Imagine carrying a secret for over thirty years, watching the world move on while you stay anchored to a single, horrific moment in 1993. You got away with it. The police have no leads, the files are gathering dust, and the wilderness has completely swallowed the evidence. Then, out of nowhere, you pick up the phone and dial the cops yourself.
That is exactly what Christopher Popps did.
The 54-year-old Michigan resident was recently booked into the Kalamazoo County Jail, facing second-degree murder charges after a grand jury indicted him for the killing of Patrick Dearth. For three decades, Dearth’s disappearance from Fairbanks, Alaska, was a ghost story. No one knew where he went. No one had answers.
Then Popps started calling.
He didn't just call once. According to Alaska State Troopers spokesperson Austin McDaniel, Popps reached out to multiple law enforcement agencies, masquerading as an anonymous tipster. He essentially gave them a map to his own crime, taking responsibility for the disappearance and explaining exactly where to find the remains.
Why would anyone do this? It sounds completely irrational, but it happens more often than you think in the world of cold cases.
The Logistics of a Self-Inflicted Cold Case Breakthrough
When Popps placed that initial call on January 22, 2025, investigators couldn't just rush out to verify his story. Alaska winters don't care about sudden breakthroughs. The spot Popps pointed to—down a steep embankment near Mile 47 of the Steese Highway—was buried deep under snow, and the daylight was practically nonexistent.
The Alaska Bureau of Investigation’s Cold Case Investigation Unit had to wait four agonizing months.
When the snow finally melted in May 2025, investigators descended the embankment. They found exactly what Popps said they would: human remains stuffed inside a barrel. The state medical examiner later used forensic tracking to officially identify the body as Patrick Dearth.
The two men had been colleagues at a Fairbanks auto shop back in 1993. An altercation broke out at the workplace, and Popps allegedly shot Dearth to death, hid his body in a barrel, and rolled it down a highway cliff.
He escaped to Michigan, built a life, and aged into his fifties. He won the ultimate high-stakes game of hide-and-seek against the law. But he still lost.
The Psychological Trap of Total Impunity
Criminal psychologists often talk about the crushing weight of a guilty conscience, but the reality is usually much more complex than simple remorse.
When a killer contacts the police after decades of silence, it’s rarely a clean, textbook confession. They often start exactly how Popps did—testing the waters with "anonymous" tips. It’s a classic psychological behavior pattern. They want to shed the burden of the secret, but they still fear the consequences.
Here is what usually triggers these delayed confessions:
- The Mortality Panic: As people hit their 50s and 60s, their perspective on life shifts. Facing your own aging process with a body in your past becomes an unbearable mental tax.
- The Mask is Too Heavy: Living a double life means you can never truly connect with anyone. Every relationship is built on a massive, hidden lie.
- The Need for an Ending: Paradoxically, staying free becomes its own kind of prison. The anxiety of potentially getting caught tomorrow can sometimes feel worse than just getting caught today.
Popps thought he could control the narrative by playing the helpful tipster. He assumed his anonymity would hold. But digital forensics, phone routing data, and modern investigative tactics mean "anonymous" calls to law enforcement don't really exist anymore. The troopers easily traced the calls back to Michigan, turning the tipster into the prime suspect.
What Happens to the Case Now
A Fairbanks grand jury indicted Popps on June 25, 2026. Michigan State Police tracked him down in Battle Creek a few weeks later on July 16.
Right now, he's sitting in a jail cell waiting for Alaska authorities to come pick him up. If he gets convicted of second-degree murder, he's looking at anywhere from 10 to 99 years in an Alaska state prison.
For the family of Patrick Dearth, a 33-year void has suddenly been filled with concrete facts. They finally know where he is, and they know who is responsible.
If you are following cold case trends, this arrest highlights a fascinating shift. We usually expect old cases to be solved by genetic genealogy or new laboratory tech. But sometimes, the most effective tool for solving a three-decade-old murder is simply waiting for the killer's own mind to turn against them.
Keep an eye on the upcoming extradition hearings in Kalamazoo County, as the formal transfer of custody will dictate how quickly this case finally moves to a Fairbanks courtroom.
