From the wonderful book "Simply Benjamin" by ENID LANYON:
The week after Fr. Carrier's death, the Southern Cross, the diocesan newspaper, published the following article which served, in its way, as an obituary, It was titled:
"Absolom, Absolom, My Son"
Last week a man died. He did not die peacefully, although he was a man of peace. He did not die as good people should die, surrounded by love and loved ones. He did not die among friends although he had always surrounded himself with friends.
There was no one to pray with him as he died, although he was a priest. He died many miles from home, murdered and left like something of no worth, although he was a man who valued each person for himself and would give them no less than the value he knew they owned in God's sight.
He was a fool for Christ: a man who accepted and trusted where we, who are more prudent and wise in the ways of the world, would not. He would turn no one from his door or his table. He would judge no man. He was killed wantonly by people who themselves were recipients of his charity, in the senseless violence so characteristic of this age and society. But, of all of us, he was most prepared for death, because all of his adult life he had lived on borrowed time. His health had been so precarious that death was his familiar, always at his elbow, always in his thoughts, always qualifying his plans. He often joked that he had been blessed with ordination only because no one expected him to survive his first year of priesthood, and laughed, because after 23 years of ministry he was looking forward to celebrating his silver jubilee. We who loved him – and he was greatly loved – had hoped that when it came, death would be gentle and kind, taking him by the hand, like a friend. But Father Ben was not a cautious man. He took the scriptures very seriously, and so he lived dangerously, risking himself not wisely, not sensible, but in the only way he could. And in his imprudence, his foolishness, he shamed us in our comfortable self-protection.
So now we are left to mourn his passing, and experience again the universal wounding that is inflicted whenever evil works its destruction on the innocent and the good. But if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let us mourn him in sadness, not anger, for all that is not good in our world, and in love for what is.
Father Ben was not blind to the risk inherent in the way he lived, but he accepted it because he could see no other way to follow the Gospel warning, "Whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do to me," and in his relentless search for God, he took all who came his way into himself, and gave what he had without reserve.
In his physical frailty and stubborn commitment, he was completely vulnerable and well aware of it. But the image of the crucified Christ, in all his utterly defenseless love and self-giving, was always before his eyes, and bound him in ways we cautious ones could not fully understand.
So, if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let it be in a way that will draw us to greater vulnerability and less self-protectiveness. Let it be with greater generosity and acceptance. Let it be with understanding, or at least an effort towards it, of the tormented creatures whose injured morality gives no value to human life and no respect to goodness.
If we are to mourn Father Ben, let us do it in a way he would value, taking ourselves something of the burden he carried: that of bringing the presence of Christ to those who do not know him, and risking their rejection and abuse.
It is a heavy burden, and few of us could heft it with the same dogged self-immolation that he did. But we can all give a little more of ourselves, drop a few more defenses, mortgage a little more comfort and safety, to carry Christ's mission into the danger zones of unbelief.
If we are not brave enough to take up the challenge of martyrdom, of standing up for Christ in the marketplaces of our lives, perhaps we can draw strength from this small man, so weak in body and so invincible in faith, and achieve with him, in faith, what we cannot do alone.
It would be a fitting way to mourn a man of God and something of value to offer in exchange for a life so freely given.
________________________________
In 1982, Father Benjamin Carrier checked into a hotel in Yuma, Arizona, with two unknown men. Days later, he was discovered bound, and dead, in his hotel bed, and the two men were no where to be found. Who were the men that killed Father Benjamin?
Fifty four year old Father Benjamin J. Carrier had a big heart, and a soft spot for helping others. He was a chaplain at the Our Lady of Light Roman Catholic Church at the University of San Diego, a biology instructor, and was a 1959 graduate of the school. Father Benjamin had won an award for the outstanding work he did- on July 4, 1981, he was given the Buddy Bishop award, which was to "recognize members whose lives are marked by outstanding contributions to their career field, community, and the University." Father Benjamin had a particular focus on helping those with drug rehabilitation, and integrating former prison inmates back into society. In the announcement that detailed the award he was given, Father Benjamin was described as "a dedicated, selfless man, who has given his life blood for the love of others."
On November 8 1982, at 3pm, Father Benjamin checked himself into the El Rancho Motel, in Yuma, Arizona. Yuma, Arizona is right on the border of Arizona and California, and it was never concluded exactly why he was visiting the small town- but it was stated that he headed west for a meeting in El Centro, California, and possibly stopped in Yuma to visit friends he knew there. When he was filling out the forms for his hotel room, the clerk noticed another man in his truck- this man was described as between 20 to 25 years of age, with a medium build, about 5'6", and having light facial hair.
Father Benjamin was seen once again with this man, as well as an additional man, in the pool during his stay, around 5pm that Tuesday. The other man was described as having medium length brown hair, and light skin. One of the men had a tattoo on the underside of his left forearm. It is believed that Father Benjamin picked these individuals up as hitchhikers, as he was known to do, despite many people in his circle detailing how dangerous that could be.
On the afternoon of November 10, 1982, a housekeeper of the hotel entered the chaplain's room, to discover him dead in his bed. He was lying face down, with his hands tied behind his back, his legs tied together, and cold to the touch. It is possible that Father Benjamin had been stripped of his clothes, but the lead detective at the time chose not to confirm or deny this. The housekeeper rushed to the front desk to describe what she had discovered, where the staff immediately called the police. Authorities arrived at 2:15 pm, and declared Father Benjamin dead- he had been asphyxiated.
His 1981 Toyota pick up truck and wallet were also missing, but the car was discovered two days later, 295 miles north of Yuma, in Las Vegas. Investigators travelled to Vegas in order to process the car for evidence, but if they found anything worthwhile, it has never been released. Days after the murder, a staff writer for the San Diego Union Tribute wrote about Father Benjamin, stating that he had a prior history of being kidnapped by hitchhikers, and had even once had a knife held to his throat. These instances never dissuaded the chaplain from helping others- he never hardened towards those who needed him, and continued to see the good in others, despite it all.
After the murder, many people spoke of the different ways he tried to help others, beyond giving a ride to the random hitchhiker. He also was willing to open his own home to anyone who was in need, and was described after the murder as "probably one of the most selfless people I've ever met. He was kind, gentle, and a terrific example.. he left a great impression" by Reverend Larry Dolan, who succeeded Father Benjamin as chaplain at the University of San Diego.
Despite a composite sketch being made up of the two men, neither have ever been identified. In 2019, it was released that new evidence was being processed which produced a new lead, but they refused to say more about what that entailed, as investigators are still working the nearly 40 year old case. Currently, in 2022, no new additional information has been released, and it appears no arrests have been made in the murder of Father Benjamin Carrier.
~ source: https://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/xdmsl0/in_1982_father_benjamin_carrier_checked_into_a/?rdt=41094
________________________________
See also:
https://www.facebook.com/FrBenMemorial
https://www.abc15.com/news/region-central-southern-az/yuma/murder-of-beloved-chaplain-in-yuma-remains-unsolved-40-years-later
The week after Fr. Carrier's death, the Southern Cross, the diocesan newspaper, published the following article which served, in its way, as an obituary, It was titled:
"Absolom, Absolom, My Son"
Last week a man died. He did not die peacefully, although he was a man of peace. He did not die as good people should die, surrounded by love and loved ones. He did not die among friends although he had always surrounded himself with friends.
There was no one to pray with him as he died, although he was a priest. He died many miles from home, murdered and left like something of no worth, although he was a man who valued each person for himself and would give them no less than the value he knew they owned in God's sight.
He was a fool for Christ: a man who accepted and trusted where we, who are more prudent and wise in the ways of the world, would not. He would turn no one from his door or his table. He would judge no man. He was killed wantonly by people who themselves were recipients of his charity, in the senseless violence so characteristic of this age and society. But, of all of us, he was most prepared for death, because all of his adult life he had lived on borrowed time. His health had been so precarious that death was his familiar, always at his elbow, always in his thoughts, always qualifying his plans. He often joked that he had been blessed with ordination only because no one expected him to survive his first year of priesthood, and laughed, because after 23 years of ministry he was looking forward to celebrating his silver jubilee. We who loved him – and he was greatly loved – had hoped that when it came, death would be gentle and kind, taking him by the hand, like a friend. But Father Ben was not a cautious man. He took the scriptures very seriously, and so he lived dangerously, risking himself not wisely, not sensible, but in the only way he could. And in his imprudence, his foolishness, he shamed us in our comfortable self-protection.
So now we are left to mourn his passing, and experience again the universal wounding that is inflicted whenever evil works its destruction on the innocent and the good. But if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let us mourn him in sadness, not anger, for all that is not good in our world, and in love for what is.
Father Ben was not blind to the risk inherent in the way he lived, but he accepted it because he could see no other way to follow the Gospel warning, "Whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do to me," and in his relentless search for God, he took all who came his way into himself, and gave what he had without reserve.
In his physical frailty and stubborn commitment, he was completely vulnerable and well aware of it. But the image of the crucified Christ, in all his utterly defenseless love and self-giving, was always before his eyes, and bound him in ways we cautious ones could not fully understand.
So, if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let it be in a way that will draw us to greater vulnerability and less self-protectiveness. Let it be with greater generosity and acceptance. Let it be with understanding, or at least an effort towards it, of the tormented creatures whose injured morality gives no value to human life and no respect to goodness.
If we are to mourn Father Ben, let us do it in a way he would value, taking ourselves something of the burden he carried: that of bringing the presence of Christ to those who do not know him, and risking their rejection and abuse.
It is a heavy burden, and few of us could heft it with the same dogged self-immolation that he did. But we can all give a little more of ourselves, drop a few more defenses, mortgage a little more comfort and safety, to carry Christ's mission into the danger zones of unbelief.
If we are not brave enough to take up the challenge of martyrdom, of standing up for Christ in the marketplaces of our lives, perhaps we can draw strength from this small man, so weak in body and so invincible in faith, and achieve with him, in faith, what we cannot do alone.
It would be a fitting way to mourn a man of God and something of value to offer in exchange for a life so freely given.
________________________________
In 1982, Father Benjamin Carrier checked into a hotel in Yuma, Arizona, with two unknown men. Days later, he was discovered bound, and dead, in his hotel bed, and the two men were no where to be found. Who were the men that killed Father Benjamin?
Fifty four year old Father Benjamin J. Carrier had a big heart, and a soft spot for helping others. He was a chaplain at the Our Lady of Light Roman Catholic Church at the University of San Diego, a biology instructor, and was a 1959 graduate of the school. Father Benjamin had won an award for the outstanding work he did- on July 4, 1981, he was given the Buddy Bishop award, which was to "recognize members whose lives are marked by outstanding contributions to their career field, community, and the University." Father Benjamin had a particular focus on helping those with drug rehabilitation, and integrating former prison inmates back into society. In the announcement that detailed the award he was given, Father Benjamin was described as "a dedicated, selfless man, who has given his life blood for the love of others."
On November 8 1982, at 3pm, Father Benjamin checked himself into the El Rancho Motel, in Yuma, Arizona. Yuma, Arizona is right on the border of Arizona and California, and it was never concluded exactly why he was visiting the small town- but it was stated that he headed west for a meeting in El Centro, California, and possibly stopped in Yuma to visit friends he knew there. When he was filling out the forms for his hotel room, the clerk noticed another man in his truck- this man was described as between 20 to 25 years of age, with a medium build, about 5'6", and having light facial hair.
Father Benjamin was seen once again with this man, as well as an additional man, in the pool during his stay, around 5pm that Tuesday. The other man was described as having medium length brown hair, and light skin. One of the men had a tattoo on the underside of his left forearm. It is believed that Father Benjamin picked these individuals up as hitchhikers, as he was known to do, despite many people in his circle detailing how dangerous that could be.
On the afternoon of November 10, 1982, a housekeeper of the hotel entered the chaplain's room, to discover him dead in his bed. He was lying face down, with his hands tied behind his back, his legs tied together, and cold to the touch. It is possible that Father Benjamin had been stripped of his clothes, but the lead detective at the time chose not to confirm or deny this. The housekeeper rushed to the front desk to describe what she had discovered, where the staff immediately called the police. Authorities arrived at 2:15 pm, and declared Father Benjamin dead- he had been asphyxiated.
His 1981 Toyota pick up truck and wallet were also missing, but the car was discovered two days later, 295 miles north of Yuma, in Las Vegas. Investigators travelled to Vegas in order to process the car for evidence, but if they found anything worthwhile, it has never been released. Days after the murder, a staff writer for the San Diego Union Tribute wrote about Father Benjamin, stating that he had a prior history of being kidnapped by hitchhikers, and had even once had a knife held to his throat. These instances never dissuaded the chaplain from helping others- he never hardened towards those who needed him, and continued to see the good in others, despite it all.
After the murder, many people spoke of the different ways he tried to help others, beyond giving a ride to the random hitchhiker. He also was willing to open his own home to anyone who was in need, and was described after the murder as "probably one of the most selfless people I've ever met. He was kind, gentle, and a terrific example.. he left a great impression" by Reverend Larry Dolan, who succeeded Father Benjamin as chaplain at the University of San Diego.
Despite a composite sketch being made up of the two men, neither have ever been identified. In 2019, it was released that new evidence was being processed which produced a new lead, but they refused to say more about what that entailed, as investigators are still working the nearly 40 year old case. Currently, in 2022, no new additional information has been released, and it appears no arrests have been made in the murder of Father Benjamin Carrier.
~ source: https://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/xdmsl0/in_1982_father_benjamin_carrier_checked_into_a/?rdt=41094
________________________________
See also:
https://www.facebook.com/FrBenMemorial
https://www.abc15.com/news/region-central-southern-az/yuma/murder-of-beloved-chaplain-in-yuma-remains-unsolved-40-years-later
From the wonderful book "Simply Benjamin" by ENID LANYON:
The week after Fr. Carrier's death, the Southern Cross, the diocesan newspaper, published the following article which served, in its way, as an obituary, It was titled:
"Absolom, Absolom, My Son"
Last week a man died. He did not die peacefully, although he was a man of peace. He did not die as good people should die, surrounded by love and loved ones. He did not die among friends although he had always surrounded himself with friends.
There was no one to pray with him as he died, although he was a priest. He died many miles from home, murdered and left like something of no worth, although he was a man who valued each person for himself and would give them no less than the value he knew they owned in God's sight.
He was a fool for Christ: a man who accepted and trusted where we, who are more prudent and wise in the ways of the world, would not. He would turn no one from his door or his table. He would judge no man. He was killed wantonly by people who themselves were recipients of his charity, in the senseless violence so characteristic of this age and society. But, of all of us, he was most prepared for death, because all of his adult life he had lived on borrowed time. His health had been so precarious that death was his familiar, always at his elbow, always in his thoughts, always qualifying his plans. He often joked that he had been blessed with ordination only because no one expected him to survive his first year of priesthood, and laughed, because after 23 years of ministry he was looking forward to celebrating his silver jubilee. We who loved him – and he was greatly loved – had hoped that when it came, death would be gentle and kind, taking him by the hand, like a friend. But Father Ben was not a cautious man. He took the scriptures very seriously, and so he lived dangerously, risking himself not wisely, not sensible, but in the only way he could. And in his imprudence, his foolishness, he shamed us in our comfortable self-protection.
So now we are left to mourn his passing, and experience again the universal wounding that is inflicted whenever evil works its destruction on the innocent and the good. But if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let us mourn him in sadness, not anger, for all that is not good in our world, and in love for what is.
Father Ben was not blind to the risk inherent in the way he lived, but he accepted it because he could see no other way to follow the Gospel warning, "Whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do to me," and in his relentless search for God, he took all who came his way into himself, and gave what he had without reserve.
In his physical frailty and stubborn commitment, he was completely vulnerable and well aware of it. But the image of the crucified Christ, in all his utterly defenseless love and self-giving, was always before his eyes, and bound him in ways we cautious ones could not fully understand.
So, if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let it be in a way that will draw us to greater vulnerability and less self-protectiveness. Let it be with greater generosity and acceptance. Let it be with understanding, or at least an effort towards it, of the tormented creatures whose injured morality gives no value to human life and no respect to goodness.
If we are to mourn Father Ben, let us do it in a way he would value, taking ourselves something of the burden he carried: that of bringing the presence of Christ to those who do not know him, and risking their rejection and abuse.
It is a heavy burden, and few of us could heft it with the same dogged self-immolation that he did. But we can all give a little more of ourselves, drop a few more defenses, mortgage a little more comfort and safety, to carry Christ's mission into the danger zones of unbelief.
If we are not brave enough to take up the challenge of martyrdom, of standing up for Christ in the marketplaces of our lives, perhaps we can draw strength from this small man, so weak in body and so invincible in faith, and achieve with him, in faith, what we cannot do alone.
It would be a fitting way to mourn a man of God and something of value to offer in exchange for a life so freely given.
________________________________
In 1982, Father Benjamin Carrier checked into a hotel in Yuma, Arizona, with two unknown men. Days later, he was discovered bound, and dead, in his hotel bed, and the two men were no where to be found. Who were the men that killed Father Benjamin?
Fifty four year old Father Benjamin J. Carrier had a big heart, and a soft spot for helping others. He was a chaplain at the Our Lady of Light Roman Catholic Church at the University of San Diego, a biology instructor, and was a 1959 graduate of the school. Father Benjamin had won an award for the outstanding work he did- on July 4, 1981, he was given the Buddy Bishop award, which was to "recognize members whose lives are marked by outstanding contributions to their career field, community, and the University." Father Benjamin had a particular focus on helping those with drug rehabilitation, and integrating former prison inmates back into society. In the announcement that detailed the award he was given, Father Benjamin was described as "a dedicated, selfless man, who has given his life blood for the love of others."
On November 8 1982, at 3pm, Father Benjamin checked himself into the El Rancho Motel, in Yuma, Arizona. Yuma, Arizona is right on the border of Arizona and California, and it was never concluded exactly why he was visiting the small town- but it was stated that he headed west for a meeting in El Centro, California, and possibly stopped in Yuma to visit friends he knew there. When he was filling out the forms for his hotel room, the clerk noticed another man in his truck- this man was described as between 20 to 25 years of age, with a medium build, about 5'6", and having light facial hair.
Father Benjamin was seen once again with this man, as well as an additional man, in the pool during his stay, around 5pm that Tuesday. The other man was described as having medium length brown hair, and light skin. One of the men had a tattoo on the underside of his left forearm. It is believed that Father Benjamin picked these individuals up as hitchhikers, as he was known to do, despite many people in his circle detailing how dangerous that could be.
On the afternoon of November 10, 1982, a housekeeper of the hotel entered the chaplain's room, to discover him dead in his bed. He was lying face down, with his hands tied behind his back, his legs tied together, and cold to the touch. It is possible that Father Benjamin had been stripped of his clothes, but the lead detective at the time chose not to confirm or deny this. The housekeeper rushed to the front desk to describe what she had discovered, where the staff immediately called the police. Authorities arrived at 2:15 pm, and declared Father Benjamin dead- he had been asphyxiated.
His 1981 Toyota pick up truck and wallet were also missing, but the car was discovered two days later, 295 miles north of Yuma, in Las Vegas. Investigators travelled to Vegas in order to process the car for evidence, but if they found anything worthwhile, it has never been released. Days after the murder, a staff writer for the San Diego Union Tribute wrote about Father Benjamin, stating that he had a prior history of being kidnapped by hitchhikers, and had even once had a knife held to his throat. These instances never dissuaded the chaplain from helping others- he never hardened towards those who needed him, and continued to see the good in others, despite it all.
After the murder, many people spoke of the different ways he tried to help others, beyond giving a ride to the random hitchhiker. He also was willing to open his own home to anyone who was in need, and was described after the murder as "probably one of the most selfless people I've ever met. He was kind, gentle, and a terrific example.. he left a great impression" by Reverend Larry Dolan, who succeeded Father Benjamin as chaplain at the University of San Diego.
Despite a composite sketch being made up of the two men, neither have ever been identified. In 2019, it was released that new evidence was being processed which produced a new lead, but they refused to say more about what that entailed, as investigators are still working the nearly 40 year old case. Currently, in 2022, no new additional information has been released, and it appears no arrests have been made in the murder of Father Benjamin Carrier.
~ source: https://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/xdmsl0/in_1982_father_benjamin_carrier_checked_into_a/?rdt=41094
________________________________
See also:
https://www.facebook.com/FrBenMemorial
https://www.abc15.com/news/region-central-southern-az/yuma/murder-of-beloved-chaplain-in-yuma-remains-unsolved-40-years-later
The week after Fr. Carrier's death, the Southern Cross, the diocesan newspaper, published the following article which served, in its way, as an obituary, It was titled:
"Absolom, Absolom, My Son"
Last week a man died. He did not die peacefully, although he was a man of peace. He did not die as good people should die, surrounded by love and loved ones. He did not die among friends although he had always surrounded himself with friends.
There was no one to pray with him as he died, although he was a priest. He died many miles from home, murdered and left like something of no worth, although he was a man who valued each person for himself and would give them no less than the value he knew they owned in God's sight.
He was a fool for Christ: a man who accepted and trusted where we, who are more prudent and wise in the ways of the world, would not. He would turn no one from his door or his table. He would judge no man. He was killed wantonly by people who themselves were recipients of his charity, in the senseless violence so characteristic of this age and society. But, of all of us, he was most prepared for death, because all of his adult life he had lived on borrowed time. His health had been so precarious that death was his familiar, always at his elbow, always in his thoughts, always qualifying his plans. He often joked that he had been blessed with ordination only because no one expected him to survive his first year of priesthood, and laughed, because after 23 years of ministry he was looking forward to celebrating his silver jubilee. We who loved him – and he was greatly loved – had hoped that when it came, death would be gentle and kind, taking him by the hand, like a friend. But Father Ben was not a cautious man. He took the scriptures very seriously, and so he lived dangerously, risking himself not wisely, not sensible, but in the only way he could. And in his imprudence, his foolishness, he shamed us in our comfortable self-protection.
So now we are left to mourn his passing, and experience again the universal wounding that is inflicted whenever evil works its destruction on the innocent and the good. But if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let us mourn him in sadness, not anger, for all that is not good in our world, and in love for what is.
Father Ben was not blind to the risk inherent in the way he lived, but he accepted it because he could see no other way to follow the Gospel warning, "Whatsoever you do to the least of these, you do to me," and in his relentless search for God, he took all who came his way into himself, and gave what he had without reserve.
In his physical frailty and stubborn commitment, he was completely vulnerable and well aware of it. But the image of the crucified Christ, in all his utterly defenseless love and self-giving, was always before his eyes, and bound him in ways we cautious ones could not fully understand.
So, if we are to mourn him, let it be in a fitting way. Let it be in a way that will draw us to greater vulnerability and less self-protectiveness. Let it be with greater generosity and acceptance. Let it be with understanding, or at least an effort towards it, of the tormented creatures whose injured morality gives no value to human life and no respect to goodness.
If we are to mourn Father Ben, let us do it in a way he would value, taking ourselves something of the burden he carried: that of bringing the presence of Christ to those who do not know him, and risking their rejection and abuse.
It is a heavy burden, and few of us could heft it with the same dogged self-immolation that he did. But we can all give a little more of ourselves, drop a few more defenses, mortgage a little more comfort and safety, to carry Christ's mission into the danger zones of unbelief.
If we are not brave enough to take up the challenge of martyrdom, of standing up for Christ in the marketplaces of our lives, perhaps we can draw strength from this small man, so weak in body and so invincible in faith, and achieve with him, in faith, what we cannot do alone.
It would be a fitting way to mourn a man of God and something of value to offer in exchange for a life so freely given.
________________________________
In 1982, Father Benjamin Carrier checked into a hotel in Yuma, Arizona, with two unknown men. Days later, he was discovered bound, and dead, in his hotel bed, and the two men were no where to be found. Who were the men that killed Father Benjamin?
Fifty four year old Father Benjamin J. Carrier had a big heart, and a soft spot for helping others. He was a chaplain at the Our Lady of Light Roman Catholic Church at the University of San Diego, a biology instructor, and was a 1959 graduate of the school. Father Benjamin had won an award for the outstanding work he did- on July 4, 1981, he was given the Buddy Bishop award, which was to "recognize members whose lives are marked by outstanding contributions to their career field, community, and the University." Father Benjamin had a particular focus on helping those with drug rehabilitation, and integrating former prison inmates back into society. In the announcement that detailed the award he was given, Father Benjamin was described as "a dedicated, selfless man, who has given his life blood for the love of others."
On November 8 1982, at 3pm, Father Benjamin checked himself into the El Rancho Motel, in Yuma, Arizona. Yuma, Arizona is right on the border of Arizona and California, and it was never concluded exactly why he was visiting the small town- but it was stated that he headed west for a meeting in El Centro, California, and possibly stopped in Yuma to visit friends he knew there. When he was filling out the forms for his hotel room, the clerk noticed another man in his truck- this man was described as between 20 to 25 years of age, with a medium build, about 5'6", and having light facial hair.
Father Benjamin was seen once again with this man, as well as an additional man, in the pool during his stay, around 5pm that Tuesday. The other man was described as having medium length brown hair, and light skin. One of the men had a tattoo on the underside of his left forearm. It is believed that Father Benjamin picked these individuals up as hitchhikers, as he was known to do, despite many people in his circle detailing how dangerous that could be.
On the afternoon of November 10, 1982, a housekeeper of the hotel entered the chaplain's room, to discover him dead in his bed. He was lying face down, with his hands tied behind his back, his legs tied together, and cold to the touch. It is possible that Father Benjamin had been stripped of his clothes, but the lead detective at the time chose not to confirm or deny this. The housekeeper rushed to the front desk to describe what she had discovered, where the staff immediately called the police. Authorities arrived at 2:15 pm, and declared Father Benjamin dead- he had been asphyxiated.
His 1981 Toyota pick up truck and wallet were also missing, but the car was discovered two days later, 295 miles north of Yuma, in Las Vegas. Investigators travelled to Vegas in order to process the car for evidence, but if they found anything worthwhile, it has never been released. Days after the murder, a staff writer for the San Diego Union Tribute wrote about Father Benjamin, stating that he had a prior history of being kidnapped by hitchhikers, and had even once had a knife held to his throat. These instances never dissuaded the chaplain from helping others- he never hardened towards those who needed him, and continued to see the good in others, despite it all.
After the murder, many people spoke of the different ways he tried to help others, beyond giving a ride to the random hitchhiker. He also was willing to open his own home to anyone who was in need, and was described after the murder as "probably one of the most selfless people I've ever met. He was kind, gentle, and a terrific example.. he left a great impression" by Reverend Larry Dolan, who succeeded Father Benjamin as chaplain at the University of San Diego.
Despite a composite sketch being made up of the two men, neither have ever been identified. In 2019, it was released that new evidence was being processed which produced a new lead, but they refused to say more about what that entailed, as investigators are still working the nearly 40 year old case. Currently, in 2022, no new additional information has been released, and it appears no arrests have been made in the murder of Father Benjamin Carrier.
~ source: https://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/xdmsl0/in_1982_father_benjamin_carrier_checked_into_a/?rdt=41094
________________________________
See also:
https://www.facebook.com/FrBenMemorial
https://www.abc15.com/news/region-central-southern-az/yuma/murder-of-beloved-chaplain-in-yuma-remains-unsolved-40-years-later
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Fr. Benjamin J. Carrier
Sep 9,1928 - Nov 10,1982
"A Good Man"
