Terry Jentz’s personal investigation into the Cline Falls axe attack began as a deeply personal quest for closure but quickly evolved into something far larger and more complex.
After years of suppressing the trauma, the nightmares had become unbearable.
She initially considered making a documentary, but as she started digging deeper into the events of that terrible night in 1977, she realized the story was messier, darker, and more layered than she ever imagined.
It wasn’t just about one violent night — it was about small-town secrets, failed investigations, rumors that had circulated for decades, and a suspect who seemed to live just beyond the reach of justice.
Returning to central Oregon — a place she had sworn she would never visit again — Terry began knocking on doors in Redmond.
To her surprise, many locals still remembered the case vividly.
Over and over, the same name kept coming up: Richard.
People described him as a local kid with a volatile temper who dressed neatly, often like a cowboy, and had a reputation for violence.
He lived near the park.
He kept a hatchet in his truck.
And many in the community had long believed he was the Cline Falls axeman.
Interviews with Janie, Richard’s former girlfriend, added chilling new layers.
She confirmed details about their fights around the time of the attack and his attempt to drown her the very next day — an incident only stopped when another girl threatened him with a rock.
Janie also claimed she visited the park shortly after the attack and believed the tire tread marks matched those on Richard’s truck.
She described a pattern of physical abuse throughout their relationship and said Richard would sometimes bring up the Cline Falls attack unprompted, denying involvement even when no one had accused him.
As Terry continued her work, she made a devastating discovery: the official case files from 1977 had mysteriously vanished.
All the original interviews, physical evidence, crime scene photos — everything — was gone.
The loss made reconstructing the truth incredibly difficult, yet it also underscored how poorly the initial investigation had been handled.
Despite these obstacles, Terry pressed forward, interviewing former friends, girlfriends, and acquaintances of Richard.
The picture that emerged was consistent and disturbing: a young man prone to drug use, outbursts of violence, and erratic behavior.
Richard, for his part, continued to deny any involvement.
But his life after 1977 was marked by further legal troubles, including an alleged assault on a disabled man in the 1990s.
He remained in the Redmond area for years.
Terry’s relentless pursuit eventually convinced the Oregon State Police to reopen the case.
However, a cruel legal reality stood in the way.
In 1977, Oregon’s statute of limitations for attempted murder was only three years.
That window had closed long before Terry began her work in the early 1990s.
The case could be examined again, but it could never be prosecuted.
This injustice fueled Terry’s advocacy.
In 1997, she played a key role in helping change Oregon law, extending the statute of limitations for attempted murder.
Though the new law was not retroactive and the extension was modest (to six years), it ensured future victims would not face the same barrier.
Terry eventually channeled her experiences into a powerful 2000 book titled Strange Piece of Paradise.
The memoir detailed not only the attack itself but the long, painful journey of survival, investigation, and healing.
Writing it, she said, finally allowed her to move forward with her life.
Ava Goldman took a different path.
She preferred not to dwell on the attack, focusing instead on building her future.
By the late 1990s, she had become a mother of three and was working as a physician, despite partial blindness caused by her injuries.
Both women’s resilience in the face of such brutality remains extraordinary.
The Cline Falls attack continues to fascinate and disturb because of its many unanswered questions.
Why did the attacker choose two innocent cyclists in a random park?
Was it a targeted act of rage, a thrill kill, or something else?
How did Richard evade serious scrutiny despite so many circumstantial pointers?
And why did the original investigation falter so badly — losing evidence, dismissing key witnesses, and failing to connect obvious dots?
Even decades later, the case lingers in local memory.
Some still whisper about the cowboy-dressed man with the axe and the truck that came out of the darkness.
Terry’s work brought renewed attention and some measure of justice through legal reform, but the man she believes attacked her and Ava was never held accountable in a court of law.
The story of Terry Jentz and Ava Goldman is ultimately one of survival against overwhelming odds.
Two young women who set out on a dream adventure across America faced pure evil in the night — and lived to tell the tale.
Their courage, both in the moment of the attack and in the years that followed, turned a story of horror into one of resilience, advocacy, and the long search for truth.
The Cline Falls axeman may never face formal justice, but the memory of that night — and the women who refused to let it define them — endures as a haunting chapter in Oregon’s history.
The park along the Deschutes River still stands quiet by day, beautiful and peaceful to visitors who know nothing of what happened there.
But for those who remember, the shadows of June 22, 1977, never fully disappear.
Disclaimer : This content may be created by AI for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.
