Prime Crime: Solved Murders - Patricia Walsh & Mary Anne Wysocki Pt. 1

Episode Date: April 14, 2021

On January 23, 1969, two college students went on a weekend trip to Provincetown, Massachusetts. They never returned. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Due to the graphic nature of this murder case, listener discretion is advised. This episode includes graphic descriptions of dead bodies as well as dramatizations and discussions of murder and assault that some people may find offensive. We advise extreme caution for children under 13. In 1969, Provincetown, Massachusetts was a hippie haven. Young people flocked to the very tip of Cape Cod for a taste of the counterculture lifestyle. During the summer months, the quaint streets of Provincetown were overrun with self-proclaimed freaks, also known as hippies, dancing to music and soaking up the sunshine. This small seaside town promised an entry into the burgeoning free love movement, a lifestyle of sexual liberation, drug use, and carefree living.

Even in the off-season, Provincetown was a welcome getaway for young East Coasters who wanted a break from their regular lives. At least, that's why Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki chose to take a weekend trip to that small seaside town. The two young women piled into a pale blue VW bug and drove out to Provincetown on cold January morning, looking forward to a few days of escape. But Provincetown wasn't the psychedelic utopia that the women thought it would be.

Someone was using the culture of free love as a cloak, a way of enacting unspeakable acts of violence. And that someone was about to claim two more victims. Welcome to Solved Murders, True Crime Mysteries, a Spotify original from Parcast. I'm your host, Carter Roy. And I'm your host, Wendy McKenzie. Every Wednesday, we step into the world of true crimes, most fascinating murder cases, and tell the tale of how real-life detectives close the case.

You can find episodes of Solve Murders and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free exclusively on Spotify. This is our first episode on the murder of Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki. This week we'll cover the investigation into their disappearance. Next week we'll cover how these murders became linked to a series of brutal attacks in Provincetown. We have all that and more coming up. Stay with us. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars.

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My lips are sealed. Marvel Television's Wonder Man. All eight episodes now streaming, only on Disney Plus. The trip to Provincetown was at last minute decision. Patricia Walsh and Marianne Moisaki lived in Providence, a short two-hour drive to the Cape. Patricia taught at a local elementary school while Marianne was still finishing her degree in mathematics at Rhode Island College. And when the weekend approached, the two friends decided that this was as good a time as any to have a short weekend to getaway. The girls hardly told

anyone about their trip. Patricia mentioned it to her boyfriend, a recent graduate named Robert turbiddy. The couple had made a point to talk regularly on the phone ever since Robert decided to take a trip out west for a few months. He had been gone for two by the time January rolled around, but the couple saw each other over the holidays. I can't wait to get out of Providence. I feel like I'm going crazy with school. Even just for a couple days, I could really use this. Provincetown is supposed to be amazing. I wish you were here. You're still planning to come back by March, right?

Are you finally getting sick of California? Yep, you got it. I'll call you when I get there. That was January 23rd, a Thursday. The girls planned to leave the following day, stay in Provincetown for the weekend, and be back at school by Monday. Robert expected Patricia to call on Friday night.

But when Friday came, Patricia didn't call. At first, Robert waved this off. Maybe she was tired from the drive and forgot. But soon Saturday passed, then Sunday. By Monday, January 27th, Robert was getting worried. He called the apartment that he shared with Patricia before he left for his California adventure, but no one answered. He waited a few hours, then tried again, but again, she didn't pick up.

On Monday night, Robert enlisted Patricia's father in this search. but their combined efforts only turned up more concerning details. No, no, it's not. Good idea. I'm already on my way back east. I'd been planning to visit Pat next weekend. Just a couple more days of driving and I'll be there. But as the hours passed,

neither Mr. Walsh nor Robert Turbiddy were able to gather any hopeful details about the two girls' whereabouts. Mr. Walsh's call to the Massachusetts police was yet another dead end. There was no report of an accident involving a light blue Volkswagen Beetle. By Tuesday, things weren't looking good. Nearly a week had passed since Robert and Patricia had spoken on the phone,

and neither she nor Marianne had been spotted since their trip to Provincetown. The two girls were officially missing. That same day, Mr. Walsh called Rhode Island police to make the report. He offered any scrap of information he could. Patricia's appearance, her height, a description of her 1968 VW bug. But as he offered these details to the police, Mr. Walsh realized he didn't know much about the trip itself. The vacation was so spontaneous

that Patricia had never mentioned where she and Marianne were going to stay. Mr. Walsh's missing person's report was quickly sent to Provincetown Police, but that was only the first step. The girls could have been anywhere in person, Provincetown, and the police had no choice but to begin a broad, citywide search for the two women. In the final few days of January, 1969, the search was taken up by a revolving door of local officers. Provincetown police were used to a certain level of deviousness from young citizens and even from young tourists. The town was a hub for the 1960s counterculture, and as such, the patrolmen who began

and searching for Patricia and Marianne had mixed feelings about the endeavor. I just don't have a good feeling about this one. What do you mean? These hippie kids run away all the time. I don't see why this would be any different. I don't know, Carlin. These are two college girls, just some kids trying to score some dope and get high all weekend. I suppose, but who's to say they didn't fly the coop and take a longer trip? I mean, the one girl drove a blue VW bug.

Wouldn't you think that if these girls were still in town, we would be able to find that car? All I know is that something doesn't feel right. And if we find that car, I'd wager you'll start feeling the same way. January turned to February, and the Provincetown police still couldn't find a sign of the two girls' whereabouts. And in Providence, the trail had also gone cold. Robert Turbiddy returned to the East Coast with one final hope that he would find Patricia waiting for him in their apartment.

But when he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he was greeted with a dark, still interior of a home that had not been lived in for over a week. Robert even took the two-hour drive out to Provincetown himself. He drove aimlessly through the quaint streets, peering out at the cold, but his hours of searching turned up nothing. By February, the news had gotten around Cape Cod

that the police were looking for two girls in their missing car. The people of Provincetown gossiped about, it here and there without much seriousness, the small coastal town was used to housing runaway youth who wanted to disappear. This case didn't feel noteworthy, at least not yet. But Provincetown was only one small part of Cape Cod. The peninsula was made up of many picturesque towns, and all of them were connected by a series of scenic roads that ran through a dense forest.

On February 2nd, a local man who, for the sake of anonymity, we will call Fred Turner, was weaving his car through one of those two-lane roads in the small town of Truro, just outside of Provincetown proper. This was his weekly commute to pick up the Sunday paper, a chance to enjoy the natural beauty of the East Coast landscape. The road wound sharply around the trees, and as Fred swung his car around a particularly sharp turn, His eye caught on something, a shock of light blue through the dark green wood.

He pulled off onto the shoulder and leaned across the passenger seat to get a better look. It was a car, parked about 30 feet off the main road. Quickly, he sat back up, opened his driver's side door, and stepped out into the cool air. Maybe the driver had experienced some engine trouble and needed help. But something made him make him. stop. Standing there at the side of the road, Fred Turner listened to the sounds of the woods. It seemed like the forest was holding its breath. He didn't know why, but something felt wrong. He felt like he was being watched. Every twig snap, every unseen rustle in the darkness felt

like a threat. Fred slowly lowered himself back into his car. The VW looked like it had been abandoned for a while. Perhaps the police would be more willing to investigate it. Truro Police, this is Chief Harold Barrio. Oh, was there anyone in the vehicle? No, nobody. You guys ought to check it out. All right, come down to the station and show me where you found the car. We'll get to the bottom of this. The two men drove back along the winding dirt road, coming to a stop in the same place where Fred Turner had parked only an hour before. They walked gingerly to the clearing along the frozen ground. The car had been clearly abandoned for several days.

Its windshield covered in a spider web of frost. But as they approached the car, Chief Barrio and Fred Turner noticed something else. What's this? That wasn't there when I was here. Someone put it there. I knew someone was watching me. I told you something wasn't right about this. this. And you're sure you didn't see anyone in the car, on the side of the road, anyone at all?

Oh, I am absolutely sure of it. This vehicle was abandoned. I was the only person in these woods. At least I thought I was. Stuck underneath the right side windshield wiper was a note, crudely written with red magic marker on a torn piece of brown paper. All it read was engine trouble will return. Coming up, the police learn valuable information about Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki's fateful trip to Provincetown. Stay with us. The internet. What would we do without it?

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Now back to the story. On February 2nd, 1969, Truro Police didn't know that only one town over, Provincetown police were still searching for Patricia Walsh's Volkswagen Beetle. For Chief Barrio, the discovery in the woods was just a footnote in an otherwise uneventful day. Fred Turner, the man who found the car, still believed that someone had placed the note there before the chief arrived, but so far there wasn't anything that could prove it. Without much else left to do, the chief wrote down the license plate number and left the car where it was. Days passed. By February 6th, the mystery of the missing girls had only

just begun to spread beyond Provincetown and into the surrounding areas of Cape Cod. Whispers and rumors wove their way through the counterculture scene, as people wondered what had happened to the two young women. It had been nearly two weeks since Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki had disappeared. Robert Turbiddy, Patricia's boyfriend, had become more and more frustrated with the slow-moving investigation. He had spent the last two weeks spreading the news about the missing friends to anyone who would listen.

He had a picture of Patricia published in the Provincetown newspaper and asked all of Patricia and Marianne's friends if they knew anything about the trip to Provincetown. Several friends knew that the girls had planned the trip, but no one knew much beyond that. Robert had taken to spending time on the Rhode Island College campus, asking around about the two girls. Robert himself had little luck in his investigations, but on February 6th, one of Robert's friends overheard something interesting. Through the cafeteria chatter, they noticed a familiar name. Someone was talking about Robert's girlfriend.

This friend immediately let Robert know what he heard, and Robert rushed to follow up over the phone. Hi, Carl, you don't know me, but I heard you had some information about Patricia Walsh. I've been looking for her and her friend, Marianne. Weeks ago and ran it took later that night? Wait, what's your roommate's name? Glenn Matluck.

What's this about? Does your roommate know where they went? Does he know the name of the place where the girl stayed? Were they with someone? Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. All I know is that Len and some of his friends hung out with these questions, but I can't help you. Robert immediately jotted down the roommate's number. Len Matluck wasn't hard to reach, and soon, Robert had a piece of information.

Even the police hadn't been able to find. The two girls' last known location. Len Matluck remembered seeing Patricia and Marianne on January. 24th, shortly after the two young women had arrived. Then, later that same night, he saw the pair at a local bar. It wasn't much, but still, Robert decided to inform the Provincetown police about this new development. Len had also mentioned the name of the landlady who ran the rooming house, a Mrs. Patricia Morton. She, Robert urged, would be the person to talk to. The rooming house was a humble two-story building.

on Standish Street in Provincetown's historic district. It was an old house, which made it drafty and cold in the winter. But at least it was cheap, and this made it particularly popular with young people visiting the seaside town on brief trips. Patricia Morton wasn't exactly hip to the counterculture scene, but she welcomed anyone in a rooming house along as they were respectful and quiet.

In the early afternoon of February 6th, Provincetown Sergeant James Meads arrived at the rooming house to ask the landlady some questions. If anyone would have information about the two missing girls, Patricia Morton would be a good place to start. Yeah, I remember those two girls. They came in a couple weeks ago and just stayed one night. And you saw them leave? Come to think of it. No, I didn't.

I saw them come in that Friday night and then the next morning they were gone. Did they talk to anyone else staying here? Oh, yes. One of our other tenants helped them with their bags. Tony Costa. Mrs. Morton explained that Tony Costa had been living in the rooming house for a few weeks. He was young, handsome, with dark hair and a strong mustache. From the little she knew about her tenant, he seemed to be a pleasant, quiet person.

But Mrs. Morton hadn't seen Tony for several days. As far as Mrs. Morton could tell, he was moving out, but strangely, he had left most of his belongings in his room. What makes you say he was moving? Well, I found a note that he left for those two girls asking if they could drive him out to Troro. I figured he was planning to move out there. Here, I've got the note with me. Thanks. Any chance Tony left you a forwarding address or a phone number? No, but I should have his mother's number. Hold on, let me get a pen. Sergeant Meads thanked the landlady for the information and left the small roominghouse.

But when he called Tony Costa's mother, he was given a similar response. She also hadn't seen him for some time. Tony Costa was now likely the last person who saw the two missing girls. But it was almost as if he had disappeared into thin air. No one knew where he was or when they expected to hear from him. Provincetown police began reaching out to other local stations in the hopes of finding this elusive man. But as they searched for Tony Costa,

they were hit with another surprise. Cooper, you're going to want to check this out. I just got a note from Truro Police. Looks like they reported an abandoned vehicle on February 2nd, and it sounds like it could be Patricia Walsh's car. Let me see. My blue Volkswagen bug. Jesus Christ.

This is it. I can't believe this has been sitting in the Truro Woods for who knows how long. I need to get down there. I'll call Truro Chief Barrio. I bet he can show you where that car is. Man, this could be huge. You're telling me. All right, I'm on my way.

Tell Chief Barrio to expect me. The Volkswagen Beetle was the one other clue that Provincetown police had been desperately searching for. and all this time it had been waiting in the woods only a few miles away. Patrolman Cooper flew down the winding treeline streets towards Truro. He quickly found Chief Barrio, who told him he had seen the car himself and would bring Cooper to it. Chief Barrio led the way, and the two patrol cars wove their way through the forest. Occasionally the tree line was interrupted by desolate hillsides, the grass dull and lifeless. in the February cold.

Soon, the two men approached the bend in the road where Fred Turner had originally spotted the Volkswagen. But his chief Barrio brought Cooper into the clearing, he slammed on the brakes. The car was gone. The chief jumped out of his cruiser and strode to the spot where he had seen the car only days before.

He looked around in the woods, but there was no sign of the Volkswagen anywhere. The only indication that the car had been there at all were four indentations in the forest floor, tire tracks. Maybe, maybe the driver came back for the car. We did find a note on the windshield wiper. Maybe those two girls really did have engine trouble and got the car fixed. Maybe. But this seems off to me.

If those two girls were this close to Provincetown, wouldn't they know we were looking for them? Their pictures were printed in the paper only yesterday. Good point. Well, the car is gone, but maybe they left something. Let's have a look around. Searching around the clearing, Chief Berrio found a small can of aluminum lacquer that stank of gasoline. He placed it in his police cruiser, hoping that it could be used for fingerprints. But the can and the tire tracks were the only suggestions of life left in the small clearing. The two men had to begin searching the surrounding forest.

They crept through the woods, the sound of their footsteps, the only thing they could hear. Chief Barrio started to understand the strange sensation that Fred Turner had described when he had first found the car. Something was wrong here. He felt like he was being watched. Barrio and Cooper wandered through the woods for a while, finding nothing in the frozen underbrush, Then suddenly, Cooper came across another small clearing, hidden by a semicircle of dense pine trees. Scattered across the ground were torn up pieces of paper. Patrolman Cooper stooped down and plucked out two yellow scraps. Turning them over in his hand, he saw a name printed in plain typewritten text, Patricia Walsh.

The yellow paper was a sales slip for the Volkswagen made out in her name. Patrolman Cooper grabbed the remaining papers strewn across the clearing and began putting them together. Quickly, he had pieced together the vehicle's registration and insurance policy. This was wrong. All wrong. And as the patrolman stood in the wooded clearing, he became more certain now than ever before. Those two girls were in serious trouble. Coming up, the Provincetown Police continue their search of the woods. and come across a gruesome discovery.

Stay with us. Now, back to the story. February 8, 1969, was a solemn day. It had been over two weeks since Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki were last seen, and things weren't looking good. Patricia Walsh's car had disappeared, and all of her identification papers

had been ripped apart by some unknown individual. Tony Costa was the only person they knew of who might have more information about Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki, but so far the police weren't able to find him, and the longer he remained undetected, the more suspicious he became. With little else to investigate, the Provincetown and Truro Police Forces decided to search the woods where the missing car was last seen.

Shortly after 9.30 in the morning, over 70 men from local and state police gathered in the Truro Woods, to begin their search. The search was split into two groups. Half of the men were led by Chief Barrio along the dirt road that flanked the woods. The men hunched low as they walked, peering under fallen branches for any sign of a clue.

The second half took the forest, led by a state trooper named Jeffrey Clemens. In the dim, misty light of that February morning, the woods were awash in a golden glow. Only the presence of this, these men turned this picturesque scene into something far more ominous. The two groups of men tramped through the woods and along the surrounding road for an hour, and shortly before 11, Chief Barrio called out to the other group, declaring that his side of the

search was clear, no signs of life. As the chief prepared to leave, Clemens continued searching through the trees for another hour. But just before he was ready to call off the search, he heard a shout from somewhere deep in the woods. Two members of the Truro Rescue Squad had found something buried in the ground. Clemens found the two men standing in front of a small patch of the forest floor. A crude rectangle of earth had been sunk down into the ground, measuring about four feet by two feet, and sticking out of the frosty earth was a small piece of green fabric.

We weren't sure if it was a scrap of clothing or something like that. What do you make of this, Clemens? I think you boys have found something big. Hand me that trouble. It's a duffel bag. Looks like a standard-issue Army surplus bag. Help me unearth it.

What is that smell? Do you think some hunter buried a deer out here? This smells like... Wait, what's that? Sticking out of the dark, wet earth was something white and hard, bone. The two men stared at it, still reeling from the putrid stench from the bag.

gingerly trooper Clemens reached down and held onto the bone, wiggling it back and forth to pry it from the soil. The bone was surprisingly difficult to dislodge. With one final tug, Clemens pulled it out, and when he saw what he had discovered, the trooper took in a sharp, ragged breath. Attached to the bone, caked with black soil, was a human foot.

The two officers who had discovered the grave stared at Clemens, their faces an ashen white. Slowly the trooper placed the foot onto the forest floor. He paused for only a moment, glancing between the foot and the dirt smeared duffel bag. In a hush tone, Clemens told one of the shaken officers to call the Provincetown Police, the medical examiner and the police photographer. The search party had found a grave. Soon enough, the Truro Woods were alive with voices. The dirt road choked with police cars.

The medical examiner was a tall elderly man named Dr. Daniel Hebert. Slowly, he wove his way through the throng until he was standing before the shallow grave. The semi-buried deffle bag had been partially torn, and it didn't take long for Clemens to discover more gruesome remains. buried alongside it was a second leg and two arms severed at their sockets. As he pried the flesh from the ground, he noticed something glinting through the soil. Clemens saw a small, delicate ring placed on the left hand.

As he scraped through the grave, Clemens discovered, a laundry bag. Inside was the armless, headless torso of a woman. A pair of blood-soaked panties had been shoved into the chest cavity. It looked like the whole body was there, butchered into gruesome segments. Each part was wrapped in some kind of bag or receptacle. The magnitude of the slaughter was beyond anything that the police were expecting to find. And with each new discovery, Clemens was shocked anew. The dig didn't take long, but the sheer weight of Clemens' finding made the ordeal feel like it lasted in eternity.

He had slowly amassed almost an entire corpse. Finally, Clemens saw a small plastic bag, pressed against its semi-transparent surface, was the impression of a face. Clemens held the bag by the handles and brought it out of the hole. He waved the medical examiner over so that he could have a look. Clemens delicately rolled down the bag to reveal the human head nestled inside. All right, let's have a look. Female, looks like the head was severed just below the jawbone. with a crude weapon, something like an axe.

Why does her face look like that? All splotchy and blue and shrunken. I'd say this woman experienced severe trauma to the face before she was decapitated. The nose is nearly flat. It's been completely shattered. And the teeth have been knocked out. It's hard to determine the victim's age without some testing. This body may have been here for a long time.

The severed head rested on the forest floor, its face frozen mid-scream. So much time underground had changed the texture of the skin, giving it a dough-like softness. And as the two men examined its features, the head's milky eyes stared back at them in ghostly silence. Dr. Hebert took the human remains back to the Provincetown Medical Lab for analysis. And quickly, the examiner deduced some basic information about the identity. of the murdered woman. She was young, maybe between 17 and 19 years old. Her body had been left in the woods for over a year. The corpse was not Patricia Walsh or Marianne Wysaki, but this realization hardly brought any comfort to the investigative team. One detail put things

into a morbid perspective. Patricia Walsh's car had last been seen only half a mile from this butchered body. Local police officers paged through old missing persons reports in the hopes of finding a case that matched the description of the body. And all the while, both Provincetown and Truro Police continued hunting for clues that could direct them to Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki. The police had been trying to trace the can of aluminum lacquer found in the clearing where Patricia Walsh's car had disappeared.

and on February 9th, Sergeant Meads found the source. The can had been purchased at a small gas station in North Truro, and a quick call to the store gave Meads a very useful clue. I sold him. Did he tell you anything else? Said he was headed out to Boston. Do you remember what kind of car it was? Sure, sure. It was a Volkswagen for the job, but...

Sergeant Meads immediately shared this information with the rest of the investigation. team. Tony Costa had Patricia Walsh's car and was trying to camouflage it to avoid detection. Tony Costa had to know what happened to Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki, and maybe he knew about the murdered body in the woods. The police had more questions than answers, but they knew one thing for sure. Tony Costa was not innocent. Thanks again for tuning into solved murders. We'll be back next Wednesday with part two of the murder of Patricia Walsh and Marianne Wysaki. For more information amongst the many sources we used,

we found the book, In His Garden, The Anatomy of a Murderer by Leo D'Amour, extremely helpful to our research. You can find all episodes of Solved Murders and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free on Spotify. We'll see you next time. If we live till next time. Solve Murders, True Crime Mysteries is a Spotify original from Parcast. It is executive produced by Max Cutler.

Sound design by Michael Langsner, with production assistants by Ron Shapiro, Carly Madden, and Freddie Beckley. This episode of Solve Murders was written by Georgia Hampton, with writing assistance by Giles Hofseth, fact-checking by Claire Cronin, and research by Mickey Taylor. The amazing cast of voice actors includes Tom Bauer, Tiana Camacho, Joe Hernandez, Eddie Lee, and Julian Smith.

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