It was a cold but dry day in Garfield Heights, Ohio, on the 28th of December, 1964. A layer of frost clung stubbornly to the ground, and a brisk breeze rustled the barren branches of the trees lining Thornton Drive. Barbara Klonowiski had made arrangements to visit her close friend, 16-year-old Beverly Jarosz. Beverly lived with her family in a modest house nestled in the heart of the neighoburhood.
Barbara arrived at Beverly’s home at 1:25PM and knocked on the front door. There was no answer. She tried again, this time a bit louder, but still, silence. Frowning, Barbara made her way around to the side door. It was slightly ajar, but the storm door was locked tight. She stood there for a moment, feeling a strange unease creeping over her. Through the crack in the door, she could hear the radio blaring from inside the house.1
Just as she turned to leave, she heard a series of loud, thumps coming from upstairs. She later said it sounded as though something heavy had been knocked over, or perhaps a drawer slammed shut. She listened intently, but the house fell silent again, save for the relentless blare of the radio. After a few moments, she decided it was best to leave and return home.
The plan for the afternoon had been to meet up with their mutual friend, Margie, at her house. When Barbara and Beverly didn’t show up as expected, Margie called her to find out what had happened. Barbara recounted the strange scene at Beverly’s house—the unanswered door, the blaring radio, the strange noises from upstairs. Margie immediately called Beverly’s grandmother who in turn contacted her son, Thaddeus, who was still at work.
He left work immediately, arriving home at around 4PM. He called out to his daughter as he entered the house, but there was no response. The silence was only broken by the loud rock music echoing through the house. It wasn’t the sort of music anyone in the family would play, especially not Beverly. Thaddeus made his way to Beverly’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open slowly.
Immediately, he saw blood splattered across the walls and floor. The furniture was overturned, drawers pulled out, and belongings scattered. Then he saw her. Beverly’s body lay crumpled on the floor near the bed, bound with a rope cruelly wrapped around her neck and ankles. Beverly lay face-down on the floor beside her bed and her boy was peppered in stab wounds.2
Beverly was also nude except for the upper half of a slip. Her torn clothing was littered across her bedroom floor, and the rope had been cut into three short lengths. One piece was draped across her body while the other two were found underneath her.
Detectives arrived at the family’s home as it was cordoned off with crime scene tape. In Beverly’s bedroom, they found several bloody palm prints and fingerprints that didn’t belong to anybody in the family. They additionally found a chunk of plaster that had fallen from the sloping ceiling over Beverly’s bed. It was theorised that the plaster had been kicked loose as Beverly struggled with her killer.3
An autopsy showed that Beverly had been stabbed around 40 times. Most were deep, but some were slash and stab wounds to her hands, face and chest. Nine of the stab wounds were to her back. They extended from her neck down to her waist and most were inflicted in a series of three. She had been dressed when she was stabbed, and then her killer had removed her clothing. While Beverly hadn’t been raped, it was suspected that the murder was sexual in nature, but the killer was disturbed by Barbara at the front door.4
The autopsy also found evidence of strangulation, and the pathologist commented that the stab wounds and strangulation indicated that the killer was a “robust, rather large person” and suggested that it must have been a man that killed her. The murder weapon had not been found at the crime scene, but the pathologist theorised that the weapon was around four to five inches long. Beverly had died from a combination of stabbing and strangulation.
An investigation into Beverly’s murder got underway promptly. Detectives learned that earlier in the day, Beverly and her sister, Carol, had been at the home of their grandmother, Maria Vanek. Shortly before Barbara arrived at the family’s home, Beverly was driven home by her grandmother’s 18-year-old neighbour while Carol stayed behind. He was ruled out as a suspect. Detectives looked into potential boyfriends that Beverly may have had.
Shortly after Barbara arrived home alone to await Beverly, she had received a phone call at home. It was from a man who identified himself as Stephen Stankowitz, and he was looking for Beverly’s father, who was at work. Beverly had written the man’s name down on a piece of paper.
Back at the crime scene, sniffer dogs followed a scent to McCracken Road, which was close to the family’s home but from here, the scent abruptly dropped. Detectives speculated that Beverly’s killer had fled from the home and then left from this location in a vehicle.
Detectives began to focus on the theory that Beverly had been killed by a secret admirer. In the months leading up to her murder, she had been receiving gifts at home. The first was a ring and bracelet that was found at the back door, and the second was a piece of costume jewellery that arrived in the mailbox.
Furthermore, somebody had made a number of phone calls to the family home but each time the phone was answered, the caller hung up. According to her parents, they had called 10 to 12 times per day on occasion. The last call had come about three weeks before Beverly was killed. Her parents had believed that the caller was the same person who was leaving the gifts addressed to Beverly.
Detectives were especially focused on the rope used to bind Beverly. It was quickly determined that the rope hadn’t come from the Jarosz household. Instead, the killer had brought it with them, suggesting premeditation. With this critical lead, Detective Captain William Horrigan assigned five detectives to scour the entire neighoburhood, seeking the source of the rope. The detectives went door to door, questioning residents and examining their properties. A few neighbours had used similar rope to tie back their bushes to protect them from the winter snow. Despite this promising start, the trail quickly went cold.5
With the investigation stalling, detectives shifted their focus to Beverly’s personal life, particularly her former boyfriends. One of these was 18-year-old Roger McNamara, who had dated Beverly for the past seven months. Roger was devastated by her death and voluntarily went to the police station for questioning. He revealed that he had been at Beverly’s home the night before she was killed, but claimed to have no information about her murder. To clear his name, Roger agreed to take a polygraph examination—a common practice at the time, though now considered scientifically unreliable. According to the detectives, Roger passed the test “with flying colours,” and he was subsequently ruled out as a suspect.
Around the same time, detectives turned their attention to a 29-year-old man incarcerated in Ashtabula County Jail on charges of contributing to the delinquency of a 15-year-old girl. He had a troubling history and had been in the area, but when questioned, he vehemently denied any involvement in Beverly’s murder. He also provided an airtight alibi, supported by multiple witnesses, effectively ruling him out as a suspect as well.
As the first week of the investigation blurred by, the Jarosz family grappled with their grief while detectives wrestled with a lack of concrete leads. With no clear direction, they began considering a new and unexpected possibility: Beverly might have been killed by a woman. The theory was bolstered by the nature of the crime—intensely personal, with overkill suggesting deep-seated anger or jealousy.6
Despite this shift in focus, detectives still considered the possibility that Beverly had been killed by someone she knew or at least someone who had been watching her closely. Lt. Carl Delau, head of the Cleveland Homicide Unit, voiced his thoughts on the matter, stating: “He went there for the express purpose of committing a crime. Therefore, I recommend more intensive questioning of friends, neighbours, friends of friends, more intensive investigation of collectors of any kind. I feel the answer lies here.”
Theories swirled, and a conference was held among the detectives to brainstorm new angles to consider. By the following day, Capt. William Horrigan announced that the conference had been fruitful, yielding several promising theories. Detectives returned to Garfield Heights to comb the area for additional clues, working under the hypothesis that Beverly could have been killed by a woman. Dr. Samuel Gerber, the county coroner, weighed in, stating: “It has been my theory all along that either sex could have done it.”7
This new direction in the investigation led to unintended consequences. Rumours began to spread, with some speculating that Barbara Klonowiski, Beverly’s best friend, was somehow involved in the murder. The media coverage only fuelled the gossip, and soon Barbara found herself the target of harassment. Prank phone calls, accusatory letters, and cruel whispers haunted her daily life. Despite the lack of evidence, she was vilified by those who wanted someone to blame. In an effort to clear Barbara’s name, Sgt. Lee Peters addressed the media directly, stating unequivocally that she was innocent and had long been ruled out as a suspect.8
While detectives were busy chasing down new leads, 17-year-old Linley Bane was found dead in the basement of his family’s home. His sister had made the grim discovery. Linley had ended his life with a shotgun, the weapon propped against his chest with a pencil used to reach the trigger. He, like Beverly, had been a junior at Garfield Heights High School. The devastating news spread quickly, and soon rumours began to swirl that Linley might have been Beverly’s killer.9
Some speculated that, overcome by guilt and grief, he had taken his own life. Investigators considered this theory seriously. The timing of Linley’s death and his connection to the high school seemed too coincidental to ignore. When they searched his room, they found a photograph of a girl inscribed with the name “Bev.” The discovery seemed to bolster the suspicion, but when the photo was shown to Beverly’s family and friends, they confirmed it was not her.
Even so, detectives pressed on with their investigation into Linley’s possible involvement. They compared his fingerprints with those collected from the crime scene, but there was no match. Linley was conclusively ruled out as a suspect in Beverly’s murder, his death unrelated to the horrific crime.
With that avenue closed, investigators returned to the rope that had been used to bind Beverly. By this time, they had traced the rope’s origins to a manufacturing firm in Maryland. While this seemed like a promising lead at first, it soon became apparent that the trail was frustratingly cold. The rope was a standard variety, sold by retailers across the United States. Identifying the specific person who had purchased it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The investigation, once again, seemed to be hitting a dead end. Despite this setback, the detectives pressed on. They combed through every detail, every lead, and every tip that came their way.10
Over the next couple of months, there would be several other persons of interest, including a man who had allegedly been watching Beverly at the Cleveland Museum of Art, a middle-aged man who had cut his hand, an encyclopaedia sales man and a transient teenager. All of these leads were followed up, but all of them led to a dead end. With each person of interest, they passed a polygraph examination, which immediately ruled them out as a suspect. Another person of interest was Stephen Stankowitz, the man who had called the family’s home the day Beverly was killed. However, detectives could never find a man with that name.11
One suspect was William Rehard, who had been arrested for the abduction of seven-year-old Donna Adkins. He told detectives he planned on keeping her for the rest of his life. He also told detectives he had killed Beverly but nothing ever came of his confession, at least not at the time. Decades later, it was claimed that Rehard led detectives to a trimming knife in a locker in a bus station. Shortly after the confession, Rehard took his own life.
As the months slowly trickled past, Beverly’s family grew more desperate for answers. Every promising lead had turned out to be another dead end, and as the investigation stalled, so did their hopes of finding justice. The pain of losing Beverly was compounded by the agony of not knowing who had taken her from them. Eventually, the months bled into years, and the years into decades.
On the 20th of August, 1988, former Detective Captain William Horrigan was at home when his phone began to ring. Though he had retired many years earlier, the case had haunted him for the past 25 years, a nagging reminder of his inability to bring Beverly’s killer to justice. Over the years, Horrigan had received a number of tips, even after leaving the force. People found his number in the phone book, and he always followed up on these leads, unable to let go. He knew the case like the back of his hand and still clung to the hope that one day, a tip would come in that would finally reveal the truth.
On this day, the caller on the other end claimed to know who had killed Beverly. Horrigan’s heart quickened, but the caller provided no concrete information before hanging up. Frustrated but still hopeful, Horrigan’s mind raced with possibilities. Then, about twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. The same voice asked Horrigan to meet him at Captain Frank’s pier, located on East Ninth Street.
Horrigan hurried to the pier, his hopes cautiously rising. But when he arrived, the meeting turned out to be just another disappointment, another false lead in a case filled with false leads. The man had no real information, and whatever fragile hope Horrigan had nurtured was dashed once more. He left the pier feeling the familiar weight of despair, the ache of unfulfilled duty.
By the 25th anniversary of Beverly’s death in 1989, her father, Thaddeus, was still living in the house where she had been murdered. The home now stood as a sombre reminder of their loss. Beverly’s mother, Eleanor, had moved out nearly a decade earlier after she and Thaddeus divorced in 1980. The strain of losing a child, especially in such a violent and unresolved manner, had fractured their marriage. They found it nearly impossible to speak Beverly’s name, though as Eleanor would later say, “It was there under the surface, always.”
As the anniversary approached, journalists reached out to Thaddeus, hoping for an interview. But he declined, explaining that reopening those old wounds would be too much to bear. He did, however, share that in the years following Beverly’s murder, he had received several chilling phone calls from a man who claimed to have “wasted” his daughter. The caller, who sounded high on drugs, never gave a reason, never revealed his name.
Horrigan continued to follow every lead that came his way, right up until his death in 2004 at the age of 93. He went to his grave with a heavy heart, carrying the regret of not being able to solve the case that had defined his career. Thaddeus passed away in 2012, having spent the rest of his life in the family home, which he kept exactly as it was in 1964. He had hoped that one day, a jury might need to see the house as it had been when his daughter was brutally taken from them. Eleanor Jarosz died in 2018, taking with her the same unanswered questions that had haunted Thaddeus and Horrigan.
The years had turned into decades, and those decades had consumed their lives. They had all died without knowing who had killed their eldest daughter, without ever understanding why. Some speculate that Beverly’s killer may have been one of the persons of interest who emerged over the years. There had been many potential suspects, each scrutinized and, in most cases, dismissed after passing a polygraph examination. At the time, these tests were considered a reliable measure of truthfulness, but today, they are recognized as flawed and far from foolproof.
Footnotes:
- The Evening Independent, 29 December, 1964 – “Garfield Heights Girl Slain”
- Chillicoth Gazette, 30 December, 1964 – “Slaying of Girl, 16, Mystifies Police”
- The Sandusky Register, 30 December, 1964 – “Admirer Sought”
- The Cincinnati Enquirer, 30 December, 1964 – “Slaying Victim, 16, Stabbed 41 Times”
- News-Journal, 31 December, 1964 – “Check Rope Used to Kill Teenage Girl”
- The Akron Beacon Journal, 5 January, 1965 – “Woman Could Have Murdered Beverly”
- Telegraph-Forum, 5 January, 1965 – “Summit Meet Set on Clues in O. Slaying”
- The Akron Beacon Journal, 9 January, 1965 – “Clear Three Suspects in Jarosz Case”
- The Akron Beacon Journal, 12 January, 1965 – “Boy’s Suicide Not Linked to Slaying”
- The Akron Beacon Journal, 13 January, 1965 – “Trace Murder Rope to Maryland Firm”
- The Akron Beacon Journal, 26 December, 1989 – “Strangulation-Stabbing Still Haunting”
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