By Mike Simmons
Tuesday, November 27, 1979: Pensacola Bay
“It’s…a human head…a girl’s head.”
Freddie was a shrimper. He and his family worked the boat like a team. Today they were netting shrimp near the Pensacola Bay Bridge, known to the locals as “The Three Mile Bridge.” On one pass, Freddie caught a plastic garbage bag in his net. Not unusual for a shrimper to catch trash, so he reached to throw it out. Suddenly he glimpsed something, though, that made him hesitate. The bag had a hole with a bone sticking out of it. He lifted the bone and realized it was an arm with a human hand attached!
Suddenly, the Chancy boat became a crime scene. Officer Jim Richbourg was called to the end of the auditorium. Jim was the Crime Scene Investigator. Just as sure as no one else knew what to do with body parts in a trash bag, Jim threw himself into the scene and processed it thoroughly, like the professional he was.
Over the next few days, body parts were found along the Pensacola Bay shoreline at different locations. But…no identification and no one had been reported missing. How did they find out who it was? Inquiries were made across the country. One possibility was a girl named Angela Mauer. She had been known to be in the area recently. She was arrested on Pensacola Beach a few weeks prior, so her prints were on file. But how could they positively say that the dead girl was Angela? Sure, they had her fingers from the hand found on the boat, but they were badly decomposed. Besides, printing a dead body isn’t easy, but it was done, and she was identified as Melissa Caronis, also known as Angela Mauer.
Now it was Detective John Hollingsworth’s turn. How long had Melissa been in town? Who did she know here? Where was she living? Many more questions than answers.
The next week, a torso washed up on the shores aboard the Pensacola Naval Air Station. The wounds on the body matched those of the head arms and legs that were located on the shrimp boat. It was Melissa’s body.
A few days later, A leg – suspected to be Melissa’s – was found lodged in some rocks on Bayfront Parkway at the foot of Ninth Avenue in downtown Pensacola.
Saturday, December 1, 1979: Margate, Florida
December – just the sound of it brings thoughts of Christmas. Cold weather, snow, hot cocoa in front of the fire! Sounds nice…except if you live in Margate, Florida. The average low temperature is in the mid-sixties. So, Santa dresses in shorts and a fishing shirt and wears a Panama hat!
It was quiet at midnight on December 1, 1979, in the town of Margate. Joan Ryder was the dispatcher who had the midnight shift. Her job also included greeting anyone who came to the police station. She had settled down with a cup of coffee and a good book when the front door opened and in walked three people – a young man in his mid-20s and a middle-aged couple, probably in their late forties. The older man spoke.
“My name is Edward Cleveland, Sr. We would like to speak with someone about a murder.” Joan stood to her feet and slowly set the book down, her gaze questioningly skipping among the three visitors.
“Wh…What did you say?”
“My son needs to talk with an officer about a murder that happened in Pensacola.”
Joan looked at the young man who appeared to be Mr. Cleveland’s son. “Did you witness it?”
“I did it,” was the deadpan reply from Edward Cleveland, Jr.
“You did it?”
“I did it.” His expression didn’t change.
Joan stared for a moment, as if the information hadn’t sunk in, or maybe was different from what she heard. “Just a moment,” she said, finally.
Detective N. J. Kozlowski came through the door at 1 AM, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes.
“I killed my girlfriend. Her name was Angela Mauer. We were living at the Marble Manor Hotel on Mobile Highway in Pensacola. After I killed her, I chopped her up and placed the pieces in plastic bags. I threw the bags in the water. I feel really bad and needed to tell somebody about it.”
As a seasoned detective, Kozlowski knew that showing too much shock or emotion could affect the story a defendant tells. However, too little emotion can have the same effect. So, he proceeded to show interest, but not shock.
“Tell me about it,” said Kozlowski.
“I was living in Pensacola with this girl – Angela. She was a teenager, but I don’t know how old. I don’t think Angela was her real name. One night – too many drugs and alcohol – I stabbed her to death. Then I cut up her body and put the parts in garbage bags. I put the bags in a trunk and took a cab down to the bay. Once the driver was gone, I opened the trunk and threw the bags in.”
Detective Kozlowski called the Pensacola Police desk sergeant. “We can’t confirm anything yet.”
“What do you want me to do with him?” Kozlowski asked.
“I’ll call you back.”
After a check with Hollingsworth, the sergeant called up Kozlowski and said, “Book him.”
Sunday, December 2, 1979:
Hollingsworth began putting the pieces of the puzzle together. He found out where Cleveland and Caronis had been living and what they were doing. Then he began interviewing neighbors, co-workers, and even the cab driver who took Cleveland to the bay with the large, heavy trunk with a “fishing net” inside.
Slowly a picture of what happened began to come into view. When he was 24 years old, Cleveland met 15-year-old Caronis, who was homeless and befriended her. As many young runaway girls do when they have nothing else to sell, they sell their bodies. Eventually, Caronis moved in with him. He lived at 1305 E. Desoto Street, but the two rented a room at the Marble Manor Hotel on Mobile Highway.
During their stay, both were consumed with alcohol, drugs and wild sex. At one point, Cleveland tied up Caronis with rope and then tied her to the soap bar holder. He pulled out his knife and began stabbing her. At some point, he realized the trouble he would be in if authorities discovered his crimes with the underaged girl.
He stabbed her until she was dead. He cut off both arms, both legs and her head. He put the arms, one leg and the head in a garbage bag. He got a military trunk and put all the parts inside. Then he got a cab to take him to the bay where he threw the trunk in.
On Monday, July 28, 1980, it took the jury less than three hours. “Guilty.”
Less than two months later, on Friday, September 12, 1980, Judge Frye sentenced Cleveland to life in prison.
Edward Cleveland is still serving time at the Blackwater River Correctional Facility. What could have been a productive life was destined to exist in custody for life. What also could have been a productive life ended at fifteen years of age. Sad.
