The Camm Family Murders: How the Case Against David Camm Fell Apart

Daniel Holland
Sep 28
7 min read

Collage of a family photo, two children, a man in an orange shirt, a stained shirt, and text: "The David Camm Case: What Really Happened in the Camm Family Murders."

On the night of 28 September 2000, just after 9:30PM, David Camm pulled into the garage of his family home in Georgetown, Indiana. He had spent the evening playing basketball at his local church, something he did regularly, and expected to come back to the hum of ordinary family life. Instead, the garage light revealed a scene that would scar the community and consume the courts for the next thirteen years.

His wife, Kim, was lying on the concrete, blood pooling beneath her. Only a few feet away sat the family’s Ford Bronco. In the backseat was their five-year-old daughter, Jill, still seatbelt on but motionless, her head slumped unnaturally to the side from a gunshot wound. Nine-year-old Brad was twisted across the driver’s side of the backseat, his body suggesting he had tried to get away. He had been shot through the torso, severing his spine.

A black SUV with an open door in a garage. A person's legs are visible on the floor nearby, creating a somber mood. — The family Bronco with Kim laying how she was discovered

Panicked, David climbed into the front of the Bronco, squeezed between the two bucket seats, and thinking he may still be alive, pulled Brad out, laying him on the garage floor. He began chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth, desperate to revive his son. In the frantic struggle, his T-shirt brushed against Jill’s hair and blood, an accidental contact that would later be twisted into supposed proof of his guilt.

Child sleeping in a car's backseat with a colorful GMAC Pepsi bag. Gray interior, striped shirt, and scattered papers. Peaceful mood. — Crime Scene Photo of daughter, Jill Camm

A night of horror and a missed clue

Police were called to the Camm home shortly after 9:30PM. They confirmed the deaths of Kim, Brad, and Jill, and began their investigation. In the chaos of the crime scene, one piece of evidence slipped through the cracks: a grey sweatshirt lying on the garage floor. Inside its collar, the word BACKBONE was stitched. On its fabric were traces of Kim’s blood, as well as DNA from two unidentified people.

At the time, it was overlooked. In the years that followed, it would become one of the most important pieces of evidence in the entire case.

Gray sweatshirt with black markings and stains, labeled with numbers and texts like "CONTROL" and "R LUDERMAN." Laid on light fabric. — The sweatshirt found in the Camm's garage

The first theory: the husband did it

Detectives quickly built a straightforward theory: David had killed his family. They believed he came home from basketball, shot his wife and children, tried to clean up, then called for help.

Three points of evidence seemed to back this up. First, a phone bill showed a call made from the Camm residence at 7:19PM, apparently undermining David’s claim that he was already at basketball. Second, a crime scene photographer claimed he had seen signs of a clean-up in the garage. He also said that seven or eight tiny spots on David’s T-shirt were “high-velocity impact spatter,” the kind produced by a gunshot. Third, David’s history of infidelity was seized upon as the motive.

The theory looked neat. But almost immediately, it began to crumble.

Tattered gray T-shirt with safety belt graphic and text "WEARING MY SAFETY BELT." Brown background, ruler, and note card beneath. — Evidence Photo of David Camms T-shirt

Cracks in the story

The phone call turned out to have been logged at 6:19PM, not 7:19PM, due to Indiana’s confusing patchwork of time zones. That meant the call happened before David left for basketball.

The coroner later set the time of death at around 8:00PM, not 9:30PM, which matched David’s alibi. Eleven people swore he had been with them at the church gym throughout that time.

The supposed “clean-up” was simply the natural separation of blood cells and serum. And the man who called himself a blood spatter expert was later revealed to have no proper training and to have lied about his credentials.

Despite these problems, prosecutors pressed forward.

Trial one in 2002: conviction on seven red dots

The first trial began in 2002. The case against David leaned heavily on the seven or eight small stains on his T-shirt. Prosecutors claimed they were spatter from him firing a gun. The defence argued they were transfer stains, caused when Jill’s bloodied hair brushed against his shirt as he pulled Brad from the Bronco.

Defence analyst Bart Epstein explained that true gunshot back spatter produces hundreds of dots, not just a handful. In court, experts demonstrated by pulling clean T-shirts across bloodied wigs, creating spots identical to those on David’s shirt.

It wasn’t enough. The jury convicted David Camm.

Two years later, in 2004, the conviction was overturned on appeal. Judges ruled that testimony about David’s affairs, which hadn’t been directly linked to the murders, had unfairly prejudiced the jury.

A handcuffed man in a beige prison uniform is escorted by three officers wearing dark uniforms. They walk along a concrete path outside. — Charles Boney

The sweatshirt speaks

In 2005, the forgotten sweatshirt was tested again. This time, the DNA told a new story. The male profile matched Charles Boney, a convicted felon from nearby New Albany. Boney’s history was chilling: a string of violent assaults on women, often involving shoes. He had a well-documented foot fetish and had robbed and terrorised women before.

Investigators also found his palm print on the Bronco. Even more disturbingly, Kim’s shoes had been removed and carefully placed on top of the vehicle in the otherwise chaotic garage. She bore bruises and abrasions on the tops of her feet. This detail fit with Boney’s past crimes, in which he often targeted women’s shoes.

Close-up of a hand with a bruise and small wound, light skin tone. Background is blurred with soft lighting. Mood appears injured or in recovery. — Crime scene photo of Kim’s bare foot

The female DNA on the sweatshirt matched his girlfriend, Mala Singh Mattingly. She later testified that Boney had come home after midnight on the night of the murders, scraped and sweating, and showed her a gun.

Trial two in 2006: a darker accusation

Boney was tried first and sentenced to 225 years. David’s second trial began on 17 January 2006. This time, prosecutors shifted tactics. They claimed David had been molesting Jill and killed his family to cover it up.

The state pointed to a single blunt injury to Jill’s genitals. The defence called its own pathologist, who testified that her hymen was intact and that the injury was just one of many blunt force wounds sustained during the fatal attack.

Boney’s new story, that he had gone to the house to sell David a gun, was introduced. Once again, David was convicted. On 3 March 2006, he was sentenced to life without parole.

But in 2009, the Indiana Supreme Court overturned the conviction, ruling there was no competent evidence that Jill had been abused.

Trial three in 2013: DNA tips the scales

By 2013, prosecutors had pivoted again, this time claiming David killed his family for life insurance money.

A new forensic expert testified that touch DNA consistent with Boney had been found on Kim’s underwear, her broken fingernail, the sleeve of her shirt, and Jill’s clothing. This placed him in direct physical contact with the victims, undermining his claim that he had only leaned on the Bronco after the murders.

In a controversial move, the judge allowed jurors to convict David if they believed he had “aided and abetted” Boney, even if he hadn’t pulled the trigger. The defence argued there was no evidence David and Boney had ever met.

On 24 October 2013, the jury acquitted David Camm on all charges. After thirteen years, three trials, and millions spent, he walked free.

Man in a white shirt and blue tie smiles, holding a coat while walking with a uniformed officer. Outdoor setting with blurred background.

Aftermath: a community divided

The verdict stunned many in Indiana. Some believed justice had finally been served; others were convinced a guilty man had walked free.

One of the most striking responses came from Bill Lamb, president and general manager of Louisville’s WDRB television station. Years earlier, he had gone on air to criticise David Camm’s defence team for appealing his convictions. After the 2013 acquittal, he delivered a rare public apology:

“Seven years ago, I did a Point of View criticising David Camm’s attorneys for seeking yet another appeal right after his second conviction. I wondered when Indiana taxpayers would get to stop paying fortunes in trial expenses, and why any accused killer could possibly deserve so many do-overs. Well, now we have the answer — when they’re not guilty.”

David later met with jurors from his third trial over coffee and began working with Investigating Innocence, a nonprofit focused on wrongful convictions.

But Kim’s parents, Frank and Janice Renn, have never wavered. They remain convinced of David’s guilt, and for them the acquittal brought no peace. The divide between legal outcome and personal belief remains one of the most haunting aspects of this case.

Blood spatter under fire

One of the most enduring legacies of the Camm case is the spotlight it cast on bloodstain pattern analysis. In 2009, the National Academy of Sciences criticised the field for lacking standardisation and for overstating reliability. The Camm trials showed how dangerous it was to hinge a conviction on seven tiny stains that experts couldn’t agree on.

The case is now often taught as a cautionary tale — about confirmation bias, unreliable forensics, and the dangers of reshaping a theory to fit weak evidence.

Why the case matters

The story of David Camm is not only about a family tragedy and a long fight through the courts. It is also about the fragility of forensic science, the power of narrative in the courtroom, and the human cost of error.

Kim, Brad, and Jill lost their lives on 28 September 2000. What followed was over a decade of trials, reversals, and theories that shifted again and again. For some, David Camm’s acquittal in 2013 was vindication. For others, it was injustice.

What everyone agrees on is that the case changed the way people think about evidence, about certainty, and about what it really means to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.