On the morning of June 4th, 2002, a fisherman on Lake Lewisville noticed something floating near the shoreline. It wasn't debris. It wasn't an animal. It was wrapped in black plastic and bound with rope. What investigators pulled from that water—the body of fifty-three-year-old Frank Weiss, sandbags duct-taped to his legs—would launch a murder investigation that went cold for over two decades.
The Marriage That Was Never Supposed to Happen
Frank Weiss lived in Frisco, Texas, a fast-growing Dallas suburb of new developments and quiet streets. He'd married Lisa Honrud, but by early 2002, the marriage was over. Frank hadn't filed for divorce—he'd requested an annulment. That distinction matters. An annulment is a statement that the marriage should never have existed in the first place.
Lisa signed the papers. But the annulment would never be finalized.
A little over a month before he disappeared, Frank made another decision. He changed the beneficiary on his life insurance policy. He removed Lisa's name. He added his daughter, Carla. According to investigators, it remains unclear whether Lisa knew about that beneficiary change. But they believe it may have played a role in what happened next.
On June 2nd, 2002, Frank Weiss and Lisa Honrud went to dinner together. That dinner was the last time anyone saw Frank Weiss alive.
A Body the Lake Gave Back
Two days after that dinner, Frank's body surfaced in Lake Lewisville. The lake is massive—over 29,000 acres—and bodies dumped in water are sometimes never found. But the sandbags weren't enough. Maybe the plastic created buoyancy. Maybe the weights weren't heavy enough. Whatever the reason, the lake gave Frank Weiss back.
The autopsy revealed the cause of death: a gunshot wound from a .38 caliber firearm. His body had been wrapped in black plastic bags, tied with rope, weighted down. Someone had time, privacy, and a plan. That's not a stranger's crime.
When Frank's daughter Carla tried to reach her father in the days following his disappearance, she contacted Lisa. According to investigators, Lisa told her that Frank had gone to Cancun. He didn't want to be bothered. Don't try to reach him.
But Frank Weiss hadn't gone anywhere. His body had already been found. And that lie—buying time, delaying the missing person report—would haunt the investigation for twenty-four years.
The Evidence That Wasn't Enough
Investigators knew about the annulment papers. They knew about the changed beneficiary form. They knew Lisa had access to Frank—they'd had dinner together the night before his body was found. The Frisco Police Department built a case against his wife.
But they didn't have the murder weapon. They didn't have witnesses. And circumstantial evidence—even compelling circumstantial evidence—isn't always enough for an arrest.
So the case went cold. Months became years. Years became decades. The file sat in evidence storage. Frank's daughter Carla raised her own family knowing the person responsible for her father's murder was still out there. Still living their life.
The Frisco Police Department never stopped working the case. They periodically re-interviewed witnesses. They reviewed evidence with fresh eyes. They waited for a break.
Twenty-Four Years of Silence
That break came in April 2026. A witness—someone who had known crucial information since 2002—finally came forward.
According to the arrest affidavit, this witness told investigators that before Frank Weiss disappeared, they had given Lisa Honrud a gun. Specifically—a .38 caliber revolver. The same caliber used to kill Frank Weiss.
But there was more. The witness told detectives that years ago, after learning Weiss had been killed with a .38, they had confronted Lisa about the gun. According to the affidavit, Lisa allegedly responded with four words: "We got rid of it." She told the witness they'd thrown the gun off a bridge—over Joe Pool Lake, about forty miles southwest of Lake Lewisville.
If the gun went into that water, it's likely never coming out. But investigators didn't need the gun. What they needed was testimony. Someone had finally broken their silence.
On April 20th, 2026—twenty-four years after Frank Weiss's body was pulled from Lake Lewisville—Lisa Honrud was arrested in Waxahachie, Texas. She was fifty-five years old. She was charged with murder.
What This Case Teaches Us
The question that lingers: why did the witness wait so long? What changed in 2026 that made them willing to speak when they hadn't spoken for twenty-four years? Sometimes witnesses stay quiet out of fear. Sometimes loyalty. Sometimes they don't realize what they know is relevant. And sometimes circumstances just change.
Cases like this one show something important about spousal homicide investigations. When marriages end violently, the warning signs are often there—in the paperwork. Life insurance beneficiary changes. Annulment filings. Financial disputes. These documents create timelines. They point investigators toward motive.
This case also demonstrates the value of persistence in cold case work. Witnesses who stay silent for years can change their minds. The statute of limitations on murder never expires.
Lisa Honrud is presumed innocent until proven guilty. She's been charged—not convicted. What happens next will unfold in a Texas courtroom, where a jury will weigh the witness testimony about the gun, the circumstantial evidence about the annulment and the insurance, and the timeline of that final dinner.
For Frank Weiss's family—for his daughter Carla—the arrest represents something they've waited twenty-four years to see. Someone being held accountable. Some truths take two decades to emerge. But Frank Weiss came back from that lake. And eventually, so did the truth.
