At 11:11 p.m. on NovEMBER 10, 2012, the southeast sky of Indianapolis flashed orange.
Houses shuddered. Sirens wailed. Social media lit up with rumors of a plane crash, a meth lab explosion—or had a bomb gone off?
In the otherwise quiet neighborhood of Richmond Hill, a blast not experienced in modern Indianapolis history—with the force of almost five tons of TNT—rocked a small community, wrecking homes and lives.
After a three-day emergency response, a yearslong investigation revealed foul play. At the center of the case, Mark Leonard, a womanizer with gambling debts who preyed on divorcees, hatched an arson plot for money with his girlfriend, Monserrate Shirley. In court, Shirley testified Leonard had promised to show her how to make a lot of money. “I thought it was crazy,” she told a jury, “but I went along with him.” Shirley upped her home insurance to $300,000 while Leonard crafted a plan to set the structure on fire. Leonard rigged a gas line and microwave, the couple boarded a cat named Snowball that belonged to Shirley’s 12-year-old daughter, and Shirley and Leonard headed out of town to the Hollywood Casino in Lawrenceburg for the night where they awaited a payday.
But what happened next far exceeded a grubby insurance scam. Two Richmond Hill residents—Dion and Jennifer Longworth—died. Twelve people were injured. Five hundred calls flooded local 911 operators at county dispatch. Thirty-three houses were destroyed to the tune of $4 million in damages. It was a plot worthy of a Coen brothers–like truecrime tale—down to Leonard’s attempt to hire a hitman from jail to kill a witness—and a multiyear prosecution eventually led to two trials, more than 5,000 pieces of evidence, and the convictions of Shirley, Leonard, and his half-brother, Robert Leonard Jr., an accomplice. Mark Leonard died in 2018 while serving two life sentences at the Wabash Valley Correctional Facility. Shirley, who is serving 50 years in the Indiana Women’s Prison, declined an interview request. Attempts to interview Robert Leonard—serving life without parole—were unsuccessful.
Amid the darkness of the saga, moments of humanity and kindness and Hoosier hospitality emerged, recalled many who lived through the experience and shared their stories. Citizens rushed to a staging area near the
