It was just a few weeks ago when we were talking about the Netflix true-crime documentary series “American Nightmare,” which told the story of a real-life “Gone Girl” case that had more twists and turns than the David Fincher movie of the same name and turned out not to be a “Gone Girl” story at all. Though we were only a couple of weeks into 2024, I was fairly certain we had just seen the most insane true-crime doc of the year.
Hold that thought.
The new Netflix documentary “Lover, Stalker, Killer,” from director Sam Hobkinson (“Fear City: New York vs. the Mafia”), chronicles an absolutely bizarre and chilling love triangle gone wrong in such compelling fashion that I can’t imagine anyone watching it and NOT telling friends, “You gotta check this out.” (Given that the title is a pretty clear indication of how things turned out, and that these events started playing out more than a decade ago, here’s your advance notice that I will be getting into real-life spoilers.)
We start with the obligatory 911 recording and hear the voice of a woman exclaiming, “I’ve been shot!” before we meet one Dave Kroupa, who is at the center of this story and is a very willing participant in the documentary, including making the debatable choice of appearing as himself in some dramatic re-creations. That said, Dave comes across as an amiable, uncomplicated sort who was newly single and looking to get back into the dating game when he relocated to Omaha, Nebraska, in 2012.
Dave took a job managing an auto repair shop and moved into a one-bedroom apartment, recalling, “I was wild and free at 35, and I was determined to enjoy it.” He joined the Plenty of Fish dating website, where he made a connection with one Shanna Elizabeth “Liz” Golyar, who seemed a kindred spirit, as they both had children and shared a love of motorcycles, and neither was looking for anything serious. “It was a match made in heaven,” says Dave.
We see a montage of photos and home videos of Dave and Liz hitting the bars and sharing good times — but the relationship stayed casual. About six months later, single mom Cari Farver brought her Ford Explorer into Dave’s auto shop. Dave was immediately attracted to Cari, and when he came across her profile on a dating app, they arranged to meet, and there was an immediate connection. Again, though, Dave made it clear to Cari he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.
You might want to buckle up for this next part. With dramatic re-creations helping to set the tone, we’re told that one night while Cari was visiting Dave, Liz showed up, saying she needed to get some of her things from Dave’s apartment. Liz and Cari passed briefly in the hallway — seemingly the only time they ever saw each other.
The next day, Cari texted Dave saying they should move in together. They’d been seeing each other for just two weeks, and as Dave reminded Cari, they had agreed to keep things casual. Cari immediately pivoted, bombarding Dave with increasingly nasty text messages, e.g., “You’ve ruined my life,” “I’m going to destroy all the things you care about,” “Your life will be ruined.” Even more disturbing, Dave would find himself in a coffee shop and get a text from Cari saying, “How’s that coffee,” or she’d send him pictures she’d taken of him at work. We’re deep into, “I’m not going to be IGNORED” territory here, folks.
Liz also finds herself targeted by Cari, to the alarming point where her car is keyed and her house is burned down. (Her children weren’t home, but all of her pets died.) Dave’s ex-partner, Amy, starts receiving death threats. Liz gets shot in the leg. All the while, Cari is sending hundreds upon hundreds of harassing messages and emails, from dozens of different phone numbers and a myriad of email addresses.
Here’s the thing, though: Nobody has actually seen Cari all this time. As the months and years go by, the initial investigators come to believe Cari had suffered a mental health crisis and willingly disappeared (Cari had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder), but Cari’s mother isn’t buying it, nor are the detectives and an IT specialist working for the Pottawattamie County Sheriff’s Office. It becomes increasingly likely Cari Farver is not the one behind all the threats and the acts of violence, and sadly, is most likely gone, the victim of foul play.
We’ll leave it at that, with kudos to director Hobkinson for taking a no-frills approach to material that is wild enough as is, and praise for the investigators who painstakingly pieced together a truly fractured puzzle and eventually delivered justice.
