Barry Olson often awakens in the middle of the night, trying to make sure he hasn't forgotten a clue, trying to find connections he may have overlooked.
He's not a detective; he's an adman and retired at that. But 73 years ago, someone murdered his grandmother's lover.
Olson, 72, lives in Cleveland now. But he has been obsessed with the "Bridge Party Murder," which made headlines during two Los Angeles trials -- one that convicted his grandparents and another that absolved them.
Olson had remembered his grandmother as sweet and loving, and his grandfather as a coldhearted alcoholic. Anything more was a family secret until 1950, when he came across his mother's diary. She had kept a daily record of her in-laws' gripping trials, in 1932 and 1933, which revolved around a love triangle and murder.
His mother was so disturbed that he had discovered the secret that she burned the diary and warned him never to discuss the case with his father or grandfather.
Shocked to learn that his "prim and proper" grandmother had been caught up in an eight-year affair with his grandfather's married boss, Olson began reconstructing family history.
"When I started out on my quest, I wanted to prove their innocence, which is probably what everyone does in a similar situation," Olson said. "But then I changed my thinking.
"I wanted to prove their guilt!" After decades of digging through family archives, interviewing family members and shuttling from Cleveland to Los Angeles to pore through newspaper accounts, police records and his past, Olson believes he has at least some of the answers.
Many of these details come from Times stories of 1932-33.
He was in his mother's womb at the time of the killing, a complicated crime involving murder, suicide, money, cheating hearts and noir L.A.
The trials mesmerized Depression-era reporters and their readers. The news was filled not only with those dramatic elements but a "dream team" of two high-priced defense lawyers. In the end, the public and jurors were confused on all counts, unsure of the truth and uneasy about the power of the press.
In 1924, Albert and Libbie Olson and their three children lived on a chicken ranch on South 6th Avenue in Arcadia. Albert started a new job as a photo engraver in Los Angeles.
The company owner, Charles Henry Scull, had hired Olson, and the two became best friends, often socializing with their wives. When the Olsons got into a financial bind, Scull gave them $5,000, which he apparently didn't expect them to repay.
