American Murder Houses

by Steve Lehto

  A little after 3:00 A.M. on June 28, 1993, Rifkin was driving his Mazda pickup truck on Long Island when a police officer noticed the truck was missing a license plate. The officer activated his flashing lights but Rifkin kept driving. When the officer used his public address and told Rifkin to pull over, Rifkin veered toward the next exit and floored the accelerator. He led the police—the initial officers were soon joined by others on the empty streets—on a wild chase that lasted twenty minutes. It came to an end when Rifkin lost control of his truck and ran into a telephone pole.

  As the police approached, Rifkin calmly got out of his truck. The police asked him for identification and noticed that he had Noxzema slathered across his mustache. As they tried to make sense of the sober thirty-four-year-old man who had led them on a high-speed chase, one of the officers noticed a foul smell coming from the bed of the truck. Under a blue tarp was the nude body of a woman who had been dead for several days. Rifkin had apparently smeared the Noxzema under his nose so that he could handle the corpse without being overcome by the stench of rotting flesh. When the police asked him to explain the presence of the dead woman in the back of his truck, Rifkin said, “She was a prostitute. I picked her up on Allen Street in Manhattan. I had sex with her, then things went bad and I strangled her. Do you think I need a lawyer?”

  The police arrested Rifkin. At the police station, they learned that Rifkin lived at 1492 Garden Street in East Meadow, with his sister and his seventy-one-year-old mother. The police called Mrs. Rifkin to tell her that her son was in police custody after a car accident. They were not sure how much she might know about what her son had been doing while she was out of town, so they were being cautious. They didn’t want to tip her off if she knew anything, and they didn’t want to alarm her if she didn’t. As he was being interrogated, Rifkin told the police that the woman in the back of his truck—her name was Tiffany Bresciani—was his seventeenth victim. The police quickly obtained a search warrant for the Rifkin home, and soon they had no doubt Rifkin was telling the truth. Understanding how Rifkin had gotten to the point where he could so callously kill and chop up prostitutes would take a little longer.

  Both Rifkin and his sister had been adopted. Rifkin had been a high school outcast, and later as an adult, a loner. The only jobs he ever managed to keep involved tasks he could do outdoors and largely by himself, such as landscaping. He could not master jobs that involved human interaction. After high school, Rifkin had tried attending college—several colleges, actually—but had dropped out of each one after performing miserably in classes. Although he made halfhearted attempts to move out of his mother’s house, he never quite launched. He worked sporadically but was often fired for incompetence. What little money he earned, he spent on prostitutes.

  The Rifkin home was owned by Joel’s mother, and police showed her the search warrant. In her son’s bedroom, police found photos of women that Rifkin had kidnapped, women’s jewelry, and numerous items associated with women, such as makeup cases, wallets, purses, and driver’s licenses. Police suspected they were souvenirs Rifkin had taken from his victims. Two pieces of identification belonged to women whose bodies had been found in 1991 and 1992. He also had books about mass murderers in his bedroom. Items found in Rifkin’s room would help the police solve a dozen or more open murder cases in the area. As the search continued, it became clear that Mrs. Rifkin was unaware of the things her son was doing in the house when she wasn’t home, and she had never gone into his room to see his bizarre collection of souvenirs from the women he had murdered.

  The garage of the home contained more gruesome evidence. Much of it was mixed in with Rifkin’s landscaping tools. A wheelbarrow had blood and human flesh in it. There was a pair of women’s panties on the floor, not far from more tarps and ropes. Realizing that the police had found more than enough evidence to pin dozens of murders on him, Rifkin began giving details of the many women he had killed. He described how he would drive into Manhattan and find prostitutes willing to travel back to East Meadow, often when his mother was not at home. There, in the house, he would have sex with them and then kill them, often beating them to death. He dismembered some of them; others he simply hauled out of the house and dumped. He would throw them in rivers, canals, or wooded areas in New Jersey and New York. Some of the victims would never be found. Others were found almost immediately as Rifkin scattered his victims around the area. And a few of the women were killed in his truck.

  Rifkin’s life story was remarkable in that he seemed to be a target of bullying at every turn. He was even robbed by hookers quite a few times, and one working girl managed to run off with his money—before earning it—twice. Rifkin could only stand for so much bullying, however. He had not lashed out at the kids who tormented him in school. He struck back at the prostitutes.

  Rifkin had killed his first prostitute when his mother left town in 1989. He waited a year before killing again. Then, Rifkin’s mother left town and Joel brought another prostitute home. After killing her, he chopped up her body but decided he could not risk having the body parts found like last time. He bought cement and used it to weight down the body parts of his victim, which he then threw into the East River. That victim was never found, although later Rifkin would confess enough of the details for her to be identified. Rifkin admitted to killing her because the police had found her diary in Rifkin’s bedroom, and she had been reported missing.

  From that point forward, he began killing more often. He would pick up prostitutes and take them home at first. Later, as he escalated the intensity of his crimes, he would cut to the chase and just kill them in his vehicle. He wouldn’t always bother taking steps to hide the bodies very well, either. He dumped victims in and around New York City, or sometimes he would leave them in New Jersey. Many of his victims would not be reported missing for months, if at all.

  His last victim’s odyssey was bizarre, as the police would later find out when they heard Rifkin explain how he had come to have Bresciani in the back of his pickup truck the morning he was apprehended. He had met her early in the morning of June 24, 1993, and strangled her while they were parked in the parking lot of the New York Post. He was driving his mother’s car while she was out of town, so he put the body in the backseat and headed home. On the way, he stopped and bought a tarp. He wrapped his victim in the tarp and placed her body in the trunk. It was a lucky move on his part. When he got home he found out that his mother had returned from her trip early and she needed her car to go shopping. Mrs. Rifkin went and ran her errands without ever realizing that the dead body of a murder victim was in the trunk of her car. When she returned, Joel pulled the body from the trunk and placed it in the wheelbarrow in the garage. He left it there for three days. It was then that he decided to take the body and dump it on Long Island—where he encountered the police who pulled him over for having no license plate on his truck.

  Despite admitting to so many murders, Rifkin forced the state to put him on trial. He had decided it was worth a shot at trying to convince a jury he was insane. Prosecution experts agreed that he had mental problems, but not enough to exonerate him for his killing spree. The defense experts weren’t persuasive enough. The jury convicted him of two murders. He then pleaded guilty in the other cases against him. By the time the dust settled, Rifkin was sentenced to 203 years in prison. One of the judges who passed sentence on him said in court, “It is not in my power to give Mr. Rifkin the sentence he deserves. In case there is such a thing as reincarnation, I want you to spend your second life in prison.” Rifkin will be eligible for parole in 2197.

  As is so often the case with prisoners given impossibly long jail sentences, Rifkin got tired of his stay in prison and began filing appeals. His attorneys argued that Rifkin’s convictions should be overturned because he had made some statements to the police before he had been advised of his rights. It was a long shot: The police had found the dead woman’s decomposing body in the back of his pickup truck before he had said anything incrimina
ting. And the body had been in plain view of the officers at the scene of the traffic stop. The New York courts didn’t agree with Rifkin’s argument. One judge indicated that there might have been some slight irregularities in his trial, but the rest of the evidence was so overwhelming it would not have made a difference if the prosecution had been forced to try the case without Rifkin’s statements being used against him.

  The house Rifkin lived in at the time of his arrest was owned by his mother, Jeanne Rifkin. His father had died in 1987. After being diagnosed with prostate cancer the previous year, he took an overdose of barbiturates. He died a few days later in a hospital. Rifkin had killed and dismembered several of his victims in the house. His mother was not involved in any way with the crimes, and she continued living in the house after Rifkin was sentenced to prison. She passed away in March 2010 and the home was placed on the market. The listing called it an “excellent handyman’s special.”

  This two-story expanded ranch features a nice open floor plan, hardwood floors, four nice-size bedrooms and two lovely bathrooms. Great home, located in a wonderful neighborhood and in the superb Barnum Woods School District. All buyers welcome.

  The house had been built in 1951. The local news soon picked up on the story and some wondered if a buyer could be found for so notorious a house. Real estate agents pointed out that there was no law in New York state requiring disclosure of a house’s murderous past, but would someone really be able to sell this house without the buyer knowing? It was a timely question; at that moment, the DeFeo “Amityville Horror” house was also for sale. Lawyers told the press that while state law did not require disclosure of the house’s past, one could not simply lie to a prospective purchaser. In other words, if someone asked, they had to be told. In response to lawsuits in some states brought by aggrieved buyers of murder homes—and others that were “stigmatized” by events at the home—some states passed laws addressing these questions. However, most of the laws protected sellers and brokers who failed to disclose the stigmatizing event. This area of the law became so muddled and confusing—most people assumed the laws required sellers and brokers to disclose—that numerous articles appeared in real estate and law review publications in an attempt to lend guidance.

  While the Rifkin name may have slowed the sale of the house, eventually a buyer was found. It finally sold in 2011 for $322,000, a tad under the asking price of $349,000 with which it had first been listed. The local newspapers wrote about the sale of the house and interviewed the new owners, a couple who asked that their last names not be published. The wife told a reporter that she was a teacher, and “It’s a great house and we got it for a great price.” Asked about the ugly history of the home, she and her husband knew “something happened in the house,” but it didn’t bother them. Her husband said, “A house is a house. People die all the time in houses. We’re bringing all positive vibes.”

  *“Landscaper Admits to a Dozen Killings, Police Say,” New York Times, June 29, 1993.

  Getting Away with Murder

  NICOLE BROWN SIMPSON AND RONALD GOLDMAN

  1994

  879 South Bundy Drive (formerly 875 South Bundy Drive)

  Los Angeles, California 90049

  Nicole Brown Simpson lived in a condominium with two children she had with her ex-husband, Hall of Fame football player, O. J. Simpson. The condo was in a neighborhood of Los Angeles referred to as Brentwood; O. J. lived two miles away, at 360 North Rockingham, also in Brentwood. On June 12, 1994, Nicole went out to dinner at a local restaurant called Mezzaluna, and her mother, who was dining with her, left her sunglasses behind when the two left after their meal. A waiter at the restaurant who knew Nicole, Ronald Goldman, offered to bring the sunglasses to her condo.

  Goldman and Nicole stood outside the front door of the condo talking, in an area that was secluded because of the foliage on the property. Someone walked around the side of the building from the alley behind the condo and confronted the two. A violent struggle followed. The intruder used a knife to stab both Nicole and Goldman, brutally killing both of them. A few minutes after midnight—early on the morning of June 13—Goldman and Nicole were found by neighbors who had been alerted by the barking of Nicole’s dog. The two victims lay in pools of blood in front of the Bundy condominium’s front door.

  Nicole’s condo had a partially hidden walkway that led to its front door and, judging by a single set of bloody footprints that did not belong to either victim, the police concluded that one person had killed both Nicole and Goldman on the walk. A narrow walkway also leads to the alley behind the condo, which was most likely the escape route used by the killer. In two trials—one criminal and one civil—and endless media coverage, the facts of what happened in front of the condo were discussed ad nauseam. While some of the facts may have been debatable, underlying all of it were two gruesome killings. One particular wound to Nicole’s neck almost decapitated her, cutting clean through to her vertebrae. She was also stabbed in the head and neck several times. Goldman was stabbed as many as thirty times and left to die on the sidewalk. Then, according to a witness, the killer sped off in a white Bronco, toward Rockingham. Inside the condo, Nicole’s two young children, aged nine and six, were still sleeping.

  O. J. Simpson’s murder trial was another one labeled as the Trial of the Century by the news media. Judging by the amount of press coverage it received, it certainly was a legitimate contender for the title. Orenthal James Simpson was a well-known athlete and celebrity, having launched his career by playing football at the University of Southern California. There, he led the NCAA in rushing yardage for two years and won the Heisman Trophy, along with a variety of other accolades. He went to the National Football League, where he stacked up rushing and scoring records at Buffalo and San Francisco. He retired in 1980 and was elected to the NFL Hall of Fame the first year he was eligible.

  Simpson then turned to acting and found roles in Roots, The Towering Inferno, and the Naked Gun films, among others. He also worked as a sports broadcaster. At times, he seemed ubiquitous, landing lucrative endorsement deals that placed him in commercials as well. He pitched everything from Hertz car rentals to—of course—orange juice. He appeared good-natured and friendly. Everyone seemed to like him.

  In 1977, Simpson met a woman almost twelve years his junior named Nicole Brown. Nicole was a waitress at a Beverly Hills nightclub. Simpson was married but would divorce his wife in 1980. Simpson had been working in Hollywood more as he began planning his exit from football and had even appeared in a few big-screen projects, although not all of them were blockbusters. Around this time he made a movie called Detour to Terror where he played the lead. Nicole had an uncredited role in the film as a bus passenger. In 1985, Simpson married Nicole Brown. The couple had two children but separated and then divorced in 1992. It would later become well known that Nicole had filed domestic violence charges against Simpson during their separation, charges to which Simpson had pleaded no contest.

  Los Angeles police investigating the two murders at the Bundy condominium quickly turned their attention to Simpson as a suspect. He was known to have had a troubled and violent relationship with his ex-wife, and the evidence soon began piling up against him. When they called to tell him his ex-wife had been killed, he did not ask the detective any details of the murder. He didn’t even bother to ask which of his two ex-wives had been killed. Simpson owned a white Bronco and a witness said she saw a white Bronco speeding away from the crime scene. She identified the driver as O. J. Bloody footprints at the scene matched Simpson’s footwear. A bloody glove was found at Simpson’s Rockingham residence. Bloody socks were found in Simpson’s bedroom. Blood inside Simpson’s Bronco and on his clothing matched both Simpson and Nicole.

  Simpson’s attorneys told the police that they could avoid a media circus by letting Simpson turn himself in rather than having him arrested. The police agreed and told the attorneys that Simpson should present himself to the police by 11:00 A.M. on June 17. Simpson d
id not show. His attorneys held a press conference and read a letter that Simpson had written, in which he stated that he did not kill Nicole and that he had lived a good life. Many people thought it sounded like a suicide note, something the attorneys did not contest. The police announced they were going to arrest Simpson if they found him alive. The city of Los Angeles was abuzz. Where was O. J.?

  Around 6:30 that evening, someone notified the LAPD that Simpson’s white Bronco was on the 405 freeway near L.A. Soon, police were following the vehicle and helicopters flew overhead to give television viewers live coverage. Al Cowlings, a former teammate of Simpson’s, was driving the Bronco, and when a squad car pulled even with the vehicle, Cowlings told the officers to get away because Simpson was in the backseat with a gun to his own head. The police moved back and contented themselves with following the Bronco in what became the iconic slow-motion Bronco chase.

  Eventually, Simpson drove to his Rockingham home in Brentwood, where he sat in his Bronco in the driveway for forty-five minutes before going into his house for an hour. He then surrendered to police. When police searched his Bronco, they found $8,750 cash, the gun he had been holding to his head, his passport, a disguise, and a change of clothing. It was later estimated that almost a hundred million people watched some or all of Simpson’s escapades that night, which had been broadcast live on ABC, NBC, CBS, and CNN.

  The extensive coverage of the chase was a precursor to what became one of the longest and most publicized trials in American history. Simpson hired a very expensive team of lawyers—someone dubbed them “the Dream Team”—and he pleaded “absolutely, one hundred percent, not guilty” to two murder charges. Jury selection began in October 1994, and the trial itself began January 24, 1995. Almost all of the proceedings were broadcast live on the Court TV cable channel and most nightly newscasts on the major networks carried updates from the trial as part of their regular news. The trial was on television for a total of 133 days. Simpson spent several million dollars hiring his nine attorneys, and they defended him by arguing that the mountain of evidence facing O. J. was fraudulent or somehow flawed due to police ineptitude and misconduct.