But hey, it looked like a good move when you made it, didn't it now? ... You got Antone and Antone's sister and getting them meant getting the package. And right now, you should be out the door and halfway across Dallas and smoking some of that hard-won product.
But no, you're still right here, staring at your killing hand. You f***** it up, cut the hand bad when Antone's little sister was oozing life and your knife got wet and slippery. You were sticking it to her when your hand just rode up over the hilt and the blade went deep into your palm. So now, when you should be across town practicing your don't-know-nothin' speech, you're sitting here in a house full of dead people, waiting for your hand to stop bleeding.
You try cleaning up in the bathroom, running cold water in the wound. But that doesn't really help, just makes you bleed a little slower is all. You try wrapping the hand in a towel, but the towel becomes a wet crimson mess on the bathroom floor. You walk down to the living room, your hand smearing red on the stairway wall, the banister and the downstairs light switch.
Then you run. |
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