“Peaches” Doe is an unidentified murder victim whose torso was found in New York in June 1997.
She died of decapitation and her head, arms, and legs below the knee were never found. Detectives released an image of the tattoo she had on her left breast of a bitten peach, but nobody has ever come forward to concretely identify her. Her child and additional skeletal remains from Peaches were found at a separate location in 2011.
“Cherries” Doe is an unidentified murder victim whose torso was also found in a suitcase in a New York park in 2007.
She is known for having a tattoo of cherries on her right breast, but attempts to identify her have been fruitless. Her legs later washed up on a beach. Unlike Peaches, Cherries died from a stab wound to the torso.
They are both suspected to be victims of the elusive Long Island Serial Killer, who is yet to be identified or captured.
Jean Wallace was a 1940s film actress who led a troubled and wild life. She was born to Polish parents in Chicago, but after graduating high school she moved to Hollywood and married sleazy actor Franchot Tone. He was 36 and she was 18.
They stayed married for 7 years and had 2 sons together, but the marriage was unhappy and rife with infidelity. In 1946, Jean attempted suicide with sleeping pills. She claimed Tone was “jealous and violent,” and he claimed she was having sex with mobsters. The following year, she would dye her hair opalescent pink.
Jean and Franchot in a rare moment of bliss
In 1949, she attempted suicide by stabbing her abdomen with a 14 inch knife after Christmas shopping with her sons. When asked why, Jean said “I just did it for laughs.” Then on Christmas eve, Jean crashed her car because Tone did not invite her over.
Jean claimed that police at the scene told her, “If you had been a nice girl to us we wouldn’t have arrested you,” and requested sexual favors from her. The police in turn complained that Jean had flashed her “black lace panties” at them. Jean claimed they were incorrect and that her panties “were actually blue.”
After 2 additional failed marriages, she gave up on men and lived in Beverly Hills with her pets: two snakes, a Chihuahua, a parrot, two rabbits, a tarantula, and a duck. She died alone in her home in 1990, at the age of 66.
Holly Jo Glynn was a 21-yo girl who committed suicide in 1987 by jumping from a cliff in Dana Point, California. She was unidentified until 2015, when her old school friends and interested websleuths teamed up to help identify her.
Her family had tried to involuntarily institutionalize her 8 months before she killed herself, but to no avail. She was described as quiet and shy, but she liked to party, flirt and use drugs.
Holly’s life unraveled in September of 1987, when she took a taxi at 3 am to the 150 ft remote cliffs to jump to her death. She’d asked the taxi to take her as far as her last $18 would get her, then walked alone the rest of the way. The driver had described her as seeming silent and unhappy during the ride.
At the scene, police found a half consumed can of Coca-Cola (her last drink), a purse (stolen) containing small change, a packet of cigarettes, matches, and two maps. She had mid length strawberry-blonde hair, and wore a tan dress, men’s underwear and turquoise-colored canvas shoes, all of which were believed to have been second-hand clothing.
The LA times described how“standing at the ledge, she would have seen nothing–there was no moon that night–and heard only the wet smack of the Pacific against the rocks below.“
Investigators found marks on the side of the cliff that she had struck during her fall, and she was missing several teeth postmortem due to the impact. A detective described how “she was still alive for some time at the bottom of the cliff, because she had made angel wings with her arms in the sand, you know, like children do in the snow.”
Police were unable to identify her since her family had never reported her missing, and the case went cold. Holly was cremated and her ashes were scattered in the ocean. She was then forgotten until her 2015 identification.
One can only imagine what went through her head on the cold dark night of ‘87 in which she flung herself onto the jagged beach side rocks after drinking half a can of cola. It seems the loneliest death possible.
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