Recent Phillynews Einhorn articles
- [Theresa Conroy, example of Philadelphia tabloid journalism]
April 7, 2000
Confronted by DN reporter and photog, fugitive stunned
by Theresa Conroy
Daily News Staff Writer
CHAMPAGNE-MOUTON, FRANCE - Through Paris and Chartres and Ruffec and Civray
and Beaulieu, this was where we were headed.
This tiny, peaceful, achingly quaint, wind-snapped farming community has
been lurking in our minds since we boarded Air France Flight 379 at
Philadelphia International Airport.
For five days now, we've prepared for it, psyched ourselves up for it,
steeled our nerves for meeting Ira Einhorn.
First, we needed to capture the killer on film.
This meant that, even during our reconnaissance mission to the town the day
before our planned confrontation, we couldn't tip off the 1,000 residents
that we were journalists from the United States. We couldn't risk scaring
Einhorn into hiding to avoid us.
We needed to see him face-to-face, to gauge his reaction to our visit, to
see how he responded when I told him that the Daily News had collected
nearly 5,000 signatures from passionate readers petitioning the French prime
minister to send the fugitive home.
Most urgently, though, I needed a definitive answer to a nagging question.
Has Einhorn's steadfast refusal to respond to repeated requests for an
interview - passed to him through several phone calls, e-mails to his AOL
account, through an Internet chum and even Einhorn's old "psychic" pal,
famous spoon-bender Uri Geller - been the result of anger or, as I
Einhorn has granted several interviews recently, but they've all been to
media outlets less familiar with the grisly case of how he bludgeoned
girlfriend Holly Maddux to death in 1977, then left her corpse to rot and
ooze from a steamer trunk stored in his closet.
He's talked to a radio station based in Washington, D.C. He's talked to
ABC's Connie Chung. He sat down with several French reporters. He even
talked to Esquire magazine.
He's bargained with journalists to receive some kind of assurance that he'd
maintain control over the interviews. He's extracted promises and
concessions. He weaseled a free computer out of ABC.
Before agreeing to talk to two U.S. print journalists, Einhorn reportedly
put them through a series of e-mail worthiness tests - one reporter called
it a "seduction."
Well, the Daily News would not be seduced or make concessions or submit to
tests. We would at least challenge Einhorn's wacky excuse that the CIA or
KGB killed Maddux in order to eliminate his alleged work in psychic
This unwillingness to compromise was, perhaps, the inspiration for the
disturbing nickname Einhorn has given me: My Demon Lover.
So, the old hippie and the old tabloid have not met face-to-face since
Einhorn fled the United States. just before his murder trial was to begin in
This was it.
The weathered red Fiat slowly passed behind our Citroen, the flash of Annika
Flodin's red hair visible in the driver's seat, Einhorn's scraggly white
goatee bobbing next to her.
I smacked photographer Alex Alvarez's right thigh. Alex bolted from the car,
juggling three cameras, one equipped with an impossibly long 500mm lens.
Flodin slid the car into the dirt lot across from the police station, where
Einhorn must check in twice a week.
Then, a moment three years in the making.
He stepped out of the Fiat, wearing faded jeans, a white shirt and an ugly
brown cardigan sweater. Alex ran across the street, directly in front of the
fugitive we'd been stalking.
At first the ambush didn't register, and Einhorn took three steps toward the
police station, pausing as a car passed in front of him. Then Alex gave the
fugitive his first in-person greeting from the Philadelphia Daily News.
"Hey, how ya doing?"
The familiar Philadelphia greeting stopped Einhorn in his tracks. His arms
dropped to his side. He stood motionless, staring at the photographer.
He could have been a well-rehearsed celebrity stopping - as he had hundreds
of times before - to pose for another paparazzi.
He could have looked that way, except for his expression.
Einhorn's face changed from confusion to shock to what appeared - in a
flash - to be fear.
A deer caught in the headlights. No, worse. A fugitive coming face-to-face
with his worst nightmare: Home.
Within seconds, Einhorn composed himself enough to walk toward the
Gendarmerie Nationale. The camera clicked incessantly.
I ran up beside Einhorn as he rang the buzzer outside the police station.
Flodin stepped in behind him.
"Ira, what do you think of the Daily News petitions to send you back home?"
He stared at the door, waiting for an officer to save him. He didn't say a
word. Didn't even flinch.
Finally, for his sake, the station door swung open. Einhorn and Flodin
entered and a rush of lilting French voices - mostly Flodin's and an
officer's, since, even after seven years in France, Einhorn has failed
miserably to master the language - drifted out of the station.
Two minutes and they were out.
The camera clicked again. I fell in alongside the guru as he headed toward
"I'm Theresa Conroy from the Philadelphia Daily News," I said.
He didn't react. Didn't even look in my direction.
"Did you know the Daily News has collected nearly 5,000 signatures from
people who want the prime minister to send you home?" I asked. "What do you
have to say about that?"
He opened the passenger door and stepped inside the car, a mocking grin on
his face. As he closed the door I got personal.
"I heard you call me your Demon Lover. Why's that?"
He closed the door, wordlessly, never even glancing in my direction. He and
Flodin appeared to be chuckling.
As Flodin pulled away, we ran the short distance to our car.
We were in pursuit.
We followed Flodin as she drove down the street and through a winding alley
to the village square, a parking lot of sorts surrounded by a loose square
of shops - a tabac selling cigarettes and newspapers, a boulangerie and
patisserie selling bread and pastry, a woman's clothing store called Sermo,
a hair salon and a flower shop.
Flodin hit the brakes in the lot, looked our way and then took off up
another one of the town's impossibly narrow streets.
We ditched her and drove directly to Einhorn's home, an ancient stone
windmill converted into a cottage paradise nestled between the Silver and
Delicate yellow flowers filled two planters hanging from the white iron
gate. A circle of tulips provided brilliant color beneath a tree in the
We pulled up onto the widened shoulder in front of the cottage, a spot the
Einhorns use to park while they unlatch the tall gate that keeps intruders
at bay. Flodin pulled in behind us.
Einhorn looked furious, the strain of controlling his emotions twisting his
face into a red, tightened scowl. He started toward me.
Fear ran in a trail of heat from my stomach to my chest and I barked at
Alex, who was moving back for a shot, to stay close. The heat cooled when
Einhorn veered instead toward the house.
"Why won't you talk to me? Why won't you ever talk to me? I've tried for
three years to talk to you," I said to the broad back of this 59-year-old
Again Einhorn refused to speak or even to glance in my direction. He kept
walking, a slow, steady gait, toward the house.
Inside the gate now, Einhorn turned toward me to fasten the latch. This was
my last chance.
"Are you afraid to talk to me?"
Einhorn's body stilled.
I'd gotten him, perhaps hit on the dirty little secret of this arrogant,
blustering, killer who's been running and hiding for 19 years.
For the first time, Einhorn raised his face to meet mine. He locked those
famous blue eyes on me and stared into my face. I stared back.
It lasted, it seemed, forever.
The left corner of Einhorn's mouth turned up, slightly, nearly
imperceptibly, into a sly grin. The skin on my arms puckered, chilling me.
His eyes held mine for just a second longer, then he turned away and quickly
walked past the carport and toward a rear entrance to the cottage.
"What's all this Demon Lover stuff about?" I asked again.
He was walking away now. This was it. Before we lost sight of him to the
rear terrace of the cottage, a spot we can never forget is a favorite place
to have sex with Flodin in full view of his neighbors, I wanted to give our
fugitive one parting shot - a little gift for the 5,000 Daily News readers
who want him brought back home.
"Hey, Ira," I yelled. "Why don't you come back home with us? We'll pay for
the plane ticket."
Einhorn laughed, then disappeared.
Before we left the house, I grabbed the white paper bag I had brought all
the way from home. It contained Philadelphia treats: two soft pretzels and
three packages of Tastykakes - peanut butter Tandytakes, Butterscotch
Krimpets and a Lemon Pie. I left the bag on his fence post, a scribbled note
on the outside.
"A gift from home, from the Daily News."
When we passed his house again less than 10 minutes later, the bag was gone.
We hope he found the mustard.
Send e-mail to conroyt@...
April 6, 2000
On this dog's trail
He's doing justice to case
by Theresa Conroy
Daily News Staff Writer
PHILADELPHIA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Travel Check List:
Four thousand sixty-four petition signatures in a huge canvas Daily News
Two round-trip tickets to Paris.
A green Citroen, waiting at National car rental in Gare de Lyon, a train
station on the Left Bank.
A Rand McNally map of France.
One French dictionary.
One tape recorder.
Three cameras and one 500 millimeter lens.
Seven-days' worth of fashionable clothes.
Ten reporter's notebooks.
A limited expense account.
Two determined journalists.
We have waited nearly three years to go back to France for this story.
The Daily News' first journey to the lush Southern wine region - a voyage
initiated by the rediscovery of one of Philadelphia's most compelling,
confounding tales of murder - began on June 16, 1997.
That was the day French police stormed the country home of a man they knew
as Eugene Mallon, a British writer who had been living in their midst for
about four years with his Swedish wife, Annika Flodin.
Mallon's true identity: Ira Einhorn, a Philadelphia fugitive murderer who'd
been hunted for 16 years.
At first, this resident of Champagne-Mouton vehemently denied he was
Einhorn, the American convicted in absentia in 1993 for killing girlfriend
Holly Maddux, then stuffing her corpse in a trunk to rot for 18 months.
But there was no doubt this was the same hippie. Grayer, slower - yes - but
still as much of an arrogant blowhard as he had been during his Powelton
Village heydays in the '60s and '70s.
Between these two Einhorn Expeditions, the Daily News has dogged the killer
guru's every move. From his ramblings on a quantum physics Internet chat
room obsessed with UFOs and government conspiracies, to his appearances in
court during extradition hearings, to the TV miniseries about his life.
We have phoned him, written him and e-mailed him, but even during Einhorn's
recent efforts to sway public opinion through interviews with ABC's Connie
Chung, French newspapers, Esquire magazine and a Washington, D.C.-based
radio station, the corpulent con man has refused to talk to his hometown
So the Daily News is going to him.
We're stalking Ira Einhorn.
Readers, especially the more than 4,000 who signed the paper's Ira Einhorn
petition, can join us today and tomorrow as we take this strange journey to
Einhorn's hideout. We'll go from Paris, where we will deliver the Ira
Einhorn petitions to the French prime minister, to the ancient village 280
miles south, where Einhorn spends his days free to sip the wine, nibble the
cheese and tweak the American justice system.
The journey to the home of Philadelphia's most elusive fugitive will amaze,
amuse and frustrate you. It will also provide the most unabashed version of
a story that has haunted this city, and Holly Maddux's family, for 23 years.
- Theresa Conroy
April 6, 2000
He's doing justice to case
Untying a French knot
by Theresa Conroy
Daily News Staff Writer
PARIS - This struggle between the American and French justice systems has
pitted one West Philadelphia man against another.
One of the combatants waits here in his elegant law office.
The other sweats it out nearly 300 miles away, in his quaint cottage in the
south of France.
Both have shown remarkable mettle, patience and fortitude.
Only one will win.
Smart money is on the West Philly transplant in Paris, Aram "Jack"
Even in a country that has inexplicably embraced the likes of Ira Einhorn,
Kevorkian has succeeded in what no other American or Frenchman had been able
to do: convince a proud French judiciary to send Philadelphia's famous
fugitive back home.
"They were right to get an American lawyer," Kevorkian said of the family of
murder victim Holly Maddux. "Being from Philadelphia, I was sort of a
natural at this."
What came natural to Kevorkian, 71, was stepping into a soured French
extradition proceeding as the Maddux family advocate, and convincing an
appeals court to stop putting Philadelphia on trial.
"I talked about Philadelphia justice, the American system and contradicted
some of the stories," about Einhorn, Kevorkian said of his court appearance
in December 1998.
And for the first time during this lengthy extradition process, Kevorkian
focused attention on the beautiful victim in this case, the young Texan
whose mummified corpse was discovered in Einhorn's Powelton Village closet.
Kevorkian actually slipped all this into the proceeding on the sly, while
arguing whether he and the Maddux family had any standing in the court.
"Then they ruled we didn't have standing, but we got to argue anyway," he
The argument worked. In its ruling, the appeals court reversed a lower court
decision and ruled that Einhorn should be extradited to the U.S.
This brillant, fatherlike, Armenian descendant specializes in corporate and
business litigation. He agreed to represent the Madduxes - for a drastically
slashed rate - because he felt his hometown was getting a bum rap from his
"This case is very special. He's a chronic liar," Kevorkian said of Einhorn.
"He's told only his side of the story. That's played to the strong, latent
anti-American feelings in France."
Kevorkian wanted to tell "Philadelphia's side of the story."
First, he needed to tell part of his own.
Kevorkian explained to the judges that his experience and insights came from
growing up in Philadelphia, studying in France and practicing law in the
United States and in Europe, as an Army lieutenant with the Judge Advocate
In the mid- to late-1950s, Kevorkian watched American soldiers tried in
French courts for off-duty offenses. He watched, he told them, but he didn't
judge the French judicial system the way its participants were judging ours
during the Einhorn case.
This unfair judgment over the American justice system, Kevorkian believed,
resulted in France's initial refusal, then agonizing delay, in sending
Einhorn home to face justice.
It should have been an easy process. The U.S. and France have a long-honored
extradition treaty that basically says that if a fugitive of one country is
found in the other, the host country returns him. Tout de suite.
"I like being a gadfly. I try to get them to reform their system," he said.
What Kevorkian left out of his courtroom speech that day were some of the
personal and professional details of his trek from West Philly to Paris.
The son of the publisher of a weekly Armenian newspaper, Groong, in
Philadelphia, Kevorkian graduated from West Philadelphia High School, the
University of Pennsylvania and Harvard Law School.
He worked for a time on Wall Street, but drawn by love - for a woman and
Paris - Kevorkian returned to France and accepted a job with a law firm.
Soon he was made partner. Then, he opened his own practice here with startup
money lent to him by a famous client, Pulitzer Prize winning author William
The woman who drew him here is Eve, a classic Parisian beauty who never felt
quite at home in New York City. Kevorkian married her, settled down and
raised seven children.
But the lawyer's heart is so firmly entrenched in his hometown roots that he
keeps a framed Alexander Hamilton Elementary School class photo on display
in his ornate oval office in Paris' ritzy 16th arrondissment.
"What you have is the French trying to judge how the Americans saw their
system. Most people judge other countries by their defects and its own by
Kevorkian can see both sides of both countries. But he has a tough time
seeing past the defects of Einhorn, the guy from his old neighborhood who
has tried to blame the murder of Holly Maddux on the CIA and the KGB.
"I was in France at the time" of the murder, Kevorkian said, with a hearty
laugh. "I was innocent. Otherwise, Einhorn may say it was me."
Send e-mail to conroyt@...
April 6, 2000
Untying a French knot
He's doing justice to case
by Theresa Conroy
Daily News Staff Writer
OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER, PARIS - It's almost noon, drizzling, chilly.
Still, I'm wearing a collar of perspiration.
My shoulder aches from the weight of the 4,064 Ira Einhorn petitions I've
been lugging around Paris inside a canvas bag decorated with a blaring
Philadelphia Daily News logo.
At least 12 police officers are guarding Hotel Matignon, the monstrous home
and office of French Prime Minister Lionel Jospin.
We approach one. For the first of a half-dozen times during the next hour, I
explain - in French - our mission.
Photographer Alex Alvarez and I have traveled 3,000 miles - from 400 N.
Broad St., in Philadelphia, to 57 rue de Varenne, in Paris - to deliver this
astounding collection of petitions signed by Daily News readers who want the
prime minister to return our fugitive to Philadelphia.
The gendarme guarding the front of the mansion is friendly - kind of cute,
actually, in that French Foreign Legion-type hat - but with just a few
words, he's done with me.
I meander slowly to another gendarme, this one manning a post inside a small
guardhouse to the left of the entrance. Again, I explain my mission, using
French now faltering from nerves and a lethal lack of saliva.
This officer gives what I've come to understand is the standard response of
the Administration of France: "That is impossible."
In return, I offer what I've learned is the most effective response to that:
I beg, cajole, tease, joke, compliment and, finally, beg some more.
No, he says, finally. The only way to get these petitions to the prime
minister is to mail them.
I beg some more.
My newspaper, I tell the guard, has sent me all the way to France for this
one important job. All these people, I explain, pointing to the bag of
petitions, have trusted me to see that the prime minister receives their
I put on my best pouty face.
After a few minutes, I detect a slight crack in his armor. Well, it is
unusual - bizarre, he says - but maybe. . .
This sets off a heated discussion among several of the cops.
"What should we do with these petitions?" the one in the guardhouse asks the
one at the front gate.
The cute one yells back that he will not take them. He motions to send me
The cop in the guardhouse then turns to three other gendarmes inside a small
office behind us. They shrug. No, they say, it is impossible. She must mail
them. They will not accept petitions.
The cop finally turns to me and, in a blunt admission of an inherent problem
within this and most governments, says, "No one here is willing to take
responsibility for this."
With that, he turns away.
I take this opportunity to weasel my way into that little office behind us -
a post that, judging by the uniforms and demeanor of its occupants, is just
one step up the security-force hierarchy.
The guys inside this office seem amused by my plight. From my experience
with the French, I recognize this as an opening to further ingratiate
myself. If you can amuse and entertain a Frenchman, he will continue
listening to you. If you give him a dramatic sob story, he just might help
This technique is so widely understood among the French, for dealing with
everything from getting out of a speeding ticket to obtaining the last piece
of tart, that it has a name here: Le System 'D.'
The moniker comes from the French verb, se debrouiller, meaning to untangle
yourself from a difficult situation or manage to reach a goal through an
I was finally finding that route.
Once again, I explain the whole story to the cops in the office. This time,
though, I give my best shot: I tell them that I'm really in a bind here. I
have to deliver these petitions because I could not refuse this assignment.
I would have been absolutely nuts, I say, not to accept a company-financed
trip to the most wonderful city in the world.
The French love that stuff.
Abruptly, we are instructed to wait behind the office, in a small space with
the unmistakable air of an interrogration room.
Within minutes, a man dressed in a suit and a tan raincoat enters. He smiles
briefly, professionally, then closes the room's two doors.
Then Gerard Cunin, director of the prime minister's police force, takes a
seat to my right, folds his hands on the table and gives me a look that
says, "Go ahead, explain yourself."
I launch into the story of Ira Einhorn and the Daily News petitions. I pour
out the whole sordid tale, beginning in 1977 when Einhorn, a famous guru in
Philadelphia, killed his girlfriend, Holly Maddux, then went on the lam just
before his 1981 murder trial was scheduled to begin.
I go into detail about Einhorn's arrest in southwestern France in 1997, and
about the lengthy, convoluted extradition process that has taken nearly
"The people of Philadelphia take this case very seriously," I say.
Cunin nods, then motions me to go on.
I tell him about Einhorn's March 4 press conference in Bordeaux, when he
said he had collected 50 signatures on a petition asking the prime minister
to let him stay in France. In response, I say, the Daily News asked its
readers to sign a petition asking Jospin to send Einhorn home.
Surprisingly, the paper received these 4,000 signatures. The response was so
overwhelming, I say, that my editor decided to send me to Paris to deliver
the documents myself.
And, I tell him with a conspiratorial nod, I could not refuse because, well,
this is Paris. Who would refuse a trip to Paris?
I reach into my bag and pull out a random petition coupon, signed by a man
from Northeast Philadelphia. Then, I reached in for the petition sent to the
Daily News by U.S. Attorney Mike Stiles. This hooks him.
Cunin takes Stiles' petition and my press credentials into the outer office
to make copies.
Now it is his turn to talk.
"So," he says, "this man lost his girlfriend. What did she die of, natural
Natural causes? I must have been less than clear in describing how Einhorn
bludgeoned Maddux to death.
"No," I say. "He killed her."
Cunin draws back and inhales. "He assassinated her?" he asks.
Yes, I tell him. Then, he stuffed her body in a, in a. . .I'm grasping for
the French vocabulary for steamer trunk. I don't know it.
"A box?" Cunin offers.
No. It is like a big, big suitcase. A suitcase for traveling on a ship. And,
I add, he kept her there for almost two years, in a closet in his apartment.
Cunin is clearly appalled.
"What state is this man from?" he asks. "Why is he in France? Where does he
live? Write it down here. Then write his address."
I rip off a piece of notebook paper and write the name of the town about 280
miles southwest of here: Champagne-Mouton. Then I add Einhorn's address: Le
Moulin de Guitry. But, Cunin says, there are still certain problems with my
request. You cannot come to see the prime minister for things like this.
"There is a technique," he says. "The prime minister has a cabinet. You
should first go to, maybe, the minister of justice. Talk to them."
But the minister of justice already has signed the extradition papers. We
are now waiting only for the prime minister.
"But you cannot come here to be the. . ." Cunin inserts another French word
I don't know.
I'm sorry, I tell him, but I don't understand that word. He defines it
French: A person who comes to proclaim something to the prime minister, to
be the advocate for this cause.
Advocate? I'm just a mailman. I just want to deliver these signatures.
Cunin smiles. "OK," he says. "I promise to make all this known to the prime
minister. I will write down on a piece of paper who you are, why you were
here and that you have these 4,000 signatures and a letter from the U.S.
Attorney. I promise you that I will make all this known to him."
Then I give Cunin a better view of the Daily News canvas bag. And this sack
is a gift from us to the prime minister, I say. I think it's very pretty.
See what it says here?
Cunin inspects the bag - a classic newspaper carrier's bag - and laughs.
"Yes. Philadelphia Daily News," he says through a thick accent.
"But," he adds chuckling, "the prime minister doesn't need a sack."
Send e-mail to conroyt@...
[above site contains following index with each entry as active link]
Ira Einhorn: The search is over
He was Philadelphia's self-styled guru of '60s counterculture. He fled from
charges that he killed his girlfriend, Helen "Holly" Maddux, in 1977.
Sixteen years later, he was convicted of murder, in absentia. The saga
seemingly ended in June 1997 with Einhorn's arrest in France. But a French
court had other ideas. Here is a compendium of Einhorn news from the
Inquirer and Daily News:
Latest stories Archive stories Photos Graphic Search
Mar. 11, 1999
When Ira (Einhorn) worked for Harry (Jay Katz)
Feb. 24, 1999
Dispute over killer sends Franco-Philly relations to new low
Feb. 21, 1999
Escaping again would be easy for elusive Einhorn
Feb. 19, 1999
French court: Return Einhorn
Phila. D.A. praises decision, but fears he will flee again
Fugitive killer has a lot of free time until he packs his bags
Feb. 18, 1999
French court orders Einhorn extradited to the United States
Jan. 27, 1999
Investigator who found Einhorn loses job (Inquirer)
Jan. 15, 1999
Holly Maddux story to be TV miniseries (Daily News)
Jan. 13, 1999
French judges delay ruling on Einhorn (Inquirer)
Dec. 2, 1998
Maddux kin attend hearing for killer-fugitive in France
Dec. 1, 1998
Commentary: Einhorn lies about his role in Earth Week (Inquirer)
Nov. 30, 1998
Maddux family to attend tomorrow's Einhorn hearing in France (Daily News)
Nov. 16, 1998
Einhorn still asserts innocence (Inquirer)
Nov. 12, 1998
Interview with Connie Chung to air on 20/20 next Sunday (Daily News)
Einhorn still insists he was framed (Inquirer)
Nov. 9, 1998
Fugitive Ira Einhorn has praise for France (Daily News)
Einhorn blames a conspiracy (Inquirer)
Sept. 30, 1998
Einhorn free again (Daily News)
Commentary: Hard to feel sympathy for Ira (Daily News)
Einhorn is released from jail in France (Inquirer)
Sept. 23, 1998
Two sides get to work in Einhorn case (Inquirer)
Awaiting a ruling, Einhorn seeks bail (Daily News)
Ira and Annika now Mr. and Mrs. Einhorn (Daily News)
Sept. 22, 1998
Ira behind bars again (Daily News)
Einhorn again arrested in France (Inquirer)
Dec. 21, 1997
The Einhorn jurors feel insulted
Dec. 11, 1997
House OKs measure forged with Einhorn in mind
Dec. 10, 1997
Lawmaker's proposal might allow Einhorn extradition
Dec. 8, 1997
Justice Dept. hopes France will deport murderer
Dec. 7, 1997
Strutting in public, Einhorn hides no more
Dec. 5, 1997
French courts free Einhorn
DA incensed after France frees killer
Prosecutors in Phila. outraged
Elmer Smith: Maddux family won't give up
Force isn't a viable option
Editorial response and a cartoon from the Daily News and the Inquirer
Dec. 4, 1997
Court rejects extradition, orders Einhorn's release
Sept. 3, 1997
In French courtroom, it's vintage Einhorn
Ira blathers at extradition hearing
Wife: Ira is harmless
Aug. 29, 1997
Another journey begins for Ira
Aug. 9, 1997
Extradition hearing set for Einhorn
July 24, 1997
Ira to wave the flag
July 16, 1997
Ira Einhorn's prison life: Teaching, reading, writing
July 5, 1997
Einhorn vows to fight extradition
June 30, 1997
Use of identity surprised Einhorn's friend
June 27, 1997
In post-O.J. era, Einhorn's act likely wouldn't play
June 26, 1997
Far out! Ira is still in step
June 24, 1997
Pal: 'Unicorn' was horny
Tenants enjoy whiff of notoriety
June 23, 1997
How the Einhorn case was cracked
Tracking the blood money
June 22, 1997
For 16 years, he stayed a step ahead
A city recalls
June 21, 1997
DA: How did Einhorn pay his bills
June 20, 1997
She knew Ira was a killer
He'll be coming to his defense
Fugitive fascinated founder of Genesis
Guru could always get a new lady
Unicorn told pals he preferred death to jail
'Mysteries' takes credit for this, too
June 19, 1997
Einhorn was 'typical American' loudmouth
Einhorn's return may be at least 3 years away
Einhorn's extradition will not be quick or easy
They all thought he would show up
Monthly packages from an erudite hippie
The fatal attraction
June 18, 1997
In French village, Einhorn vanished into a rewritten life
For victim's family, rage still mars fond memories
The leopard's spots
The day Unicorn's ugly secret was unlocked
2 on case describe the years of chasing
Paper-pusher pulled in killer
Extradition could be a tough process
Victim's sister wants Einhorn to see her
Ira thrived in Powelton
June 17, 1997
Fugitive Ira Einhorn is captured in France
Killer nabbed after 16 years on the run
The long trail that ended in the capture
From Mount Airy to Champagne-Mouton
A charismatic symbol of the '60s
Remembering Einhorn's raw need to be in control
Detective still angry after all these years
An Ira Einhorn timeline
Major figures in the Einhorn case: Then and now
Book prompted call for a "cyberposse"
From our archives:
1988: The Einhorn Revelations
1988: Ira's pals weren't surprised
1993: No surrender
1970 Earth Day celebration
Medical Examiners remove trunk
Holly Maddux in 1974
Family photo of Maddux
Ira Einhorn and Abbie Hoffman
House in Champagne Mouton, France
Police missing persons report
Ira and Holly together in 1974
1997 mug shots