In June of 1985, Cassandra Rhines was 19 years old and living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. She had plans. She had people expecting her. According to reporting, Cassandra called a friend and confirmed she would be attending her goddaughter’s birthday party the next day.
But Cassandra never arrived.
And after that, she was never heard from again.
For almost three decades, Cassandra’s case sat in the painful space between missing and unknown. Her family did not have answers. Investigators did not have a body. And the public did not have a name to attach to what would eventually become a homicide investigation.
That changed in May 2014, when an off-duty Lake County Sheriff’s Office employee discovered skeletal remains while training his dog in a secluded area of Gooseberry Falls State Park, roughly 200 miles from Minneapolis. The remains were later identified as Cassandra Rhines through DNA submitted by family members.
Authorities determined Cassandra was the victim of homicide. Investigators have said they believe she was likely killed around the time she disappeared and that her body may have been left in the park after her death.
After Cassandra was identified, investigators released a photograph of her with an unidentified man, hoping the public could help determine who he was and what he may have known. That man was later identified as Donald McSwain, but by the time investigators confirmed his identity, he had died.
That is one of the hardest parts of Cassandra’s case: time has taken so much.
People who may have known something have died. Memories have faded. The Minneapolis Cassandra knew in 1985 has changed. And yet, her case is not without hope. Cold cases are often solved through one piece of information — a name, a memory, a rumor, a photograph, a detail someone never thought mattered.
Cassandra’s story also raises bigger questions about whose disappearances receive urgency, whose lives are protected by public attention, and how stigma can shape the way missing and murdered women are remembered. Cassandra was a young Black woman. Investigators have said she may have been involved in prostitution or exotic dancing, details that may be relevant to understanding her life and possible risks, but should never be used to diminish the value of her life or the urgency of her murder.
Cassandra was not a category. She was not a rumor. She was 19 years old, expected at a birthday party, and then gone.
Her remains were found. Her name was restored. But justice has not come.
Anyone with information about Cassandra Rhines, her disappearance from Minneapolis in June 1985, her connection to Donald McSwain, or how her remains ended up at Gooseberry Falls State Park is asked to contact investigators.
Someone may still know something. And Cassandra’s story still deserves to be told.
