The Bricca Family Murders: Cincinnati’s Lost Innocence

The 1960s were a vastly different time in comparison to today. In 1966 the Vietnam War was already underway as war-related deaths tripled from the previous year. The Summer of Love had left the country aghast when they realized that Charles Manson was preying on many of the lost souls of the movement. Americans had already watched the death of President John F. Kennedy before watching him be replaced by his vice president, Lyndon B. Johnson. Adam West stunned children nationwide when he debuted as Batman on the hit ABC show that year. The Beatles also shocked many when they proclaimed in an interview that year that they had become “more popular than Jesus.” Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. was at the helm of the Civil Rights Movement as his iconic and memorable speeches captivated the world. To those living at the time, 1966 must have seemed like some year, whether they considered it good or bad.

To those living in Cincinnati, Ohio, 1966 must have seemed like a nightmare from which they would never wake. For the first time the residents of Cincinnati felt the need to lock their doors at night and arm themselves. They felt their calm, quiet security shattered almost overnight when the dark side of humanity manifested within their borders.

Gerald John Bricca, or Jerry as he was known, was born in San Francisco on January 25, 1938 according to Cincinnati Magazine. He was the eldest child of Elmer and Dolores Bricca. Their family had settled in San Francisco in the 1850s, where they thrived and prospered. Jerry attended Ignatius High School with former California governor Jerry Brown. He graduated in 1956 and then attended Stanford University, where he would earn his degree in 1960.

At only five feet, ten inches tall and weighing just 170 pounds, he was quite strong for his size. With muscular arms and broad shoulders sculpted from competitive swimming, he was nothing short of eye-catching. Jerry had competed in the 1.5 mile, open-water Golden Gate Swim several times while living in San Francisco. His short brush cut was almost at odds with the times, but fit him and his personality to perfection.

Shortly after graduation he started working for a plastics facility in Seattle called Monsanto. He quickly earned the reputation of a hard worker, willing to overextend himself for his company. His solid work ethic was one thing that friends, neighbors, and coworkers would always remember about him.

After moving to Seattle he met Linda Jayne Bulaw. At only eighteen-years-old, she had just graduated from her training school and started work as a stewardess for United Airlines. One memory that holds firmly of Linda today was her striking beauty. Captivating brown eyes, a tall, curvy figure, and sharp features that accentuated it all. Even in pictures her alluring eyes could pull you in and hold you there.

Linda was born on January 4, 1943 to parents Adolph and Jane Bulaw. She grew up in a wealthy community called Barrington Hills, just thirty-five miles northwest of Chicago. Her father’s prosperous engineering firm, Bulaw Welding and Engineering, afforded her family a lifestyle that many only dream of. Adolph started his firm in 1935 and managed to grow and thrive despite the drastic economic downturn of the Great Depression. Throughout World War II the lucrative government contracts he secured likely set the family up for life.

Linda had a love and a passion for animals that many readily recalled. This passion even led her to accept a temp job at a veterinary clinic just before her death. Her love for animals was intense and pure, though there were some that didn’t really understand it.

Jerry and Linda fell madly in love with one another and were married on November 25, 1961. Though Jerry’s sister wished to not be named in research done by J.T. Townsend and John Boertlein, she did offer a small amount of information. The Bricca family readily accepted Linda, believing the couple to be a good match. Just a few weeks before the tragedy that would strip a city of its innocence, Linda and Jerry had attended his sister’s wedding. She remembered them having fun as they accompanied her and her new husband at the head table. They danced and laughed, looking as in love as ever. It would seem that their marriage was the picture of perfection, at least up until the end.

The couple had their only child on June 9, 1962 in Seattle. Deborah Ann Bricca would be known to all as Debbie. A little more than a year after her first birthday, Jerry was transferred by his company. The small, young family packed up and moved across the country to Cincinnati, Ohio. Jerry found them a small home on the west side so he could be closer to the Monsanto plant.

The Woodhaven subdivision that they called home mostly consisted of small, split-level, three-bedroom homes with single car garages, and no air conditioning. Every house was built in the American suburbia architectural style made popular in the 50s. Without air conditioning to cool off their homes in the summer, residents would take to their front porches in the evenings. Neighbors would chat with one another while they watched their children play. It really was a slice of American heaven.

The small Bricca family moved into their quiet suburban home at 3381 Greenway Avenue and fit seamlessly into their neighborhood. Though there were some that described Linda as “Aloof” and “Sort of stuck up,” many more recalled her friendly, outgoing personality. As all of their neighbors were at least ten years older than them, they were affectionately dubbed “the kids.” The kids became a fixture in the neighborhood, lighting up backyard luaus, basement gatherings, and block parties. Debbie even made a friend around her age named Darlene. Linda became quite friendly with Darlene’s mother, Nettie Caudell. Though the family was cordial with their neighbors and always attended gatherings, they were also known for keeping to themselves. When the Bricca family became Ohio’s biggest unsolved mystery everyone quickly realized that they hadn’t really known them very well at all.

This was an era where most people, even those living in bigger cities, didn’t lock their doors. It comes as no surprise that in this era no one in the peaceful Woodhaven subdivision were locking theirs, either. The area was so uneventful that the Green Township Police Department only worked fourteen hour days before shutting the station and going home for the night. With no crime to speak of a twenty-four hour police presence just didn’t seem necessary.

In 1966 Jerry Bricca was only twenty-eight years old, while Linda was just twenty-three. Little Debbie was four by that time and proving to be quite precocious for her age. With her mother’s dark hair and brown eyes, she was a little beauty already in bloom. It’s been stated that shortly before the family met their demise Jerry and Linda were having marital troubles, but as they kept their business private no one can really say for sure.

Jerry was a well-known workaholic who regularly worked weekends. If there was trouble in the marriage, this is likely where it stemmed from. September 25, 1966 was like any other Sunday for the family. They attended Sunday morning mass at St. Aloysius Church before Jerry rushed off to work for the rest of the day. At eight o’clock that evening, he left the plant and made a stop off at the United Dairy Farmers to buy milk. The store was conveniently located only a mile from their home. When he arrived back to their small little slice of heaven he found his wife and daughter in the ground floor rec room. Linda folded laundry as Debbie watched TV.

When he got home, Jerry remembered that the following Monday morning was trash day. He was thankful for the respite in the day’s chilly, rainy weather as he lugged his trash cans to the curb. He ran into a neighbor of his who was also taking advantage of the stopped rain to walk her dog. She said hello to the young man and the two spoke of the cruddy weather that day before going their separate ways. Jerry returned inside his house, never to be seen again as his neighbor continued on her walk.

For the next two days all was eerily quiet at the Bricca’s split-level home. The typical workweek began for the rest of the neighborhood, but the Bricca home almost seemed frozen in the night before as the lights inside continued to burn. Though the prior day had barely reached sixty degrees, Monday picked back up to the seventies as people exited their homes for a breath of fresh air. Strangely, Linda and Debbie were never seen in the yard, though. Normally on a nice day Linda would work in her yard as her daughter played.

The garbage truck ran and the rest of the neighborhood brought their cans back inside. They quickly noticed that the Briccas had not. Everyone that lived close by to them knew how faithfully Linda always brought her cans in. It seemed kind of strange. The family dogs, Thumper, who was part cocker spaniel, and Dusty, part poodle, had not been seen all day, either. They hadn’t even barked the entire day. It was all so odd to those living on the block.

The lights continued to burn as though someone were home as evening came and the sun lowered. The evening Post Times-Star landed in the yard with no one it pick it up. The trash cans sat out on the curb, the paper remained in the yard, and the neighbors started to wonder.

The sun rose over the Bricca’s home on Tuesday morning as the lights inside remained on, the trash cans continued to sit on the curb, and the morning Enquirer was piled atop Monday evening’s paper. By the time Tuesday evening’s Post Times-Star was tossed on top of the growing pile of news the dogs had finally started to bark from inside the otherwise quiet house. Their neighbors, Betty and Dick Meyer, began to get the sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong. Betty mentioned her worries to her husband to find that she wasn’t alone in her concern.

Dick first called the Monsanto plant to see if Jerry was there. He was alarmed to find out that the well-known workaholic had not been to work in two days. The Meyers were contacted by the Janzens, also Woodhaven residents. They had also taken notice of the odd lack of activity at the Bricca’s house. There seemed to be a feeling in the air throughout this peaceful sub-division. It was loaded with suspicion, fear, and anxiety for “the kids.” Something wasn’t right and these loyal neighbors weren’t going to sit by and do nothing.

It was somewhere between ten and ten-thirty the night of September 27, 1966 when Dick approached the Bricca’s house to check in. He knocked on the front door with no answer aside from the barking dogs trapped behind the door. As he opened the door, determined to walk inside and see the family for himself, he was hit by a terribly familiar odor. Dick Meyer had served this country valiantly in World War II. As a veteran of such a bloody war, he recognized the scent of human decay immediately.

He wasted no time in closing the front door and running home to call the police. Soon the entire neighborhood was awash in flashing lights as the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office, the Cincinnati Police Department, and the Mack Fire Department rushed to respond. Residents watched as the dogs were taken from the home, the bodies of an entire family were removed, and large fans were wheeled in to waft the stench of decomposition out into the chilly night air. Dick Meyer and his neighbor, Janzen, were given the difficult task of identifying the bodies. Neither man would ever forget the brutality that they witnessed inside the Bricca’s split-level home.

All three members of the Bricca family were discovered stabbed to death in their bedrooms. Jerry sustained nine wounds, six of which were concentrated to the left side of his back, while the other three cut his throat. A sock had been stuffed inside his mouth and a piece of duct tape placed over it. By the time he was found the tape was hanging from his chin. Linda was found in the couple’s bed, stabbed eight times in the right side of her torso. Four-year-old Debbie was found in her bedroom floor with four stab wounds penetrating her little body. Only one sock remained on her foot. Just out of reach from her outstretched arms was a stuffed animal.

Cincinnati was outraged by the brutal murder of a child within their borders. The entire neighborhood was on edge as they wondered aloud who could commit such evil. Everyone knew that the only reason poor, little Debbie was killed was because she was a witness. Such a bright little girl surely would’ve been an asset to police in solving this crime.

Fox19 reported that authorities thought the intruder, or intruders to be known to the family. They were able to get into the house without making a ruckus, and were even able to subdue the dogs. There were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house. It was as neat and tidy as it would’ve been on any given day of the week. There were no signs of forced entry, either. This told investigators that they had willingly let their killer in. Also their bodies presented no defensive wounds. Oddly it appeared that Jerry and Linda had been bound, but their restraints were gone by the time they were found.

Residents all over Cincinnati had already been shaken up by the rampage of the Cincinnati Strangler. By the time the Bricca’s were murdered the Strangler had already killed his fourth victim. Posteal Laskey Jr. would go on to kill three more before his capture on December 9, 1966, a year after his crime spree began. There were many that wondered if he could’ve been responsible for the family’s vicious end, but investigators already familiar with his case knew this wasn’t so. Laskey’s victim profile was limited exclusively to elderly women. A young family was too far outside of his profile to have been his doing. Not to mention his M.O., which is right there in his moniker. Laskey strangled his victims, not every one was also stabbed.

Residents all over the city were locking their homes up for the first time. People were even buying up barrel bolts and chain guards to further secure their properties. Guard dogs were being bought at an unprecedented rate while guns and ammo were being cleared off of shelves. As options for protection dwindled within the city, residents started buying whatever they could find to arm themselves in an attack. Even ice picks and tear gas weren’t off the table.

The tranquility of Woodhaven’s sub-division was disturbed as a serial killer roamed nearby and a family of three of was annihilated right next door. Before, this quiet little pocket of America had been the perfect place to raise a family and live peacefully. Now no one felt safe living in the city where previously nothing ever happened. J.T. Townsend and John Boertlein had grown up in Woodhaven and always felt perfectly safe in their city as well as their homes. The murders of the family from right up street shook the both of them as they tried to make sense of such violence.

Townsend was only thirteen in 1966 and he remembers the night that their neighborhood was forever changed quite well. It’s a memory that etched itself into his mind as the trauma of knowing something so terrible occurred so close to home set in. He would grow obsessed with the perplexing mystery of the murders as he grew older and go on to compile research with his childhood neighbor. His self-published book on the case, “Summer’s Almost Gone,” is five-hundred pages of the most thorough research on the case. In the book’s prologue he describes in vivid detail a dream that he recalls from that time. A terrible nightmare that caused him to wet the bed after hearing of Jerry’s last sighting, taking his trash cans to the curb. He dreamed that night of his own father, taking their cans to the curb as he’s attacked and killed.

Children stopped walking to the bus stop alone in the mornings. They were just as scared as their parents, if not more so. When Halloween rolled right around the corner from the Briccas murders trick-or-treating was moved to Sunday afternoon to ensure the safety of the children. Those that went out that afternoon would later recall the lackluster event, saying that it was nowhere near as spooky as their usual nighttime ritual.

With the houses on Greenway Avenue only a mere fifteen feet apart from one another the attack could have been heard under the right circumstances, allowing for someone to call police. With the weather being as it was that day, dreary, rainy, and chilly, residents had closed their typically open windows to keep the cold out. Aside from the low temperatures in Cincinnati that night, people all over America were driven into their living rooms for another reason altogether. ABC was premiering the Oscar-winning movie, River Kwai, that very night. They had preempted their schedule for the evening so the movie could be aired all in one night. Nationwide sixty-million viewers tuned in to the television event of the year. On such a cold night many of the Woodhaven residents were among those numbers as they were forced indoors by the bad weather.

The investigation, which continues to this very day, compiled four-hundred interviews. Of these innumerable interviews, sixteen stood out and were flagged by detectives as particularly suspicious. Two of those flagged interviews had been with Linda’s boss, Dr. Fred Leininger. Linda had accepted a temp job at his veterinary clinic not long before her death. The detectives he spoke with thought him to be dishonest and wanted to hear some more from him in the hopes that he would slip up and divulge something interesting. Though Leininger was never publicly named a suspect by authorities, he remained a suspect in the public’s eye. Neighborhood gossip about his culpability in the crime and police surveillance that has never been confirmed kept him at the top of Cincinnati’s list of possible killers. The formerly distinguished local vet only made himself look all the more suspicious when he hired an attorney and refused to answer even the most basic of questions.

The rumor mill was working fast as it churned out stories about Linda Bricca having an affair with Dr. Leininger. At one point a conspiracy about the good doctor of animals swirled around concerning him and a dark, evil cult. This theory states that a cult in the area worked with local veterinarians to secure animals for sacrifice in their rituals. Linda, an animal lover, is supposed to have heard about this atrocity somehow and became determined to out the cult. The fact that other flagged interviews had been with friends of his only made him look guiltier to everyone looking. In 2004, he and his wife both committed suicide, taking whatever secrets they may have held to the grave.

Another person of interest who had the honor of his interview being flagged was local television personality Glenn Ryle. He hosted the kid-friendly show “The Skipper Ryle Show,” which ran from 1955 all the way to 1972. Something about this man and his statements never sat well with authorities.

Though DNA hadn’t even been heard of during this time, key evidence proving to be quite useful today was obtained from the crime scene regardless. No one in the sixties had any way of knowing how much technology would advance in the decades to come, but they gathered every piece of evidence they could find hoping that it may be useful later. Marlboro cigarette butts were collected as well as hair clutched in the hand of Linda Bricca, and seminal fluid taken from her remains. In 2020, Hamilton County Prosecutor Joe Deters started having this evidence retested, hoping that new advancements would reveal answers previously hidden. Deters can quite easily recall the occurrence that traumatized an entire neighborhood. His grandfather was the sheriff at the time and he holds out hope to finally close the case that confounded his grandfather for so many years.

As time moved ever forward the case grew colder and colder. People also began to notice that there were no cries out to the public by grieving, desperate family members. As though the slaughter of an entire family inside of a nice suburb wasn’t strange enough to a community void of violence, the lack of an outcry for justice also wasn’t sitting well. There always seemed to be more questions than answers concerning the Briccas and their personal life. A case full of unanswered questions is the perfect breeding ground for wild theories, and the theories that grew from this tainted garden were certainly out there.

While the cult theory is a popular one that even Townsend started taking a little more seriously after so many years without progress, there are others equally as fanciful. Both Linda and Jerry have been thought to have been having affairs that led to their deaths. The idea that maybe the murders were somehow tied to Jerry’s job has been presented. It’s even been theorized that their deaths were mafia related.

One that can be proven by the autopsies is that the killer was left-handed, given the wounds on the left side of Jerry’s back and the right side of Linda’s chest and stomach. The weapon was never found, but the missing carving knife from the couple’s set told investigators that this must have been it. It was found that the dogs had been sedated, explaining their total silence for an entire day after the murders. Though some drawers had been opened and Jerry’s wallet stolen, robbery was never thought to be the motive.

Author Jeffrey Tesch had the most interesting theory on this case. He believed that there had been more of a struggle than the house presented, but that the killer had stayed for hours afterward to clean and straighten up, setting the scene. The Monday Enquirer, which arrived at dawn everyday, wasn’t found among the pile of newspapers in the Bricca’s front yard. Tesch believes that the killer had snatched the morning paper to wrap the weapon in before tossing it into the Bricca’s trash cans on the curb. The murder weapon then would’ve been hauled off by the trash men, explaining why it has never been found.

Nettie Caudell had noticed some nervous, fearful behavior out of Linda in the month or so leading up to the family’s deaths. Before, she had always been okay with Debbie running back and forth between their houses to play with Darlene on her own. In the weeks before they were found Linda had become more of a helicopter parent, which was strange for the sixties. She started insisting that Nettie call her before Debbie walked home so she could come walk her daughter back herself. Nettie didn’t think too much of Linda’s newfound anxiousness once she heard of the terrible incident occurring in Seattle.

Lonnie Trumbull and Lisa Wick, both employees of United Airlines, had been attacked in their shared apartment. Lonnie was bludgeoned to death, while Lisa was beaten into a coma for several weeks. When she woke up, she had no memory of the attack at all. Given the location and the fact that Ted Bundy was nineteen at the time, living and attending college in Seattle, he was suspected. He even had a job at a Safeway market near their apartment at the time, but there was no evidence to tie him to the attack. He vehemently denied involvement in their assault until his dying day. Because the ambush of these poor women looked so much like crimes committed by Bundy, and it happened so close to him, there will always those that believe him responsible.

Though decades have faded the details from Nettie’s memory, she recalled a conversation had with her nervous neighbor. Linda divulged that while working for United Airlines, she had helped to bust up a drug ring. This is a lead that has more recently been looked into, but given Nettie’s waning memories of that time she’s been unable to provide clear facts.

Dick Meyer also remembers Linda mentioning the murder of a friend. Many assumed that she must have meant the murder of Valerie Percy, daughter of former Illinois Senator Charles Percy. Linda Bricca and Valerie Percy had both grown up in the affluent area of Barrington Hills. The two also ran in the same social circles in Chicago. Valerie was stabbed to death inside her apartment. The similarities between the murders of the former senator’s daughter and the Bricca family struck authorities as odd. Chief Investigator Herbert Vogel was so convinced that there was a connection he traveled to Chicago hoping to find it. Unfortunately there would be no such luck.

Having seen the brutality of the crime for himself, Dick never believed that this had been a crime of passion or a robbery gone wrong. This wasn’t the work of someone inexperienced in violence, he thought. This looked professionally done.

Though the investigation is ongoing, there are no more answers today than there were fifty-seven years ago. Valerie Percy’s slaying also remains unsolved. Though the Woodhaven children of that bygone era have held out hope as they held onto their trauma, they seemed to have been the only ones to give interviews in later years to keep the case in the public’s mind. No family members of either Linda or Jerry Bricca have ever made an outcry to the public. J.T Townsend continues to investigate as his book, “Summer’s Almost Gone",” remains the best reference to the case. His Facebook page, Bricca Unlocked, gathers his army of followers in the quest for the truth as well. He hopes that one day Cincinnati’s biggest unsolved mystery will finally be solved.

Will we ever know what really happened to the Bricca family at 3381 Greenway Avenue? After all these years might we finally hear a deathbed confession, or even the guilty ramblings of an old man in a nursing home? While it’s highly likely that the killer has already met his own end, there does still remain an ever-shrinking window in which someone who may know something could come forward. The possibility of ever-advancing technology solving this crime cannot be ruled out, either. Hopefully one day soon we will finally have the answers so long sought after, but for now the Bricca family waits, frozen in 1966.