Fieri and Haas had been introduced
by a mutual friend named Charles “Chic”
Ford, a 67-year-old auto mechanic who
sold nutritional supplements on the side.
It was Ford who emailed Haas’ résumé to
Fieri, leading her to bring the programmer
to the Tessr interview. The two bonded over
their shared passion for composing music,
as well as their past struggles with the lure
of drugs: Haas told Fieri that he’d recently
gotten sober after years of abusing opiates,
and Fieri had once been in the thrall of pain-
killers after a back injury. They made for a
visually striking couple—the gangly Haas
with his Nordic mien, the petite Fieri with
her jet-black hair. They moved in together
in a bleak extended-stay hotel in northeast
Columbus but were saving up for a house
in the affluent suburb of Bexley. They even
opened a joint bank account. The 43-year-
old Fieri, who’d previously envisioned her-
self going through life unhitched, claims to
have believed it inevitable that she would
someday marry Haas.
“He struck me hard,” she says in an inter-
view. “I fell into ... well, not to be too poetic,
but I fell into the position where what I
wanted in my secret places was possible in
the real places.”
Fieri agrees with Sylvia that Haas’ mood
had deteriorated as August wore on. But
that’s where their agreement ends. She
ascribed her boyfriend’s angst to turmoil
inside Tessr. According to Fieri, Haas had
become disillusioned with the startup. “We
just had the feeling they were telling peo-
ple what they wanted to hear, whatever
they wanted to hear, because they were
like, ‘Hey, let’s be millionaires,’” says Fieri,
who cut back on her involvement with Tessr
during the company’s token presale. “But
Jerold wasn’t like that, I’m not like that. I
dunno, maybe we’re just hippies at heart.”
(Sylvia vehemently disputes Fieri’s asser-
tion. He was solely committed to using Tessr
to provide free education for the betterment
of society, he says, with no regard for per-
sonal enrichment.)
Fieri told the detectives that she’d last seen
her boyfriend on August 30, shortly before the
Tessr board meeting. Haas had been coding
nonstop for days, incessantly popping legal
“smart drugs” such as phenibut, a Soviet-era
tranquilizer, which is supposed to enhance
concentration. He called Fieri to say he was
suffering from acute anxiety; Fieri suggested
they grab an early dinner to relax before the
meeting. The two met at a mall and started to
walk to a nearby restaurant. But Haas raced
ahead and darted around a street corner.
When Fieri made that same turn, the man
she’d hoped to marry was gone.
Fieri said she wasn’t too concerned at
first. Haas often isolated himself when he
felt overwhelmed. He would pace the streets
of Columbus with a baggy black hoodie
pulled so tight around his head that his eyes
were scarcely visible. After days passed
with no word, Fieri assumed he’d gone to
visit his mother, who she knew lived some-