California 1986: Her Father Named the Killer – Police Said He ‘Watched Too Much TV’
But before Sher Rasmuson became a case study in police failure and the power of DNA, she was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her.
Before she was a victim, she was a daughter, a wife, a nurse who’d worked since she was 16 years old.
Before her murder became a 23-year fight, it began with a woman who couldn’t let go.
Sher Ray Rasmuson was born on February 7th, 1957 in Walaw Wala, Washington.
Her family moved to Tucson, Arizona when she was young, where she was raised by her father, Nells, a dentist, and her mother, Loretta.
She had two sisters, Connie and Teresa, and grew up in a close-knit family that valued education, hard work, and achievement.
Sher was exceptionally bright.
She graduated high school early and entered nursing school at Lominda University at just 16 years old.
She wanted to help people.
She wanted to be a nurse.
By the time she was 29, Sher had risen to director of nursing at Glendale Adventist Medical Center in California, overseeing the critical care and surgical units.
She was close with her parents and sisters, calling home regularly, visiting when she could.
In June of 1984, Sherry met John Rouettin at a party.
Jon was a product development engineer at Micropolis Corporation, a hard drive manufacturer.
They hit it off immediately.
They started dating, fell deeply in love, and began planning a future together.
John proposed.
Sherry was thrilled.
They bought a condominium together in Vanise.
On November 10th, 1985, they married.
Sherry became Sher Rouettin.
She was happy, optimistic, excited about the life they were building together.
But there was a shadow Sherry didn’t fully understand.
Jon had an ex-girlfriend.
Her name was Stephanie Lazarus.
She was an LAPD officer.
She had dated Jon on and off during and after their time at UCLA.
When Jon fell in love with Sher and decided to marry her, he tried to end things with Stephanie.
But Stephanie couldn’t let go.
After the engagement, after the wedding, Stephanie kept calling Jon at work.
She showed up at his office.
She wanted to stay friends.
John tried to be polite but firm.
He was married now.
He loved Sherry, but Stephanie didn’t stop.
Then in the summer of 1985, about 6 to 8 months before Sher’s murder, Stephanie showed up at Glendale Adventist Medical Center.
She burst past Sher’s secretary into her office.
She was dressed provocatively, tubetop, shorts, and her demeanor was aggressive, emotional.
She confronted Sherry about her marriage to Jon and then she told Sherry something that shattered any hope for peace.
She bragged about recently sleeping with Jon.
This had happened after Jon and Sher’s engagement.
Jon would later call it a mistake, a moment of weakness.
But Stephanie used it as a weapon.
The exchange grew heated.
Stephanie became more emotional, more threatening.
And then she said the words that would echo for decades.
If I can’t have John, no one can.
Sherry was shaken.
The secretary witnessed part of the confrontation.
Some co-workers heard the heated voices.
Sherry told her father Nells about the encounter.
She told some friends.
She was frightened, but she didn’t report it to hospital security.
She didn’t call the police.
Jon tried to reassure her that Stephanie would move on, that it was just talk.
It wasn’t.
6 to 8 months later, Stephanie would make good on her threat.
On the morning of February 24th, 1986, Sher called in sick to work.
She had back pain from aerobics the day before.
She was also scheduled to give a motivational speech she didn’t want to do.
She decided to stay home, rest, recover.
Jon left for work around 7:20 a.
m.
They said goodbye.
Sherry was alone in their van’s condominium.
The morning passed quietly.
The condo was in a residential neighborhood.
Sometime between 9 and 11:00 a.
m.
, neighbors heard screaming.
They heard the sounds of a violent struggle.
Furniture moving, voices raised, fighting, then silence.
By the time John came home at 6:00 p.
m.
, Sherry had been dead for hours.
Their 3mon marriage was over.
Around 5:55 p.
m.
, John Ruettin returned home from work.
He noticed the front door to their van NY’s condominium was slightly a jar.
Immediately, something felt wrong.
He pushed it open and called out for Sherry.
No answer.
He stepped inside.
The condo was dim, ransacked, drawers pulled out, items scattered.
He moved through the entry into the living room.
That’s where he found her.
Sherry lay motionless on the living room floor near the entry.
Blood.
Signs of a violent struggle throughout the space.
Jon’s world collapsed in an instant.
He called 911, hysterical, devastated.
Paramedics and LAPD arrived within minutes.
Sherry was pronounced dead at the scene.
What LAPD found painted a picture of extreme violence.
Sherry had been severely beaten.
She had approximately 15 facial injuries.
Her head had been struck with a broken porcelain vase, shards of it still at the scene, blood on the pieces.
The vase had been used as a weapon during the fight.
On her left forearm was a bite mark, human, deep enough to leave an impression.
The crime scene technician swabbed it carefully, preserving the saliva for evidence.
Sher had been shot three times in the chest with a 38 caliber revolver.
The shots were fired at close range.
There was evidence suggesting a blanket or pillow had been used to muffle the sound.
There were no stab wounds, but the beating had been savage.
Sherry had fought back.
Defensive wounds on her hands showed she’d tried desperately to survive.
The struggle had moved through the condo.
Furniture displaced, blood in multiple locations.
This had been hand-to-hand combat, brutal and personal.
The condo had been ransacked, staged to look like a burglary.
Stereo equipment was stacked near the front door, as if burglars had been in the process of stealing it when something went wrong.
Drawers were pulled out.
Rooms searched.
But there were problems with the burglary theory.
Jewelry worth thousands of dollars was left behind.
Cash was left behind.
Expensive items that could have been easily carried were untouched.
Sher’s BMW was missing.
It was later found abandoned a few miles away, wiped clean of fingerprints.
And then there was the marriage certificate gone, taken from the condo, not valuable to a burglar, but perhaps valuable as a trophy to someone consumed by rage and jealousy.
There was no forced entry.
The door had either been unlocked or someone had gained entry through a ruse, perhaps using police authority, perhaps pretending to be official, perhaps simply knocking and being let in.
Crime scene technicians worked through the evening documenting everything.
They photographed Sher’s injuries.
They collected blood samples.
They recovered three bullet casings, 38 caliber.
They bagged pieces of the broken vase.
Most critically, they swabbed the bite mark on Sherry’s left forearm.
The saliva would contain DNA, but in 1986, DNA testing didn’t exist yet.
The swab was labeled, cataloged, and placed into evidence storage, waiting for a future that might hold answers.
They dusted for fingerprints, but found nothing useful.
They searched for witnesses.
They canvased the neighborhood, and they built a theory.
Two male burglars, part of a string of area break-ins, had targeted the condo.
Sherry had been home.
They killed her, took her BMW, ransacked the place.
It was the wrong theory, but it was the one LAPD would chase for the next 23 years.
The Van Ny division detectives who caught the case were Lyall Mayor and Steve Hooks.
They looked at the crime scene and built their theory quickly.
This was a botched burglary.
There had been a string of break-ins in the Van Ny area.
Homes targeted during the day.
In some cases, residents had been assaulted when they surprised the burglars.
The ransacked condo, the stolen BMW, the stacked stereo equipment.
It all fit the pattern.
Two male suspects, they believed, part of a burglary crew.
They broke in.
Sherik was home and they killed her.
Then they took her BMW and fled.
But the evidence that didn’t fit this theory was significant.
There was no forced entry.
Jewelry and cash worth thousands were left behind.
The bite mark was unusual, intimate, personal, not typical of a burglary.
The level of violence was extreme, far beyond what you’d expect from burglars surprised by a homeowner.
And the missing marriage certificate made no sense.
Why would burglars take that? Most telling, “The viciousness suggested rage, not panic.
This felt personal.
” But LAPD focused on the burglary theory.
They were looking for two male suspects who didn’t exist.
On February 25th, 1986, the day after his daughter’s murder, Nells Rasmuson went to the Vanise police station.
He had information, critical information, information that if followed would have solved the case immediately.
He sat down with Detective Lyall Mayer and told him about Stephanie Lazarus.
He gave Mayor her name.
He explained that she was Jon’s ex-girlfriend.
He told him she was an LAPD officer.
He described how she had been obsessed with Jon, how she couldn’t let go after Jon married Sher.
He told mayor about the confrontation at the hospital, how Stephanie had burst into Sher’s office, how she’d bragged about sleeping with Jon, how she’d threatened Sher directly.
Nells repeated the threat.
If I can’t have Jon, no one can.
He explained that Stephanie had motive jealousy, obsession, rage.
She had means she was a cop.
She had access to a gun.
She knew how to stage a crime scene.
She had opportunity.
she knew where they lived.
She could have shown up that morning.
Nells urged Detective Mayor to investigate Stephanie Lazarus to question her to look into her alibi for February 24th.
Detective Lyall Mayer looked at Nells Rasmmanson, a grieving father who’d just lost his daughter, and dismissed him with five words that would define the case for the next 23 years.
You watch too much TV.
This was the moment the case was lost.
Not because there was no evidence, not because there were no leads, but because the lead pointed to a cop, and that was inconceivable to Detective Mayor.
Stephanie Lazarus was LAPD.
She was one of them.
She wouldn’t do this.
The idea was absurd.
Mayor noted Stephanie’s name in the file, barely.
A single mention, minimal documentation, but he didn’t interview her.
He didn’t question her.
He didn’t ask for her alibi.
He didn’t investigate her at all.
In 1987, John Ruettin called LAPD again and mentioned Stephanie.
Again, the information was noted but not acted upon.
The detectives remained focused on finding the two male burglars.
They looked at registered sex offenders in the area.
They checked recent paroleies.
They followed tips about suspicious men seen near the condo.
They pursued the burglary theory relentlessly.
None of it led anywhere because the person who killed Sher Rasmmanson wasn’t a male burglar.
She was a female LAPD officer who had been handed to them on a silver platter by the victim’s father the day after the murder, and they dismissed it because she wore a badge.
By late 1986, the case had gone cold.
Every lead on the Phantom Burglars had dried up.
There were no arrests, no suspects.
The file was boxed up and moved to storage.
The Rasmuson family was told the investigation was ongoing, but in reality, it had stalled.
Sher’s murder became just another unsolved case in a city full of them.
Detective Lyall Mayer and Steve Hooks moved on to other cases.
The Vanise division moved forward.
Life continued.
and Stephanie Lazarus, whose name had been given to police the day after the murder, whose motive was clear, whose opportunity was obvious, was never questioned, never investigated, never considered a suspect.
She went back to work, patrolling the streets of Los Angeles in her LAPD uniform, carrying the knowledge of what she’d done and the certainty that no one would ever look her way.
For Nells and Loretta Rasmuson, the nightmare was just beginning.
They knew who killed their daughter and they couldn’t get anyone to listen.
For 23 years, the case sat in cold storage while the Rasmuson family fought to be heard.
Nells and Loretta Rasmuson never stopped believing Stephanie Lazarus had murdered their daughter.
In 1987, Nells held a press conference offering a $10,000 reward and wrote directly to LAPD Chief Daryl Gates naming Lazarus as a suspect.
In 1993, he offered to personally pay for DNA testing on the bitemark evidence and lined up a private lab willing to do the work.
The LAPD refused.
They told him they needed a specific suspect to compare the DNA to first, even though he’d already given them one.
At one point, a detective told the family to move on with their lives.
Meanwhile, Stephanie Lazarus was promoted to detective.
She married a fellow LAPD officer, adopted a daughter, and lived what appeared to be a normal, successful life.
She worked cases, earned commendations, and moved through the ranks while Sher Rasmuson’s family waited for justice that seemed like it would never come.
But forensic technology was evolving.
DNA profiling became standard in criminal investigations during the 1990s.
Databases were being built.
Cold cases were being reopened and solved using evidence that had been waiting for decades.
In 2004, the LAPD’s cold case unit finally took another look at Sher Rasmuson’s murder.
It had been 18 years, and DNA technology had advanced significantly.
Detective Phil Moral reviewed the evidence, including the saliva sample from the bite mark on Sher’s arm.
The sample had been preserved for 18 years, waiting for technology to catch up.
In 2005, the DNA was analyzed using modern forensic methods.
The results came back clear.
The DNA belonged to a female.
This should have immediately shifted the investigation.
The burglary theory, the theory that had dominated for 19 years, was based on male intruders, but the DNA said otherwise.
The person who bit Sherry during the struggle was a woman.
There was only one female suspect who had ever been mentioned, Stephanie Lazarus.
The ex-girlfriend Nells Rasmuson had named the day after the murder.
But even with DNA evidence pointing directly to a woman, the case wasn’t immediately acted upon.
The DNA sat in the system for another 5 years before anyone decided to follow up.
Stephanie Lazarus was still an active LAPD detective during this time.
The 5-year delay was never officially explained.
What is clear is that for five more years, Stephanie Lazarus continued working as a detective while evidence that could identify her sat waiting.
In February of 2009, the case was assigned to the LAPD Robbery Homicide Division cold case unit.
Detective Jim Nuttle pulled the Rasmuson file.
He read through the reports and the burglary theory fell apart immediately.
There was no forced entry.
Yet valuables had been left behind and a marriage certificate taken.
The violence was extreme and personal.
A bite mark on the victim’s arm and the DNA was female.
This wasn’t a burglary gone wrong.
Someone had targeted Sher specifically.
Nuttle kept reading.
Buried in the file, noted minimally, he found references to Stephanie Lazarus, John Rouettton’s ex-girlfriend, LAPD officer, obsessed with Jon, had confronted Sherry at the hospital, had threatened her, “If I can’t have Jon, no one can.
” He found Nells Rasmuson’s statement from February 25th, 1986, where he told detective Lyall Mayer about Stephanie and urged them to investigate her.
and Mayor’s dismissive notation, barely documented, never followed up.
For 23 years, the answer had been right there in the file.
Stephanie Lazarus fit perfectly.
She had motive, jealousy, and obsession.
She had opportunity.
She knew where they lived and could have shown up that morning.
She had the means as a cop because she carried a 38 caliber revolver.
But accusing a sitting LAPD detective required absolute certainty.
They needed her DNA.
Nuttle confirmed Stephanie was still an active detective in 2009, working art theft, married to an LAPD officer living in Semi Valley with an adopted daughter.
They couldn’t ask for a DNA sample that would tip her off.
They needed to collect it covertly.
The plan? Surveillance.
wait for her to discard something in public for weeks.
In spring 2009, detectives monitored Stephanie.
In May, she attended a meeting related to an art theft case.
During a break, she bought coffee.
She drank from the cup and discarded it.
Undercover officers retrieved it from the trash.
DNA was extracted and compared to the bitemark sample from 1986.
Approximately 2 to 3 weeks later, the results came back.
Perfect match.
After 23 years, they had her.
Arresting a fellow LAPD detective required careful planning.
Stephanie Lazarus was armed.
She carried a gun on duty.
She knew police procedures inside and out.
If she suspected anything, she could flee, destroy evidence, lawyer up immediately.
She could claim harassment, turn the tables, make the arrest politically toxic.
The decision was made.
Bring her in under a false pretense, get her to the station voluntarily, interrogate her on camera, confront her with the evidence, then arrest her.
On June 5th, 2009, detectives contacted Stephanie Lazarus.
They asked her to come to the LAPD robbery homicide division at Parker Center.
They told her they needed her expertise on an art theft case, a consultation, routine, nothing unusual.
Stephanie agreed without hesitation.
Art theft was her specialty.
This seemed like a normal request from colleagues.
She drove herself to Parker Center, walked through the doors voluntarily, and was led to an interrogation room.
She had no idea she was walking into a trap.
The interrogation began casually.
Detectives asked about her work, her career, her cases.
They made small talk.
Stephanie was relaxed, professional, cooperative.
Then the questions shifted.
Do you remember John Ruettin? Stephanie’s demeanor changed.
The ease disappeared.
She became guarded, careful.
She downplayed the relationship.
We were just friends, she said.
We dated casually in college.
Nothing serious.
This was already a lie.
They had dated on and off for years.
She had been obsessed with him.
She hadn’t been able to let go when he married Sherry.
Do you remember Sher Rasmuson? Stephanie claimed she didn’t know her well.
Maybe they’d met once or twice.
She was vague, evasive.
Did you ever go to her hospital? Did you ever confront her? Stephanie denied it.
She said she couldn’t remember anything like that.
This was another lie, a provable one.
Sherry’s secretary had witnessed the confrontation.
Co-workers had overheard the heated exchange.
Sherry had told her father about the threat.
“Where were you on February 24th, 1986?” Stephanie paused.
“That’s 23 years ago,” she said.
“I can’t remember.
” She suggested maybe she’d been skiing.
She couldn’t provide an alibi.
The detectives let her talk.
They let her dig herself deeper into lies.
Then they revealed what they had.
We have DNA evidence from Sher Rasmuson’s murder scene.
DNA from a bite mark on her arm.
We tested it.
It matches you.
Stephanie’s face registered shock.
Whether genuine or performed, it was hard to tell.
She denied it immediately.
That’s impossible, she said.
I don’t know how that could be.
She suggested the evidence was contaminated.
23 years in storage.
Maybe something went wrong, that it didn’t make sense, that there must be some mistake, but she never provided a coherent alternative explanation.
She never confessed, but her lies were piling up, documented on video.
The interrogation lasted approximately 2 hours.
Every word was recorded, every lie, every evasion, every moment of discomfort captured on camera.
And at the end, after 2 hours of watching her squirm and deflect and lie, the detectives placed Stephanie Lazarus under arrest.
She was formally charged with the murder of Sheri Rasmusen, an LAPD detective 26 years on the force.
Respected, decorated, was arrested by her own department for a murder she’d committed while wearing the uniform.
The news broke almost immediately.
LAPD detective arrested for 1986 murder.
Victim was her ex-boyfriend’s wife.
Jealous rage.
Case ignored for 23 years.
family had told police from the beginning.
It was a scandal.
It was a vindication.
And for Nells and Loretta Rasmuson, it was the first moment of hope they’d felt in 23 years.
Someone had finally listened.
The arrest of Stephanie Lazarus became national news within hours.
An LAPD detective arrested for murdering her ex-boyfriend’s wife 23 years earlier.
A jealous ex-girlfriend who couldn’t let go.
a crime committed while she was a uniformed police officer.
A case ignored for more than two decades while the victim’s family begged police to investigate the woman they knew had done it.
The case became a symbol of what happens when police protect their own, whether through deliberate cover up or willful blindness.
For Nells and Loretta Rasmuson, the arrest was vindication after 23 years of being dismissed, ignored, and told they were wrong.
We told them in 1986, Nell said to reporters.
We gave them her name.
We explained the motive and they wouldn’t listen.
The relief was overwhelming, but so was the anger.
23 years.
Sher had been dead for 23 years, while Stephanie Lazarus built a career, got married, adopted a child, lived a normal life.
23 years of knowing who killed their daughter and being powerless to do anything about it.
Connie and Terresa Sher’s sisters spoke about the decades of grief compounded by frustration.
The family had never been allowed to fully mourn because the fight for justice consumed everything.
Now maybe they could finally begin to heal.
For LAPD, the arrest was a public relations disaster.
One of their own had committed murder and hidden behind her badge for 23 years.
The victim’s father had told them who did it the day after the murder, and they dismissed him.
DNA evidence showing a female perpetrator had sat for 5 years without prompting a re-examination of the case.
Was it a cover up or was it incompetent detective so blinded by the assumption that cops don’t kill that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them? LAPD launched an internal investigation.
Media scrutiny was intense.
Questions were asked about Detective Lyall Mayer, about the original investigation, about why Stephanie was never questioned in 1986.
The department had no good answers.
On February 7th, 2012, 26 years to the day after Sher Rasmuson was born, the trial of Stephanie Lazarus began in Los Angeles Superior Court.
Judge Robert J.
Perry presided.
Stephanie was charged with first-degree murder with a special circumstance, lying in weight.
If convicted, she faced 25 years to life, plus 2 years for using a firearm.
She pleaded not guilty.
The courtroom was packed.
Nells and Loretta Rasmuson sat in the front row with their daughters, Connie and Teresa.
John Rouettin was there.
Media filled the benches.
In her opening statement, prosecutor Shannon Presby distilled the case into a single phrase, “A bite, a bullet, a gun barrel, and a broken heart.
Stephanie Lazarus had confronted Sher, threatened her, and when Sher married Jon anyway, she killed her.
Then she staged a burglary, and hid behind her badge for 26 years.
” The defense counted that the case was too old.
26 years had passed.
Evidence had degraded.
This was circumstantial.
But Judge Perry had already ruled that the defense couldn’t lean on the burglary theory.
The female DNA made it untenable.
The prosecution built its case methodically.
John Rouettin took the stand.
He testified about dating Stephanie on and off during and after UCLA.
She had been intense, possessive, unable to let go.
When he met Sher, he fell in love and tried to end things with Stephanie, but she kept calling, showing up at his work.
Then Jon admitted something painful.
After he and Sherry were engaged, he made a mistake.
He slept with Stephanie once.
She used it as a weapon, going to Sher’s hospital to brag about it and threaten her.
If I can’t have Jon, no one can.
Jon wept on the stand.
He testified about the guilt he still carried.
Sherry had trusted him to handle Stephanie.
She told him about the hospital confrontation, about how frightened she was, and he hadn’t protected her.
Co-workers testified that they’d heard the heated hospital exchange.
Nell’s Rasmuson testified about what Sher had told him, that Stephanie had threatened her, that she was scared.
A forensic expert testified about the bitemark DNA.
Saliva had been swabbed from the bitemark in 1986.
In 2004, DNA was extracted.
In 2009, it was compared to Stephanie’s discarded coffee cup.
The match was perfect.
The defense tried to argue contamination 23 years in storage, but the prosecution showed the evidence had been properly preserved and handled.
The DNA was intact and reliable.
The bite mark itself told a story.
This wasn’t a stranger attack.
Someone had fought Sher face to face and bitten her hard enough to leave an impression.
That level of violence suggested rage, not panic.
Prosecutors walked the jury through the staged burglary.
Stereo equipment stacked by the door, but not taken.
Jewelry and cash were thousands left behind.
The BMW stolen, then abandoned and wiped clean.
The marriage certificate taken, not valuable to a burglar, but perhaps a trophy to someone consumed by rage.
On May 11th, 2012, Stephanie Lazarus returned to Los Angeles Superior Court for sentencing.
The courtroom was packed once again.
Nells and Loretta Rasmuson were there in their 80s now, having waited 26 years for this moment.
Their daughters, Connie and Teresa, sat beside them.
John Ruettin was there.
Sherry’s nieces were there.
Friends, supporters, media, everyone who had followed this case wanted to witness the final chapter.
Judge Robert J.
Perry called for victim impact statements.
Nells Rasmmanson spoke first.
He was elderly, frail, but his voice was strong.
He spoke about the 26 years of knowing who killed his daughter and being dismissed, ignored, told he was wrong.
We told them in 1986, he said, his voice breaking.
We gave them her name.
We explained the motive and no one would listen.
For 26 years, we lived with that.
For 26 years, we watched Stephanie Lazarus live free while Sherry lay in the ground.
But now, finally, there was justice.
It didn’t bring Sherry back.
It didn’t erase the decades of pain.
But at least the truth had been acknowledged.
At least Sher’s killer would be held accountable.
Then John Rouettin took the stand.
His statement was brief but devastating.
“The fact that Sher’s death occurred because she met and married me brings me to my knees,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“Sherry trusted me to handle Stephanie.
She told me about the hospital confrontation.
She told me she was scared and I didn’t protect her.
I thought Stephanie would move on.
I was wrong.
I’ve lived with that guilt for 26 years.
I’ll live with it for the rest of my life.
Sherry deserved better.
She deserved to be safe.
She deserved to live.
John sat down, wiping his eyes.
The courtroom was silent.
The prosecution made its statement.
Deputy District Attorney Shannon Presby argued for the maximum sentence.
This was a cold-blooded, premeditated murder.
Stephanie Lazarus had planned it, executed it, and then abused her position as a police officer to hide for 26 years.
She had shown no remorse, no accountability.
She had lied in her interrogation, maintained her innocence through trial, and offered no apology to the family.
Maximum sentence was warranted.
The defense made a plea for leniency.
Mark Overland pointed to Stephanie’s career of public service 26 years as an LAPD officer.
She had a family, a husband, an adopted daughter.
She had no prior criminal record.
He also argued that Stephanie had been young at the time of the crime, 25 or 26 years old under California’s youthful offender laws.
That should be considered.
She wasn’t the same person now that she had been in 1986.
He asked the judge to show mercy.
Judge Robert J.
Perry listened to everything.
Then he delivered his sentence.
27 years to life in prison.
25 years for the murder conviction.
Two additional years for the use of a firearm.
Under California law, Stephanie would be eligible for parole after serving 27 years.
That meant her earliest possible release would be in the late 2030s or early 2040s.
when she would be in her 70s or 80s.
Realistically, she would likely die in prison.
Stephanie Lazarus was asked if she had anything to say.
“She maintained her innocence.
She offered no apology.
She showed no remorse.
” “I didn’t do this,” she said quietly.
Judge Perry ordered her remanded to custody.
Baleiff stepped forward.
Stephanie Lazarus, former LAPD detective, art theft specialist, was led out of the courtroom in handcuffs to begin serving her sentence.
As she disappeared through the doors, Nells and Loretta Rasmusson closed their eyes.
26 years of fighting, 26 years of being dismissed, ignored, gas lit by a system that protected its own.
But they had won.
Sher’s killer was finally behind bars.
Justice, however delayed, had been served.
Stephanie Lazarus is currently imprisoned at the California Institution for Women, serving 27 years to life.
She appealed her conviction.
In 2015, the California Court of Appeal upheld it.
The California Supreme Court declined to review the case.
Her appeals were exhausted.
In November of 2023, Stephanie had her first parole hearing.
Under California’s youthful offender law, which applies to offenders who were 25 or younger at the time of their crime, she was eligible for earlier consideration.
The parole board granted her release, citing her age at the crime, her rehabilitation, and her low risk for reaffending.
Stephanie admitted some guilt but minimized what had happened, describing it as a fight that escalated rather than premeditated murder.
But in October of 20124, that decision was rescended.
The Rasmuson family challenged the grant.
The Los Angeles County District Attorney opposed her release.
The board reversed, citing that Stephanie had evaded justice for 23 years, abused her position as a police officer, and shown insufficient accountability.
In February of 2025, she was denied parole again.
Her next hearing is scheduled for approximately 2028.
As of 2026, Stephanie is 65 or 66 years old.
Nells Rasmmanson died on June 20th, 2020.
He was approximately 83 years old.
Loretta Rasmmanson died on September 1st, 2022.
She was approximately 86.
Both lived to see Stephanie convicted in 2012.
Both died knowing their daughter’s killer was behind bars and that their decades of persistence had not been in vain.
Sherry’s sisters, Connie and Teresa, continue to honor Sher’s memory.
They attend parole hearings to oppose Stephanie’s release and ensure that Sherry is never forgotten.
John Rouetettin remarried in the 1990s.
He has children and lives in Escondido, California, where he is president of Resource Trends Incorporated.
He testified at Stephanie’s trial in 2012, an act that required immense courage.
He has found some measure of peace, but will never fully recover from the loss of Sherry or the guilt of not protecting her.
In 2010, the Rasmuson family filed a wrongful death lawsuit against LAPD, alleging the department had mishandled the case and protected Stephanie Lazarus.
The lawsuit was dismissed in 2013 due to the statute of limitations.
Appeals were denied.
LAPD conducted an internal investigation after Stephanie’s arrest.
The findings concluded there was no evidence of a deliberate coverup, but acknowledged clear failures.
Detective Lyall Mayer’s dismissal of Nell’s Rasmusen was inexcusable.
The failure to investigate Stephanie at all was inexcusable.
No officers were disciplined.
LAPD implemented some reforms, enhanced cold case procedures, better DNA evidence handling, and protocols for investigating cases involving police officers.
The murder of Sheri Rasmusen became one of the most infamous cases in LAPD history.
The case is a stark reminder of what happens when institutions protect their own.
It’s proof that DNA evidence can reach back through decades to speak for the dead.
And it’s a testament to the power of family persistence to parents who refused to let their daughter be forgotten, who fought for 26 years against a system that dismissed them and who finally against all odds won.
Thanks for being here and listening.
If stories of persistence and justice matter to you, don’t forget to hit the bell for our latest stories.
Stay safe and take care with your loved ones.
