Six people died at a remote Bavarian farm on the night of March 31, 1922, and whoever killed them did not leave. For days afterward, someone fed the cattle, cared for the dog, sliced meat in the pantry, ate every crumb of bread in the house and kept smoke curling from the chimney. Four of the bodies lay stacked in the barn, and two more lay under covers inside the farmhouse.
An old tool, an old rage
The axe is one of humanity's oldest companions. Stone axes have turned up in eastern and southern Africa beside the fossils of Homo ergaster, dating back as far as 1.6 million years. When metal arrived around 2000 BCE, the first metalsmiths simply cast molds of the old stone shape. It was new technology run by old habits, a bit like keeping your passwords on a post-it note. The Vikings loved the axe because it was useful and cheap, while swords were for the wealthy. They named their axes after Scandinavian she-trolls such as Hildra, who had the face and body of a beautiful young woman and the tail of a cow.
Axe murder is just as old. Two thousand years ago in Egypt, a wealthy young woman named Takabuti, her hair carefully curled and gelled, was killed from behind by an axe blade driven into her ribcage. For nearly two centuries her wounds were blamed on a knife, until CT scans set the record straight in 2021. And it is not just ancient history. In September 2023, a court in Hamburg, Germany, sentenced a 37-year-old former soldier, identified only as Artur B., to seven years for killing his 100-year-old grandmother, Amelie G. She used a wheelchair, and he struck her 16 times with an axe while she tried to fight him off with a cordless vacuum cleaner. The prosecutor's explanation for the killing was simple: Artur could not cope with being her caregiver.
Small wrongs at Hinterkaifeck
The Gruber farm sat about 50 miles north of Munich, a little more than half a mile outside the hamlet of Kaifeck, tucked into the woods. Hinter means behind in German, so Hinterkaifeck was roughly the Bavarian version of the boonies. Living there were the farmer Andreas Gruber, his wife Cäzilia, their widowed daughter Viktoria Gabriel, and Viktoria's two children, seven-year-old Cäzilia and two-year-old Joseph.
In the months before the murders, strange things piled up. In September 1921 the family's maid quit abruptly because the noises she heard in the attic had convinced her the house was haunted. Andreas dismissed it as superstition. Then a key went missing. A Munich newspaper turned up on the ground, even though nobody nearby subscribed to it. A few days before March 31, Andreas told neighbors he'd found footprints in fresh snow leading from the woods to the farm's machine room, all headed in the same direction. That same day he heard what sounded like footsteps in the attic. He went up, found nothing, and never went to the police.
On the afternoon of March 31, 1922, a new maid named Maria Baumgartner, 44, arrived with her sister to start work. It was her first day.
After killing six people at Hinterkaifeck, the murderer didn't run. They stayed for days, feeding the cattle, looking after the dog, eating every crumb of bread and keeping a fire going with the bodies close by.
What waited in the barn
That evening Andreas, Cäzilia, Victoria and little Cäzilia went out to the barn, probably lured into a trap. They were killed one by one with a mattock, a heavy tool with an axe blade on one side of the head and a pickaxe on the other, and their bodies were stacked neatly. The killer or killers then went into the house and killed Joseph in his bassinet and Maria in her bed. Joseph was covered with a blanket and Maria with a dress. The four in the barn were shown no such care. Little Cäzilia lived for hours after the attack, and her hands were found full of her own hair.
For days, nobody noticed. Two salesmen knocked on April 1 and left. The postman saw that his mail hadn't been touched. On April 4 a repairman named Albert Hofner spent four and a half hours fixing an engine just yards from the bodies. The barn doors had been locked when he arrived, and when he left they stood open. Lorenz Schlittenbauer, a neighbor who was already worried because Cäzilia had missed school and the family had skipped Sunday worship, got two other men, Michael Pöll and Jakob Sigl, to go out with him. They found the bodies.
A hundred suspects, six heads
The investigation ran straight into a family secret. In 1915, Andreas and Victoria had both been convicted of incest over the years 1907 to 1910, even though there was evidence Victoria had not consented. He got a year in prison, and she got a month. Schlittenbauer had also had a relationship with Victoria, and people whispered that he was Josef's father, which he sometimes admitted and sometimes denied. He moved the bodies in the barn, saying he was looking for the boy, and then opened the farmhouse door with his own key. Police wondered whether he had killed the family in a rage because Victoria wanted him to pay to support Joseph. He later sued people who called him the murderer, and he won.
Robbery didn't fit, since money was left in the house. Police looked at Viktoria's husband, Karl Gabriel, who had been reported killed in France in World War I but whose body was never recovered. They also looked at three pairs of brothers the former maid pointed them toward. In all, more than 100 suspects were investigated. No fingerprints were collected.
Then, out of desperation, police sent all six victims' heads to a clairvoyant, and the family was buried without them. The psychic said there had been two killers and that the weapon was still on the farm. When the farm was torn down a year later, workers found a bloodstained hoe under the attic floorboards with what looked like human hair stuck to it. It led nowhere. The heads ended up in an office building in Augsburg that was destroyed by bombs in World War II.
In 2007, students at a German police academy studied the case and all agreed on who did it. The name has never been released, out of respect for that person's descendants. The case was closed in 1955. "Not solved, just closed." One theory says the killer was hiding on the farm for six months before the murders. Another comes from Bill James's book The Man from the Train. It suggests that a serial killer who attacked isolated rural homes in America between 1898 and 1912 went home to Germany and killed one more family.
