Second Anniversary of Psychic Disappearance Yields No New Leads

Pamela Cortez
Staff Reporter

Wednesday marked an unique but somber milestone in Santa Barbara history: the anniversary of the disappearance of her hometown psychic detective.

Two years ago, Shawn Spencer locked up his office at private detective agency Psych, bought a snowcone on the boardwalk, and vanished without a trace.

The resulting investigation, only recently closed, was an exercise in futility; the official reports frustratingly vague.  There were no signs of a struggle, no blood or other DNA evidence to reference, no ballistics to study.  Even the last person known to see the psychic detective, Gregory “Happy” Hanson of Happy’s Sno Place, has no clues:

“Just before I closed up for the night, about ten, he came out and bought a snowcone.  His usual, a large pineapple flavor.  We talked about some nonsense—how slow it’s been this season, the weather, something like that—he gave me a five and told me to keep the change.  And that was the last I seen of him.”

Spencer, thanks to dozens of high profile cases he consulted on for the S.B.P.D., was well known in the Santa Barbara area.  While the records state that Spencer was not actively working a case at the time of his disappearance, the investigation was hampered by the sheer number of people with a potential motive to abduct the detective.  The official report, obtained through the Freedom of Information Act, contains hundreds of pages of statements from possible suspects: not only the numerous convicts who Spencer helped to place behind bars but their friends, family, and associates as well. Some had alibis, some did not, but to date no one has been charged or even named as a suspect in the disappearance.

An anonymous source within the S.B.P.D. gave this telling quote:
“I think the only one who could find Shawn Spencer is Shawn Spencer.”

The police report itself reveals a glimpse in to the thorough, if ultimately fruitless, investigation spearheaded by S.B.P.D. Head Detective Carlton Lassiter.  The office itself, apparently locked by Mr. Spencer upon his departure, was combed for evidence that never materialized.  The boardwalk where Mr. Spencer was last seen was thoroughly searched by tracking dogs, though the animals could lead searchers only as far as the beach before losing the scent. As the investigation stretched on and hope waned, cadaver dogs and dive teams searched both beach and harbor, respectively, with equally dismal results.

Though the case remained officially open for a full year and a half following the disappearance, which some attribute to the stubborn determination of both Police Chief Karen Vick and Detective Lassiter, it was undoubtedly a cold case.  A lack of witnesses, leads, and eventually the lack of the alleged victim’s body seemed to point to another possibility altogether: that Spencer’s mystifying departure was of his own making.

Indeed, as previously reported in this newspaper, Spencer had a history of drifting from place to place and job to job, departing with little notice and maintaining only fleeting contact with family and friends during his lengthy absences.  The six years he worked at Psych, however, Spencer seemed to give every indication of settling down.  According to tax records, the time he spent in Santa Barbara before his disappearance was his lengthiest stay in any single location since his departure nearly a decade before.  When reached for comment, Henry Spencer, the missing man’s father, gave the following statement:

“My son didn’t vanish on his own. Not this time.  And anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”

The picture painted by friends, coworkers, and acquaintances is one of a man with everything going for him.  Shawn Spencer was in his mid-thirties when he vanished from the Santa Barbara boardwalk, an entrepreneur with an amazing gift.  An extraordinary man who had bested serial killers and managed to escape from danger with only minor injuries thanks to his quick wit and quicker tongue.  The News Press’s own archives include nearly a hundred images of the young detective, and they reveal a man who smiled often and enjoyed an irreverent sense of humor.  Longtime photographer Marcus Craig volunteers:

“We used to have to crop any picture he was in six ways to Sunday.  You’d have a perfect shot, and then notice he was doing something ridiculous in the background.  It helped more than you’d think: took your mind off of where you were, you know?  Some of my best work was done trying to frame him out of a photo.”

While everyone seems to have a story about Shawn Spencer, no one has any answers about what may have happened to him.

Especially not his colleagues, the officers of the Santa Barbara Police Department.

Detective Carlton Lassiter is a stern, unfriendly figure in a spotless dark gray suit and striped tie.  His hair is a little more salt than pepper, his eyes a piercing and unflinching blue that make it easy to why so many criminals have confessed upon having those eyes turned upon them during an interrogation.  His partner, Detective Juliet O’Hara, is clearly the good cop in this scenario: petite and blonde, she has a genial manner and an easy smile that makes her seem years younger than one might expect.

Not only are these the two detectives with whom Spencer most often consulted, they are also the detectives who tirelessly attempted to solve the mystery surrounding his disappearance.  They are obviously displeased to have been pulled away from open investigations and in to an interview regarding a two year old cold case.  Though O’Hara does the vast majority of the speaking, she limits her quotes to what sound like PR-approved soundbites.

“Mr. Spencer served as a valuable asset to this department and was of great assistance to the people of Santa Barbara.  Obviously we would like nothing better than to find him alive and well, and we will continue to investigate any new leads as time allows.”

When asked about the disappearance itself, the young detective retreats even further behind stiff professionalism:

“All of that information is in the report.  There were no signs of foul play and no signs of injury.  We cannot speculate on what may or may not have happened to Mr. Spencer.”

It is only when asked about her personal relationship with Spencer, no secret at the time of his disappearance, that Detective Lassiter stands and declares the interview at an end.
 
“I may not have approved of Spencer’s methods, but he delivered results. And I’ll be damned if I let you drag him or any member of this department through the mud in the name of journalism.  This interview is over.”

Today the Psych office on the boardwalk sits empty.  When reached for comment, commercial management company Aspire Properties, LLC, would say only that the lessee chose not to renew the contract.

Spencer’s childhood friend and business partner, Burton Guster, confirmed that Psych is no longer open for business and referred all inquiries to the firm’s attorney, Adam Hornstock of Hornstock, Hornstock, Hornstock,  Biederman, and Hornstock.

Mr. Hornstock, who once hired Spencer’s firm as legal consultants, delivered a brief statement that the business [Psych, Inc.], though defunct, is in good legal and financial standing, and that Mr. Spencer’s estate is being held in trust until either his return or his being declared legally dead in absentia (generally granted after a person is missing for seven years).

In the absence of any new evidence, this declaration seems a foregone conclusion.

Until that time, there is only the question that continues to captivate the community he once served: what happened to Shawn Spencer?  

There's a certain irony in the fact that the man responsible for solving so many of Santa Barbara's mysteries is now the source of one.  And Without him to solve it, we may never know.