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How, episode 113. I am your Norwegian host, Thomas Weyborg Thun. Tonight, and for a few weeks onward, we will stay on the east coast of the continental United States of America. The tale of the true serial killer superstar, Richard Kuklinski, is as long as it is fascinating.
If what the Iceman claimed himself is true, no other US serial killer ever came close to his body count. There are so much already written about him that I think in order to do the case justice, I have to make it a proper serial. I am in the midst of writing everything up,
and do not know yet how many episodes it will take to wrap this expose up, but probably around the same number as the series on Archibet Bathory. Unlike the Blood Countess, Richard Kuklinski did not relish in feeling the warm blood of his victims upon his skin.
The only thing the Iceman truly cared about was money and his family. Tonight, we time-travel forward from his beginnings as a street fighter in Jersey City and find ourselves in New Jersey around Thanksgiving 1982. Enjoy.
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To get access now. Imagine if you will, dear listener. Thanksgiving 1982. The scene is one of true Americana. An American housewife named Veronica has just finished preparing a proper turkey dinner in the modest family house in Highland Lakes, New Jersey.
The breadwinner of the house, Gary Smith, and his six-year-old daughter, Melissa, cuddled on the couch in front of the TV to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Gary loved his daughter more than life itself.
And to see her excitement every time a new giant balloon creature filled the screen, and seeing her glee as she recognized a cartoon character, was pure bliss to Gary. Melissa was growing up, and Gary's feelings for her had changed. When she was younger, he'd pretty much taken her for granted. Veronica took care of the baby, and he worked. It was as simple as that.
But Melissa wasn't a baby anymore. She was a young kid, someone he could talk to and share things with. He was really beginning to enjoy being a father. The house was warm with the smell of the roasting turkey by the time the family friend Percy House's wife, Connie, and her children arrived early in the afternoon.
While Connie helped Veronica in the kitchen, the children ran around the house giggling and screaming, having a great time. Gary beamed as he watched little Melissa mixing in and playing with the bigger kids. She was having a great time, and he was too. Watching Melissa set Gary to thinking about his responsibilities. This was something he had been doing often lately.
For the past few months, he'd been giving a lot of thought to this, and he'd pretty much made up his mind to quit Percy House's criminal gang and get a career that was legal. To use the vernacular, he had made up his mind to go straight. He'd been with Percy a long time, but in his mind, it wasn't like he was committed to being a criminal for the rest of his life.
Five years ago, Gary had almost by accident fallen into a criminal career when he couldn't find a job and he really needed money. Also, the things he did for Percy wasn't really that morally reprehensible. It wasn't as if he was involved in human trafficking, hard drugs, violence or murder. Working for Percy usually just involved stealing cars and robbing stores.
It didn't yield a lot of money, just enough for him and his small family to get by. But now that his daughter was growing up, everything changed. Being a criminal didn't seem right, no matter how petty the crime. It wouldn't be fair to his daughter if he kept on doing what he was doing. She needed a more stable life. That's why he wanted to go straight, and he intended to tell Percy that very day.
But when Percy showed up later that afternoon with Danny Deppner, the other worker in the gang, Gary's announcement did not get a warm reception. Far from it. Percy had heard it from Gary before, and he simply shook his head, frowning. "'You don't understand,' he repeated over and over again. "'It's not that simple. You can't quit, Gary.'
Danny sat on the tired couch, nodding stupidly, agreeing with everything Percy said. Danny didn't dare disagree with Percy. Percy beat him up regularly, and being a weak-willed coward, Danny didn't dare oppose him. At one point, he'd made Danny live in his basement and would throw pizza crusts down to him, as if he were a dog.
Percy had said that Danny needed an quote-unquote attitude adjustment. Danny seemed to get a lot of attitude adjustments from Percy. It went so far that Percy had even stolen Danny's wife, just started living with Danny's wife Barbara and took her for himself. And Danny didn't say or do anything about it.
"'Danny's wife didn't seem to mind at all. "'She often laughed at Danny, humiliating him and proclaiming her new love for Percy, "'like a true cuckold. "'He simply nodded and tried to laugh it up. "'He didn't dare anything else. "'Gary sure wasn't Danny, "'and he didn't want to have to put up with any of that horrible behavior anymore. "'All he wanted was to go straight. Period.'
As the children ran around them, chasing each other through the living room, Gary tried to plead his case without begging. He was a proud man, and he would never allow himself to beg. All he wanted to do was quit. Whatever they'd done together in the past was in the past. He'd never talk about it to anyone. Never. He promised. But Percy just kept shaking his big meaty and pockmarked head,
Telling Gary he just didn't understand. His face was getting flushed, his growl getting louder. The conversation went like this, and I quote, You don't get it, Gary. You don't fucking get it, do you? What do you mean I don't get it? You can't quit, Gary. And that's all there's to it. I'm not gonna let you out, and Richie sure as hell ain't gonna let you out either. End quote.
With that name coming up, Gary's stomach sank, and he lost most of the color in his face. Richie Kuklinski. He'd been trying not to think about Richie. He'd hoped that maybe he'd only have to deal with Percy, the foreman of the gang. Not Richie, the boss. Richie didn't come around all that much. He liked to keep his hands clean. That's why Gary thought he might be able to avoid confrontation with him, Percy he could deal with.
Percy was a bully and he liked to use his fists, and Gary wasn't like Danny. Gary was a large, well-built and strong man, standing 6 foot 2 inches and weighing 190 pounds. That's around 190 centimeters and 86 kilos for us metric users. Gary could stand up to bullies like Percy or weaklings like Danny. Richie, on the other hand,
was a whole different story. He was not only large, but huge, built with grit and muscle, and what seemed like pure hatred. But that wasn't what made him scary. When Percy got mad at you, he only stayed mad a short time, as he had a fit of anger, and soon he would simmer down and forget about it. When Ritchie got mad, on the other hand,
His temper might explode, but then, all of a sudden, it would pass, and he'd be very calm, as if nothing had ever happened. But Gary knew that Richie never forgot. He just waited. By the time the women called everybody to the table, Gary didn't have much of an appetite, though Percy and Danny ate like there was no tomorrow. Gary felt like he'd spent the last two hours talking to a brick wall,
Later, after true American delicious pumpkin pie and coffee, Percy took Gary out onto the porch in the chill late autumn air and picked up the discussion where they'd left it, trying to make Gary understand, in his blunt way, why he simply couldn't quit.
Percy explained to Gary that Boss Richie was already pretty pissed at him, and he wasn't alone. All this talk about going legit for his daughter's sake was getting on everybody's nerves. Everybody was especially concerned what Gary would do if the police pressured him. Would he perhaps do the quote-unquote right thing then too and snitch on his old gang?
Gary needed to understand that neither Richie, Percy or any of the others in the gang was going to take a fall because Gary had decided he wanted to play Mr. Upstanding Citizen all of a sudden. Gary, on his side, tried to make Percy understand that he wasn't going to do that. He would never rat on anyone in a million years. Percy, of course, knew that this was easy to say
But everyone knew that talk was cheap. So Percy kept refusing any of Gary's wishes, saying that the best thing he could do would be to just be a good boy and do what he was told. Because no matter what Gary's motivations were this time, Richie already had it in for him. And you never get to strike three with Richie.
"'Gary didn't even have to ask what Ritchie had against him. "'He knew very well. "'It was about Billy Sidnig's old Corvette. "'Ritchie had a thing for new Corvettes. "'They'd stolen a bunch of them that year for him. "'Usually they got them right off the lot from the car dealerships. "'Percy would go in during the day and make like he wanted to buy one.'
He'd ask the salesman to see the bill of sale, to see what the dealer was paying for the car, so that they could negotiate. Usually, salesmen had no problem with that, except that Percy wasn't interested in the price. He was interested in the eight-digit key number. Percy would stare at the sheet and memorize the number. Then, afterward, he'd go to a locksmith and have a duplicate key made from that number. A couple of nights later...
Either Danny or Gary would take the key, unlock the car and drive it right off the lot. Easy as pie. But Sidnig's car was different. They didn't steal that one. Billy Sidnig, one of the guys who hung out with the gang sometimes, owned it for real. Richie had figured he could make a profit on both ends. He and Sidnig would split the insurance money when Sidnig reported the car stolen.
Then Richie would sell the car to a guy he dealt with up in Connecticut and get about a quarter of the book price for it. When Sidnig started having second thoughts about doing this, Richie convinced him it would all work out fine. Besides, as he pointed out to Sidnig, he already had duplicate keys to the car because he'd already rented it a couple of times, so he could go ahead and steal it anyway and cut Sidnig out completely.
Billy Sidney got no choice but to go along with the scam. So it was that on the 21st of December 1981, the theft was staged at the Willowbrook Mall in Fairfield, New Jersey. The car ended up with Gary Smith, who was supposed to keep it hidden until Ritchie was ready to bring it up to Connecticut. Gary kept the car at his house for two weeks,
But it was making him nervous, so he moved it around from place to place, wondering when the hell Richie would take it off his hands. By February he was running out of hiding places he could trust, so he left it with a woman he used to work for when he was a teenager. Unfortunately, the police happened to spot the stolen car in her driveway.
After checking the vehicle identification number plate on the dashboard to confirm that it was indeed the stolen Corvette, they had it towed away. The car was returned to Billy Sidnick. Kuklinski was furious when he found out about it. That was strike one against Gary. Three weeks later, the car had to be stolen a second time.
This time Kuklinski traded it to a man from Bloomfield, New Jersey, for a vintage 1964 Corvette Coupe. Afterward, everybody kept throwing it up to Gary, needling him about the black Corvette that had to be stolen twice. Richie warning him not to lose any more cars, or else he'd be very sorry. Gary was getting sick of hearing about it.
If he had thought the cops would have spotted a car in that lady's driveway, he would never have left it there. But they kept on his back about it, and that was when he started thinking that maybe he wasn't cut out to be a thief. Maybe he ought to start thinking about getting into another line of work, where the bosses weren't like Percy and Richie. For weeks after that Thanksgiving dinner,
Gary mulled over his position in the gang. He really wanted out, but it looked like he was going to have to ease himself out gradually, maybe stay with them through the winter, then slack off, get a real job, start avoiding Percy, and maybe by spring they'd leave him alone. But then, on the 17th of December, 1982...
The authorities intervened with everybody's plans. The worm had started to turn.
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Visit BetterHelp.com slash SerialKiller today to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash SerialKiller. Gary Smith, Danny Deppner, Percy House, Barbara Deppner and several of her children were driving to her mother's house in West Milford. They were going there to drop the kids off for the day.
As they approached the house, they noticed a police car parked off the road, backed up into the woods. Percy was immediately suspicious. It wasn't the kind of road where the police would post a speed trap. When they got to Barbara's mother's house, they saw that her car wasn't in the driveway. Percy ordered Gary and Danny to get out and go hide in the woods behind the house.
He figured that if the cops were up to something, having the gang all together would give them a reason to haul them in. Percy's instincts were right. When he and Barbara backed out of the driveway and drove up to a stop sign at the top of the hill, police cars came out of nowhere and surrounded their station wagon.
As the police emerged, from their vehicles, with guns drawn, shouting for Percy and Barbara to show their hands and not move, the frightened children wailed in the back seat. Percy snapped at them and told them to shut up. He was certain the police were just there to hassle him as usual, and nothing would come of it. But Percy was wrong about that.
Passaic County had a 79-count indictment against him for an assortment of offenses, including theft and forgery of motor vehicle registrations. The cops weren't just out to hassle him this time. Their intention was to put him and his gang away for a very long time. They had arrest warrants for Gary and Danny too.
As the police leaned Percy House over the hood of the station wagon to handcuff him while they read him his rights, he signaled his wife to call Ritchie. She looked around at the faces of all the policemen. They were all focused on Percy. She nodded to him that she understood. Later that day, she caught up with her cousin Gary and her ex-husband, Danny, at Gary's house. Veronica, Gary's wife, was hysterical.
Detective Pat Kane of the State Police had been there earlier with a search warrant. He was looking for Gary. Danny and Gary were frantic. They were on foot. They didn't have much money, and they didn't want to get caught hanging around there.
So Barbara drove them to the Sussex Motel in Vernon, where she rented a room and they all spent the night. She had already gotten in touch with Richie, right after Percy was arrested. Richard Kuklinski had instructed Barbara to take Gary and Danny to some place called Paul's Diner on Route 3, somewhere in Hudson County.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of Paul's Diner. A white Cadillac with a blue top was parked at the far end of the lot all by itself. Richard Kuklinski was sitting behind the wheel. Barbara pulled the station wagon up alongside the Cadillac and rolled down her window. The Cadillac's power window glided down, and Kuklinski looked right through her, glaring at Danny and Gary.
Follow me, he said. Where are we going? she asked. He narrowed his eyes and his stare bore into her. Her fingers were suddenly freezing. Just follow me, he repeated. His window glided up and the Cadillac's engine roared to life.
Barbara Depner followed him to the Liberty Motel in North Bergen, where Kuklinski gave Danny some money, and he rented a room under the name Jack Bush. Relieved to have the fugitives out of her car, Barbara headed straight back to her sister's place, where she had left her children.
Percy, in the meantime, was stuck in the Passaic County Jail, being pressed for the whereabouts of his associates Gary Smith and Danny Deppner. He repeatedly told the police that he didn't know where they were, but cops kept hounding him. Percy didn't trust Gary anymore, hadn't trusted him since Thanksgiving.
"'Gary still had it in his head that he could reform himself. "'And Percy feared that if the cops got to him, "'he'd want to cooperate just to show them what a real good citizen he was now. "'He was sure Gary would snitch. "'He was a time bomb, waiting to go off. "'Sitting in his cell, Percy started getting cold sweats, "'thinking about the risks involved.'
He'd done time before, but he'd never gotten used to the feeling of being locked up. The thought of doing another long stretch was making him short of breath. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. He'd go crazy. For three days he waited, barely containing his panic, until finally they let him have a visitor. Barbara Depner. Sitting across the table from Percy in a room with guards within earshot,
Barbara told him not to worry, because the quote-unquote big guy was babysitting Gary and Danny. Percy was still uneasy. He leaned forward, smiling sweetly for the guard's benefit, and told her with a low growl, and I quote, "'Tell Richie to send Gary to Florida.'" A chill ran through Barbara Deppner's veins. She knew exactly what he meant.
She didn't like the idea, but she knew she was at risk too. She could be charged as an accomplice. She could go to jail. The thought terrified her. She didn't dare risk having someone else raise her children, not to mention the child growing inside her. It was unacceptable. Gary was her cousin, but Percy was right. Gary was dangerous.
The next day, she drove down to the Liberty Motel where Gary and Danny were hiding to deliver Percy's message. Danny was in the room with Kuklinski when she arrived. Gary had gone out to get a soda. She spoke quickly, fearing that Gary would walk in on them. Percy says you should send Gary to Florida. Kuklinski was sitting in the one armchair in the room, seemingly lost in thought.
She started to repeat it, but he cut her off. "'I heard what you said.' A few minutes later, Gary returned with a couple of cans of coke. She was startled to see his bruised face. He kept his eyes down, barely saying hello to her. Kuklinski explained to her that Gary had been a bad boy last night.
First he had gotten caught shoplifting at a convenience store across the street, and the manager had almost called the cops on him. Then he'd hitched hike home so he could see his wife and daughter. Danny whittled his index fingers at Gary. Naughty boy. Then he balled his fist and nodded toward Kuklinski. The next day, the 23rd of December, 1982—
Kuklinski moved the fugitives again to another motel in North Bergen, New Jersey. The hotel's name was the York Motel, a two-story green stucco building perched on the edge of the Rocky Palisades on Route 3, five minutes from the Lincoln Tunnel. Again, Kuklinski gave Danny Deppner some cash and sent him into the office to rent a room.
Under the blinding glare of multicolored Christmas lights strung around the plate-glass window, Danny signed the register as Jack Bush, and they took the key to room 31, a first-floor room that faced the narrow parking lot and a wall of gray, jagged rock beyond.
Later that evening, Richard Kuklinski returned to the York Motel with a bag of hamburgers and french fries. Gary and Danny were hungry. They didn't have any money, and they hadn't eaten all day. As Kuklinski handed out the burgers, he exchanged glances with Danny Deppner.
Danny unwrapped his hamburger and lifted the bun. He checked to make sure he had pickles on it. Kuklinski had told him earlier that the one without pickles would be laced with cyanide. Gary unwrapped his and dug in. But as Kuklinski watched him devouring the food, he wondered why the cyanide was taking so long. Then it happened.
Gary had eaten better than half of the hamburger when it finally started to work. Gary Smith dropped the burger and fell back on the bed where he was sitting. His throat was on fire, straight down to his stomach. The room was spinning and he felt as if his face was going to explode. He knew Richie was going to kill him. He'd known it all along and now it was happening.
In his last moments, he pictured his daughter Melissa's room the way it was two nights before, when he'd hitched hike home. He'd gone back there to say goodbye to her. She was sleeping, and he didn't have the heart to wake her up. His wife was in the doorway, whispering to him, begging him not to go back to the motel, that Richie would kill him. I know, he'd murmured, and he had started to cry.
The tears had streamed down his face and spattered the sheet around Melissa's chin as he bent down to kiss her goodbye for the last time. "'I have to go back,' he told his wife. As he walked past her, heading for the front door, Ritchie had threatened him after he had hitchhiked home the first time. Ritchie had promised that if he tried to run away again—
He would find Melissa, and he would kill her. Ritchie hadn't yelled or screamed the way Percy did when he made threats. He had said it nice and calm. Just a plain statement of fact. A reality of life. There was no question in Gary's mind that Ritchie would do it. That's why he had to go back to the York Motel for Melissa.
Blurry shapes loomed over Gary as he started to black out. "'Look at his eyes,' Danny said. "'Look at his eyes. They're all goofy.' Danny kept laughing. That's Gary as he choked and writhed on the bed in extreme, excruciating pain. Kuklinski told Danny to shut up. Gary wasn't dying fast enough. Maybe he hadn't eaten enough of the cyanide. Maybe there wasn't enough cyanide in his system.'
Danny looked around the room for something they could use to finish Gary off. There were two lamps in the room, one on either side of the bed. Danny unplugged one of the lamps, stepped on the cord and jerked it out of the base. Wrapping the ends of the cord around his hands, he went to the bed, put one knee on the mattress and hovered over Gary. Kuklinski looked on with silent approval.
as Danny looped the cord around Gary's neck and yanked Gary back. Gary put up no resistance. Danny held him tight, jerking him back and up as if he were riding a wild horse. He pulled so hard, the cord snapped. Gary flopped back on the bed. Danny quickly took the longest piece of cord and wrapped it around Gary's neck again, continuing to strangle him even though he wasn't moving anymore.
When his hands started to cramp, he finally let go. Danny looked at Kuklinski, panting for breath. Is he dead rich? Or should I do some more? What do you think? Four days later, on the 27th of December 1982, the guests in room 31 called the motel office to complain that there was an awful smell in their room. They said it was coming from the bed.
The bed in room 31 was a simple wooden frame, built to support a mattress and a box spring. The space under the box spring was hollow and completely enclosed. As the manager walked out into the cold without a coat to go see what the problem was, all he could think was that somebody, maybe one of the maids, must have left some food or something under the bed and forgotten about it.
But the stink in room 31 was unlike any rotting food he'd ever smelled. He got his fingers under the box spring and mattress and lifted them off the frame. The stench that flowed out made his eyes water. Then he saw the face and he dropped the mattress. He ran back out into the cold and went to the office to call the police.
The first two officers on the scene held handkerchiefs to their faces as they shined a flashlight into the space under the mattress. When they called in their report of the body found under the bed, they identified the deceased as, and here I quote, an overweight black male. Sealed in the enclosed space under that bed in an overheated room over the Christmas weekend,
"'Gary Smith's body had decomposed rapidly. "'He was so bloated, "'the buttons were popping on his splayed flannel shirt. "'His tongue was so swollen, "'it protruded from blubbery lips. "'His eyes were dull and milky. "'His skin was charcoal black.'
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And with that, we wrap up the tale of one of the better documented cases of the Iceman's professional murders. I hope you enjoyed listening to me telling it to you. When I release my next episode, 114th in number, I will present to you part 3 in the Iceman series. So, as they say in the land of radio, stay tuned.
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