The Day Justice Was Seized: The Sarah Yarborough Case and the Cold Trail That Changed Forensic History

By [Your Name], Special Correspondent

Federal Way, Washington — On a freezing December morning in 1991, Sarah Yarborough, a 16-year-old honors student with bright red hair, rushed out of her home. Still wearing her drill team uniform and curlers in her hair, Sarah believed she was late for her team’s competition. In reality, she was almost an hour early. Alone in the empty parking lot of Federal Way High School, Sarah waited, unaware that someone else was watching. By the time her teammates arrived, Sarah was gone. What happened next would haunt her community for decades—and ignite a search for justice that would reshape forensic science.

A Life Full of Promise

Sarah Yarborough was not just a name in a case file. She was a daughter, a big sister, a best friend. Born in Portland, Oregon in 1975, Sarah moved with her family to Federal Way, Washington at age eight. By high school, Sarah was the kind of person everyone noticed—not because she demanded attention, but because she gave it. Her smile lit up every room. She excelled in math, science, art, and dance. She was active in her church youth group, performed with the Safety Kids to promote healthy choices, and had already traveled to New Zealand to perform at age 15.

Sarah dreamed of becoming either a museum curator or an engineer like her father. Her mother, Laura, described her as “the delight of my life,” a quiet bridge-builder who brought people together. Sarah lived by two words: “Carpe Diem”—seize the day. She squeezed every drop of life from every moment, helping her brothers with homework and always showing up when someone needed her.

The Day Everything Changed

On Friday, December 13th, 1991, the Yarborough family prepared to leave town for a soccer game. Sarah stayed home to attend her drill team competition the next morning. She spent Friday night with a friend, laughing and eating junk food, unaware of the tragedy that would unfold.

Saturday morning, Sarah woke in a panic, thinking she was late. She threw on her uniform, left her curlers in, and rushed out the door. She drove her father’s car to Federal Way High School, arriving almost an hour before her team. The parking lot was empty, the world silent and cold. Sarah sat in her car, a container of orange juice beside her, waiting alone.

What she didn’t know was that someone was already waiting for her.

The Discovery

A few blocks away, 13-year-old Drew Miller and his friend Adam woke up and watched cartoons, then headed out to skateboard. They took a shortcut across the campus, stomping on frozen puddles. Suddenly, a man stepped out of the bushes ahead, stared at them, then walked away. Drew felt uneasy, but dismissed it.

When the boys reached the spot where the man had emerged, they saw a young woman lying in the dirt. It was clear she had been tragically harmed. Her eyes stared up at the sky, at the boys who had stumbled into the worst moment of their lives. Drew and Adam froze, then ran back home, where Drew’s mother called 911.

Police arrived quickly. Sarah’s car was still in the parking lot, orange juice untouched. There were no signs of a struggle near the car. Whatever happened, it didn’t start there. Something—or someone—had gotten Sarah to leave the safety of her vehicle and walk toward the bushes.

The Crime Scene

Investigators found evidence of a violent struggle. Sarah’s life had been taken through physical force. DNA evidence was recovered from her clothing and underneath her fingernails. She had fought back, scratching her attacker and leaving a piece of him behind—evidence that would sit in a lab for nearly three decades.

But two questions haunted investigators: How did Sarah get from her car to those bushes? And who was the man Drew Miller saw staring at him?

Early theories suggested someone had approached Sarah and asked for help—lost dog, missing keys. Sarah, always ready to help, would have said yes. Years later, prosecutors developed a darker theory: based on the attacker’s pattern of past crimes, they believed he had used a weapon, likely a knife, to force Sarah to walk to a secluded area.

The Sketch and the Search

Drew and Adam described the man to a police sketch artist: white, about six feet tall, medium build, with uneven, rough skin on his face. The sketch was posted everywhere—store windows, telephone poles, newspapers. Over 3,000 tips poured in, but none led to an arrest. Federal Way lived in fear, parents tightened curfews, and families double-bolted their doors.

For Sarah’s friends, the pain was compounded by survivor’s guilt. Every milestone—college applications, prom, graduation—was shadowed by Sarah’s absence. Shannon Grant, the last friend to see Sarah alive, wished she could go back and change anything that might have altered the outcome.

A Community Remembers

On June 12th, 1993, the community gathered at Federal Way High School for graduation. It would have been Sarah’s 18th birthday. A memorial bench was unveiled, inscribed with “Carpe Diem.” Laura Yarborough attended the ceremony, cheering for Sarah’s friends as Sarah would have done. Over the years, those friends stayed close to Laura, keeping Sarah’s presence alive even as justice remained elusive.

Bill Fuller, the family friend who built the memorial, would later become a surprising part of the investigation.

A System’s Failure

What the people of Federal Way didn’t know was that the man who took Sarah’s life had done this before. He should have been in prison on that morning in 1991. Eight years earlier, in 1983, Anne Crony was attacked by a man named Patrick Nicholas in Richland, Washington. Nicholas had a history of assaulting women, always using the same method: approach near a vehicle, make small talk, then pull a knife.

Anne escaped by swimming across the Columbia River—a detail Nicholas had revealed earlier, saying he couldn’t swim. Nicholas was arrested, confessed to his dangerous impulses, and was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Anne believed justice had been served.

But Nicholas did not serve his full sentence. He was released after just three and a half years, deemed “safe to be at large” by prison evaluators. No one tracked him. Anne had no idea he was out. If Nicholas had served his full sentence, he would have been in prison in December 1991, and Sarah Yarborough would be alive today.

Cold Case Frustrations

Years passed. The sketch remained, tips kept coming, but the face never got a name. Investigators submitted DNA from the crime scene to national databases again and again. Every time technology improved, they resubmitted. Each time, the result was the same: no match.

Detectives knew they needed a new approach. In 2011, Detective Jim Allen contacted Colleen Fitzpatrick of Identifinders International, who was pioneering forensic genetic genealogy—using consumer DNA databases to generate investigative leads.

A Breakthrough in Science

Fitzpatrick compared the DNA profile from Sarah’s crime scene to public genealogy databases, focusing on the Y chromosome, which is passed from father to son. She found a match—not to the killer, but to his family line. The killer was a direct male descendant of Robert Fuller, who lived in Salem, Massachusetts in the 1630s.

This was the first time in history a cold case had generated leads using consumer DNA databases. But the Fuller family had thousands of descendants. The pool was enormous.

Detectives realized they already knew a Fuller—Bill Fuller, the family friend who built Sarah’s memorial. Bill gave a DNA sample willingly. He was not a match to the crime scene, but his Y chromosome matched the killer’s. They were distant paternal cousins.

Now, investigators had the killer’s family tree, but still no name.

The Golden State Killer Effect

In 2018, the Golden State Killer was identified using the same DNA database comparison Fitzpatrick had pioneered. Suddenly, genetic genealogy was proven. Fitzpatrick’s team returned to Sarah’s case with renewed energy.

In September 2019, they identified two brothers: Edward and Patrick Nicholas, both distant cousins of Bill Fuller and descendants of Robert Fuller. Their grandfather had been adopted, hiding the genetic connection behind a legal name change.

Edward was a registered sex offender, but his DNA was not a match. That left Patrick Leon Nicholas. Despite his juvenile offenses and conviction for harming a child in 1993, Patrick’s DNA had never been entered into any criminal database.

Surveillance and the Final Match

Detectives needed Patrick Nicholas’s DNA without tipping him off. They assigned a team of undercover officers to follow him. Nicholas lived alone in Covington, Washington, worked at an auto parts store, and took the bus regularly—past Federal Way High School.

In September 2019, detectives followed Nicholas to a laundromat in Kent. He smoked two cigarettes and dropped the butts on the sidewalk, along with a napkin. The team collected the items and sent them to the crime lab.

The DNA on the cigarette butts matched the DNA found on Sarah’s clothing in 1991. The odds of it being anyone other than Patrick Nicholas were 1 in 120 quadrillion.

The Arrest and Trial

On October 2nd, 2019, Nicholas was arrested for the first-degree murder of Sarah Yarborough. He was transported to King County Jail, bail set at $5 million. During interrogation, Nicholas didn’t deny anything. Instead, he asked what year the crime had occurred—a chilling question that suggested there may have been other victims.

A search of Nicholas’s home revealed stacks of newspapers, including a 1994 article about Sarah’s case, and a torn photograph of a young woman in a cheerleading outfit. Nicholas had lived in the area the entire time, with a record of violent offenses, but was never named in any of the 4,000 tips.

The Trial Begins

On April 17th, 2023, more than 31 years after Sarah was found behind her high school, the case finally went to trial. Patrick Nicholas, now 59, sat emotionless at the defense table. The gallery was filled with Sarah’s family, friends, and Drew Miller, who had found her body.

The judge ruled that Nicholas’s criminal history could not be presented to the jury, fearing it would be unfairly prejudicial. The prosecution, led by Celia Lee and Mary Barbosa, built their case around the DNA evidence. The defense attacked the reliability of genetic genealogy and the eyewitness testimony, arguing that Nicholas’s complexion did not match the description.

The prosecution countered that the uneven skin seen by the boys could have been fresh scratch marks left by Sarah as she fought for her life.

The Verdict

The trial lasted nine days. The jury deliberated for a day and a half. The first charge—premeditated first-degree murder—returned a verdict of not guilty. But Nicholas was found guilty of first-degree murder committed during an attempted assault, and second-degree murder with indecent liberties. The jury also found that the crime was sexually motivated.

Sarah’s family and friends sobbed openly. Drew Miller made eye contact with a juror, who nodded—a small gesture that said, “We heard you. We believed you. We got it right.”

Sentencing and Aftermath

Two weeks later, the courtroom filled again for sentencing. Laura Yarborough spoke about Sarah’s life and what was taken. Andrew Yarborough, Sarah’s youngest brother, described the pain and loss. Friends spoke about milestones shadowed by her absence.

Anne Crony, who had escaped Nicholas by swimming across the Columbia River in 1983, stood and told the court what Nicholas had done to her. She asked the court not to make the same mistake again.

Judge Josephine Wiggs sentenced Patrick Nicholas to 548 months in prison—45 years and 8 months—beyond the standard range, ensuring Nicholas would almost certainly die behind bars.

Lessons Learned

The system had failed—not once, but three times. Nicholas’s juvenile convictions happened before DNA databases existed. His 1993 arrest should have required a DNA sample, but he pled down to a lesser charge. If Washington state had allowed familial DNA searches, Nicholas could have been identified in 2005, fourteen years before he was caught.

Sarah Yarborough’s case became the first cold case to use consumer DNA databases for investigative leads, opening the door for hundreds of families to find answers. Prosecutors and the Yarborough family called for changes in the law to prevent similar delays.

Healing and Legacy

Laura Yarborough said she tries to give Nicholas as little space in her head as possible, focusing instead on Sarah’s memory. Drew Miller, who found Sarah’s body at age 13, said, “Knowing he’s in prison is fantastic. But knowing her family and friends is way more important to me because that’s what’s given me the actual healing I needed.”

After 32 years, it wasn’t the punishment that healed; it was the connection, the love that survived the darkness.

Sarah Yarborough lived by “Carpe Diem”—seize the day. She danced, studied, helped, smiled, and dreamed. She lived more in 16 years than most people do in 80. Until one freezing December morning, someone stole all her remaining days. But 32 years later, the people who loved Sarah seized something back: justice, answers, and the right to say her name and make her attacker answer for his crime.

The day was finally seized.