He Vanished on a Hunting Trip and Years Later His Truck Was Found With Another Man Inside | HO”

On an October morning in rural Pennsylvania, a man kissed his wife goodbye, loaded his hunting gear, and drove off before sunrise. He never came home. No body was found. No gunshot echoed through the woods. No wreckage surfaced along the trails. Just silence — and a single letter that told the world not to look for him.

Nearly eight years later, a routine traffic stop more than 100 miles away cracked the case wide open. Inside the missing man’s truck sat another man entirely. And with that discovery, a carefully staged disappearance collapsed into one of the most chilling domestic crime stories the region had seen in decades.

A routine hunting trip — until it wasn’t

On the morning of October 12, 2012, Clarence Bidd, 42, left his home in Susquehanna County just after 5 a.m. A seasoned journeyman electrician with nearly two decades of experience, Clarence had spent years moving from one power plant contract to another, often under intense pressure from layoffs and uncertain work.

Hunting trips were his escape.

According to his wife, Reeba Bidd, Clarence favored solitude, early fall, and the same dependable vehicle every year: a silver 1999 Ford F-150. He planned to head north toward the Poconos for a solo weekend, promising to return by Sunday night.

He never did.

By Monday morning, when there was no call, no text, and no sign of him, Reeba contacted the Susquehanna County Sheriff’s Office to report her husband missing.

A search with no footprints

Authorities treated the case as a standard wilderness disappearance. Clarence claimed he would be camping near a state-managed game reserve close to Wyalusing — an area known for dense forests and limited ranger presence.

Search and rescue teams combed trailheads. Cadaver dogs were deployed. Aerial sweeps scanned the forest canopy. Wildlife cameras along fire roads were reviewed.

Nothing.

Even more puzzling: Clarence’s license plate never appeared in the handwritten logbook at the reserve entrance. Cameras failed to capture his truck. His credit cards, phone, and bank accounts went completely dark.

Then, three weeks later, something arrived in the mail.

The letter that changed everything — or so it seemed

In early November 2012, Reeba received a letter postmarked Buffalo, New York. Inside was a short, chilling message:

“I’m gone. I need peace. Don’t look for me.”

It was unsigned. But Reeba insisted the handwriting was Clarence’s.

She turned it over to police.

By December, the case was officially reclassified as a voluntary disappearance. Searches stopped. No suspects were named. The missing person file remained technically open — but inactive.

By May 2013, Clarence’s name quietly disappeared from the National Crime Information Center active registry. His union membership with the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers lapsed. His financial footprint vanished.

It was as if Clarence Bidd had never existed.

Moving on — far too quickly?

Six months after her husband vanished, Reeba sold the family home and relocated to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. She cited financial necessity. She began using her maiden name, Reeba Holtz, informally. She never filed for divorce. Never sought a death certificate.

But she did file a life insurance claim.

Under the policy’s terms, benefits could be paid after 180 consecutive days of verified absence. By April 2013, Reeba collected $60,000. She settled debts and reported the rest as savings.

Neighbors noticed a change.

“She stopped making eye contact,” one recalled. “She didn’t talk anymore.”

Within two years, Reeba had moved another man into her life — and into her apartment.

The man no one noticed at first

By 2014, Reeba was dating Randall Pharaoh, a man with a minor criminal record and a reputation for odd jobs and instability. By 2015, he was living with her. By 2018, he was listed as her emergency contact on official paperwork.

In 2019, Reeba refinanced a loan originally co-signed with Clarence. To close the account, she submitted a notarized affidavit stating Clarence was presumed dead due to prolonged absence.

No death certificate was required.

Administratively, Clarence was erased.

The sister who never stopped asking questions

One person never accepted the story: Clarence’s younger sister, Lisa Bidd, a registered nurse in Scranton.

Lisa never believed her brother would walk away without a word. The Buffalo letter felt wrong. Too convenient. Too final.

After years of unanswered calls to local authorities, she hired a private data-tracing firm in 2019 to locate the missing Ford F-150. The results came back empty — until May 27, 2020.

That afternoon, a routine traffic stop in western New York changed everything.

The traffic stop that broke the case

New York State troopers pulled over a gray Ford F-150 on Interstate 86 near Jamestown for expired Pennsylvania plates. The driver, a man in his early 50s, had no ID. He claimed his name was Daniel Marx.

A VIN check told a different story.

The truck was registered to Clarence Bidd — missing since 2012.

The driver was arrested. Biometric scans revealed his true identity: Randall Pharaoh.

Inside the truck, now repainted and stripped of its original plates, investigators found something far more damning: Clarence’s wallet. His union card. A photograph of Clarence and Reeba. And a gas receipt dated October 13, 2012 — the day after Clarence supposedly left for his hunting trip — from a station near Binghamton, New York.

The “voluntary disappearance” narrative collapsed instantly.

Forensic truths buried close to home

A search warrant followed.

In Reeba’s apartment, investigators discovered a locked metal filing box containing handwritten drafts of notes eerily similar to the Buffalo letter — including the exact sentence: “I’m gone. I need peace. Don’t look for me.”

One draft bore local postal markings — not Buffalo’s.

They also found a brass key labeled simply: shed.

That key led police back to the couple’s former home.

Behind a false panel in the backyard shed, forensic teams discovered blood residue, signs of cleanup, and a hair strand later confirmed through DNA to belong to Clarence. Nearby, a shallow burial cache held his hunting license, boots, and broken watch.

Clarence never went hunting.

The courtroom reckoning

In 2021, prosecutors laid out their theory: Clarence was killed near his home on the morning of October 12, 2012. The disappearance, the letter, the insurance claim — all were part of a staged erasure.

Reeba was convicted of conspiracy, insurance fraud, and obstruction of justice. Randall Pharaoh was convicted of evidence tampering and fraud-related offenses.

Because Clarence’s body has never been recovered, no murder charge was filed.

Reeba received a 25-year sentence. Pharaoh received 14.

Outside the courthouse, Lisa Bidd spoke quietly:

“They told the world he walked away. Now the truth has walked back in.”

A truck, a lie, and a life erased

Today, Clarence Bidd is legally deceased. His remains have never been found. His truck — the silent witness — sits in an evidence lot, its worn interior holding the weight of eight lost years.

In the absence of a body, it was the vehicle that spoke.

And in doing so, it revealed a truth far darker than a man simply walking into the woods and choosing not to come back.