In Memoriam, and Mystery: The tragic death of Kensington’s Karl Papendick

Morgan Zalot | Philadelphia City Paper

In the shadows of the El on Palmer Street just west of Front, a young couple step out of their car, flowers in hand, and make their way across wet pavement. They walk up to the front steps of what appears to be just another dark, abandoned Philadelphia warehouse on a forgotten block in West Kensington.

But to Bill and Kelly, both 30, who asked not to be identified by last name, this is a site of sad significance. It was, just two short weeks ago, the home of their friend, 37-year-old Karl Papendick. And now it’s the place where he was found brutally murdered the day after Christmas.

An unknown person shot Papendick execution-style, in the back of the head, in the living room of the warehouse he called home sometime in the early evening that day, friends and police say. There are no suspects, according to police. *

Candles, some still lit under the roof of the recessed door, line the top step. Taped on the door behind a padlocked gate are “miss you” notes from friends and a child’s drawing of hearts.

Bill and Kelly, who were friends of Papendick for five years, say they will keep the small memorial going for as long as they need to — either until the murderer is caught, or until Papendick’s home is sold and they’re no longer allowed to place things there.

“I don’t know why this happened. I want justice. I want to know who did it,” says Kelly.

Another couple that was friendly with Papendick, Jonathan Sher and Janet Finegar, are also shocked by his death.

“I honestly cannot conceive that even somebody who had just met him had done him harm. He was an incredibly sweet guy, incredibly friendly, open and warm,” says Finegar.

Just prior to the stop at their slain friend’s home, which has become a daily ritual, Bill and Kelly sat shaking their heads at a dark wooden table in Fishtown’s Rocket Cat Café.

“It wasn’t random,” Kelly says with conviction. She and her husband both say they believe that whoever shot their friend not only knew him, but planned meticulously each and every detail.

A number of things don’t add up, friends say. Papendick, who made a living selling computer parts on Craigslist and eBay and repairing computers, had surveillance cameras monitoring the entire street in front of his home (authorities have the tapes, and friends don’t know if they’ll be any help in the investigation). Bill and Kelly say he wanted to keep safe in the rough neighborhood.

Luna, Papendick’s year-old Rhodesian Ridgeback, was in her crate at the time of the murder. Many of his friends say the fact that the 100-plus-pound dog was locked up indicates Papendick had let the visitor into his home.

“I wish Luna could talk,” says Kelly. A high school friend of Papendick is keeping the dog, whom friends say has been sick since her owner’s death.

Additionally, Papendick was an avid gun collector, and kept his weapons hidden around his house — in a bookcase, underneath a table, somewhere in his bedroom. Six of those weapons, including a shotgun, were stolen.

It doesn’t make sense to friends that Papendick could have been forced at gunpoint into the building that evening, because they say he carried a gun himself. And how would a random assailant have known where his guns were stashed?

Bill also struggles to understand why whoever it was that executed Papendick and stole his weapons left thousands upon thousands of dollars in computer and camera equipment untouched in the home.

He pauses, searching for a thought, but reaches the same conclusion he has before: It had to be someone Papendick knew well.

“Whoever took his life was a coward,” Kelly says. “Anyone who kills someone from behind them is just a coward.”

Between the shock, thoughts and theories over the death of their friend, the couple conjures memories of the life that’s been lost.

Papendick, they say, was a jack-of-all-trades, handy with more than just computers. He was a photographer, painter and sculptor in some moments and a plumber, master chef and hiker in others. They say he could do everything, and did, and that he seemed automatically good at anything he attempted.

More than that, though, they remember a magnetic, charismatic person. Kelly fondly recalls Papendick teaching her to play dominos, while Bill has memories of poker nights, beers at the 700 Club and Johnny Brenda’s, and hanging out.

“He just had an infectious personality,” Bill says. “Once you knew him, you remembered him forever. And you could converse with him about everything. He was one friend I never shared an awkward moment with.”

He remembers walking into neighborhood bars in Kensington, Fishtown and Northern Liberties where bartenders and barflies alike would know Papendick. And it wasn’t because Papendick drank all that much, he says — it was because he had a way of making everybody feel like they fit in. He was nice to everyone, they say, and if he disliked someone, he simply “didn’t hang out” with that person.

“That’s why he’s gone, because he was so good,” says Kelly. “If he were a normal person, he wouldn’t have been taken.”

Still in shock, Bill and Kelly say they feel as though their friend is simply on vacation and that maybe if they can figure out what happened, it will bring him back somehow.

“I’m afraid it’s going to get swept under the rug,” says Kelly, referring to the police investigation. “I’m baffled by the fact they have no leads.” But then she and her husband both decide that the cops are likely investigating many of Papendick’s closest friends, and thus not sharing any information.

Back in front of Papendick’s home, Bill and Kelly place the new bouquet on the doorstep and stop for a moment to reflect. They vow again to keep the candles lit and fresh flowers coming until justice is served.

“Come here again three weeks from now,” Kelly says. “That entire step will be full of new candles.”