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  • David Crockett Williams
    [Theresa Conroy, example of Philadelphia tabloid journalism] http://www.phillynews.com/daily_news/2000/Apr/07/local/IRAA07.htm April 7, 2000 Confronted by DN
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 7, 2000
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      [Theresa Conroy, example of Philadelphia tabloid journalism]


      http://www.phillynews.com/daily_news/2000/Apr/07/local/IRAA07.htm

      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
      suspected, fear?

      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
      weaponry.

      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
      1981.

      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.

      Einhorn appeared.

      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?"
      I asked.

      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
      the car.

      "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?"

      Nothing.

      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
      Gold rivers.

      Delicate yellow flowers filled two planters hanging from the white iron
      gate. A circle of tulips provided brilliant color beneath a tree in the
      sloping garden.

      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
      Philadelphian.

      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.

      Still nothing.

      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.

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      http://www.phillynews.com/daily_news/2000/Apr/06/local/IRAA06.htm

      April 6, 2000

      On this dog's trail

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      He's doing justice to case
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      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
      bag.

      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
      tabloid.

      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



      ==============

      http://www.phillynews.com/daily_news/2000/Apr/06/local/KEVO06.htm

      April 6, 2000

      He's doing justice to case

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      Untying a French knot
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      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"
      Kevorkian.

      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
      chuckled.

      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
      adopted country.

      "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
      General's office.

      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
      Saroyan.

      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
      its qualities."

      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."

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      http://www.phillynews.com/daily_news/2000/Apr/06/local/PRIM06.htm

      April 6, 2000

      Untying a French knot

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      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
      request.

      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
      away.

      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
      you.

      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
      indirect route.

      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
      three years.

      "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
      causes?"

      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."

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      ==========

      http://www.philly.com/packages/einhorn/index.html

      [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
      Case chronology
      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
      Photo Gallery:
      Ira Einhorn
      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
      Anika Flodin
      Police missing persons report
      Ira and Holly together in 1974
      1997 mug shots
      Graphic:
      Einhorn's itinerary
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