Unraveling the 2007 Murder of Anita Knutson
I usually reserve my true crime posts for Thursdays, but this one needed a minute.
With the trial wrapping up on Wednesday and so much emotion surrounding the verdict, I wanted to take a little more time before putting this together. Anitaโs story deserves that.
Also – I really wanted this to get out quickly. So today we are out of order.
The Weekend No One Heard From Her
Anita Knutsonโs phone had stopped ringing. Her texts had gone unanswered.
By Monday morning, June 4, 2007, she hadnโt shown up for her shift at the hotel. She hadnโt called her mom back. She wasnโt answering when her dad, Gordon, tried to reach her.
She was 18. A freshman at Minot State University. Living in a basement apartment on 11th Avenue NW. She worked two jobs. She checked in often. She didnโt disappear.
When Gordon drove to the apartment that morning, he brought the building manager and a maintenance worker with him. The door was locked. Everything was still.
They circled the building to the back. Thatโs when they saw the window screen, torn and thrown into the grass.
Gordon looked through her bedroom window and saw Anita lying on her bed, facedown, with a white bathrobe draped across her back.
She looked like she was sleeping. He reached through the window to wake her up.
Her body was cold.
What Was Missing, and What Wasn’t
Anita had been stabbed twice in the chest.
There were no defensive wounds. No struggle. No sign that she had tried to run. The apartment wasnโt ransacked. Her wallet and cash were still there. Her phone was still plugged in. The only thing missing was her pink iPod.
Whoever had killed her hadnโt broken in. Investigators determined the screen had been cut from the inside. The scene had been staged.
And the only person who shared the apartment with her, the only other person with a key, was nowhere to be found.
The Roommate
Nineteen-year-old Nichole Rice told police sheโd spent the weekend at her parentsโ farm. She wasnโt home when Anita was killed, she said. She didnโt know anything about it.
But her story shifted. She gave different accounts about how sheโd found out. At one point she said she heard it from the news. Then from her boyfriend. Then a mutual friend.
She didnโt seem upset, investigators said. Not shocked. Not confused.
And she already knew about the missing iPod, a detail that had never been released.
Trouble in the Apartment
The girls hadnโt been close. Anita had complained to friends that there was tension. Disagreements about chores, about space, about a boy. Small things, but things that had made her uncomfortable. Her friends and coworkers said she was trying to stick it out, hoping things would settle with time.
Nichole wasnโt arrested. There were no fingerprints. No murder weapon. No security footage.
Anitaโs funeral came and went. And the case, like so many others, quietly went cold.
A Second Funeral
It would take less than two years for the Knutson family to bury their second child.
Anitaโs younger brother, Daniel, was just sixteen when she died. The grief hit him hard. He became quiet. Then withdrawn. He was close to his sister. She had been his person. And when she was taken, something in him unraveled.
Eighteen months after Anitaโs murder, Daniel died by suicide.
There is no way to say that without it sitting heavy in your chest. No way to describe the kind of silence that follows two funerals, two lives lost, and no one held accountable.
The Confessions
In 2008, a man named William May told investigators that Nichole Rice had confessed to him the year before. They had been drinking. He said she told him she had killed her roommate. That it had been eating her alive.
Another woman came forward and said Rice had confessed again. This time in frustration. People were gossiping. She was tired of the rumors. She blurted it out. โI did it,โ she said. โI killed her.โ
Both reports were made. Neither was followed up at the time in a way that changed the course of the investigation.
Nichole Rice went on with her life. She got married. Took a government job. Stayed in Minot.
And Anitaโs room stayed empty.
An Arrest at Last
In 2022, the case was reopened with help from Cold Justice. A cold case detective revisited the timeline, the witness statements, and the missed opportunities. That March, police arrested Nichole Rice and charged her with the murder of Anita Knutson.
At the time of her arrest, she was working on base at Minot Air Force as an administrative assistant.
She was taken into custody quietly, fifteen years after Anita was found facedown in her bed.
The Trial
The trial didnโt begin until March 2025. The venue was moved to Grand Forks due to pretrial publicity.
The prosecution laid out a timeline that had never made sense. They presented the confessions. The inconsistencies. The missing iPod. They pointed out how the window screen had been cut from the inside. They told the jury what Anitaโs family had known in their bones since 2007.
The defense argued that the case was built on memory and emotion. That there was no forensic evidence tying Rice to the scene. That she had simply been young, confused, and gossiped about.
After five and a half hours of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict.
Not guilty.
The Silence After the Verdict
Nichole Rice walked out of the courtroom.
There are no other suspects. The case is closed. The silence, once again, settles.
And What We’re Left With
There are cases that feel unclear. This has never been one of them.
From the earliest days of the investigation, something in this story stood out. The coldness. The timeline. The changing explanations. The details that shouldnโt have been known. The pieces that didnโt add up.
What the jury decided doesnโt erase what this family has lost. It doesnโt bring back Anita. It doesnโt bring back Daniel. And it doesnโt answer the questions that have quietly lived in this case since the moment Gordon reached through his daughterโs window and realized she was gone.
Itโs not my place to declare guilt. But I can say this. Some verdicts donโt feel like endings.
This one feels like a pause. And a deeply painful one at that.
Because the truth didnโt get to speak that day.
The silence did.
Stay Curious…
xoxo
-S
As an amateur true crime writer, I strive to provide accurate and well-researched information. However, please be aware that I am not a professional investigator or journalist, and my work is based on available sources and my understanding of the case. There may be inaccuracies or incomplete details in my posts. I encourage readers to seek out additional sources and verify information from official and professional channels. Thank you for your understanding and support.




















