Richard Allen, the Indiana man sentenced to 130 years in prison for the 2017 murders of two teenage girls in Delphi, is pushing for a new trial on grounds that the judge barred his defense team from presenting evidence of pagan ritual involvement in the killings. The appeal centers on whether excluding that evidence denied Allen a fair shot at trial, a question now headed to the Indiana Court of Appeals.
Allen, 52, was convicted in November 2024 on two counts of murder and two counts of murder while committing or attempting kidnapping in the deaths of Abigail Williams, 13, and Liberty German, 14. The girls vanished on February 13, 2017, while hiking near the Monon High Bridge in Delphi, a small city about 60 miles northwest of Indianapolis. Their bodies were found the next day near the trail, their throats slit, according to the New York Post.
The case sat unsolved for more than five years. Allen, a former drugstore clerk who lived in Delphi, was not arrested until October 2022. Now his attorneys argue the trial was fundamentally flawed because Judge Frances C. Gull refused to let jurors hear an alternative theory of the crime: that the killings bore hallmarks of a pagan or Odinist ritual, and that other individuals may have been responsible.
NBC News reported that Allen's defense team sought to introduce evidence suggesting the crime scene reflected ritualistic staging connected to Odinism, a Norse pagan belief system. The defense pointed to specific crime scene details and alleged connections between certain local individuals and Odinist practices. Judge Gull excluded the evidence before trial, ruling it speculative and inadmissible.
Allen's attorneys have framed this exclusion as the centerpiece of their appeal. In their appeal memo, they stated that Allen "maintains his innocence and is hopeful that the appellate process will provide him with an opportunity to present a full defense at a second trial." The defense contends that without the ability to present an alternative suspect theory, the jury never heard the complete picture.
The legal question is narrow but consequential. Indiana courts, like courts nationwide, give trial judges broad discretion over what evidence reaches a jury. To win a new trial, Allen's team will likely need to show that excluding the Odinist evidence was not just debatable but an abuse of that discretion, and that the exclusion materially prejudiced the outcome.
Prosecutors built their case on three main pillars: physical evidence, digital evidence, and Allen's own words.
The physical evidence centered on a.40-caliber SIG Sauer P226 handgun recovered from Allen's home. AP News reported that investigators found an unspent bullet between the victims' bodies that had been cycled through Allen's firearm. Forensic examiners matched markings on the cartridge to Allen's gun, a link the prosecution treated as placing Allen at the scene.
The digital evidence came from the victims themselves. Libby German, 14, recorded a 43-second video on her cellphone showing a man walking behind the girls on the Monon High Bridge. The figure, who became publicly known as "Bridge Guy," can be heard ordering the girls: "Guys, down the hill." Prosecutors argued the man in the video was Allen. That recording circulated widely in the years before Allen's arrest as investigators sought public help identifying the suspect.
Then came the confessions. Allen made multiple admissions while incarcerated awaiting trial. In recorded prison phone calls with his wife, he said plainly: "I did it. I killed Abby and Libby." He also confessed to prison guards and a psychologist, Fox News reported.
Allen's defense team challenged the confessions, arguing they were the product of deteriorating mental health during harsh confinement conditions. But the jury heard them and ultimately found them credible enough, alongside the physical and digital evidence, to convict.
The break in the case arrived through an almost absurdly mundane discovery. In September 2022, a retired volunteer worker named Kathy Shank found a misfiled lead sheet while helping organize case documents. That sheet connected Allen to the Monon High Bridge on the day the girls disappeared. Allen had actually spoken to investigators early in the case, placing himself on the trail that afternoon, but the tip had been improperly filed and never followed up.
Once investigators pulled the thread, the case moved quickly. Allen was arrested in October 2022 and charged. The arrest stunned Delphi, where Allen had lived and worked for years within walking distance of the crime scene.
The misfiled document raises its own uncomfortable questions about the investigation's early years. For five years, a critical lead sat buried in paperwork while the community waited for answers and investigators pursued other avenues. Authorities have not publicly addressed in detail how the filing error occurred or what internal review followed.
Judge Gull handed down the maximum sentence in December 2024: 130 years in prison, structured as two consecutive 65-year terms. At sentencing, she addressed Allen directly.
"These families will deal with your carnage forever."
Carroll County Sheriff Tony Liggett expressed no ambiguity about the outcome.
"There is zero doubt that justice has been served and today is the day."
Mike Patty, Liberty German's grandfather, offered a simpler statement after years of waiting: "Justice has been served for the girls."
The families of both victims attended the sentencing. For a community that had lived under the shadow of an unsolved double homicide for more than seven years, the courtroom provided a measure of finality. Whether that finality holds depends on what the appeals court decides.
Allen's path to a new trial is steep. Appellate courts do not retry cases. They review specific legal errors. The defense will need to convince the Indiana Court of Appeals that Judge Gull's exclusion of the Odinist evidence crossed the line from reasonable gatekeeping into reversible error.
That argument faces headwinds. Trial judges routinely exclude alternative-suspect evidence when the defense cannot establish a direct connection between the proposed suspects and the crime. If Allen's team relied on circumstantial links between local individuals and Odinist beliefs without tying those individuals to the crime scene or the victims, the appellate court may find the exclusion was well within the judge's authority.
On the other hand, criminal defendants have a constitutional right to present a defense. If the appeals court concludes that the excluded evidence was substantial enough to create reasonable doubt, and that the jury never got to weigh it, the conviction could be vacated. The standard is not whether the appellate judges personally find the evidence convincing. The question is whether excluding it denied Allen a fundamentally fair trial.
Investigators have not publicly disclosed whether they examined and ruled out the Odinist angle during the five-year investigation, or whether the theory originated entirely with the defense. That gap matters. If law enforcement investigated the theory and found it baseless, the exclusion looks more defensible. If the defense developed the theory independently and was blocked from presenting it, the appellate argument gains force.
The Delphi murders consumed national attention for years before Allen's arrest. The "Bridge Guy" video and audio clip became one of the most widely circulated pieces of evidence in modern true crime. Tips poured in by the thousands. Suspects were publicly speculated about and discarded. The community held vigils, erected memorials, and waited.
When the arrest finally came, it landed on someone who had been hiding in plain sight. Allen lived in Delphi. He worked at a local CVS. He had voluntarily placed himself on the trail that day. And a piece of paper connecting him to the crime had been sitting in a file, misplaced, for half a decade.
The trial itself was closed to cameras, adding frustration for a public that had followed every twist. The Odinist defense theory leaked into public discussion before trial and divided observers. Some saw it as a legitimate alternative explanation. Others viewed it as a desperate distraction from damning evidence, including a defendant's own recorded confessions.
Now the appeals court will weigh in. The process could take months or longer. Allen remains in state custody serving his 130-year sentence. His attorneys have signaled they intend to pursue every available avenue.
Two families buried their daughters more than eight years ago. A jury delivered its verdict. The system now faces the question it always faces when a conviction is challenged on procedural grounds: whether the process that produced the outcome was sound enough to stand.
If the courts got it right, the answer should survive scrutiny. That is the entire point of appellate review, and it is why the process exists.
