Huron Street in downtown Toledo.
“It was small, silver, with a round face and easy to read numerals. It cost $48,” Laura Marie continued.
Looking through his notes, the detective saw that among Margaret Ann’s possessions recovered from her room was a receipt for the watch from said jeweler. A police alert would be put out to pawnshops in case someone tried to pawn it. Until it was recovered, it had to be assumed that it was stolen. If no one in the convent had stolen it—always a possibility but not likely—then it had to be in the murderer’s possession. If that were the case, the killer was a guy who liked having a souvenir of his kill. It would also be a nice piece of direct evidence for the prosecution to produce in court if they could recover it.
The city of Toledo had been galvanized by Margaret Ann’s murder. Citizens wanted the killer caught. Paranoia ran rampant. Toledo’s citizens began informing on their neighbors.
Everyone began to look for the man who had killed the nun. The urban myth of the mysterious and suspicious black/Mexican/dark-skinned man reared its ugly head once again. People came forward from all parts of the city and beyond to say that prior to/on the day of/ just after the murder, in the shadows of the hospital/the surrounding neighborhood/the city of Candiotti miles away, there was lurking a mysterious and suspicious black/Mexican/dark-skinned man.
A whole lot of scared white people said it was the black guy “over there,” as if a white “bad guy” couldn’t be capable of such brutality. Few of the TPD files show a name attached to any of these “suspects.” In those cases where they were named, the names have been blacked out because police cleared them of all participation in the homicide. What it does show clearly is racist paranoia. The Toledo cops had to deal with every nut, freak, and schizophrenic that came out of the woodwork to claim knowledge either of the killing or of the person who had done it.
Some of them were classic. Psychic Beverly Holmes called the TPD from nearby Maumee, Ohio. Detective Matt Holbrook took the call.
“I’m calling to offer my services in the Pahl case. I’m a psychic,” she told Holbrook, who was taking careful notes. “I’ve helped the FBI.”
“So what do you know?” Holbrook asked.
“A white male from Delaware. I’m not sure if that is the state he is from or the street he lives on.”
“Go on.”
“The victim knew him. He was carrying a grocery sack and at times flowers which means he is a delivery boy. This person knows music and plays a strung instrument. He has a mental history, caused by the way he was treated by his parents. He is a negative person.”
“Anything else?” Holbrook asked politely.
“No.”
Hanging up, Holbrook wrote in his notes, “This person appears to have no knowledge of the case whatsoever.”
Delaware? One of the more interesting “tips” came from Pat Logston, a schoolteacher at St. Hyacinth. Her husband was the Swanton postmaster. It seemed that Logston had had a dream that was so disturbing, she contacted the Swanton Police Department. She was interviewed by Chief Dave McAuley, who later passed along the information to the Toledo PD.
In her dream, Logston saw a suspect in the Mercy Hospital homicide. She described him as a little fat man about forty years old, who was a cook. She dreamed about the little fat man for several nights in a row. He cooked in large pots. She also dreamed that his name was Caryl Dennis. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, no one looking like Lou Costello, or having the famous and rare first name belonging to the legendary California convict Caryl Chessman, was involved in the case.
At 10:45 A.M ., on April 18, 1980, evidence technician Shirley Sparks delivered a letter addressed to “Art Marx, Toledo Police Homicide Investigation.” Upon opening it, the detective noticed that it was from an anonymous source and concerned the Pahl homicide. He
“It was small, silver, with a round face and easy to read numerals. It cost $48,” Laura Marie continued.
Looking through his notes, the detective saw that among Margaret Ann’s possessions recovered from her room was a receipt for the watch from said jeweler. A police alert would be put out to pawnshops in case someone tried to pawn it. Until it was recovered, it had to be assumed that it was stolen. If no one in the convent had stolen it—always a possibility but not likely—then it had to be in the murderer’s possession. If that were the case, the killer was a guy who liked having a souvenir of his kill. It would also be a nice piece of direct evidence for the prosecution to produce in court if they could recover it.
The city of Toledo had been galvanized by Margaret Ann’s murder. Citizens wanted the killer caught. Paranoia ran rampant. Toledo’s citizens began informing on their neighbors.
Everyone began to look for the man who had killed the nun. The urban myth of the mysterious and suspicious black/Mexican/dark-skinned man reared its ugly head once again. People came forward from all parts of the city and beyond to say that prior to/on the day of/ just after the murder, in the shadows of the hospital/the surrounding neighborhood/the city of Candiotti miles away, there was lurking a mysterious and suspicious black/Mexican/dark-skinned man.
A whole lot of scared white people said it was the black guy “over there,” as if a white “bad guy” couldn’t be capable of such brutality. Few of the TPD files show a name attached to any of these “suspects.” In those cases where they were named, the names have been blacked out because police cleared them of all participation in the homicide. What it does show clearly is racist paranoia. The Toledo cops had to deal with every nut, freak, and schizophrenic that came out of the woodwork to claim knowledge either of the killing or of the person who had done it.
Some of them were classic. Psychic Beverly Holmes called the TPD from nearby Maumee, Ohio. Detective Matt Holbrook took the call.
“I’m calling to offer my services in the Pahl case. I’m a psychic,” she told Holbrook, who was taking careful notes. “I’ve helped the FBI.”
“So what do you know?” Holbrook asked.
“A white male from Delaware. I’m not sure if that is the state he is from or the street he lives on.”
“Go on.”
“The victim knew him. He was carrying a grocery sack and at times flowers which means he is a delivery boy. This person knows music and plays a strung instrument. He has a mental history, caused by the way he was treated by his parents. He is a negative person.”
“Anything else?” Holbrook asked politely.
“No.”
Hanging up, Holbrook wrote in his notes, “This person appears to have no knowledge of the case whatsoever.”
Delaware? One of the more interesting “tips” came from Pat Logston, a schoolteacher at St. Hyacinth. Her husband was the Swanton postmaster. It seemed that Logston had had a dream that was so disturbing, she contacted the Swanton Police Department. She was interviewed by Chief Dave McAuley, who later passed along the information to the Toledo PD.
In her dream, Logston saw a suspect in the Mercy Hospital homicide. She described him as a little fat man about forty years old, who was a cook. She dreamed about the little fat man for several nights in a row. He cooked in large pots. She also dreamed that his name was Caryl Dennis. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, no one looking like Lou Costello, or having the famous and rare first name belonging to the legendary California convict Caryl Chessman, was involved in the case.
At 10:45 A.M ., on April 18, 1980, evidence technician Shirley Sparks delivered a letter addressed to “Art Marx, Toledo Police Homicide Investigation.” Upon opening it, the detective noticed that it was from an anonymous source and concerned the Pahl homicide. He
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