Henry Bedard, Jr. is Missing

18-year-old Cheryl Bedard eyed the clouds, wondering if it would rain again soon. She gripped the steering wheel of her car unconsciously, her stomach knotted with anxiety.

It had been a difficult day for Cheryl.

She had barely gotten any sleep the night before—she had been out all night in the rain with her family, scouring the town of Swampscott for her younger brother, Henry Bedard, Jr. Though she wanted to believe it was a lapse in judgment, it was completely out of his character to worry her parents like this. Henry, at 15 years old, simply didn’t pull the kind of nonsense that you might expect from other teenagers.

Her road, dead-end MacArthur Circle, was eerily quiet as Cheryl pulled into the familiar driveway. As she rose from her car, she saw her father emerge from the side door of the house—a version of her father, anyway—this man seemed much older than he had yesterday… ashen and worn.

He wrapped his daughter in a tight hug and the words spilled out of him, “Your brother has been shot in the head. He’s dead.”

She would recall 35 years later, “Nothing ever prepared me for that reality... No words could ever describe the magnitude of the grief I felt.”

She cried out “like an animal that had just been seriously wounded.” The sound of her own pain still ricochets in her memory today. Her legs buckled, and her father caught her as she fell forward. She would later say that she, herself, “Cheryl Bedard, the sister of Henry Bedard—died as well” that day.

All American Boy

Henry Bedard Jr. absolutely glows in the recollections of those who knew him. The words “happy-go-lucky,” “nice,” and “cheerful” are repeated often. He was a kind, thoughtful boy with a big heart and a good sense of humor. Friends and strangers alike would comment on his ever-present smile.

Henry was the third child of Gloria Bedard and Henry Bedard, Sr. (We will refer to Henry Jr. as simply ‘Henry,’ and his father as ‘Henry Sr.’) He was born in Salem, MA, in 1959. Their eldest son, John, was born in 1954, Cheryl in 1956, then came Henry, then Stephen in 1960. Finally, in 1968, they welcomed their fifth and final child, a boy they named Scott.

The Bedard family lived in Lynn, Swampscott’s neighbor to the south, until Henry was 11. In 1970, they returned to Swampscott, the town where Gloria and Henry Sr. had attended high school themselves.

It was in Swampscott that Henry lived a childhood so wholesome it was almost beyond credibility. He had a true passion for sports—especially baseball. In little league he was known as “Hammering Hank,” a moniker that stuck with him through junior high. There, he played football, hockey, street hockey, ran track, and even participated in the school’s sports discussion programs. Even in the summers, he couldn’t sit still, waterskiing behind the boat until the year that his father turned the wheel over to him. On her blog, his sister Cheryl would recall in Henry tearing down the length of Big Island Pond in Hampstead, New Hampshire.

By sophomore year at Swampscott High, Henry was proving to be quite the athlete, despite his small stature. At 15, he was only about 5’4 and 135 pounds. His gym teacher, Donald Hallett, said of Henry, “He was small, but he was fast, and he really hustled. He was really the kind of boy you would have wanted for your own son.”

At home, Henry got along well with his siblings. His older brother and sister adored him, and his youngest brother, six-year-old Scott, held him high on a pedestal. Henry was especially close to his father, for whom he worked part-time on Saturdays at the Sunoco station in Danvers. He was eager to drive, and he planned to get his driver’s license on his 16th birthday, in part so he could open the station on the weekends and allow his dad to get some extra sleep. He had already saved up $900 to buy his first car.

Henry was equally ecstatic about purchasing his own bicycle with the money that he saved during the summer of 1974. Between working for his father and caddying at the local golf course, he had finally saved up enough and asked his sister to take him to the shop to pick it out.

That was Henry Bedard Jr. in the fall of 1974, embracing a childhood so idyllic it seems to have leapt out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It would be nice to leave him there, preserved in time and memory, in the sun-dappled space between childhood and an adulthood he would never know.

December 16, 1974

As the weather turned cooler, the Bedards began to prepare for the holidays. Henry loved Christmas. Unlike many children, who looked forward to unruly stacks of presents under the tree with their names upon them, Henry really enjoyed the role of gift-giver. He put a lot of thought into what he would buy for his parents and each of his siblings.

That was on his mind when he rose early on the morning of Monday, December 16. After breakfast, he walked his younger brother Stephen to the junior high school, where only last year he himself had been a student. They parted ways and Henry continued the additional two miles to Swampscott High, arriving in time for home room. His day seemed to have been fairly normal—he attended all of his classes, ate lunch as usual, joked and chatted with his friends.

Around 2:15PM, the bell rang, and a wave of teenagers spilled out of the double doors at the front of the building. Henry stepped out into the gray, gusty afternoon, and got on a bus that stopped at Vinnin Square, a shopping center about a mile northeast of the school.

Henry walked to the CVS and made his way to the photography counter, where he dropped off a roll of 8mm movie camera film to be developed. Henry was looking forward to seeing how the film turned out—he hoped that they properly immortalized the day that he gunned across his friend’s yard on a borrowed motorbike.

In the beauty section of the store, he paused. There—Love Cosmetic’s Musky Jasmine Flower. The little pink-capped bottle came in a rose-colored box and smelled like the olfactory equivalent of a soap opera, but it was his sister’s current favorite scent. He hoped she would be happy when she opened the box on Christmas morning.

Henry left the CVS at about 3:00PM, walking briskly southwest down Paradise Road, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind. Swampscott Police Lieutenant Peter Cassidy recalled waving to him, and thinking to himself, “Henry looked like he was in a hurry to get somewhere.”

Around 3:40PM, Henry crossed the large paved lot of Swampscott’s Department of Public Works. He wished workers a Merry Christmas and showed them his pharmacy bag, explaining that he was going home to wrap presents. They watched him disappear into the back corner of the lot, where the pavement transitioned to woods—to the path of a former railroad line.

A body in Swampscott View

The next day, Tuesday afternoon, two young boys were making their way down a trail that ran behind the houses on Norfolk Avenue. Power lines ran along its length and the trail itself was the former site of an old Boston & Maine railroad line. The steel tracks themselves had been removed, but the contours of the ground remained.

One of the two boys, Cliff Goodman, had just had a birthday the day prior. His comrade was one of his birthday guests, and he had piqued his curiosity. They were on a mission—there were some interesting treasures that had been discovered on Monday: an empty wallet and a bottle of perfume. Plus, there was also an old Playboy magazine known to be floating around the area.

Cliff knew the area well—his bedroom looked out onto the railroad bed and the woods beyond. At this time of year, the skeletal branches of the trees were depleted of their foliage, and the ground was red and brown.

Off of the railroad bed was an incline to a spot famous in Swampscott amongst a certain set—called Swampscott View. Once you ascended the short hill, you would break through the trees and be on a rocky scrap of land that overlooked the Department of Public Works yard and Paradise Road beyond. You could wander as close as you dared to its edge—which overlooked a sheer rocky face that dropped 30 feet to the pavement below. Perhaps it was this flirtation with danger that made it a popular place with Swampscott’s youth.

They didn’t quite make it to the rocky section of Swampscott View when they came upon a disturbance to the leafy forest floor.

In a shallow grave, covered with leaves and other detritus, was the body of Henry Bedard. His clothes were drenched in rainwater and blood, and his head was a grisly sight. He ran home, his friend in tow, and grabbed his mother by the arm. “I dragged her up there because she wouldn’t believe me, and I wouldn’t shut up.” Many years later, in 2010, Cliff would tell the Lynn Daily Item, “That moment was almost frozen in time. I was in disbelief at what I was looking at, but I couldn’t deny what I had seen.”

Initial police response

Before long, the Swampscott and State Police descended on the area, while the local fire department erected floodlights to combat the approaching darkness. Among those present on the scene was Lieutenant Peter Cassidy, who was horrified by what he was seeing. He knew Henry—knew the boy’s family quite well, actually. And, he realized with a growing sense of dread, he had seen Henry just yesterday, not far from Swampscott View and maybe only minutes before he was killed. Henry had crossed in front of his unmarked police car, lifting a hand in greeting as he walked at a quick pace down Paradise Road. Lt. Peter Cassidy had been one of the last people to see Henry Bedard alive.

He watched as Essex County Medical Examiner, Dr. Albert Shub, did a cursory exam of Henry’s body. Dr. Shub believed that the boy had died from a severe head wound, likely a gunshot, approximately 24 hours earlier. But he would not make an official ruling on the cause or manner of death until he had a chance to conduct an autopsy the next day.

In the trees about 50 feet from where Henry had been found, police discovered a baseball bat. The investigators on the scene carefully collected the bat, knowing that it would need to be examined at the State Police Crime Lab for fingerprints and traces of blood.

The investigation into Henry’s murder was led by Swampscott’s Lieutenant James Hanley, supported by Peter Cassidy and a third lieutenant, Paul Sherry. Their team was also assisted by the MA State Police and members of the Essex County District Attorney’s Office.

The last sighting of Henry seemed to have been around 3:40PM, when he was spotted by several town employees crossing the paved yard of the Department of Public Works. It was located on Paradise Road, about a mile south of Vinnin Square. Behind the department’s maintenance and storage buildings was a sheer rock face, at the top of which was Swampscott View. It was at the DPW yard that Henry was last seen alive.

Between 4:00PM and 4:30PM, two young boys, on their way to Cliff Goodman’s 10th birthday party, found the empty wallet and brand-new perfume, suggesting that Henry had already been killed—his body was likely still warm just 30 feet away. That means that Henry was killed between 3:40PM and 4:30PM, a window of time that is, at most, 50 minutes.

Police and the medical examiner estimated the attack occurred sometime around 4:00PM on Monday. During his examination, Dr. Shub also discovered that Henry had not died from a gunshot wound but from a series of blows to his head. It appeared that the killer (or killers) had used a blunt object to strike him at least five times, likely at the site where his body was found. Because no one had heard Henry call out, the police believed that he was knocked out with one blow, and then, once he was on the ground, struck repeatedly in quick succession.

The Baseball Bat

The bat was the critical piece of evidence. The model was often used by Little League teams and elementary schools. It was 31 inches long, and the model was identified as “Henry Hank Aaron 125LL.” The ‘LL’ stood for Little League. It was a blond-colored wood and was decorated on the business-end with a signature by the pro-baseball hall-of-famer, Hank Aaron.

Police believed that the bat was the murder weapon—perhaps the key to the entire case—and the community went into high-gear trying to determine its provenance.

An otherwise ordinary bat was made unique by the distinctive markings found on it. The bat was in pretty good condition, but there was some blackening (as though it were scorched in a campfire) and there were some markings on its knob:

There were a series of straight lines that were carved into the knob, right on top of the manufacturer’s marking, ‘1.’ Three slashes appeared to make the Roman numeral six, spelled V-I, and two more slashes appear to make a horizontal line across the top and bottom of the number—five slashes in total. Part of the etching was worn away by abuse, so it wasn’t obvious this was the correct interpretation. Turned 90 degrees to the right, the V with the line below it instead made the letter ‘K.’ It’s conceivable that the letters ‘M’ or ‘N’ or ‘L’ might have been a part of the picture.

Local PD sent the bat to the state crime lab for forensic analysis. They promptly confirmed that the stains on the bat were indeed human blood. This was the pre-DNA era, so their next step was to determine blood type, but it’s unclear if they were able to do that or not. The Boston Globe quoted State Police Detective Alfred Duemling, who reported that the blood type was determined, and it matched Henry’s. However, the Lynn Daily Item later quoted Swampscott Chief of Police William Carlin, who said that the state police were unsuccessful in identifying the blood type on the bat.

Although they may not have had a blood type, the crime lab was able to lift a partial fingerprint from the bat. Their first step was to compare it to Henry’s own fingerprints, but they ran into a problem: Henry’s fingerprints were not on file anywhere, and he had already been buried. To this day, it has still not been determined whether or not that fingerprint belongs to Henry.

The mystery that loomed largest, however, was why someone would want to take Henry’s life. By all accounts, he was a nice kid with a sunny disposition from a good family. Had he simply had the misfortune of running across the path of some malevolent individual? His empty wallet left investigators wondering if robbery might have been a motive behind the attack.

Or maybe the killer was known to Henry... What had brought Henry to Swampscott View that day at all? According to his friends and siblings, if he were heading home from shopping at Vinnin Square, he had no reason to be walking that particular route—it was out of his way.

The question hung in the air like sour milk... what if Henry knew his killer... what if Henry, unbeknownst to him, had made a date with Death... a fellow murderous youth in Swampscott... a young killer who blended in with the tight-knit community.

Henry’s funeral

Henry’s funeral service began on Thursday, December 19th, just three days after his death, in Lynn. McGinn-Landergan Funeral Home held visiting hours all afternoon and evening, remaining open until 10:00PM to accommodate the 2,500 visitors who came to show their love and support to the Bedard family.

The next day—Friday, December 20th—was the day of his funeral mass, and the interest from the community was enormous. A somber sea of about 500 children and teenagers made the half-mile walk from the high school to St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church. A crowd of nearly 1,500 people pressed into the church and spilled out onto the steps and sidewalks. Henry’s funeral would be remembered as one of the largest ones in the history of Swampscott.

Behind the altar was unique floral arrangement—a sea of carnations fashioned into a gridiron, designed by the Bedard siblings to honor Henry’s love for football. In the closed casket, Henry himself was dressed in the blue and white jersey bearing the number 30—which he had bought in the hopes of wearing on the field one day—and the new shoes Cheryl intended to give him for Christmas.

The case grows cold

On Monday, December 30, the police released photos of the baseball bat to the public, hoping that someone would recognize the etchings on the bottom. The public was asked to rack their brains—to think back two weeks to the afternoon of Monday, December 16th—to try and remember anyone carrying a bat near Swampscott View.

Since nearly the beginning of the investigation, Chief Carlin had been vocal in his opinion that Henry had been killed by someone he knew, likely another teenager or teenagers. In early January, the investigative team began to reinterview about 50 people, most of them teens. Nine young people—who were never named—were administered polygraphs. All passed.

Around this same time, the Louisville Slugger found at the scene was sent to the FBI laboratory in Washington, DC, for further forensic testing. They hoped that technicians there would be able to glean some new information. It would be over a month before the lab returned the bat to the Swampscott Police. Chief Carlin told the press, “The FBI has informed us that not even their instruments were sensitive enough to determine the blood type of the stains remaining.”

Henry Bedard: 50 years unsolved

Henry’s older sister, Cheryl, has only been back to Swampscott once. She stood in the place where her brother died and felt no closer to understanding why he was killed. From the shores of Florida and nearly 50 years’ distance, she has stopped trying to understand what could have driven someone to take Henry’s life.

In the years that followed, she found it difficult to make connections and trust others. Her faith and the birth of her daughter helped restore some of her former joy in life, but she maintains that the tragedy destroyed a part of her that can never be fully recovered. She wrote, “Henry’s death was the beginning of a journey I never wanted to take.”

In February of 2011, Cheryl published a blog in remembrance of Henry, on which she expressed her gratitude for the thoughts and memories that people had shared with her. But she did note that very few of Henry’s closest friends—those who had carried his casket during his funeral—had reached out to her. She offered her personal email and encouraged them to do so.

As of today, Henry’s case remains open and unsolved. This December will mark the 50th anniversary of the crime, and the window for bringing his killer or killers to justice grows smaller by the day. As Detective Sgt. Jay Locke, one of the two Swampscott detectives working on Henry’s case, stated in 2021, “Evidence degrades, memories fade, and people die. So every day you’re losing a little bit more.”

Justice in Henry’s case might not end in a conviction. It might look like something else.

Henry’s mother, Gloria, never received an answer for why her son was taken from her. She passed in 2014 at the age of 80. Likewise, Henry’s oldest brother, John, died of Parkinson’s in 2022. His other siblings, Stephen and Scott, are scattered about the country. And, of course, there is Cheryl, who is still waiting for the day when someone will pick up the phone and tell her a story about a warm, cloudy December day 50 years ago. It’s not a happy story, but it’s nonetheless one that she needs to hear.

If you have information on the murder of Henry Bedard, please contact the Swampscott Police at (781) 595-1111.

 

This text has been adapted from the Murder, She Told podcast episode, The Tragic Murder of Henry Bedard. To hear Henry’s full story, listen to the episode or find Murder, She Told on your favorite podcast platform.

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Sources For This Episode

Newspaper articles

Various articles from The Daily Evening Item, Daily Hampshire Gazette, Swampscott Reporter, The Boston Globe, The Daily Item, and The Salem News, here.

Written by various authors including Alena Kuzub, Charles McDonald, Cheryl Bedard-Armas, Debra Glidden, Ed Meany, Ethan Forman, Jack Butterworth, Jeff McMenmy, John F. Cullen, John Moran, Julie Manganis, Marvin Pave, Megan Ahearn, Phil Kehoe, Richard Fries, Richard J. Connolly, and Steven Rosenberg.

Online written sources

'COLUMN: Dec. 16: Still seeking Truth, Justice, and Closure for Henry Bedard Jr.' (Swampscott Reporter), 12/15/2010, by Cheryl Bedard-Armas

'Many Connected to Bedard Murder in 1974 Talk for First Time' (Remembering Henry Bedard Jr.), 12/16/2010, by Jeff McMenemy

'Case News' (Remembering Henry Bedard Jr.), 2/16/2011, by Cheryl Paradise-Armas

'June 25th, Celebrating Henry’s Time on Earth' (Remembering Henry Bedard Jr.), 6/25/2012, by Cheryl Paradise-Armas

'Henry Edward Bedard Jr.' (Find a Grave), 10/2/2012

'Gloria May Mansfield Bedard' (Find a Grave), 1/15/2014

'Remembering Henry E. Bedard Jr, Now 41 Years Later' (Remembering Henry Bedard Jr.), 9/25/2015, by Cheryl Paradise-Armas

'Swampscott police still looking for answers on 45th anniversary...' (Boston News 7), 12/19/2019, by Bella DiGrazia

'Swampscott Police Renew Push To Solve 45-Year-Old Murder' (Patch), 12/19/2019, by Dave Copeland

'Facebook post by Swampscott PD' (Facebook), 12/19/2019, by Swampscott PD

'Investigators still looking to unlock mystery of 1974 murder of Swampscott teenager' (Boston Globe), 12/20/2019, by Emily Sweeney

'Murder Weapon' (Remembering Henry Bedard Jr.), 4/12/2021, by Cheryl Paradise-Armas

'47-Year-Old Swampscott Teen Killing Remains Open Investigation' (Patch), 12/18/2021, by Scott Souza

'After 47 years, Swampscott murder still a mystery' (Lynn Daily Item), 12/20/2021, by Alena Kuzub

'Facebook post by Swampscott PD’ (Facebook), 12/16/2023, by Swampscott PD

'Henry Edward Bedard Jr.' (Find a Grave)

Photos

Photos from Cheryl’s Wordpress Blog and newspapers credited above.

Online video sources

'Chronicle Coverage of Henry’s Murder' (YouTube), 2/17/2005

Credits

Research, vocal performance, and audio editing by Kristen Seavey

Research, photo editing, and additional writing by Byron Willis

Additional research by Ericka Pierce and Sarah LaFortune

Writing by Morgan Hamilton

Murder, She Told is created by Kristen Seavey.