On a quiet evening in Coronado, Taylor Kiland walked past the white clapboard bungalow at 511 Pomona Ave., its long driveway flanked by lush greenery.
Five decades ago, this was Ruth Quinn’s rental, and even today’s owners refer to it as “Ruth’s House.” They use it as a guest residence, but the name persists — a reminder of a life cut short in 1975 by a murder that remains unsolved.
“When I was writing the book, I spent a lot of time walking around the island, especially early in the morning or at dusk,” Kiland said. “I’d stop by Ruth’s house, which looks almost identical to how it did back then.”
For Kiland, who has spent nearly two decades piecing together Quinn’s story, Coronado’s streets and stories hold a strange duality.
On the surface, the island is a picturesque haven of palm-lined avenues, Navy flyovers and postcard-perfect beaches.
But, as she explains in her forthcoming book, “Murder of the Jujube Candy Heiress: A Coronado Cold Case,” beneath this idyllic veneer lies a darker side, and few stories illustrate this more than that of Quinn.
Set for release on Feb. 25, Kiland’s work revisits the unsolved murder of Quinn, a retired librarian and heiress to the Heide family candy fortune.
Known for Jujubes and Jujyfruits — staples of American movie theaters — Quinn’s grandfather, Henry Heide, built a confectionery empire in the late 19th century.
Raised in Manhattan’s upper crust, Quinn enjoyed a privileged childhood complete with chauffeurs, nannies and European tours.
She later married Naval aviator Charles Quinn and relocated to Coronado in 1930, where she forged a quieter life as a World War II widow and librarian.
“By the time she was murdered in 1975, she wasn’t living a life of affluence,” Kiland said. “She inherited some securities, but she lived modestly, never owned property on the island and supported herself and her son on a librarian’s salary. She was an heiress in name only.”
Quinn’s murder shocked Coronado.
On March 16, 1975, the 74-year-old widow was found in her bungalow, shot execution-style.
“Someone came in, stuffed a pillow over her head and shot her twice — once in the neck and once in the head. The murder was never solved, and no justice has ever been achieved for poor Ruth Quinn,” Kiland said.
Among those who remember Quinn is Dr. Vincent Flynn, a lifelong Coronado resident now in his mid-eighties.
“My mother was friends with her,” he said. “They were both involved in taking care of the flowers on the altar of [Sacred Heart Church].”
Flynn also recalled visiting the Coronado Public Library during his high school years, where Quinn worked.
“She was a stern, no-nonsense lady,” he said. “She kept a tight rule of no talking and making sure we were good students there.”
Decades later, the memory of Quinn as a firm yet unassuming figure collided with the news of her murder.
Flynn learned about it from his mother shortly after it happened.
“I was shocked,” he said. “Why would anyone murder her? She wasn’t known to be wealthy. There was no reason to murder her.”
Resurrecting the case
Kiland’s fascination with the case began at a Coronado barbecue in 2003 when a family friend, Susan Keith, mentioned the story.
Keith, a fourth-generation Coronado resident and former City Council member, described it as one of the town’s great mysteries.
Kiland, then stationed in Coronado as a Navy officer and herself a victim of an unsettling burglary, was instantly intrigued.
“I started researching the case in 2004 using microfiche at the Coronado library,” Kiland said. “None of the archives were digitized back then, and much of my early work involved piecing together stories from people who knew the victim or the suspects.”
She paused her research for over a decade, but the COVID-19 pandemic reignited her determination to tell Quinn’s story.
“I dusted off my research, conducted new interviews and secured a publisher,” she said. “The last four years have been about resurrecting the case.”
Kiland’s narrative extends beyond true crime, blending history and biography to spotlight the complexities of Coronado itself.
“I wanted Coronado to be one of the characters in the book,” she said. “It appears so idyllic on the surface, but it has a dark underbelly. Beneath its beauty are stories of unsavory characters and crimes, like Ruth Quinn’s murder.”
While the case remains unsolved, Kiland provides an intimate portrait of a woman shaped by privilege and resilience.
“Quinn was more worldly and sophisticated than most Navy wives,” Kiland said in reference to that era. “She lived modestly, carried the burdens of loss and likely harbored some resentment about how far she had fallen from the affluence of her youth. These facets of her personality — and her murder — make her story deeply compelling. I think readers will probably be frustrated, as I’ve been, that this case wasn’t solved in 1975.”
Kiland said she hopes the book will serve as a testament to Quinn’s life and a reminder of the mysteries still lingering in Coronado’s shadows.
“Ruth’s story deserves to be told,” Kiland said. “It’s about more than her murder — it’s about her life, her community and the secrets hiding just beneath the surface.”
In a surprising development, Kiland said that the San Diego cold case unit reopened the investigation last year.
There were three male suspects when the case was last open, all who are now deceased.
“They found some old evidence in storage that could be tested for DNA,” she said. “But as the detectives have told me, identifying DNA isn’t enough; they still need to place the suspect at the crime scene. All three of the main suspects are now deceased, but the evidence may point to an entirely new individual.”
The Coronado Historical Association and the Coronado Public Library will be hosting a book event on March 13 from 5:30-7:30 p.m.
