One day in 1953, little Bobby Weis was declared missing—and found the same day. Instead of waiting for his sister like usual, Bobby decided to walk home alone from school. Thankfully, the story ends on good terms: he was delivered back to his house via a squad car, and even had a charming picture snapped with Police Sgt. David Nelson to prove it.
Unfortunately, not every missing person’s case ends as wholesomely as our month’s calendar image. Today, we’re sifting through the archives to examine one of the city’s most well-known disappearances.
Caption from back of photo: United Press Telephoto, 1953. Bobby Weis, 5, watches as Police Sgt. David Nelson scans the missing persons report for a record of the young wanderer. A phone call from Bobby’s mother brought the search to an end. It seems Bobby became impatient while waiting for his sister and started for home–in the wrong direction. He was treated to a ride home in a squad car.
WHAT HAPPENED TO HELEN BRACH?
She was known as “The Candy Lady.” Decades later, her disappearance remains as confusing and answerless as it began.
Helen Brach was born on November 10, 1911, in Unionport Ohio. According to a podcast episode about Brach, she wasn’t born into wealth or luxury (Crimelines True Crime). Her father was a railroad worker, and she married a high school sweetheart at 17. By 21, she was divorced, and eventually left her small town and headed to Florida for a change of scenery. It was there, while working at a country club, where she met and fell in love with Frank Brach, heir to E.J. Brach & Sons, a candy company.
After Frank’s death in 1970, Helen inherited his fortune. A familiar face to many about town, she was frequently seen cruising around in a “Brach’s Candy Purple” Rolls Royce. As a true animal lover, she set aside some of that wealth to support various animal sanctuaries around the area.
It was this passion for animals, and horses in particular, that brought Richard Bailey onto the scene.
Bailey claimed to have access to high-quality racehorses and convinced Helen to purchase them. Helen decided to verify his claims and “reportedly hired an independent appraiser who confirmed that her horses were essentially worthless” (The Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal).
That very action may have led to her downfall.
On February 17, 1973, Helen left the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota after a regular checkup. She decided to purchase cosmetics at Buckskins’s Shop. Later, the clerk told investigators that Helen needed her to hurry as her “houseman” was waiting for her outside the store.
Helen was referring to John “Jack” Matlick–a longtime employee of Frank Brach who continued to work for Helen as an all around handyman after Frank’s death. While the Brach’s were loyal to Jack, his history wasn’t quite spotless. According to the Digital Research Library, he “had been in prison for various offenses, including aggravated robbery and . . . regularly beat his wife.”
With those details in mind, it’s not hard to see why he turned out to be the investigators’ first suspect.
Helen’s case is full of strange claims and actions, and those begin with John Matlick. Instead of reporting her disappearance to the police, he decided to wait. When questioned, he claimed he picked her up at the O’Hare International Airport on the 17th (the last day she was reportedly seen alive). Then, he said he returned to the airport so she could go on a trip to Fort Lauderdale to view a recently purchased condo.
There were a few problems. One: no one saw Helen arriving at the airport. Two: no one noticed her on a plane to Fort Lauderdale. And most importantly–there is no record of her ever purchasing a plane ticket around that time frame.
Helen did have connections in Florida, most noticeably a lover, Richard Bailey, who was expecting her arrival. When Helen never showed up, he claimed to call her home in Illinois–to which Matlick picked up the phone every time.
Inconsistencies abound in Matlick’s timeline. While Matlick denied taking Helen to the store, the cashier remembered Helen saying he was outside waiting for her. Painters, who were hired to work on the inside of the house, never saw Helen on the days Matlick claimed she was home.
The most disturbing claim of all is from the estate’s gardener, who claimed that he saw Matlick with two strangers on the property, one sporting a baggy dress and a wig that looked like Helen’s (The Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal).
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And then, there’s the toll receipt.
Found within Matlick’s belongings, investigators uncovered the receipt “for a toll exit near a farm owned by Helen in distant Ohio” (The Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal). It’s unclear if Matlick ever divulged what he was doing near Helen’s other property, and why he was heading in that direction the day he supposedly dropped her off at the airport. Despite that, and multiple incidents of fraudulent checks using Helen’s finances, the police dropped all charges. Matlick passed away decades later.
With the investigation drawing little evidence toward other suspects, fingers pointed again at conman Richard Bailey in the late 1980s. With charges of mail fraud and hefty money laundering, Bailey wasn’t unfamiliar with being under scrutiny by the law either. Ultimately, Bailey confessed to the fraud but claimed he had nothing to do with Helen disappearing.
Though swindler Joe Plemmons had a different opinion.
Standing before the court, Plemmons “told the judge that Bailey had offered him $5,000 to kill Helen just weeks before she disappeared” (The Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal). While such testimony might have put the final nail in the coffin of public opinion, Plemmons wasn’t ever found guilty of her murder. He did spend time behind bars, however–nearly 30 years in connection to his lengthy conman schemes.
The final twist in Helen’s bizarre disappearance? Plemmons would go on to claim it wasn’t Bailey who murdered Helen after all, but yet another villain in the Chicago scene: Silas Jayne.
Entrenched in the city’s gang scene, Jayne had a violent and disturbing history. From his involvement in his own brother’s murder to the vanishings of three women who frequented his stable yard, it’s not too hard to believe that a man with such a troubled past might find himself entangled in yet another questionable story.
According to Plemmon’s testimony, he claimed they “beat and shot [her] to death at the behest of Silas Jayne and his nephew, Frank Jayne Jr., and incinerated her body at a steel mill off of Interstate 65 near Gary, Indiana” (The Charley Project).
Despite Plemmon’s detailed account, there was little that investigators could do. A plea deal prevented Plemmons from arrest, and Silas Jayne was long dead. The only plausible evidence?
A ring.
While some sources describe it as a “ruby-colored” ring, photos taken certainly make it appear to be a purple-toned ring. Perhaps even a Brach’s Candy-colored purple.
Plemmons claimed the ring “fell off of Brach’s finger while he was disposing of her body,” and close relatives agreed–the ring was indeed Helen’s.
An End to the Story?
To this day, Helen’s remains have never been located. We urge readers who may have information regarding her disappearance to reach out to law enforcement–and finally help close the case.
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