A mother of five vanished from her Michigan farm. Five years later, her husband stands trial after her body was found sealed inside a fertilizer tank on his property.
February 2026 | Justice Is A Process
Rikkell Bock drove the half mile to her mother's farm the morning of April 25, 2021. Same as every Sunday. Breakfast together. That was their thing.
Both of Dee Warner's cars sat in the driveway. Her purse was gone. Her phone was off. No text. No call. No note.
Rikkell called her siblings. Then she called the sheriff.
Dee Ann Warner, 52 years old, mother of five, grandmother, businesswoman who helped run a trucking company, a farming operation, and a fertilizer business across 1,500 acres of Lenawee County farmland, had vanished. Not a single transaction on her bank account. Not a single post on social media. Not a single ping from her cell phone. The woman her family described as someone who would glue her phone to her hand if she could had gone completely silent.
Her husband, Dale Warner, told the deputy who arrived that afternoon that Dee had been upset. They'd had a fight the night before. He said he noticed her makeup bag, hair dryer, and curling iron were gone. He figured she'd left.
Dee's family didn't buy it. Not for a second.
What followed was a three-year search that consumed a family, divided a community, and drew national media attention from Dateline, 48 Hours, and Investigation Discovery. Hundreds of acres searched by foot, by drone, by cadaver dog, by ground-penetrating radar. The FBI brought in mobile units. Michigan State Police took over the case. A billboard went up near the Warner farm that read: "Help Dale Find Dee."
For three years, there was no body. No crime scene. No forensic evidence tying anyone to Dee's disappearance.
Then, in August 2024, investigators executed a search warrant on a property Dale owned about four miles from the family farm. Inside a barn sat an old anhydrous ammonia tank. It had been cut open, resealed, and painted over. A tag on it read: "Do not use." An X-ray revealed a human body inside. Dental records confirmed it was Dee.
Today, February 10, 2026, opening statements begin in the trial of Dale Warner. He is charged with open murder and tampering with evidence. He has pleaded not guilty. He rejected a last-minute plea deal for second-degree murder. He faces life in prison if convicted.
We are not here to convict Dale Warner. The jury will do that, or they won't. We are here to watch whether the system does what it's supposed to do: prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt while protecting the rights of everyone in that courtroom. That is the only standard that matters.
This is Justice Is A Process. Let's get into it.
According to prosecutors, Dee Warner had reached her breaking point on April 24, 2021. She'd been fighting with employees at the family trucking company about money. She was furious, according to her daughter Rikkell's testimony at a pretrial hearing, that Dale hadn't backed her up. She was done.
That evening, Dee arranged for a friend to pick up the couple's nine-year-old daughter, Angalena. Family members later told investigators the reason was simple: Dee was going to tell Dale she wanted a divorce. She didn't want the child there to witness the confrontation.
The friend picked up Angalena. At 10:24 PM, that same friend texted Dee to check in. About thirty minutes later, a response came back. One letter: "K."
That single letter is one of the most important pieces of evidence in this case. Dee's family and friends have said repeatedly that she was a prolific texter. Expressive. Detailed. Talkative. She never responded with just "K." Not once, in anyone's memory. After that text, the phone went dark. No calls, no location data, no activity of any kind.
The phone never turned back on.
Dale Warner told investigators that yes, he and Dee fought that night. He described it as the worst argument of his life. According to court documents, the fight was about money and infidelity. He told police he left the house around 6:00 AM the next morning while Dee was sleeping on the couch.
Prosecutors say every statement Dale gave about that morning is inconsistent.
When Dee's son Zack Bock arrived at the property later that day, he encountered Dale near a company truck. According to Zack's testimony at the preliminary hearing, Dale said: "You really don't know where your mom is?" They walked back to the office together. That's when Dale pulled out Dee's wedding ring and said it had been on his desk. He said the fight had been really bad.
In the days and weeks that followed, Dale told family members and investigators that Dee had packed a bag and left. His attorney at the time floated the idea that she'd done this before, that she'd left with another man. Dee's family found this absurd. Both of her cars were on the property. Her bank accounts showed zero activity. Her social media went silent. She was never captured on any camera leaving the property.
She simply ceased to exist.
The State's theory is that Dale Warner killed his wife on the night of April 24, 2021, then disposed of her body in a methodical and calculated way. The civil wrongful death lawsuit filed by Dee's children alleges the cause was strangulation. The autopsy, conducted after the body was recovered in August 2024, confirmed homicide as the manner of death, with blunt force trauma and strangulation identified as contributing factors.
Prosecutors allege Dale then placed Dee's body inside an old anhydrous ammonia tank on one of his properties, cut it open, sealed her inside, welded it shut, and painted it over to conceal the modification. The tank was later moved to a property on Paragon Road, about four miles from the family home, where it sat in a barn tagged "do not use."
Family members recalled that just weeks after Dee disappeared, Dale was painting a rusty old fertilizer tank. At night. In a barn that had no cameras. Dee's brother, Gregg Hardy, thought it was strange at the time. Dale wasn't the type to do that kind of work himself, and the tank was essentially worthless. It took years before the significance of that observation became clear.
Dee Ann Hardy was born on January 21, 1968. Her family had been farming southeastern Michigan since 1831. Dairy cattle, wheat, corn, soy. Generations of Hardys working the same land in Lenawee County. That's the world Dee grew up in.
Her brother Gregg Hardy, 18 years older, described her as outgoing and tough with a strong personality. Her nephew Parker Hardy called her endlessly sarcastic, always laughing, always giving somebody a hard time. Friends described her as generous, hard-working, the kind of person who would help anyone.
Dee had four children from her first marriage: Rikkell Bock, Zack Bock, and two others who have remained more private throughout the proceedings. Rikkell lived about a half mile from the Warner farm, close enough to see her mother's house from her front yard.
Dee married Dale Warner in 2006. Together they had one daughter, Angalena, who was nine at the time of Dee's disappearance. They also blended their families, with a combined total of nine children between them.
Dee was driven. She wanted to build something. With Dale, she found a partner who had the ambition to match. They built a trucking company called DDW Investments that employed about 15 people and brought in roughly $3 million in annual revenue with a profit of about $700,000 in 2020. They ran a farming operation across approximately 1,500 acres. They ran a fertilizer application and seed company. All of it based out of their rural property in Franklin Township.
She was deeply involved in the local 4-H community. She was a grandmother. She was 52 years old.
Dee's daughter Rikkell testified at a pretrial hearing that her mother was in what she called an "extremely toxic" relationship with Dale. Family members have alleged that Dale stalked Dee, put a tracking device on her car, and was physically abusive. Gregg Hardy later said he saw the signs his sister was being abused but didn't recognize them for what they were at the time.
None of these allegations have been proven in court. They are what the family has stated in testimony and public comments. Dale Warner has not been convicted of domestic violence, and these claims will be tested during the trial.
Dale John Warner is 57 years old. He and Dee married in 2006 after previous relationships. He has children from a prior marriage, including his son Jaron Warner, who would later become briefly entangled in the criminal case himself.
Dale has maintained his innocence from the beginning. He has pleaded not guilty to both charges. When offered a plea deal to second-degree murder and tampering with evidence on the first day of jury selection, January 27, 2026, he rejected it without hesitation.
His defense team has argued that Dale was not the only person on the property the night Dee disappeared. During the preliminary hearing, defense attorneys suggested that Dee may not have been murdered at all, a position that became harder to maintain after the discovery of her remains. His attorney, Mary Chartier, issued a statement after the body was identified calling it a "tragic turn of events" but reaffirming that Dale's legal position had not changed.
Dale Warner is presumed innocent. That is not a technicality. That is the foundation of everything that happens in that courtroom over the next nine weeks. The burden is entirely on the State of Michigan to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he committed these crimes.
Gregg Hardy, Dee's brother, has been the family's most visible advocate. He organized search parties, hired private investigators, funded the "Help Dale Find Dee" billboard, and pushed relentlessly for authorities to expand the investigation. He is also a potential witness in the trial, which bars him from the courtroom during testimony.
Rikkell Bock, Dee's daughter, was the first to notice her mother was missing and the first to call the sheriff. She has testified at pretrial hearings and is expected to be a key prosecution witness.
Billy Little Jr. is a former military investigator and attorney the family hired in 2022 to help push the investigation forward. Little conducted his own interviews, flew drones over properties, and worked with Hardy on a strategy to generate media pressure and public attention. His involvement helped transform a local missing persons case into a national story.
The early investigation was handled by the Lenawee County Sheriff's Office under Sheriff Troy Bevier. Within months, Dale Warner was named a person of interest. The sheriff was careful with his words, telling reporters that "there's probably not a whole lot of people that we're looking at" but noting that Dale had been "cooperative to a point."
Dale's first attorney, Larry Leib, denied that his client had any involvement. "Dale Warner has been open, he's been available," Leib told reporters. When asked directly whether Dale killed his wife, Leib said simply: "No."
Searches were extensive. Helicopter sweeps. Foot patrols with 50 volunteers organized by Gregg Hardy. Cadaver dogs. Drones. Ground-penetrating radar with two different systems. Forensic searches. The FBI brought mobile units to the Warner property. Investigators dug up farm fields. They found nothing.
Dee's family grew frustrated. They offered a $50,000 reward for information. They organized vigils. They rallied the community. And when Gregg Hardy felt like the investigation was moving too slowly, he put up that billboard at a major intersection where the Warner trucking company drivers would see it every day. "Help Dale Find Dee." Sarcasm. Pressure. A family refusing to let this fade.
Meanwhile, according to family members, Dale showed no urgency. Gregg Hardy said Dale showed up to one of the early search parties on a four-wheeler, didn't really participate, and left. He described Dale's demeanor as calm. Resigned. Not like a man whose wife had vanished without a trace.
Dale's side of this story is different. His attorneys have consistently maintained he cooperated with investigators and that he had no obligation to conduct his own search. That's legally correct. Nobody is required to search for a missing person. But in a case built largely on circumstantial evidence, behavior matters. And jurors will get to hear about all of it.
In August 2022, more than a year after Dee vanished, the Lenawee County Sheriff's Office asked Michigan State Police to take over the investigation. New searches were conducted in May 2023 along M-50 in Lenawee County. Investigators acted on accumulated tips. Excavators dug up farm fields. Cadaver dogs worked the properties. They found nothing.
The family pushed for Dee to be legally declared dead so they could move forward with financial and legal matters. Dale and his attorneys fought it, arguing Dee was still alive. After lengthy proceedings, a Lenawee County judge declared Dee Warner legally dead in March 2024.
But before that ruling, something had already changed. On November 21, 2023, Michigan State Police announced an arrest. Dale Warner was taken into custody and charged with open murder and tampering with evidence.
There was still no body.
Nine months after Dale's arrest, the case cracked wide open.
On August 16, 2024, Michigan State Police executed a search warrant on a property Dale owned on Paragon Road, roughly four miles from the family farm. In a barn on that property sat two old anhydrous ammonia tanks. The kind used to store fertilizer for crops. Cylindrical. Metal. About the size of a residential propane tank.
One of those tanks had non-factory welds. It had been cut open and resealed. It had been painted. And it had a tag on it that read: "Do not use."
Investigators had the tank transported to Detroit. X-rays revealed a well-preserved body inside.
The Jackson County Medical Examiner conducted an autopsy. Dental records confirmed the remains were Dee Ann Warner. The manner of death was ruled homicide. Blunt force trauma and strangulation.
For Dee's family, it was a gut-wrenching confirmation of what they had believed for three years. Gregg Hardy had actually theorized about the tank years earlier. He remembered Dale painting that rusty fertilizer tank in the weeks after Dee vanished. Painting at night, in a barn without cameras, doing work he would normally have hired someone else to do. Hardy eventually told his wife: "He could have cut a hole in that tank, stuffed her body in there and welded it shut. And that's why he painted it."
When he shared that theory with investigators, weeks later a detective came back with the X-ray image. Gregg Hardy's suspicion was right.
Dee Warner had been hidden in plain sight. Four miles from her home. On property her husband owned. For more than three years.
Gregg Hardy later described it as "a man-made tomb." Dee's friend Kathryn Adams pointed out publicly that the family had told police about the ammonia tanks on Dale's property years before investigators found the body. Why it took so long to search them is a question that will linger well beyond this trial.
What it means: Michigan is one of the few states that allows prosecutors to charge "open murder," which means the prosecution does not have to decide in advance whether to pursue first-degree or second-degree murder. Instead, both options go to the jury. The jury hears all the evidence and decides which degree of murder, if any, fits the facts. This is not a vague charge. It's a strategic one. It gives the jury the full range of options.
If the jury finds first-degree murder (premeditated): The State must prove that Dale Warner intentionally killed Dee Warner AND that the killing was planned in advance. A conviction carries a mandatory sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole. Michigan does not have the death penalty.
If the jury finds second-degree murder: The State must prove that Dale Warner caused Dee Warner's death AND that he intended to kill, cause great bodily harm, or created a very high risk of death or great bodily harm knowing death would likely result. A conviction carries up to life in prison, with the specific term at the judge's discretion.
The jury may also consider: Voluntary manslaughter (up to 15 years) and involuntary manslaughter (up to 15 years) as lesser included offenses, depending on the evidence presented and the judge's instructions.
The burden: Entirely on the State. Dale Warner does not have to prove anything. He does not have to testify. He does not have to present a single witness. If the prosecution fails to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt, the verdict must be not guilty.
What it means: The State alleges that Dale Warner concealed, altered, or destroyed evidence related to Dee Warner's death. Specifically, prosecutors allege he placed her body in the anhydrous ammonia tank, welded it shut, painted over the modifications, and moved the tank to a separate property.
What the State must prove: That Dale Warner knowingly and intentionally altered, concealed, or destroyed evidence in connection with the investigation of a crime.
Potential sentence: Tampering with evidence in a murder case is a felony in Michigan. Sentencing depends on the severity and the underlying crime, but can carry significant prison time.
Dale Warner rejected a plea deal that would have reduced the murder charge to second-degree murder. Prosecutors said the offer was made in consultation with Dee's family. Dale's refusal means this case goes the distance. Twelve jurors will decide his fate.
Prosecutors have identified 68 potential witnesses for the trial. The judge has allotted approximately nine weeks. This will be one of the longest and most closely watched trials in Lenawee County history.
The case is being prosecuted by Jacqueline Wyse and David McCreedy. Their case is built primarily on circumstantial evidence, which is worth understanding clearly. Circumstantial evidence is not weaker evidence. Under Michigan law, circumstantial evidence carries the same weight as direct evidence. A murder conviction can absolutely rest on circumstantial evidence alone, and many do.
The prosecution's expected case includes the timeline of Dee's disappearance, the inconsistencies in Dale's statements to investigators, the discovery of the body in a tank on Dale's property, the paint analysis showing the tank was modified and painted over, testimony about the couple's relationship and Dale's alleged behavior, and digital evidence from phones and the OnStar system in Dee's Cadillac Escalade.
A key piece of evidence will be the testimony of Michelle Ponschke from the Michigan State Police Crime Lab, who specializes in paint analysis. Prosecutors allege Dale painted over the fertilizer tank to conceal modifications. The defense challenged Ponschke's qualifications in pretrial hearings, making this a contested area of evidence.
Dale Warner is represented by Mary Chartier and Marisa Vinsky. Chartier is a seasoned Michigan defense attorney who has aggressively challenged the prosecution at every stage.
The defense filed motions to change venue, arguing that emotions in Lenawee County were too high for Dale to get a fair trial. Denied, though the judge left the door open for the issue to be revisited. They filed motions to suppress evidence from two search warrants, arguing the affidavits contained false information. Denied. They fought to exclude Dale's jail phone calls from trial. Denied, though the judge ruled the defense should have access to all jail phone records. They filed motions to exclude testimony about Dale's past behavior and to limit hearsay evidence.
The defense also raised serious concerns about discovery. Chartier argued that text message records turned over by prosecutors were incomplete, and that deleted messages might still be recoverable. The judge granted a hearing to investigate whether additional evidence exists or existed.
During the preliminary hearing, the defense suggested Dee may not have been murdered at all and that Dale was not the only person on the property the night Dee disappeared. How they adjust that strategy now that the body has been found, the cause of death confirmed as homicide, will be something to watch closely.
One of the most unusual pretrial developments involves Kevin Greca, a retired detective with the Lenawee County Sheriff's Office who worked on the Warner case. When prosecutors tried to serve him as a material witness, Greca fled Michigan. He was arrested in Ohio by the U.S. Marshals Service on a fugitive warrant.
A court document described Greca as a "necessary and material witness" whose testimony risked being lost unless he was jailed or surrendered on bail. He was picked up in Lucas County, Ohio, with bond set at $50,000.
Why a former detective would flee the state rather than testify is a question that could have significant implications for both sides. Was his testimony damaging to the prosecution? The defense? Did it expose problems with the original investigation? Those questions remain unanswered for now.
In March 2025, Dale's son Jaron Warner was arrested and charged with tampering with evidence and being an accessory after the fact to a felony. But two months later, in May 2025, all charges were dropped. Prosecutors cited the unavailability of a key witness. They indicated charges could be refiled if that witness is located.
The identity of that missing witness has not been publicly disclosed, but the timing raises questions. If the key witness is Kevin Greca, the fled detective, these threads may be connected in ways that emerge during the trial.
This trial raises serious questions, and they go beyond whether Dale Warner killed his wife.
Start with jury selection. Seven hundred Lenawee County residents received jury duty notices. Hundreds were questioned individually over two weeks. Among those questioned, 34 percent had already formed the opinion that Dale was guilty. Twenty-two potential jurors were dismissed specifically because they were members of the "Justice for Dee" Facebook group. Some jurors didn't even know they were members of the group until the defense showed them.
Can you seat a fair jury when a third of your pool has already convicted the defendant in their minds? The judge believed so, denying the defense's venue change request. Both sides were granted 18 peremptory challenges, an increased number to account for the publicity. But the question of whether Dale Warner can receive a truly fair trial in this community is one we'll be watching every day.
My father would have had something to say about this. Steven M. Askin spent his career defending people the community had already convicted. He understood something most people don't: the presumption of innocence doesn't exist to protect popular people. It exists specifically for the people everyone believes are guilty. That's when it matters most. That's when the system has to work the hardest to be fair.
Dale Warner is not popular in Lenawee County. "Justice for Dee" signs dot the landscape. The Facebook group has been active for years. Documentaries have aired on national television. His son's charges were filed and dropped. A former detective fled rather than testify.
None of that is evidence. None of that proves guilt. The only thing that matters is what happens inside that courtroom, under oath, subject to cross-examination.
We'll also be watching the circumstantial evidence closely. This is not a case with eyewitnesses to a killing. There is no confession. The prosecution will need to build their case piece by piece: phone records, inconsistent statements, the tank, the paint analysis, the timeline, the behavior, the relationship. Each piece has to be tested. Each piece has to survive cross-examination. And collectively, they have to add up to proof beyond a reasonable doubt.
The defense, for their part, only has to create reasonable doubt. They don't have to prove Dale didn't do it. They don't have to present an alternative theory. They just have to show the jury that the State hasn't met its burden. That's a very different standard than what most people expect from a murder trial.
The three-year gap between Dee's disappearance and the discovery of her body is going to be a recurring theme. Three years of searching. Three years of the investigation evolving. Three years of community pressure, media coverage, and public opinion hardening. How much of the evidence collected during those three years was shaped by assumption rather than investigation? How much was lost? These are questions a good defense attorney will hammer on.
And then there's the elephant in the room: the investigation itself. The original lead agency handed the case off to Michigan State Police after more than a year. A former detective from that original agency fled the state rather than testify. Charges against the defendant's son were dropped when a key witness couldn't be found. Discovery disputes suggest text messages may be incomplete. None of this necessarily helps or hurts either side on its own, but collectively it paints a picture of an investigation that had complications. The jury will need to decide whether those complications matter.
We'll be covering this trial every day it's in session. You'll get live broadcasts, no-breaks editions, Justice Breakdowns with deep analysis, and testimony segments so you can hear the evidence for yourself.
Courtroom access in this case is limited. The judge has capped in-person observers at 60, with only 25 seats for the public. Livestreaming is restricted to opening and closing statements with a 30-minute delay. That makes our coverage even more important for those following from outside Lenawee County.
This trial is expected to last approximately nine weeks. That is a long time to sit with uncertainty, for the family, for the defendant, and for a community that has been waiting five years for answers.
We are not here to tell you what to think. We are here to show you the evidence, explain the law, and ask whether the system is doing its job.
Dale Warner is presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not a technicality. That's the foundation of everything we do here.
Let's watch the system together.
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