Who Killed a University of Arizona Student Who Disappeared from Her Dorm in 1988?

It’s a rather innocuous name, but one that has followed former University of Arizona Chief of Police Brian Seastone since the fall semester of 1988: Doug. Derived from Scottish Gaelic, the name means “dark” or “black.” For Seastone, though, Doug was the key to unraveling just what happened to slain accounting major Dianne Abbuhl.

“He was from New York, and said to be visiting a brother, David, in Tucson, and that’s all anybody really knew about the guy,” Seastone, who retired in 2021 after a 50-year law enforcement career, explains to A&E Crime + Investigation about the Abbuhl case. “It was also said that he was seen driving around town in a red or reddish-brown full-sized four-wheel drive pickup truck. However, it did not have New York license plates—they were maroon-and-white Arizona plates.”

The 24-year-old sophomore who possessed a photographic memory and a predilection for mathematics was last seen alive on the evening of September 8, 1988. That same night, the blonde coed was spotted hanging out with Doug inside the Bum Steer, a popular barn-themed restaurant and tavern that was demolished in 2020.

Abbuhl had even introduced the stranger, who Seastone describes as “rough-looking” and “sinewy,” to two female friends, telling them she’d recently started dating the mustached mystery man.

Authorities in Arizona know for a fact Abbuhl—who married Christopher Earl Holland when she was 18 and divorced him by the time she was 21—made it back to her room in Babcock Hall that evening, and that she’d left the Bum Steer alone, Seastone notes. Before heading into her bedroom at 12:30 a.m. to go to sleep, Abbuhl changed into a nightgown and watched a movie with one of her suitemates, police later learned. But she did not stay in bed.

Police claim a neighbor told them they watched as Abbuhl exited her dormitory at approximately 1:30 a.m.—again, alone. The following morning, at around 9 a.m., Abbuhl’s incessant alarm clock roused one of her slumbering suitemates, who eventually called police upon discovering she’d left her purse, keys, checkbook and identification behind. Dianne had no access to a car or bicycle, and police found no signs of a struggle or forced entry inside her bedroom.

Hunters would happen upon Dianne’s skeletal remains five weeks later, on October 13, 1988, while traversing a remote region of Pima County within the Avra Valley area. Determining a cause of death for Dianne was impossible, due to advanced decomposition. Police suspect she was abducted, but have no true sense for when she was actually murdered or how long her body may have been exposed to the elements.

Nearly four decades have passed, and Seastone still thinks about the tragic case often.

“She never introduced this guy to any of her suitemates, and when she did go missing, it was a great concern to the entire community in general, not just the [University of Arizona] community,” Seastone recalls. “Those kinds of things sort of shock the campus for a little bit, and there was obviously a great deal of concern for those first few days. But I don’t recall a huge student reaction when she was found. It’s just one of those really weird cases you just shake your head over, and go, ‘You know, if she had told somebody more about Doug, if we had more information about this guy,’ maybe we could have done something earlier.”

As the investigation unfolded, detectives learned Dianne had met Doug, who claimed to be a mechanic, on August 22, 1988, Seastone shares. The brown-haired, brown-eyed man in his late 20s or early 30s told the accounting student he wanted to move to Tucson so he could be with her. But Abbuhl’s best friend, Nancy Fowler, told the Arizona Republic at the time Abbuhl was rapidly losing interest in the 6-foot-tall Doug, after his obsessive calls sometimes forced her to leave the rotary phone off the hook—just so she could get some sleep.

Aside from finding Abbuhl’s dorm room’s door uncharacteristically unlocked on the night she disappeared, police also found her telephone had been left out of its cradle.

The Pima County Sheriff’s Office tells A&E Crime + Investigation in a statement the Abbuhl case is “still very active,” especially since a reexamination of the evidence was ordered in 2024. Cold case investigators have been “exploring the possibility of working the investigation as a FIGG (Forensic Investigative Genetic Genealogy) case,” the statement adds, noting “detectives have been in contact with surviving family members.

A multi-agency task force was assembled to “assist with DNA developments” in the case, which they’ve received tips on both “recently and in October of last year,” according to the statement. The sheriff’s office was unable to expound on that information, but said the contention is this case is very solvable.

“Any information—big or small—is very vital to this investigation,” the sheriff’s office statement ended. “Someone knows about this or knows someone who was involved.”

According to Seastone, Abbuhl’s death long served as a cautionary tale to incoming students.

“I spoke to orientation all the time, and to different groups on campus after that happened, and I used that case as an example of a tragedy where it is so important to let people know where you are going, with whom, when you expect to return home, etc.,” he says. “So, that was probably the biggest impact [her death had] on campus: there was this new awareness to letting people know where you are going, and that probably help keep some of our students safer.”

Relatives have established the Dianne Abbuhl Memorial Scholarship in her honor. Non-traditional Arizona residents who demonstrate financial need, graduated from an Arizona high school and “show a definite promise in their field” are encouraged to apply.