Judy Buenoano: Florida’s Black Widow
Some killers strike in moments of rage.
Others plan for months.
Judy Buenoano planned for years.
Known to investigators and the media as Florida’s “Black Widow,” Buenoano appeared to be an ordinary woman living an ordinary life. Friends described her as friendly and caring. Neighbors saw little reason for suspicion.
But behind that carefully crafted image lurked one of the most notorious serial killers in Florida history.
By the time authorities uncovered the truth, multiple people were dead, insurance policies had been collected, and a trail of deception stretched across years and state lines.
Her story would end with a date in the electric chair—and a permanent place in Florida criminal history.

A Pattern of Death
The first suspicious death came in 1971.
Judy’s husband, Air Force veteran James Goodyear, suddenly became ill and died. At the time, his death attracted little attention. Illnesses happen. Tragedies occur. No one suspected murder.
After his death, Judy collected life insurance proceeds.
Then another person close to her died.
And then another.
Investigators would eventually discover a chilling pattern. People who trusted Judy Buenoano often suffered mysterious illnesses, unexplained accidents, or sudden deaths. In many cases, insurance money followed.
Authorities later determined that arsenic poisoning played a central role in several of the murders.
The Canoe “Accident”
One of the most infamous events occurred in 1983.
Judy took her wheelchair-bound son, Michael Goodyear, on a canoe trip in Florida.
The outing ended in tragedy when the canoe overturned and Michael drowned.








At first glance, it appeared to be a terrible accident.
But investigators later learned that Judy had taken out life insurance policies on her son before the trip. As questions mounted, the circumstances surrounding the drowning became increasingly suspicious.
The canoe accident would later become a critical piece of the prosecution’s case.
The Bomb That Changed Everything
Ironically, it was not a poisoning that finally exposed her.
In 1983, Judy’s boyfriend, John Gentry, received a gift package that exploded when he opened it.
The bomb injured Gentry but failed to kill him.
Investigators traced the device back to Judy.
As detectives dug deeper, they uncovered connections to earlier deaths and insurance payouts. What initially appeared to be an attempted bombing case soon evolved into something far larger.
Authorities began reexamining years of deaths surrounding Judy Buenoano.
The results were shocking.
The Trial
Prosecutors argued that Judy systematically targeted people closest to her for financial gain.
Evidence revealed a pattern of poisoning, fraud, insurance schemes, and calculated deception.
Witnesses described how she manipulated those around her while maintaining the appearance of a caring mother, wife, and companion.
The jury found her guilty.
She was sentenced to death.
The Final Chapter
On March 30, 1998, Judy Buenoano was executed in Florida’s electric chair.
Her execution marked a historic milestone.
She became the first woman executed in Florida since the death penalty was reinstated in 1976.
The case remains one of the most notorious serial murder investigations in the state’s history.

A Notorious Parallel
For readers familiar with Pittsburgh’s criminal history, Judy Buenoano occupies much the same place in Florida lore that Richard Henkel does in Western Pennsylvania. Both cases shattered the assumption that evil is always obvious. Neither killer looked like a monster. Both operated within circles of trust, using personal relationships as weapons. Their stories continue to fascinate true-crime researchers because they reveal how easily appearances can deceive—and how some of the most notorious criminals are able to hide in plain sight for years before the truth finally catches up with them.
A Legacy of Deception
What makes Judy Buenoano’s story so unsettling is not simply the number of victims.
It is how ordinary she appeared.
Unlike many notorious killers, she did not fit the public image of a murderer. There were no dramatic threats. No violent outbursts. No warning signs obvious to those around her.
Instead, investigators described a patient predator who used trust as a weapon.
The people who died never saw the danger coming.
Today, her name remains synonymous with one of Florida’s most chilling criminal cases, a reminder that sometimes the most dangerous monsters are the ones who seem the most harmless.
For a state filled with infamous criminals, Judy Buenoano still stands apart.
Not because of how she killed.
But because of how long she got away with it.
