A 67-year-old Baltimore man now faces first-degree murder, rape, and handgun charges in the 1986 killing of a young dancer, a case prosecutors say DNA finally cracked after nearly 40 years.
David Alexander Williams has been indicted in the death of Teresa Ann Houck, the Office of the State's Attorney for Baltimore City confirmed. Houck was 23 when her body was found in a grassy stretch of Druid Hill Park in October 1986.
Charging papers describe a brutal scene. Houck was nude from the waist down and had been shot multiple times in the head, neck, and chest. Williams is charged with first-degree murder, first-degree rape, and use of a handgun.
State's Attorney Ivan J. Bates framed the case as unfinished business that never left the city’s docket.
"Nearly 40 years may have passed, but our commitment to seeking justice for Ms. Houck and her loved ones has never wavered,"
Bates said. That stance matters in a city where too many old homicide files once sat cold while families waited.
Houck worked as a dancer at the Pussycat Club. Co-workers and acquaintances said she left around 2 a.m. on October 22, 1986, and was never seen alive again. Investigators later tied that last known moment to the body recovery in Druid Hill Park the same month.
For years the trail went quiet. Then lab work changed the file. In May 2005, scientists identified sperm collected from Houck during the autopsy. A male DNA profile was built and entered into the Combined DNA Index System, known as CODIS, the national DNA database used by law enforcement.
Cold cases often turn on that kind of patient forensic work, much as a DNA test exposed a hidden truth in a long-buried fertility dispute elsewhere. Science does not replace policing. It gives police a second chance when old evidence still holds a profile.
On September 18, 2025, the Maryland State Police issued a CODIS “Hit Letter.” A routine search of the Maryland DNA Database produced a high-stringency match between Williams and the full male DNA profile taken from vaginal swabs recovered from Houck.
Bates’ office put the finding in plain terms.
"On September 18, 2025, a CODIS 'Hit Letter' issued by the Maryland State Police indicated that a routine search of the Maryland DNA Database resulted in a high-stringency match between David Alexander Williams... and the full DNA male profile that was identified on the vaginal swabs recovered from Ms. Houck,"
the office stated. After the hit, authorities obtained a warrant for an oral DNA sample from Williams. Baltimore police’s crime lab compared the samples and concluded he was the sole contributor of the sperm collected from Houck.
Williams was arrested in July and charged in September in the Houck case. The indictment on the murder, rape, and handgun counts followed, with the state’s attorney’s office confirming it Tuesday.
Long-delayed accountability is not abstract for victims’ families. Readers tracking other drawn-out cases have watched a body recovery lead to a murder charge years after a disappearance, and they know how much weight a formal charging document can carry when answers finally arrive.
Bates tied the breakthrough to steady police work and better tools, not luck.
"What began as an unspeakable act of violence, with evidence of an apparent sexual assault, ultimately provided the critical lead that allowed investigators to identify a suspect and bring this case before the courts."
He added a second point aimed at families still waiting on older files.
"This arrest is a testament to the relentless determination of our law enforcement partners and the advancements in forensic technology that continue to give new hope to families who have waited decades for answers,"
Bates said. The message is straightforward: keep the evidence, fund the labs, and run the databases. When sperm evidence from 1986 can still produce a sole-contributor finding in 2025, cold-case units stop being symbolic and start being practical.
Unsolved killings and open disappearances still grind on elsewhere, including high-profile searches that remain unresolved months later, such as coverage around a missing-person case that has stretched on without answers. Houck’s file shows why law-and-order voters keep pressing for finished investigations instead of quiet closures.
The public record laid out by prosecutors and charging documents is specific on method and identity, and silent on motive. Houck left work in the early morning hours of October 22, 1986. Her body was found in Druid Hill Park with gunshot wounds to the head, neck, and chest. Sexual-assault evidence recovered in the autopsy later yielded a male profile. That profile sat in CODIS until a 2025 database hit named Williams. A follow-up oral sample, police say, confirmed him as the sole contributor.
No plea, defense counsel, or trial date appears in the available official statements. No recovered handgun is described beyond the use-of-a-handgun charge itself. Those gaps belong to the court process still ahead.
Other multi-decade criminal sagas remind the public how long the justice system can run, including the story of a man who spent 76 years behind bars on a generations-old murder case. Time does not erase a homicide. It tests whether institutions still mean to finish the job.
For Houck’s loved ones, the indictment does not rewrite 1986. It puts a named defendant in the system on the hardest charges the law allows and forces the evidence into open court. That is how accountability is supposed to work when DNA, police, and prosecutors finally align.
When a rape-murder file from the Reagan years can still produce an indictment in 2025, it is a reminder that justice delayed is not always justice denied, if the labs stay open, the databases stay searched, and the will to prosecute holds.