By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Stephen Young
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
Just a few feet away, 62-year-old Ira Einhorn, once the high-profile counter-culture guru of Philly's hippie generation, the man who called himself "The Unicorn" and boastfully took credit for everything from the 1970 Earth Day celebration to helping establish the Environmental Protection Agency, had been found guilty of the murder of their sister Holly and sentenced to life in prison.
Justice had taken more than two decades to arrive.
Not until hours after he had left the courthouse and was standing in front of the Hawthorn Suites, enjoying the fresh fall air, did the finality of the long-awaited verdict sink in on Maddux. A passing cab driver slowed, honked his horn and leaned from his window to wave. "We finally got the bastard," he yelled before speeding off.
"That," Maddux says, "was when it occurred to me that for 25 years I'd felt like I was lugging a huge sack of rocks around on my shoulders. And, suddenly, I realized that the feeling was gone."
Since 1977, when 30-year-old Holly Maddux, a former Tyler High cheerleader, vanished, the milestones of her family have been measured by the start-and-stop, hide-and-seek progress of the investigation of one of the most brutal and bizarre crimes in American annals. It was not until 18 months after she was last seen alive that her mummified corpse was discovered in a locked steamer trunk in a closet of ex-boyfriend Einhorn's Philadelphia apartment. Despite a rambling, nonsensical alibi that the CIA, allegedly angered that he knew of secret experiments in mind control, had planted Holly's body to frame him, Einhorn was arrested and charged with her murder ("A Killer Abroad," December 14, 2000).
Then, shortly before he was to go to trial in 1981, The Unicorn disappeared, fleeing to Europe, where for the next 16 years he would remain on the run and in hiding. In a rare judicial move, the Philadelphia court system finally decided that Einhorn would be tried in absentia in 1993. Convicted, he was sentenced to life in prison.
Meanwhile, Einhorn, using various aliases, moved from one European country to another before authorities finally located him in 1997 in the remote French village of Champagne-Mouton where he was living in a 200-year-old wine country mill house with his new and wealthy Swedish wife. For the next four years he continued to live the good life while his attorneys battled efforts to have him extradited to the United States. The French government, which doesn't recognize convictions in absentia, refused the requests. Einhorn, meanwhile, flaunted his freedom and strange lifestyle, even posing nude in his garden for an Esquire magazine photographer.
Determined to bring the celebrated case to a close, the Philadelphia district attorney's office promised that it would not seek the death penalty, which France opposes. All the while, his victim's siblings--John and sisters Elisabeth (Buffy) Hall of Mansfield, Mary Maddux of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, and Meg Wakeman of Seattle--traveled to France several times to appeal to the country's Council of State in an effort to help clear the way for extradition. Finally, in 2001, 24 years after his crime, Einhorn was returned to the United States ("Home At Last," July 26, 2001).
There was, Buffy Hall says, never much doubt that he would be found guilty. "Actually," she said shortly after returning home, "the trial was anticlimactic. We just sat there, day after day, waiting for it to be over."
Still, she and her siblings had to listen once more as forensic experts testified that Holly had died from multiple skull fractures, pieces of bone forced into her brain as she was struck as many as a half dozen times. They hid their eyes as a photo of Holly's mummified remains, weighing only 37 pounds when finally discovered, was projected onto a large screen. They listened as fellow residents of the apartment house where Einhorn and Holly lived recalled the stench that had lingered for months after her disappearance, and Einhorn's refusal to let anyone go near the locked closet where her body was hidden. And they heard a litany of angry and vengeful things Einhorn had done to other lovers who had attempted to end their relationships.
The defendant's defense, meanwhile, was really no defense at all, but more a maze-like journey into the absurd. Einhorn attorney William Cannon argued the possibility that "someone" could have wrapped Holly's corpse in a rug, used keys found in her pocket to gain entry into the apartment, placed her body in the trunk, then hid it in the closet.
Prosecutor Joel Rosen called the theory "ridiculous." "It is so laughable, so ludicrous, so outrageous, you should be offended by it," the assistant district attorney told the jury.
When a self-proclaimed psychic took the stand to suggest she had had visions of both Einhorn and Maddux being stalked by government officials intent on doing them harm at the time of Holly's disappearance, there were teeters of laughter in the courtroom.