John Larson Correspondent

"The only thing I regret about that morning is the fact that was one morning I didn't follow him out to the back door and give him a kiss before he went off to chore," says Ronda Lyon. "That was the last I saw him."

When Ronda Lyon's husband Tom left to work the fields on a cold January morning four and a half years ago, she could have never predicted what was about to unfold -- the taking of her husband's life in a manner so gruesome it would shake a small midwestern farming community to its core.

Milo is cradled in the farmlands of Iowa, 30 miles south of Des Moines as the crow flies. With just over 800 people, it appears a nearly perfect picture of the midwest heartland. The crops patchwork the country like a quilt. Here John Deere is king, the state fair rules, and routine is the way of life.

Pastor Smith: My closest neighbor is a quarter mile away. We live in a community where there is-- you watch out for each other. Very seldom do you lock your doors or take your keys out of your car.

Keith Smith is the pastor of a local church. He lived right next door to Ronda Lyon and her husband Tom in a part of town known as Motor. Tom was a longtime farmer known for his practical jokes and his funny nickname.

Pastor Smith: He was kindly called the mayor of Motor … and he had business cards made up and as a joke he handed out "Mayor of Motor" cards. And he looked out for the community.

According to Ronda Lyon, her husband Tom was a larger-than-life character. He and Ronda were married for 32 years and raised two children. But farming is a tough way to make a living, and the mayor knew it -- and so did Rod Heemstra, who was a farmer just down the road from Tom and Ronda.

Rodney Heemstra: I started farming as soon as I got out of high school, back in 1977.

Heemstra got married a few years later and the young couple had two boys. He first met Tom Lyon nearly 30 years ago selling pigs. But as a fourth generation farmer, Rod Heemstra now knew the secret to modern farming success: expand or perish.

Rodney Heemstra: To have a viable farming operation in the midwest today, you have to continue to add acres.

That's why when a prime piece of land goes on the market, like it did back in the summer of 2002, that friendly midwestern manner we've all heard so much about can turn cutthroat.

This time the land going up for sale was called the Rogers Place, some of the richest farmland in this entire area. For years, Tom Lyon had rented and farmed the Rogers Place and now he wanted to buy it. After all, it's just across the road from his own home. But before he knew it, a farmer just down the road, Rod Heemstra, closed the deal.

Rodney Heemstra: I learned a long time ago that if you don't move on them relatively quickly somebody else may come in the next morning and then you've lost the deal.

So Rod Heemstra now owned it, but Tom Lyon's rental agreement still had a few months to run, and Lyon's cows would still be grazing on the property. Soon, there was bad blood between the two men.

Rodney Heemstra: I'd be back there checkingthe waters or whatever. And he'd be getting out of his pickup and follow me around. And he'd say, "You know, I'm going to make damn sure you don't end up with this farm."

But the routines of farming in the Iowa town marched along. The state fair came and went. The fall harvest rolled by. The holidays passed, until the morning of Monday, Jan. 13, 2003, when Tom Lyon went missing.

John Larson: What's the first inkling you had that something had gone wrong?
Ronda Lyon: Oh, between 8:30 and 9:00, I kinda was surprised that he hadn't come back to the house, 160440 and I kept thinking, "I wonder why he isn't coming in."

Tom Lyon was not answering his cell phone, so Ronda went looking. She found Tom's pickup truck parked just down the road.

Ronda Lyon: That's when I got scared and I thought something is wrong with this picture.

Police were called, and with the help of the local fire department launced a search. Word of Tom's disappearance quickly spread.

Ronda Lyon: I couldn't believe what was going on. It didn't seem right.

For the next two days, in bitter cold, the 100's of neighbors and friends Tom looked out for as the unofficial mayor of motor, were now looking for him.

John Larson (Dateline correspondent): You saw search parties?
Rodney Heemstra: Yes.
John Larson: Neighbors out there looking in the fields?
Rodney Heemstra: Yeah.
John Larson: What'd you think at that point?
Rodney Heemstra: I was just numb. My mind was numb.

What could have possibly have happened to Tom Lyon in the middle of a field? Everyone had a theory. Maybe he had a heart attack, or maybe he'd committed suicide. Tom Lyon had been depressed. He'd been having a tough time making ends meet on the farm, and his daughter had serious health problems. But there was even a more sinister possibility. The area was known to hide meth labs -- drug dealers.

Ronda Lyon: What if somebody was doing something and at gunpoint they took him. And somewhere along the line, they had disposed of his body that way.

Night fell, and the temperature plummeted well below freezing.

About two o'clock that next afternoon, 24 hours after he'd been reported missing, searchers found something on a dried corn stalk. It was blood.

Pastor Smith: At that point they had a crime scene.

Police soon followed a trail of blood to a nearby farm when captain Tom McNamara, a local sheriff's deputy, sat Ronda down.

Pastor Smith: I remember sitting on the front row with her and McNamara saying, "Ronda, what color watch did Tom wear?" and she said, "I think it was a silver Timex." And he says, "We found a silver Timex in the field."

Police then made the grisly discovery. It was the body of Tom Lyon stuffed head-first into an old well. His clothes, even the skin on his face, was ripped apart. Police broke the news to Ronda.

Ronda Lyon: And it was later on in the evening they came in and told us that they had found his body.

The small town had its first murder in more than 100 years.

Keith Smith: I mean, this is rural Iowa. These things don't happen in rural Iowa. These things happen in Chicago, New York, Los Angeles. Not at Motor.

John Larson: What did the police ask you about who might have done this to him?
Ronda Lyon: Would there have been anyone that I could think of in the community that he would have gotten into an argument with.

Ronda recalled a run-in Tom had a few months back over that piece of land he and Rod Heemstra had been arguing about. In fact, after he bought the property, Rod Heemstra turned off the water, leaving her husband's cattle high and dry.

Ronda Lyon: And I think there was just a festering there, and he just decided then I'll show you. And I'll get you out of the way.

John Larson: At what point did you know the police were looking at you?
Rodney Heemstra: When they pulled in the driveway, I guess.

Heemstra told detectives he had no idea what happened to Tom Lyon. In fact, he said he hadn't seen Tom since the week before.

But then, detectives saw what appeared to be blood on Heemstra's pickup. But before they could analyze it, an emotional and apparently exhausted Rod Heemstra sat with deputies in an unmarked police car, broke down, and confessed. He had killed Tom Lyon.

(Police interrogation)
Rod Heemstra: Oh, god. I'm terrible.
Police: So it was one shot. What-- and this was a rifle? Like a .22 rifle or what?
Heemstra: It's a .22.
Detective: It's a .22?
Heemstra: It's a .22 semi-automatic.

According to Rod Heemstra, he was driving past Tom Lyon's house early that morning, when Tom pulled out in front of him, slowed down, and then blocked the road.

Both men got out of their trucks and the bad blood which had been simmering between the two since the farm sale erupted. Rod Heemstra said that Tom Lyon was so enraged, so threatening that he went back to his pickup, got out his rifle and pointed it at Tom Lyon, hoping the sight of the rifle would calm Lyon down.

(Police interrogation)
Heemstra: I was mad and scared both. I mean, I had a lot of mixed emotions.

And though police arrested Rod Heemstra and charged him with first-degree premeditated murder, Heemstra insisted he was the one threatened that day, that he only acted out of self-defense after months of being bullied by Tom Lyon.

Was it self-defense or murder?

A jury would soon hear two very different accounts of what happened early one morning down this cold country road.

MORE FROM CRIME STORIES

Crime stories Section Front

Where There's Smoke... Secrets in the Box Slideshow: The yacht murder The many faces of Clark Rockefeller Trouble on the hill: The danger next door Slideshow: The Grimes and the Kenneys Dance with the devil: Wife barely escapes death Mystery in the deep blue sea Fatal Visions: Did woman foresee her death? Read Faylene's letter to Doug and Hilary Crime stories Section Front   Add Crime stories headlines to your news reader: