The Reyna Marroquin Story Unsealed

A Pregnant Worker, an Enraged Boss
(“A Voice From Beyond,” Forensic Files)

This week, it’s back to concentrating on an individual Forensic Files episode, and “A Voice from Beyond” is good way to start, with its blend of nostalgia and horror.

Site of the barrel discovery in Jericho, New York

The story takes us back to a pre-internet world, when people kept handwritten address books with real paper.

It was exciting to see how investigators applied millennial-era forensic technology to evidence from the 1960s.

Only in L.I. In fact, the story had everything a true crime fan could hope for: an affluent businessman leading a double life, a desperate mother-to-be,  a 95-year-old woman praying for word on her daughter, a crucial anonymous call to the police.

Oh, and a mummified body in a crawl space.

And for a little extra flavor, this Greek tragedy took place in Long Island, the same New York City commuter haven that gave rise to Amy Fisher, Joey Buttafuoco, and numerous others who can’t quite pronounce the letter “r” in words that contain it but append it to words that don’t.

Forensic Files, as usual, did a great job of telling the story in 22 minutes, but I was curious about something not shown — the reaction of friends and neighbors when they learned a horrible secret about the respectable-seeming retiree in their midst.

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No Barrel of Fun. So let’s get started on the recap of “A Voice From Beyond,” along with some extra information drawn from internet research.

On September 2, 1999, as Ronald Cohen was preparing to vacate the Jericho, New York, house he had just sold for $455,000, he pried off the lid of a 55-gallon drum that had sat undisturbed beneath the bottom floor ever since he moved in.

He smelled noxious chemicals and saw a hand poking out of a pile of plastic pellets.

Plastic leaves linked the body to the killer

Authorities found an intact mummified body of a woman inside the barrel. They determined the deceased was young, petite, dark-haired, and pregnant and had died from blunt force trauma. She had some unusual dental work, likely performed in South America.

The fetus was a boy, 17-inches long.

Wrong numbers. The body had been preserved because the drum was airtight, but the pages of an address book (this is how folks kept track of friends before Outlook, iPhones, and Facebook) found in the barrel had decayed.

What really gave the episode armrest-grabbing suspense was the effort — via moisture extraction, magnification, and a video spectral comparator study — on the part of forensics experts to yield clues from the rotting paper.

They uncovered some names, addresses, and phone numbers, although the first batch yielded no leads since the people had long moved away or changed phone numbers. And this was 1999, post-internet but before social media enabled everyone to track down anyone.

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Locals help. By this time, police had traced the barrel to a chemical company in Linden, New Jersey, and dated its manufacture to 1965. It contained some plastic leaves in addition to the pellets.

Neighbors in Jericho remembered that an occupant around that time period, Howard Elkins, was part owner of the Melrose Plastic Company, a New York City maker of decorative artificial plants.

Howard Elkins in an undated photo

The neighbors didn’t mention any gossip about him, but the aforementioned anonymous caller did, telling Nassau County police that, in the 1960s, Elkins had been having an affair with a Hispanic woman who worked in his factory.

Elkins had long since moved to Boca Raton, Florida. He was none-too-happy to find New York detectives on the other side of his door in his upscale retirement community.

Resolution by gunfire. Presented with the evidence of the barrel and green dye inside, Elkins denied he’d ever seen such a thing. He admitted to having an affair but said he couldn’t remember what the woman looked like or her name.

He refused to give a DNA sample to determine whether he was the father of the fetus. Before leaving, Nassau County Detective Brian Parpan told Elkins the police would be getting an order for a blood sample.

Elkins, 70, promptly bought a shotgun and ammunition from Walmart and killed himself.

By this time, the lab had tapped the address book for the name of one more of the dead woman’s friends, and this one answered when police dialed her 30-year-old phone number.

Kathy Andrade knew immediately the body belonged to a friend she met in an English class, Reyna Angelica Marroquin, who disappeared in 1969 at the age of 27. A resident alien number found in the address book substantiated the identification, according to Cold Case Files Classic’s “The Barrel” segment.

Murdered immigrant Reyna Marroquin

Emotional turmoil. Marroquin came to the U.S. from El Salvador in 1966, went to fashion school, and got a job at the Melrose factory. Shortly before disappearing, she let on that she was pregnant and that the father told her he was going to marry her.

But he already had a wife and three children and Marroquin was worried he would never keep his promise.

(Something mentioned in more than one newspaper story that Forensic Files didn’t bring up: Marroquin already had a small child whom she sometimes brought to the factory with her; it was never revealed who the father was, but co-workers suspected Elkins.)

According to Kathy Andrade, after Marroquin called her boyfriend’s house and told his wife she was pregnant, the man became enraged and threatened to kill Marroquin. She disappeared soon after.

Merciful messenger. Police theorized Elkins beat Marroquin about the head in a fit of anger, took the body to Long Island with the intention of dumping it in the ocean, put it in a steel drum, and weighted it with plastic pellets from his factory.

But at 350 pounds, it was too heavy to load onto his boat, so he pushed it into a crawl space, where it remained untouched for 30 years.

With the mystery solved and the perpetrator dead, the last loose end was finding Marroquin’s family.

Newsday reporter Oscar Corral flew to El Salvador and tracked down Reyna Marroquin’s mother in the town of San Martin. The 95-year-old, known as “Grandma Marroquin,” nearly collapsed when told of the discovery, Corral recalled in his Forensic Files interview. She’d been heartbroken ever since Reyna stopped writing home with no explanation in 1969. She’d had dreams depicting Reyna in a barrel.

The story of the body in the barrel sold many a paper

Well-enough liked. As for Elkins, it sounded as though he’d been able to mask any feelings of guilt about his role in the tragedy. Below are two excerpts, including neighbors’ statements, from newspaper articles published after his suicide in 1999:

“Howard was very active in the community, very much in the social scene,” said neighbor Robert Froment. Elkins’ Florida neighbors yesterday were shocked that the big, bearded, jovial man could have been involved in such a crime. — New York Post

“He seemed like a very sociable fellow,” Frank Lonano, a neighbor in Boca Raton, said of Mr. Elkins, whom he had known only casually around the walled and affluent community of town houses overlooking a golf course. “He was just not the type.” Judith Ebbin, who with her husband, Arthur, bought the Jericho house from Mr. Elkins and his wife, Ruth, in 1972, owned it for 12 years, never suspecting all that while that a woman’s body lay in a drum in a crawl space under the den. “They seemed like such a lovely family,” she said of the former owners. — New York Times

Reyna Marroquin’s mother, center, is consoled after learning her daughter’s fate

The one bright note to the story is the resolution brought to Reyna’s mother. As CBS quoted her: “Now I know she’s with me. She came flying like a dove back to her home.” RR

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10 Fun Facts About Forensic Files Narrator Peter Thomas

Everybody’s Favorite Voiceover Artist

Viewers know Peter Thomas as the narrator of Forensic Files, but his career started long before anyone had heard of high-velocity blood splatter or age-processed clay busts. Some trivia from a long (1924 to 2016) and productive life:

1. Peter Thomas voiced the 1970 commercial that declared “Tang was chosen to go to the moon with the Apollo astronauts.”

2. He considered himself lucky that his voice didn’t change as he aged. He recorded a Gettysburg audio tour in 1974 and was able to add verbiage 30 years later. His voice matched.

3. As a favor to Johnny Carson, Peter Thomas officiated at the wedding of the talk-show titan’s son Cory Carson to a Naples, Florida, native Angelica D. Carson. Johnny (below) and Peter met when they worked for the The Morning Show on CBS in the 1950s.

4. Peter Thomas postponed his own vacation to help an audio technician save his job. The sound man had messed up a Tropicana commercial recording, so Thomas did it over and never told the guy’s superiors.

5. Of all the Nova episodes he narrated for PBS, “Iceman Murder Mystery” was his favorite.

6. Although Peter Thomas spoke perfectly unaccented North American English, he had foreign-born parents — a father from Wales, a mother from England.

7. He considered the greatest innovations in voice technology to be audio tape (which could be sliced up, so one mistake didn’t mean recording from the beginning again), DAT (digital audio tape), and teleprompters affixed to the camera (instead of off to the side).

8. Don “In a World” Lafontaine (left) and Peter Thomas are considered the two best male narrators of their generation. Apparently, they weren’t rivals and liked each other’s work.

9. He won the audition for an American Express card commercial because he could say the “American Express: Don’t leave home without it” spiel in under five seconds.

10. You needn’t bother searching for Peter Thomas in the bankruptcy court records of the once-rich-and-famous. He lived below his means, invested wisely, and left a well-endowed estate. One Florida property he bought for $1 million was worth $25 million toward the end of his life.

A Naples, Florida scene with huts built over the ocean and sand in the foreground
Naples, Florida

Read more about how Peter Thomas rose from the humble son of a schoolteacher and minister to the humble voice of countless commercials and TV shows.RR

Thanks to Paul Dowling, Randy Thomas, Don Blair’s Pioneers of Broadcasting, and Dave Courvoisier of the World-Voices Organization.

The Life and Times of Forensic Files Narrator Peter Thomas

The Voiceover Artist Left His Prints Everywhere

Peter Thomas’ voice has lured me away from all kinds of good intentions: organizing tax documents, cleaning between the sofa cushions with the Dirt Devil crevice tool, going to bed early.

Peter Thomas, seen here in a Lux commercial, did on-camera work in the early days of TV

It’s not easy to describe his voice, although I’ve listened to it for a minimum of 600 collective hours. Thomas was the narrator for Forensic Files, and he’s part of the reason fans like me can’t stop rewatching all 400 episodes of the true-crime series’ 1996 to 2011 run.

Toned up. I guess what’s so inviting about his narration is that his warm, assuring voice is devoid of affectation. He speaks smoothly, although not in a “you’ll get 150 sparkling silver gem studs absolutely free with your BeDazzler” manner. And like all voice artists, he has great diction — but it’s not so crisp as to make it alienating.

“Peter Thomas is the same guy who narrated school documentaries,” says Paul Dowling, executive producer of Forensic Files. “He’s not some sleazy guy from AM radio. He makes it okay to watch.”

Indeed, something about Peter Thomas’ narration enables me to see an episode about a college student who hacked his father to death with an ax — and sleep like a baby afterward.

Randy Thomas, a voiceover artist who narrates the Oscars and Tony Awards, also admires his work on Forensic Files.

“There are some voiceover actors who think they’re doing a good job just because they pronounce the words correctly,” she says. “Peter was different. He had an inquisitive nature about so much of life, and that transferred to whatever he narrated.”

Sunshine boy. My own dream of interviewing Peter Thomas someday — and having that voice all to myself for a little while — expired when he passed away last year, but I had fun researching a bit about his life.

Randy Thomas, narrator for the 2018 Oscars, says Peter Thomas imbued his voice work with a “different sense of wonder for each project”

Thomas was born in Pensacola, Florida, in 1924, to two people who enjoyed speaking aloud and enunciating well: an English teacher and a minister.

“His father told him to paint pictures with words,” says Randy Thomas (no relation, but the two were close friends).

Peter Thomas started acting in school plays as a child and, at age 13, picked up some voice work at a local radio station. A sponsor gave him flying lessons for free because he was too young to receive a real salary legally.

G.I.-normous. At 18, he took a detour, enlisting in the army and then fighting German gunfire in Normandy, France, in 1944. He earned a Purple Heart after suffering a shrapnel wound during the Battle of the Bulge.

After returning to the U.S. and marrying longtime girlfriend Stella Ford Barrineau, he worked at Memphis radio station WMC at night and went to college during the day.

His big break came when a Hamilton Watch Company executive heard Thomas’ voice on a Florida poetry program and invited him to New York City for an audition. He won the gig, and soon nationwide audiences got to hear his voice say: “The passage of time is beyond our control, but it passes beautifully when Hamilton marks the hour.”

No mere vapor. A tidal wave of offers followed. CBS hired Thomas as the New York City anchor of The Morning Show with Jack Parr. Thomas narrated medical shows and educational documentaries and did commercials for Estée Lauder, Coke, American Express (“Don’t leave home without it”), Visine, Listerine (“The taste you hate twice a day”), and Hewlett-Packard.

Thomas’ house in Florida — he returned to the state late in his career — had a recording studio

A 2004 Broadcast Pioneers documentary from Florida station METV recalled how — in the days long before TV assaulted viewers with Preparation H and Cialis commercials — Stella rebuked her husband for narrating a Vicks Mentholatum ad. She didn’t appreciate having to watch ointment rubbed onto an actor’s chest.

Plenty of more-serious work came his way. He snagged narration gigs for the PBS series Nova as well as for the History Channel — the holy grail for voice performers.

Didn’t phone it in. His association with Forensic Files began when the 30-minute docuseries was still in development. “I fell asleep on the couch one night and there was a World War II documentary on,” says show creator Paul Dowling, “and I heard this voice, and he was carrying the whole thing. It was mesmerizing.”

Thomas turned down Medstar Television’s offer for the Forensic Files job at first because he was still earning a fortune from TV commercials and other one-offs. But after some persuading, he agreed.

His approach to the gig reaffirms one of my favorite truisms about life: No matter how talented the worker, there’s no such thing as an easy job. Thomas would spend six hours rehearsing each script at home. Stella would give him feedback.

Forensic Files is on somewhere in the world at any given time,” says Randy Thomas. “There’s always the consistency of Peter Thomas’ voice behind the microphone, and he’s become the show’s brand.”

He also occasionally contributed to the show editorially.

Thomas (with Paul Dowling) at a ceremony honoring his work on behalf of WW II veterans

“If he didn’t like something I wrote, he’d say, ‘I don’t want to offend you, but can I change this?'” recalls Dowling. “And I said, ‘I can take all the help you can give.’ We never told him to just shut up and do the script, which is how most producers treat talent, and I didn’t find out until his funeral that we were the only ones who didn’t treat him that way.”

Thomas remained in demand for his work through age 90. He died at 91, on April 30, 2016, but his voice lives on — and not just on recordings. His sons, Peter Jr. and Douglas, followed him into the profession. RR


Update: Read 10 fun facts about Forensic Files narrator Peter Thomas.

Q&A with Forensic Files Producer Paul Dowling

What You’ve Been Dying to Know 

How did Forensic Files become the I Love Lucy of true-crime shows — with reruns on every day, everywhere from Montreal to Melbourne? The half-hour series has been compelling fans to procrastinate on their housework and homework and gym schedules for two decades.

Paul Dowling with his daughter, Brae

Since starting this blog last year, I’ve used it to answer lingering questions about specific Forensic Files episodes. With this post, I hope to solve some mysteries about the series as a whole.

Executive producer Paul Dowling, whose Medstar Television made all 400 episodes, allowed me to interrogate him during a phone call:

Forensic Files is shown in 142 countries — why are overseas viewers so interested in U.S. crimes? In many countries, cases aren’t covered in the media the way they are here.

Often the laws are different from American laws. In Great Britain, there is confidentiality until the case is decided. The crime files aren’t open the way they can be in the U.S. Same thing in Canada — you don’t learn about someone being arrested for rape or murder before the case is decided. And if he’s exonerated, you never know about it.

That can give people in other countries the wrong idea about the U.S. Brazil has a murder rate 3x higher than ours. Everyone has guns except for innocent law-abiding people, and when bad guys come to the door, they can’t defend themselves. And then they see American television and think the crime rate is much higher in the U.S.

There was a rape and murder in Brazil in front of 12 people and no one testified. People in Brazil asked me whether I’m afraid to walk the streets in the U.S. I said no, I’m afraid here.

When I was in Paris, I was told to dress like a bum [to prevent robbery].

How do you pack the whole story into 30-minute episodes? We have 22 minutes. It’s like a Broadway musical: Every line of that song has to move the story along.

As you are creating the story, you don’t think, “How will I write this?” You think, “How will I say this?”

You can tell a lot with the pictures you use. If we show a girl holding a fish [that she caught], it says something about who she was.

For every story we did, all 400, before the show aired, I sat down with three people and told them the story. It enabled me to see how the story worked. If their eyes glazed over, I knew the story was going too slowly.

It’s like campfire storytelling — if you want to keep boys and girls awake, you have to tell a good story.

How is it contending with the pressure for Nielsen ratings? Imagine you’re doing a Broadway musical and, at any moment, the audience can stay right in their same seats and have their choice of switching to 500 other musicals.

That’s TV.

TV producers are not evaluated on the value of their show — or how many people watch it. They are evaluated on how many viewers watch the ads during breaks.

You have to have a show that people are emotionally tied to so that they are afraid to get up.

Paul Dowling's dogs Chloe, a white and brown spaniel mix and Kimber, a toy-size Pomeranian
Chloe (left, with pal Kimber) often visited the studio behind the scenes

How do you keep viewers in their seats? When I started the show on TLC in 1996, they wanted us to use teasers. I said no: The show should provide the incentive  for viewers to come back. Toward the end of Jeopardy, when they come back from the break, Alex goes right into the Final Jeopardy question — there’s no recap. People don’t want to miss that question.

Viewers of Forensic Files want to know who killed that guy. That’s why you can’t open the show with any hint of who did it.

When we interviewed a killer on camera, we would go to the prison with our own [street] clothes for him to wear. That way, viewers don’t know yet that he did it.

We also use the passive tense in scripts, even though writers are taught not to in school. The passive tense lets you put information out there without saying who did it.

And we also don’t use big fancy words if there’s no need. A screenwriter had me look at a script once, and I said, “What does this word mean? I have two college degrees and I don’t know.” If you were at a picnic or dinner party and someone used that word, how would it make you feel?

Why do you interview the murder victims’ mothers and fathers separately — even if they’re still married? If you have two dogs in the house, there’s always one dominant one. Likewise, sometimes people say things in front of you they wouldn’t say in front of their spouse. There are interview tricks that work with one person but not two at the same time. People are often uncomfortable with silences, so sometimes they’ll blurt out something they wouldn’t [with a spouse present].

A lot of true-crime series show victims’ family members in tears. Why doesn’t Forensic Files?
Because it’s manipulative. There are techniques TV producers use to make a person cry. And the viewer feels sorry for the person and gets mad at the TV show for subjecting that person to heartache.

And oftentimes it’s a year or more after the crime, so people are more composed.

We give murder victims’ families a cleaned-up version of the episode they’re in.

You mean a version without graphic footage of wounds, autopsies, etc.? Yes, we tell them that this is the version they’ll want to watch and show their friends.

You recently tweeted that your dog Chloe had passed away at age 15. How was she involved in the show? She used to come in the editing room with us, next to the editor. I was working so hard that I wasn’t home a lot, and my kids would come in with sleeping bags and pizza and the dog would eat pizza behind our backs.

Chloe was here when we did reenactments with German shepherd-style attack dogs. She started running in circles and getting bent out of shape.

So you used real dogs and cats in the reenactments? Yes, and we had a trained squirrel and homing pigeons and a kangaroo once.

What about reenactments of vehicular accidents — did you use stock footage? No. Every crash you see on Forensic Files is something we created. We did a show about boat crashes, and we bought boats. We use cars that are the same model and color [as those in the real accidents]. Some movies edit crashes and fast-forward to a stock shot of the outcome. Forensic Files shows crashes without an edit.

With crashes, you can’t have gasoline in the cars — you don’t want explosions. So sometimes you have motorized pushers. But you have to be fair as far as the speeds used, so a defense attorney doesn’t come back and say to you, “Hey, the real crash was 30 mph, but the show’s was 70 mph.”

Doesn’t all that make accident reenactions awfully expensive? Yes, but there was never a budget limit for re-creations. I never wanted anyone to be hurt in an accident re-creation and to have the director say afterward, “Well, I only had $50,000.”

Were there any episodes that chilled you to the bone, that you couldn’t forget after you went home? Yes, if we hadn’t done one particular episode, three people would be in prison for something they didn’t do. It was for the Norfolk rape and killing of Michelle Moore-Bosko in 1997, and these three people didn’t do it. Someone else confessed to the crime, and the prosecutor wouldn’t act.

Tim Kaine was governor of Virginia then, and he saw the episode [“Eight Men Out,” 2001] and had the state police reinvestigate.

I read that “Bad Blood” — the story of a woman raped by a doctor (John Schneeberger) while she was unconscious — was your favorite episode of Forensic Files. Why? If a forensic hall of fame existed, that victim would belong in it.

The doctor’s DNA didn’t match the rapist’s. The victim was sure the hospital was being paid off to throw the tests or something. So she broke into the doctor’s things and got his Chapstick. She paid for a DNA test with her own money, and it matched the DNA from the rape.

It turned out the doctor had implanted a plastic tube into his arm with somebody else’s blood and was having that blood tested.

The doctor’s wife had been saying on TV that this woman was a slut. And then the wife’s daughter from another marriage who lived with them told her mother that the stepdad [Schneeberger] had been drugging and raping her.

Paul Dowling at the 2016 Mipcom trade show in Cannes. A German network licensed Forensic Files for 10 years because “there are people who aren’t born yet who’ll want to see it”

After talking to various people who watch Forensic Files, I haven’t really been able to identify a demographic pattern. Have you? One thing we know is that a lot of women watch the show for safety reasons — knowledge of safety they can pass along to their daughters.

Can you share any safety tips? We don’t get into victim-shaming, but we do show things that the victims shouldn’t have done regarding situational awareness.

Some girls and women don’t know that there are predators at bars and clubs casing them out. A predator will watch for things like two women walking in together late. He knows that later in the evening they will have parked farther away. So when they’re ready to leave, if one stays and the other goes out to get the car and drive it around, the predator will follow her out to the car.

I tell my daughter and her friends what the FBI says: When you go to your car, have your keys in your hand. If someone with a gun comes up and says to get in the car, throw your keys and purse in one direction and run in the other. The bad guy isn’t expecting this, so he thinks, “I can get the money and car instead of going after her.”


Update:  Read about the life and times of Forensic Files narrator Peter Thomas

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