In Fulton County where rolling hills and dense woods cradle small, seemingly safe lcommunities like Salem , a mother and her young son vanished into a void of whispers and rumors in 2002.
Angela Mack-Cox, just 20 years old, and her four-year-old son, Thomas Michael "Mikey" Rettew, seemed to dissolve from existence, leaving behind a trail of broken relationships, fleeting sightings, and a mystery that would haunt their loved ones for nearly two decades. It wasn’t until April 2021 that the truth--gruesome and fina--emerged from the ashes of a farmhouse furnace, revealing a tale of betrayal, violence, and a cover-up that spanned states and years.
Angela Mack-Cox’s story begins in turmoil. Born on March 16, 1982, she was a teenager when she gave birth to Mikey on July 7, 1998, with her then-partner, Tommy Rettew. By 2000, she had a second son, Matthew, with Jeremy Niederbrach, a man whose own legal troubles would later paint a chaotic backdrop to her life.
In April 2002, Angela married James Cox, hoping perhaps for stability. But fate had other plans. Weeks later, on May 29, a devastating car accident left Angela and James injured, claiming three lives, including an unborn child. As they recovered, Angela’s life spiraled further.
That summer, James’s brother, Jeremy Cox, drove Angela and Mikey to Alton, Missouri, roughly 40 miles from Salem. The trip ended abruptly when Jeremy was arrested for driving a stolen vehicle, stranding Angela and her son.
What happened next is a patchwork of accounts. Angela reportedly worked briefly on a farm owned by Clarence and Barbara Krusen, an older couple who took an interest in Mikey.
By fall, Angela left for California, leaving Mikey with the Krusens under an informal arrangement--some say a plan to adopt, others whisper a sale gone wrong.
She spoke to James one last time from Chowchilla, California, sounding upbeat, promising to return for her son. That call was the last anyone heard from her.
On September 1, 2002, Tommy Rettew reported Mikey missing to Salem Police Chief Albert Roork. Angela, however, wasn’t reported missing until May 25, 2004, when her mother, Lorna Pool, filed a report with police in Poteau,, noting her last contact with Angela was December 11, 2002.
The delay muddied the water--where had Angela been? Was she alive when Mikey vanished? Rumors swirled: she’d sold Mikey to the Krusens, she’d been buried in a fresh grave, she’d fled to Iowa or beyond. For years, the case stagnated, a cold file in a small sheriff’s office.
In August 2020, a tip from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children jolted the Fulton County Sheriff’s Office awake. Investigator Dale Weaver, a veteran with a reputation for tenacity, took the lead.
The tip alleged Jeremy Niederbrach had overdosed Angela and Mikey with drugs and buried them in Salem Cemetery atop another grave--a theory Weaver chased but couldn’t substantiate.
Instead, he interviewed family, friends, and acquaintances, piecing together Angela’s fractured timeline. The trail led back to the Krusens’ farm in Alton.
Clarence and Barbara Krusen had raised eyebrows in the community. Mikey had been seen with them multiple times after Angela left for California. Barbara later told Weaver she’d met Angela in fall 2002, when Angela worked on their farm.
The couple agreed to care for Mikey, even drawing up adoption papers with an attorney. But when Angela returned from California in December, intent on reclaiming her son, tensions flared.
Barbara claimed they didn’t want to be “just babysitters” and sent Angela money for a bus ticket back to Missouri. She picked Angela up in Springfield, and they returned to the farm.
The next morning, Angela and Mikey were gone. Clarence told Barbara someone had picked them up. She didn’t question it--at least, not publicly.
Weaver wasn’t convinced. The Krusens had moved to Virginia in 2004 or 2005, and Clarence had served time in federal prison for firearms violations before being paroled in Texas. In February 2012, he was shot dead in Laredo over a trucking dispute, leaving Barbara as the last living link to the truth. Weaver enlisted the FBI, who tracked her to Portsmouth, Virginia.
On April 2, 2021--Good Friday--FBI agents Jen Bach and Liz Ladovico sat Barbara Krusen down for a polygraph test. She failed, her nerves betraying her.
In a post-polygraph interview, the widow unraveled a story she’d buried for nearly two decades. Clarence, she said, had confessed to her long ago: he’d killed Angela and Mikey in late 2002 or early 2003 at their Alton farmhouse.
He’d burned their bodies in an outdoor furnace, erasing all evidence. When the couple moved to Alton proper, Clarence insisted the furnace be relocated--its grim purpose a secret he couldn’t leave behind.
Barbara claimed she’d stayed silent out of fear for her life. Clarence, a man with a violent streak, had kept her in check until his death. Only now, with him gone and the FBI pressing, did she speak.
On April 7, Weaver confirmed her story with her directly, closing the case.
“It’s not the outcome anyone wanted,” Sheriff Al Roork said, “but I hope it brings closure.” The investigation had cost thousands of dollars and spanned from California to Virginia, a testament to Weaver’s dogged pursuit.
No physical evidence remains—no bodies, no furnace, no murder weapon. Clarence Krusen’s death in 2012 ensured he’d never face justice. Barbara’s confession, while chilling, left gaps: How did Clarence kill them? Why?
Was it rage over the adoption falling apart, or something darker? The lack of remains frustrates Angela’s family, like her brother Joe Milot, who told reporters he still wants her body found, however unlikely that seems.
In June 2021, Angela’s stepmother Joy and father Phil Mack coordinated a memorial at Fairview Cemetery in Salem. A headstone, funded by the CNW Headstone Foundation and Tiffany Thomas’s “Justice for Angie--” group, marks their loss: “Tragically taken from us far too soon 2002,” adorned with a frog--Angela’s favorite. The service, held later that year, was a quiet farewell to a mother and son lost to a furnace’s flames.
The case of Angela Mack-Cox and Mikey Rettew exposes the fragility of trust in desperate times. Angela, a young woman navigating a turbulent life, placed her son in the hands of strangers, only to meet a brutal end.
Mikey, an innocent caught in the chaos, paid the ultimate price. In the end, their story isn’t just a true crime tale—it’s a haunting reminder of the secrets small towns can hold, and the lengths some will go to keep them buried.
