In the shadowed corners of Long Island’s history, two women’s lives were tragically cut short, their killers notorious figures who dominated headlines, yet these victims’ names slip through our fingers like elusive ghosts. Suffolk County prosecutors, in a heartfelt plea, are reaching out to the community for help in unraveling the mystery surrounding these two unidentified souls, murdered and abandoned decades ago. It’s not just about justice; it’s about giving families closure, about honoring the humanity stolen from these women. On this National Missing Persons Day, the call echoes louder: someone out there might hold the key to restoring their identities.
One such victim is known only as “Medford Jane Doe,” a young woman whose life was brutalized in 1994 by Robert Shulman, a relentless killer who preyed on sex workers and potentially claimed even more lives. Shulman, now gone since his prison death in 2006, left her dismembered remains in a cruel concealment—a blue Rubbermaid garbage can discarded roadside. She was petite, about 5-foot-1 and 135 pounds, estimated between 20 and 30 years old, a life interrupted before it truly began. Can you imagine the terror she faced, the dreams she carried that were savagely extinguished?
What makes her stand out is a poignant mark on her left shoulder: a tattoo bearing the name “Adrian,” perhaps a lover, a friend, or a memory etched forever in ink. This small detail is a lifeline, a whisper from her past begging to be heard. Prosecutors believe it’s the bridge to her story—her real name, her family, the people who loved her. Picture her as someone just like us: laughing with friends, chasing goals, unaware of the darkness approaching.
The second unsolved case pulls us to another haunting tale: Bellport Jane Doe, murdered in 1983 by her landlord, Arthur Kinlaw, in the confines of her Michigan Avenue apartment. She went by Maria or Marie, a name that hints at warmth and familiarity, yet her killer’s cruelty robbed her of future laughter. Kinlaw, now 72 and imprisoned for 20 years to life on two murder convictions—including the related death of 17-year-old Dawn Olanick—lingers as a reminder of unchecked evil. How many quiet moments did she lose, her daily routines shattered in an instant?
Her identity remains shrouded, but she was part of a community that might still remember her face, her mannerisms, or the life she led. Authorities have released renderings, recreations meant to jog memories and bridge the gap to her loved ones. It’s a tender hope: that one look at these sketches could spark recognition, turning anonymity into remembrance.
Suffolk County District Attorney Ray Tierney urges everyone to pause and reflect, insisting that even the tiniest clue could unlock answers for grieving families who’ve waited too long. This isn’t merely a detective puzzle; it’s tied to broader investigations, like the Gilgo Beach serial killings linked to Rex Heuermann, charged in seven sex workers’ deaths. By identifying these women, we honor all victims, weaving threads of compassion into the fabric of justice. So, on this day dedicated to the missing, let’s listen to Tierney’s words: someone must know something—share it, and help bring these souls home.
