September 13, 1991
A YEAR AFTER DAUGHTER'S DEATH, FEW CLUES AND NO RELIEF
Jeff Gammage, Inquirer Staff Writer
The wound is as deep and ripe as if it had happened yesterday. But already a year has passed, and during that time Joanne Falco has gained an unwanted introduction to the world of homicide detectives and medical examiners. She has worked hours tracing telephone records and spent hundreds of dollars on phone bills, pursuing her own inquiry. Yet nothing has really changed. Her daughter is still dead. And Falco is still searching. For a reason. For an answer. "Someone had to see something, or know something, or maybe their conscience will bother them," Falco said,
seated in the kitchen of her Cherry Hill home. "And maybe they'll come forward." So far, no witness has emerged to say what happened to 25-year-old Elizabeth Falco, who disappeared in the early hours of Sept. 14, 1990. She was last seen pedaling a bicycle toward her Center City Philadelphia apartment after leaving the Bank, a nightclub at Sixth and Spring Garden Streets. Her body was found a month later near Philadelphia International Airport, in a grassy area off Tinicum Avenue. The body was clad only in black, high-top Reeboks, and had been shoved partway into a green plastic trash bag. Government medical examiners who inspected the near-skeletal
remains originally classified the case a homicide, saying they believed Falco was strangled. Those authorities, whose autopsy detected cocaine in Falco's system, have since reclassified the manner of death to "undetermined," although homicide investigators continue to pursue the case. No one has been charged with her slaying, and Philadelphia Police Detective Joseph Fischer has felt the frustration. The decomposed state of the body offered few clues, and the leads have dwindled with time. "The case bothers me a lot, because I believe there are people involved who haven't come
totally forward," Fischer said. "They haven't come forward and said, 'Let me exonerate myself.' " Fischer reads the case file at least once a week, mulling over unanswered questions and possible suspects. In his own way, he shares the ache of uncertainty with Joanne Falco. "You want to see justice done," Fischer said. "I want to see her get an answer someday. I want to give myself that answer. I really do." For Falco, the last year has been torture. She left her job at a Sears jewelry department - it was hard handling customers whose most serious problem was which gem to buy - and as a single parent has struggled to hold her family together. Her sons have been distraught. The youngest, 13-year-old Paul, broke his hand in March when he punched a wall in anger. A visit to a support group for murder victims' families brought little solace, only confirmation that when one
life is taken, others are destroyed. Falco still can't believe her daughter is gone. Sometimes when the phone rings, she thinks - just for a second - that Liz must be calling. And that's something else she has learned: that the pain never fades. Falco received a call from one woman, a stranger, who
endured a similar trial. Her son was first reported missing and then found dead. The woman spoke as if it had just happened, Falco recalled. In fact, her son was killed 14 years ago. "There isn't anything in the world that anybody could do to me that would be worse than this," Falco said, the tears brimming in her eyes. "It's as bad now as it was then." As she spoke, a small black-and-white kitten named Boo II rubbed itself against her legs. The original Boo belonged to Liz, who was inconsolable when the cat was hit by a car in 1989. Liz Falco was like that. She had a soft heart. She often talked about becoming a therapist or a lawyer so she could help people. Yet she was unemployed when she died, fired from her job as a legal secretary after a series of disagreements with her boss. Throughout her life - she grew up in Cherry Hill and moved to Philadelphia about a year before her death - she was devoted to her younger brothers. Joanne Falco remembered how
last fall, Paul needed school supplies and there was no money to buy them. Liz, who had recently lost her job, took her brother shopping with her last $11. "Two weeks later, she was gone," Falco said. "I can't tell you the rage I feel that someone would hurt her like that." She has searched her
daughter's belongings for clues, and canvassed the grounds where Liz's body was discovered by a man walking his dog. At one point she called Frank Rizzo's office to ask for help. Rizzo personally returned the call, Falco said, and promised to look into the case once he was elected mayor. Now,
Rizzo is gone, struck down by a heart attack in July. But Falco still believes the case will be solved. It won't be easy. It may take time. But she has faith. Part of that belief stems from something odd that happened last summer. Falco had gone to church on June 12 - Liz's birthday - and the
Mass featured prayers to St. Raphael. Falco was a little shocked. For across from where Liz's body was found stands an abandoned church. The Church of St. Raphael. "I think it will be (solved)," Falco said. "I swear to myself I won't go to my grave until it is."
Copyright (c) 1991 The Philadelphia Inquirer