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Season 37, Episode 1 of 4 This is the first episode in Foul Play's four-part investigation into Victorian England's most notorious family murder and the case that birthed modern detective fiction. Elizabeth Gough checked Francis Saville Kent's cot at five in the morning on June 30, 1860. The blankets were gone. The three-year-old was gone. And somewhere in Road Hill House, someone who knew exactly what had happened was waiting for the search to begin— On the last night of June 1860, three-year-old Francis Saville Kent was lifted from his nursery bed in the family's Wiltshire mansion. Hours later, a servant discovered his small body in the outdoor privy, his throat cut nearly to the spine. The killer came from inside the house. That much was immediately certain. But who among the nine people sleeping at Road Hill House that night would murder a child? And why? This episode traces the fractured Kent family—a household divided between a tyrannical father's first marriage and second, where teenage Constance and her brother William existed as ghosts in their own home while their half-brother Francis received everything they'd been denied. We witness the horror of discovery morning, the bungled local investigation, and the arrival of Detective Inspector Jonathan "Jack" Whicher from Scotland Yard—a working-class detective about to walk into a class warfare trap that would destroy him. Some walls don't protect families. They hide what families are capable of doing to themselves. Key Case DetailsVictim: Francis Saville Kent, age 3 years and 10 months, murdered June 29-30, 1860 Location: Road Hill House, village of Road (now Rode), Wiltshire, England Crime: The boy was taken from his nursery bed between midnight and five in the morning, carried through the dark house, and murdered in the outdoor privy. His throat was slashed from ear to ear with a razor or knife, cutting nearly to the spine. His body was stuffed into the privy vault and hidden among waste. Initial Investigation: Local police focused on servants and outsiders, refusing to suspect the respectable Kent family. Critical evidence—including a bloodstained nightgown belonging to sixteen-year-old half-sister Constance Kent—was destroyed by her father with police cooperation. The inquest returned "willful murder by person or persons unknown." Scotland Yard Intervention: Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher arrived July 16, 1860, and within five days identified Constance Kent as his primary suspect—the first time in English history a young lady from a respectable family faced formal murder charges. Section 4: The Victim - Francis Saville KentFrancis Saville Kent deserves to be remembered as more than a murder victim. He was three years and ten months old—dark-haired, curious, his father's favorite child. He collected smooth stones from the garden and named them after colors. He asked endless questions about where stars came from and why dogs didn't talk. He had a stuffed rabbit he couldn't sleep without and an imaginary pack of dogs that followed him everywhere. He was learning to count but always skipped the number nine. He negotiated extra bedtime stories with remarkable persistence for a toddler. He called his half-sister Constance "Tannie" because he couldn't pronounce her name. He was three years old. Someone murdered him anyway. Section 5: Victorian True Crime ContextVictorian England in 1860 was obsessed with respectability. Gas lamps flickered in drawing rooms across the countryside while servants moved silently through service corridors. Behind heavy curtains and locked doors, families performed daily rituals of propriety—morning prayers, afternoon tea, church attendance every Sunday. The outside world saw polished brass door knockers and manicured gardens. Inside, secrets festered. The Road Hill House case shattered Victorian assumptions about where crime originated. Respectable families didn't produce murderers. Young ladies of good breeding didn't commit violence. Working-class detectives couldn't accuse gentlemen's daughters. These assumptions would destroy Detective Inspector Whicher's career—and let a killer walk free for five more years. Section 6: Historical Context & SourcesThe Road Hill House Murder became Victorian England's most notorious domestic crime and directly inspired the birth of detective fiction. Wilkie Collins used case details when writing The Moonstone (1868), widely considered the first modern detective novel. Charles Dickens followed the investigation closely and incorporated elements into his final, unfinished novel The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher's methods—systematic crime scene analysis, methodical witness interviews, evidence-based deduction regardless of social class—represented revolutionary policing. His destruction by class prejudice exposed how Victorian justice protected the respectable while prosecuting the poor. Primary Source: Kate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr Whicher (2008) provides the most comprehensive modern account, drawing on original trial transcripts, contemporary newspaper coverage, and National Archives documents. Content Advisory: This episode contains clinical description of violence against a child, consistent with documented historical records. Section 6A: Resources & Further ReadingThe Suspicions of Mr Whicher by Kate Summerscale (2008) - Definitive modern account of the caseCruelly Murdered by Bernard Taylor (1979) - Alternative analysis exploring brother William's potential involvementThe Moonstone by Wilkie Collins (1868) - Detective fiction directly inspired by the Road Hill House investigationThe National Archives (UK) maintains original trial transcripts and investigation documents from 1860-1865 Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

This is Episode 2 of 4 in Foul Play's Road Hill House Murder series, covering Victorian England's most notorious family crime. Episode 1 established the Kent family's toxic dynamics and the discovery of three-year-old Francis Saville Kent's body. This episode follows Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher's revolutionary investigation and his tragic downfall at the hands of Victorian class prejudice. On July 16, 1860, a train departed Paddington Station carrying a middle-aged man with a smallpox-scarred face and blue eyes that catalogued every detail. Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher—one of England's first professional detectives—was about to solve the Road Hill House murder in just five days. What he couldn't solve was Victorian society's refusal to believe... Episode SummaryWhen Scotland Yard's finest detective arrived in Wiltshire to investigate the murder of three-year-old Francis Saville Kent, he brought revolutionary investigative techniques that would shape criminal investigation for generations. Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher interviewed witnesses separately, compared their stories for inconsistencies, and built psychological profiles—methods modern detectives would instantly recognize. Within five days, Whicher had identified his suspect: sixteen-year-old Constance Kent, the victim's half-sister. His evidence centered on a missing nightgown—one of three that Constance owned, now mysteriously absent from the household laundry. In an era before DNA analysis or forensic laboratories, Whicher understood that the absence of evidence could itself be evidence. A bloodstained nightgown couldn't be cleaned or hidden—it had to be destroyed. But Whicher faced an obstacle more formidable than any criminal: Victorian class prejudice. He was a gardener's son who had risen through merit. Constance was a "young lady of good breeding." When he arrested her, the public erupted in fury. Newspapers condemned him for persecuting an innocent girl. Her defense attorney, Peter Edlin, transformed the preliminary hearing into a trial of Whicher himself—questioning what kind of man interrogates a teenage girl alone in her bedroom. The magistrates released Constance due to insufficient evidence. Whicher returned to London in disgrace. His career was destroyed, his health broken. He was right about everything—and it cost him everything. Key Case DetailsDetective: Jonathan "Jack" Whicher, Detective Inspector, Scotland Yard Suspect: Constance Emily Kent, age 16 Victim: Francis Saville Kent, age 3 years 10 months Location: Road Hill House, Road (now Rode), Wiltshire, England Time Period: July 16-27, 1860 Key Evidence: Missing nightgown from household laundry records Outcome: Constance released; Whicher's career destroyed by class prejudice The First Modern DetectiveJonathan Whicher represents a pivotal moment in criminal justice history. Before professional detectives, crime investigation relied on informants, rewards, and confessions obtained through pressure. Whicher pioneered systematic investigation: separate witness interviews, timeline reconstruction, psychological profiling, and the revolutionary concept that physical evidence—or its absence—could tell a story. His techniques at Road Hill House read like a modern investigation manual. He interviewed the household staff individually, noting inconsistencies in their stories. He reconstructed the timeline of the murder night hour by hour. He examined the crime scene for physical evidence. He built a profile of the likely killer based on access, motive, and opportunity. The tragedy is that his brilliance couldn't overcome the social barriers of his era. Victorian society wasn't ready to accept that respectable families could produce murderers—or that a working-class detective could be right about an upper-class suspect. Victorian True Crime ContextThe Road Hill House case exposed fundamental tensions in Victorian society. The emerging professional police force—Scotland Yard was barely thirty years old in 1860—represented a threat to traditional class hierarchies. When Whicher accused Constance Kent, he wasn't just accusing a girl of murder. He was claiming that a working-class detective could penetrate the secrets of respectable families and judge their daughters. The public backlash was immediate and fierce. Newspapers that had demanded answers now demanded Whicher's resignation. The same society that was horrified by Francis's murder was more horrified by the suggestion that his killer came from within his own family. Historical Context & SourcesWe highly recommend Kate Summerscale's acclaimed 2008 book "The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective," which provides the most comprehensive modern analysis of the case. Additional details come from contemporary newspaper accounts in The Times and Morning Post, trial transcripts from the National Archives, and Victorian police records documenting Whicher's investigative methods. Resources & Further ReadingKate Summerscale, "The Suspicions of Mr Whicher" (2008)The National Archives (UK) - Victorian Crime and Punishment RecordsBritish Newspaper Archive - Contemporary coverage 1860Related Media: "The Suspicions of Mr Whicher" (2011 TV film starring Paddy Considine) Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Road Hill House was no longer home. It was a crime scene that everyone recognised and no one could forget. The servants whispered in corners. New staff refused positions. And somewhere across England, a teenage girl carried a secret that would rattle the nation. Three-year-old Francis Saville Kent had been dead for five years, but his presence haunted everyone connected to Road Hill House. His wicker cot had been moved to the attic. His toys—the wooden rocking horse, the tin soldiers, the stuffed rabbit he couldn't sleep without—were packed away in trunks. The family attempted to erase all physical evidence of the child who had been murdered in his own home, but some things cannot be buried. This episode examines the devastating aftermath of the Road Hill House murder, tracing five years of silence, scandal, and psychological torment that led to one of the most unexpected confessions in criminal history. By early 1861, Samuel Kent had made an impossible decision: the family would abandon Road Hill House forever. The whispers, the stares, the neighbours who crossed the street to avoid them—it had become unbearable. Constance Kent, the sixteen-year-old half-sister whom Detective Inspector Whicher had accused of murder, was sent far from England. First to a French convent across the Channel, far from English newspapers. Then, in 1863, to St. Mary's Home for Religious Ladies in Brighton—a place of strict Anglo-Catholic ritual that would transform her utterly. Meanwhile, her brother William built a successful career as a marine scientist, seemingly untouched by scandal. But questions lingered. Had he been involved that June night? Was Constance protecting someone? At St. Mary's, Constance encountered Father Arthur Wagner—a charismatic Anglican priest whose theology emphasized confession and penance. Wagner's version of Christianity demanded that sins be spoken aloud, that guilt find voice, that secrets be exposed before God. For nearly two years, Constance resisted. Then, in early 1865, something broke. She requested a private meeting with Father Wagner. What she told him changed everything. On the morning of April 25, 1865, Father Wagner and Constance Kent boarded a train for London. At Bow Street police station, she dictated a written confession to the murder of Francis Saville Kent. She provided details that matched evidence Inspector Whicher had gathered five years earlier—details only the killer could have known. Headlines screamed across England: ROAD HILL HOUSE MURDERESS CONFESSES. The Road Hill House case became a watershed moment in British criminal justice and religious history. Constance Kent's confession raised profound questions about the intersection of faith and law. Had Father Wagner provided genuine spiritual guidance, or had he manipulated a vulnerable young woman? The Anglo-Catholic confession practices at St. Mary's drew intense scrutiny. Victorian society, which had destroyed Inspector Whicher's career for daring to accuse a "young lady of breeding," now had to confront its own prejudices. The detective had been right all along—class bias had protected a murderer for five years. Constance's case also highlighted emerging Victorian understanding of psychological trauma. Her childhood losses—mother's death, father's remarriage to the governess, blatant favouritism toward the second family—would today be recognized as severe emotional abuse. What remains unexplained is why Constance confessed after five years of freedom. The investigation was closed. The world had moved on. She could have stayed silent forever. Some historians argue the confession was genuine religious transformation—Wagner's theology finally breaking through her defences. Others suggest coercion—a priest manipulating a vulnerable woman consumed by guilt. A third theory persists: that Constance was protecting her brother William, who may have been involved that night in June 1860. Her confession mentioned resentment but offered no specific.  Listeners fascinated by Victorian detective work should explore Episode 2 of this series, which details Inspector Whicher's revolutionary investigation methods. For more cases involving religious confession and criminal justice, Foul Play's archives include coverage of other nineteenth-century crimes where faith and law intersected in unexpected ways. Next episode: The trial lasted thirty minutes. The death sentence wasn't carried out. And England's most notorious murderess would live to be one hundred years old under a completely different name. Episode 4 reveals the extraordinary aftermath of Constance Kent's confession. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

This is the fourth and final episode of our series examining the 1860 Road Hill House murder, the case that gave birth to modern detective fiction. Previous episodes covered the murder of three-year-old Francis Saville Kent, Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher's groundbreaking investigation, and the five years of cold case torment that preceded Constance Kent's confession. The gallery was packed to suffocation. July 21, 1865. Five years they'd waited for this moment. Five years since Francis Saville Kent was found with his throat cut in the family privy. Five years since Inspector Whicher accused Constance Kent of murdering her baby brother—and was destroyed for saying so. When the clerk asked how she pleaded, Constance spoke one word: "Guilty." No mitigation. No excuse. No insanity defense that might have saved her from prison. When Constance Kent stood in the prisoner's dock at Devizes Assizes on July 21, 1865, she refused the insanity defense her counsel had carefully prepared. Instead, she pleaded guilty to murdering her three-year-old half-brother Francis—a single word that silenced the packed courtroom and condemned her to death. But Queen Victoria's government commuted her sentence. At sixteen when she committed the murder, Constance had carried the secret for five years before confessing voluntarily. She served twenty years in Victorian prisons—first at Millbank, then Fulham Refuge—transforming from a troubled teenager into a model prisoner who educated herself and learned nursing skills. In 1886, a woman named Ruth Emilie Kaye boarded the ship Carisbrooke Castle bound for Sydney. Constance Kent ceased to exist. For fifty-eight years, she built a new life in Australia, rising to Matron at several institutions, nursing the sick and elderly, living in quiet anonymity until her death at one hundred years old in 1944. No one in Australia knew they were burying England's most notorious Victorian murderess. Key Case DetailsTrial and Sentencing (July 1865): Thirty-minute trial at Devizes AssizesJustice Willes presiding, John Duke Coleridge defendingGuilty plea rejected insanity defenseDeath sentence commuted to life imprisonmentPrison Years (1865-1885): Twenty years served at Millbank and Fulham prisonsModel prisoner with no disciplinary incidentsSelf-educated in nursing skillsRelease conditional on leaving EnglandAustralian Reinvention (1886-1944): Emigrated as Ruth Emilie Kaye aboard Carisbrooke CastleNursing career spanning four decadesMatron at Parramatta Industrial School for GirlsMatron at Pierce Memorial Nurses' Home for twenty-one yearsDied April 10, 1944, at age 100, identity unknownLiterary Legacy: Wilkie Collins's The Moonstone (1868) directly inspired by the caseSergeant Cuff character modeled on Inspector WhicherFoundation for Sherlock Holmes and entire detective fiction genreInspector Whicher died June 29, 1881—exactly twenty-one years after the murder night Francis Saville Kent was three years and ten months old when he died. He was not a plot device or a mystery to be solved. He was a child with dark hair and bright eyes who ate his porridge at a small table by the window, who played in the June sunshine of a Wiltshire garden, whose small voice fell silent on a night that would echo through a century and a half of English history. He was not the mystery. He was the cost. Historical Context & SourcesThis series draws extensively from Kate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr Whicher (2008), the definitive modern account based on extensive primary research. Original trial transcripts from the National Archives and contemporary newspaper coverage from The Times and Morning Post (1860-1865) provided additional verification. Bernard Taylor's Cruelly Murdered (1979) contributed alternative perspectives on William Saville-Kent's potential involvement—a mystery that remains unresolved. Resources & Further ReadingKate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detectiveremains the essential text for understanding this case. Readers interested in the literary legacy should explore Wilkie Collins's The Moonstone (1868), widely considered the first modern English detective novel. The Victorian crime history section at the National Archives maintains original documents from the investigation and trial. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In the shadowy corners of the Roman Empire, a woman named Locusta perfected the art of murder, becoming history's first documented Season & Episode Context: Episode 1 of 15 | Season 36: Serial Killers in History Journey back to the 1st century AD, where we meet Locusta of Gaul—the poisoner who terrorized Rome's elite and changed criminal history forever. This season explores lesser-known serial killers spanning centuries and continents. The Woman Behind the Poison Locusta of Gaul was born around 20 AD in the Roman province of Gaul, a region renowned for its knowledge of herbs and natural medicines. As a young woman, she made her way to Rome and quickly established herself as an expert in creating potions and toxins. Unlike common criminals, Locusta approached murder as a refined science, maintaining detailed records of her experiments and testing compounds on slaves and animals to perfect her deadly recipes. She wasn't simply a poisoner—she was a methodical killer who built a thriving business selling her services to Rome's wealthy elite. Her reputation grew so formidable that she eventually trained others in her craft, establishing what historians consider the first school of professional poisoners. Those who knew of her work whispered her name in fear, recognizing that any suspicious death in Rome might bear her signature. Why This Case Changed History Locusta's crimes fundamentally reshaped how the Roman Empire approached criminal justice and public safety. Her systematic approach to murder—combined with her connections to the Imperial Court—forced authorities to confront the reality of organized, repeated killing for the first time in documented history. Following her execution in 68 AD, the Roman Senate passed the Lexi Sicarius ad Veneficis, the first comprehensive poison control legislation in recorded history. These groundbreaking reforms established formal protocols for investigating suspicious deaths, required merchants to maintain detailed records of toxic substance sales, and created harsh penalties for those who manufactured or distributed poisons. The investigation techniques developed in response to Locusta's activities laid the foundation for modern forensic toxicology and systematic criminal investigation methods that influence law enforcement to this day. The Reign of Terror Locusta's criminal career reached its peak when she caught the attention of Agrippina, the ambitious wife of Emperor Claudius. In 54 AD, Agrippina commissioned Locusta to create a poison that would eliminate Claudius and clear the path for Agrippina's son Nero to claim the throne. Locusta prepared a toxin that mimicked natural illness, delivering it through a dish of mushrooms—the Emperor's favorite food. When Claudius died after consuming the poisoned meal, few suspected murder, exactly as planned. Her success earned her an even more dangerous assignment: eliminating Britannicus, Claudius's legitimate son and Nero's rival for power. At a banquet, Locusta administered poison that killed the young prince within minutes, though witnesses described his death as a seizure. With Nero now Emperor, Locusta became virtually untouchable, operating openly from a luxurious villa and maintaining a client list that included senators, governors, and wealthy merchants. She employed her deadly talents so frequently that paranoia gripped Rome's upper classes—dinner parties became tense affairs, food tasters were hired at unprecedented rates, and the price of antidotes skyrocketed. Her network of trained poisoners operated throughout the Empire, creating a climate of fear that persisted for years. Historical Context and Legacy Ancient Rome's relationship with poison was paradoxically casual despite its deadly potential. Toxic substances were readily available from merchants and apothecaries with virtually no regulation or oversight. Locusta exploited this lax system to build her empire of death, demonstrating how easily dangerous materials could be weaponized by those with knowledge and malicious intent. When Nero died by suicide in 68 AD, Locusta's protection vanished overnight. The new Emperor Galba ordered her immediate arrest and public execution, determined to make an example of the woman who had terrorized Roman society for decades. Historical accounts suggest she was paraded through Rome's streets in chains before being subjected to prolonged torture and eventual death—some sources claim she was forced to consume one of her own poisons, while others describe her being thrown to wild animals in the arena. The reforms sparked by her crimes influenced not only Roman law but medieval European legal systems and, by extension, modern approaches to regulating dangerous substances and investigating systematic murder. Locusta's case forced authorities to grapple with questions that remain relevant today: How do we identify patterns in seemingly unrelated deaths? How do we protect society from those who kill methodically and repeatedly? Resources & Further Reading For those interested in learning more about ancient Roman crime and the development of criminal investigation: The British Museum maintains extensive collections on Roman social history, including exhibits on crime and punishment in the ancient world"The Poison King: The Life and Legend of Mithradates" by Adrienne Mayor explores ancient poison use and political assassination in the Roman eraThe Metropolitan Museum of Art's Roman collection includes artifacts from the Imperial period that provide context for understanding Roman societyAcademic journals such as "The Journal of Roman Studies" regularly publish research on Roman criminal justice and social history Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In the glittering court of Louis XIV's France, where opulence and intrigue walked hand in hand, one woman built a criminal empire that would Episode 2 of 6 | Season 36: Serial Killers in History Catherine Monvoisin's poisoning network spreads through the French aristocracy as her connections to the royal court deepen, implicating some of the most powerful figures in France. Catherine Monvoisin began as Catherine Dyer, born in 1640 to a humble family on the outskirts of Paris. With little formal education but a natural aptitude for herbalism and folk medicine, she married Antoine Monvoisin, a jeweler whose business fell into ruin. As debt mounted, Catherine discovered she possessed something far more valuable than her husband's failing trade: an understanding of human desperation. She started as a fortune teller and midwife in the Villeneuve quarter, offering hope to clients who would pay handsomely for glimpses into their futures. Her charisma and discretion quickly attracted wealthy Parisians seeking solutions to problems they couldn't solve through conventional means. What made Catherine memorable wasn't just her accuracy in predictions—it was her willingness to provide tangible solutions, no matter how dark, to her clients' most desperate desires. The case of La Voisin represents a watershed moment in French criminal history, marking the last great witch trial in France and fundamentally transforming the justice system. Her criminal enterprise exposed the intersection of superstition, organized crime, and aristocratic corruption at the highest levels of French society. The scandal, known as the Affair of the Poisons, forced Louis XIV to establish the Chambre Ardente, a special court that would try 442 suspects over three years and sentence 36 people to death. The case revealed how deeply rooted corruption had become within French aristocratic circles and led to lasting reforms in law enforcement, including increased surveillance of fortune tellers and new regulations controlling dangerous substances. Perhaps most significantly, La Voisin's trial marked the beginning of France's transition from superstition-based justice to rational investigation, helping usher the nation toward the Age of Enlightenment. Catherine's transformation from fortune teller to serial poisoner was gradual but calculated. By the late 1670s, she had built a sophisticated criminal network operating from her lavish establishment in Paris. Her home featured elegant furnishings and private consultation rooms where nobles could discreetly arrange everything from love potions to murder. She employed astrologers, alchemists, and renegade priests, each contributing specialized skills to her expanding enterprise. Her most notorious services were the black masses—elaborate ceremonies combining Catholic ritual with occult practices, performed in secret locations outside Paris. These theatrical events attracted powerful clients who believed they could achieve anything from romantic conquest to political advancement through supernatural means. Among her most influential clients was Madame de Montespan, the official mistress of King Louis XIV himself. Their partnership began in 1667 when Montespan, fearing her waning influence over the King, sought Catherine's services. The rituals performed for Montespan were particularly blasphemous, involving twisted versions of Catholic mass performed over her body as a human altar, with claims that infant sacrifices occurred during these ceremonies. La Voisin's criminal empire finally collapsed in 1679 when one of her associates was arrested for poisoning. Under interrogation, this associate revealed the extent of Catherine's network, leading to her arrest in March 1679. King Louis XIV established the Chambre Ardente specifically to prosecute poisoning cases emerging from this scandal. During her trial, Catherine showed neither remorse nor hesitation in describing her crimes, frankly stating that she provided services people desperately wanted. She implicated numerous prominent figures in French society, shocking the court with detailed accounts of ceremonies involving desecrated communion hosts and murder. The proceedings became so scandalous that Louis XIV ordered certain testimonies sealed, particularly those involving Madame de Montespan. On February 22, 1680, Catherine Monvoisin was executed at the Place de Grève in Paris before thousands of spectators. She remained defiant to the end, refusing last rites and cursing the priest who attempted to offer spiritual comfort. As flames engulfed her, witnesses reported she died without uttering a single cry of pain, maintaining her characteristic composure even in death. This case draws from extensive historical sources documenting one of French history's most sensational trials. Court records from the Chambre Ardente provide detailed testimony transcripts, while contemporary accounts from French newspapers chronicle public reaction to the scandal. Seventeenth-century France's relationship with poison and witchcraft was complex—arsenic and other deadly substances were readily available from apothecaries with minimal regulation, making Catherine's trade frighteningly accessible. The aristocracy's willingness to engage with fortune tellers and participate in blasphemous ceremonies reveals the tension between Catholic orthodoxy and persistent folk beliefs in French society. Modern historians like Anne Somerset have extensively documented the Affair of the Poisons, providing crucial context for understanding how these crimes were perceived by contemporary society. The scandal permanently altered Louis XIV's relationship with his court, making him increasingly reclusive and preferring the controlled environment of Versailles over Paris's more unpredictable social circles. Resources & Further Reading: For those interested in learning more about the Affair of the Poisons and 17th century French criminal history: The Bibliothèque Nationale de France (National Library of France) houses original court documents from the Chambre Ardente trials"The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide, and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV" by Anne Somerset provides comprehensive analysis of the scandalThe Musée de la Police in Paris maintains exhibits on famous French criminal cases including La VoisinThe Archives Nationales (National Archives of France) preserve complete trial records and royal decrees related to the poisoning affair Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

What drives a man from Scottish grace to Caribbean bloodshed, turning sun-drenched hills into a killing field, cloaking murdero Episode 3 of 6 | Season 36: Serial Killers in History Lewis Hutchinson's reign of terror from Edinburgh Castle in colonial Jamaica reveals how one man's twisted hospitality became a death trap for unsuspecting travelers in 1768. In 1768, Lewis Hutchinson was a well-respected Scottish planter living atop a strategic hill in St. Anne Parish, Jamaica. Edinburgh Castle, as he named his estate, overlooked the main road connecting Spanish Town to the northern coast—a route regularly traveled by wealthy merchants, plantation owners, and ordinary colonists. To his neighbors, Hutchinson appeared the model of colonial success: educated, prosperous, and charming. Behind his genial hospitality, however, lurked a calculating predator who would become Jamaica's first documented serial killer. Hutchinson didn't kill for profit alone—he savored the hunt, collecting his victims' belongings like trophies and displaying them throughout his home as macabre mementos of murder. The Mad Master case represents a crucial turning point in Caribbean colonial justice. Hutchinson's ability to continue killing for years despite mounting suspicions exposed catastrophic failures in the colonial law enforcement system, particularly regarding missing persons from lower social classes. His crimes forced British authorities to establish new protocols for investigating disappearances and coordinating efforts across parish boundaries throughout the Caribbean colonies. The case also revealed how a person of means and social standing could literally get away with murder in a society deeply divided by class and race. Today, Hutchinson's story serves as a chilling reminder of how privilege and isolation can shield even the most heinous criminals—and how vulnerable travelers were in the lawless reaches of colonial territories. Lewis Hutchinson arrived in Jamaica during the mid-1760s with respectable credentials and enough capital to purchase Edinburgh Castle, a strategic property overlooking the winding mountain road through St. Anne Parish. He quickly established himself among the planter class, hosting elaborate dinners and presenting himself as a model colonist. But Hutchinson had transformed his home into a killing ground. He modified the house with disguised gunports and constructed underground chambers ostensibly for storage—spaces that would later serve as dungeons for victims he chose to torture before killing. His method was brutally efficient: Hutchinson would invite weary travelers to rest at Edinburgh Castle, offering refreshment and shelter. Some he shot from his battlements as they passed on the road below, their bodies tumbling into ravines. Others accepted his hospitality only to be imprisoned in his underground cells, shackled and tortured before being murdered. One survivor, John Callendar, later testified about the horror of those dungeons—the dampness, the rats, the screams of other prisoners echoing off stone walls. Hutchinson disposed of bodies in a nearby cave system, creating what locals would later call "Hutchinson's Hole." The investigation began slowly. Colonial authorities initially dismissed reports of missing travelers, assuming they had simply moved on or fallen victim to common robbery. But as disappearances mounted—and whispers spread among enslaved workers forced to witness Hutchinson's crimes—pressure grew to investigate. When searchers finally examined Edinburgh Castle, they discovered a chamber of horrors: victims' clothing displayed like hunting trophies, jewelry from murdered travelers, and the entrance to the cave containing dozens of skeletal remains. Hutchinson fled toward Port Royal, attempting to board a ship to Scotland, but was recognized and arrested before he could escape. His trial at Spanish Town lasted four days and captivated the island. John Callendar's testimony provided devastating firsthand evidence of Hutchinson's methods. Thirty witnesses identified belongings of missing loved ones found at Edinburgh Castle. The exhumed bones from Hutchinson's cave—evidence of at least forty-three murders—were laid before the court. Throughout the proceedings, Hutchinson maintained an unsettling calm, even smirking when confronted with evidence of his victims. When asked about the remains, he reportedly drawled, "Travelers should be more careful where they choose to rest." The jury quickly convicted him, and he was sentenced to death by hanging. This case emerged from extensive historical sources preserved in Jamaican colonial records. The Spanish Town courthouse archives contain complete trial transcripts from 1773, including John Callendar's testimony and the identification of victims' belongings by their families. Contemporary newspapers like The Jamaica Mercury provided detailed coverage of both the investigation and trial. The National Library of Jamaica houses correspondence between colonial officials discussing the case's impact on law enforcement protocols. Modern historian James Robertson's work on Caribbean crime provides valuable context about how Hutchinson's crimes exposed systemic failures in colonial justice. The ruins of Edinburgh Castle in St. Anne Parish remain accessible to visitors, with the cave system still visible—though local authorities have sealed the entrance for safety. Resources & Further Reading: For those interested in learning more about colonial Caribbean crime and Jamaica's dark history: The National Library of Jamaica in Kingston maintains extensive archives of colonial court records, including the complete Hutchinson trial transcriptsThe Dead Yard: Tales of Modern Jamaica by Ian Thomson explores the island's criminal history from colonial times to presentThe Jamaica National Heritage Trust preserves historical sites including information about Edinburgh Castle ruinsThe University of the West Indies hosts the Caribbean History Archives with primary source materials on colonial crime and justice Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In the olive groves of 18th-century Portugal, a caretaker discovered a shallow grave containing an infant's body with Episode 4 of 15 | Season 36: Serial Killers in History The investigation into Luísa de Jesus begins, revealing a systematic pattern of infant murders that would expose fatal flaws in Portugal's child welfare system and lead to her execution as the nation's first documented female serial killer. The Victims: Portugal's Abandoned Infants In 1772, desperate poverty gripped Portugal under King Joseph I's reign. Across Coimbra, destitute mothers with no means to feed their newborns turned to the Casa da Rota—the foundling wheel system—hoping charitable institutions would save their babies' lives. These infants, called "expostos" or "exposed ones," were placed anonymously in rotating wooden cylinders built into orphanage walls. A bell would ring, alerting caretakers inside that another abandoned child needed their care. The system was born of compassion, designed to prevent infanticide by offering mothers a safe alternative. For each child taken in, caregivers received a modest stipend of 600 réis, a cradle, and cloth—enough support to raise an infant in theory. In practice, hundreds of babies overwhelmed Coimbra's understaffed facilities each year. These were Portugal's most vulnerable citizens: newborns abandoned by mothers with no other choice, babies born into poverty or out of wedlock, innocent lives dependent on a system that promised protection but delivered catastrophic negligence. Why This Case Changed Portugal Forever The case of Luísa de Jesus represents a devastating failure of 18th-century child welfare institutions and a pivotal moment in Portuguese legal history. Her systematic exploitation of the foundling wheel exposed how easily vulnerable populations could be preyed upon when oversight mechanisms collapsed. The discovery of 33 murdered infants shocked a nation and forced Portugal to confront uncomfortable truths about how it protected—or failed to protect—its abandoned children. This case directly led to sweeping reforms of Portugal's child welfare system, including the landmark 1783 decree by Queen Maria I mandating that all towns establish properly supervised foundling hospitals. Luísa's execution on July 1, 1772, made her the last woman ever executed in Portugal, cementing her place in both criminal and legal history. The case remains a stark reminder that society's most vulnerable members require active protection, not passive charity, and that systematic failures create opportunities for monsters to operate in plain sight. The Investigation and Discovery On the morning of April 1, 1772, Angelica Maria, a caretaker from Coimbra's foundling home, walked through olive groves at Monte Arroio when she discovered recently disturbed earth. Kneeling to investigate, she unearthed the shallow grave of an infant with strangulation marks still visible around its delicate neck. Authorities quickly traced the dead child back to Luísa de Jesus, a 23-year-old delivery worker who had officially "adopted" the baby just days earlier. When interrogated on April 6, Luísa coldly confessed to murdering three infants. But investigators suspected far worse. A search of her modest home in Figueira de Lorvão revealed a makeshift graveyard—eighteen tiny bodies buried beneath the floor and hidden in corners. Some had been dismembered, their remains stored in clay pots under straw. Excavations at Monte Arroio uncovered thirteen more infant corpses, bringing the confirmed death toll to 33 babies. Records showed Luísa had officially adopted 34 children from Coimbra's foundling wheel over several years, collecting the 600 réis stipend for each. She had provided false addresses and fictitious adopting families, exploiting a system with virtually no follow-up procedures. The foundling wheel workers, Margarida Joaquina and Leocádia Maria da Conceição, were arrested for criminal negligence—they had handed over dozens of infants without verifying the children's destinations. Both were released in October 1772 after public shaming, their careers destroyed but lives spared. Luísa confessed to 28 murders but was convicted on all 33 counts. On July 1, 1772, she faced one of the most brutal executions in Portuguese history. Bound with rope, she was paraded through Coimbra's streets while a magistrate proclaimed her crimes to horrified crowds. Red-hot tongs burned her flesh before her hands were severed. She died by garrote, and her body was burned to ashes, scattered so "there will never be a memory of such a Monster again." She was 23 years old. Historical Context and the Foundling Wheel System Eighteenth-century Portugal's relationship with child abandonment was both pragmatic and tragic. The foundling wheel system spread across Catholic Europe as a response to rampant infanticide—desperate mothers who couldn't feed their babies often killed them rather than watch them starve. The wheels offered anonymous surrender, a compassionate alternative that saved some lives while creating new vulnerabilities. Portugal's wheels operated with minimal oversight. Caregivers like Luísa collected stipends with no requirement to prove the children survived. Hundreds of babies entered the system annually in cities like Coimbra, far exceeding institutional capacity. Mortality rates were already catastrophic—historians estimate half of all foundlings died within their first year from disease, malnutrition, or neglect, even in legitimate placements. This case draws from multiple historical sources: court records preserved in Coimbra's archives document Luísa's confession and trial proceedings. Period newspapers reported the shocking discovery and subsequent execution with sensational detail. Modern historian Maria Antónia Lopes's research into Portuguese foundling systems provides crucial context for understanding how systematic failures enabled Luísa's crimes. The Casa dos Expostos of Coimbra's administrative records reveal the staggering volume of abandoned infants and the minimal verification procedures that allowed Luísa to operate undetected for years. Her case remains a foundational study in Portuguese criminology and child welfare history. Resources & Further Reading For those interested in learning more about 18th-century Portuguese child welfare and the foundling wheel system: The National Archives of Portugal house complete trial records and court documents from the 1772 caseMaria Antónia Lopes's scholarly work on Portuguese foundling systems and historical child welfare practicesThe Santa Casa de Misericórdia museums in Coimbra and Lisbon maintain exhibits on foundling wheel history and social welfare institutions"Baby Hatch" historical research documenting foundling wheels across Catholic Europe from medieval times through the 19th century Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In colonial India, travelers befriend strangers on the road, sharing meals and stories, unaware these companions will be. Episode 5 of 15 | Season 36: Serial Killers in History  Thug Behram's 40-year reign of terror across colonial India reveals the most prolific serial killer ever documented, whose ritualistic methods would help shape modern criminal investigation. For decades, travelers crossing India's dusty plains vanished without a trace. Merchants carrying goods between cities, pilgrims journeying to sacred sites, families relocating to new villages—all disappeared along the same well-worn trade routes. These weren't random robberies gone wrong. They were calculated murders carried out by the Thuggee cult, a secret brotherhood that moved invisibly through Indian society. Among these killers, none was more prolific than Thug Behram. Over forty years spanning the late 1700s through 1840, he personally strangled 125 victims and witnessed the deaths of hundreds more. The travelers he befriended never suspected the friendly companion sharing their campfire would become their executioner. Behram's victims came from all walks of colonial India's diverse population—traders transporting silk and spices, civil servants traveling between British outposts, farmers returning from market with their earnings. Each trusted their fellow travelers, never imagining the smiling faces around the evening fire belonged to trained killers who had perfected their craft over generations. The Thuggee case represents one of the most significant developments in the history of criminal investigation. Thug Behram's eventual capture and confession in 1840 provided unprecedented insight into organized crime, leading directly to the creation of systematic investigation methods still used today. His case forced British colonial authorities to develop one of the world's first criminal intelligence units, led by William Henry Sleeman, who pioneered techniques like informant networks, detailed record-keeping, and pattern analysis. The investigation would ultimately dismantle a criminal organization that had operated for centuries, leading to the arrest of thousands of Thuggee members across India. The methods developed to catch Behram became the blueprint for modern law enforcement approaches to organized crime. His confessions also revealed the disturbing psychology of ritualistic killing, where murder was justified through religious devotion to the goddess Kali. The Criminal Tribes Act of 1871, though controversial, grew directly from lessons learned during the Thuggee investigations. Today, Behram remains the most prolific documented serial killer in history, his case a stark reminder of how belief systems can be twisted to justify systematic violence. Born in the late 1700s near Jabalpur in central India, Thug Behram learned the art of murder as a child. The Thuggee tradition passed from father to son, and Behram's family had practiced the cult's deadly rituals for generations. Beginning around age ten, he studied the intricate system of hand signals, code words, and deception techniques that allowed Thuggee gangs to operate in plain sight. The cult's primary weapon was the rumāl—a ceremonial silk handkerchief with a heavy silver medallion sewn into one corner. This simple cloth became a lethal instrument in trained hands. When Behram gave the signal—often an innocuous phrase like "bring tobacco"—his gang struck with ruthless efficiency. The rumāl tightened around the victim's throat while accomplices pinned their arms and legs. Death came swiftly and silently. The Thuggee believed they performed sacred work for Kali, conducting elaborate rituals before and after each killing. Victims were buried face down to prevent their spirits from rising in anger, and offerings were made at hidden shrines along the trade routes. As Behram matured, he assembled his own gang of more than fifty specialists—scouts who identified wealthy targets, infiltrators who gained victims' trust, grave diggers who disposed of bodies, and stranglers who performed the actual killings. His organizational genius lay in compartmentalization; each member knew only their specific role, making it nearly impossible for captured Thuggee to reveal the full network. For forty years, Behram moved freely through colonial India, maintaining homes and businesses that gave him the appearance of a respectable merchant. Behind this façade, he kept meticulous records of victims and stolen goods, treating murder with the same systematic precision a clerk might apply to bookkeeping. This discipline made him virtually untouchable until William Henry Sleeman launched his groundbreaking investigation. Using patient intelligence gathering, Sleeman mapped the Thuggee network across India, tracking family connections and recording every detail gleaned from informants. When Behram's lieutenants finally betrayed him in 1840, Sleeman's men arrested him near Jabalpur. In custody, Behram provided detailed confessions that shocked even hardened colonial officers. He admitted to personally strangling 125 victims while being present at approximately 931 additional murders. His matter-of-fact descriptions of ritualistic killings revealed the chilling psychology of a man who viewed mass murder as religious duty rather than crime. Following his confessions, Behram was executed by hanging in 1840 in Jabalpur. His detailed testimonies before execution proved invaluable in Sleeman's broader campaign to dismantle the remaining Thuggee networks. Through information provided by Behram and other captured Thuggee members who turned informant, hundreds of active cult members were identified and arrested, effectively breaking the organization's backbone. The case occurred during a pivotal period in colonial India's history. The British East India Company struggled to maintain control over vast territories where indigenous criminal organizations operated with impunity. The Thuggee had existed for centuries, some historians suggesting their origins dated back to the 13th century or earlier. They justified their actions through a distorted interpretation of Hindu mythology, claiming Kali demanded blood sacrifice through ritual strangulation. This religious framework allowed Thuggee members to live as ordinary citizens between expeditions, maintaining families and legitimate businesses while periodically joining organized murder sprees. Victims were chosen according to strict guidelines—women were generally spared, as were holy men, craftsmen, and travelers during specific religious festivals. The cult's longevity stemmed from this social invisibility combined with elaborate systems of secrecy and mutual protection. Historical understanding of the Thuggee relies heavily on British colonial records, particularly William Henry Sleeman's extensive documentation. His writings, including "Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official" and "Report on the Depredations Committed by the Thug Gangs," provide detailed accounts of Thuggee practices and the investigation that brought them down. Thug Behram's own confessions, recorded by British authorities in 1840, offer rare first-person testimony about the cult's inner workings. Modern scholarship, including works by historians examining colonial India and organized crime, continues to analyze the Thuggee phenomenon. The British Library maintains extensive archives of East India Company records documenting the investigations. Academic journals have published numerous papers examining both the historical reality of the Thuggee and the ways British colonial narratives shaped public perception of the cult. Kim A. Wagner's "Thuggee: Banditry and the British in Early Nineteenth-Century India" provides critical analysis of how colonial authorities understood and portrayed organized crime. The case remains significant in criminology studies as an early example of systematic investigation defeating organized criminal networks. Resources & Further Reading:  For those interested in learning more about the Thuggee cult and colonial India's criminal history: The British Library maintains extensive East India Company archives documenting William Henry Sleeman's investigations and Thuggee court proceedings "Thuggee: Banditry and the British in Early Nineteenth-Century India" by Kim A. Wagner examines colonial perspectives on organized crime "The Strangled Traveler: Colonial Imaginings and the Thugs of India" by Martine van Woerkens explores the historical and cultural context Academic journals in criminology and South Asian studies regularly publish research on the Thuggee phenomenon and its impact on modern policing methods New episodes every Tuesday at 5 AM EST. Part of the Myths & Malice podcast network Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In February 1842, a dingo unearthed a shallow grave near Ironstone Bridge, revealing the decomposing body of an Irish immi Kearns Landregan was twenty-seven years old when he died on a dusty colonial road seven miles from Berrima. An Irish immigrant who'd traveled halfway around the world seeking opportunity in Australia, Landregan worked as a carrier—hard labor that required strength, reliability, and trust. On February 19th, 1842, he was driving his cart to market when he accepted what seemed like innocent companionship from a fellow traveler. He had no way of knowing that the man walking beside him had already murdered at least eight people. Among Lynch's victims was thirteen-year-old Mary Macnamara, a child who watched her entire family die before being assaulted and killed herself. There was Thomas Smith, a skilled plowman respected for his agricultural expertise. And there was an unnamed Aboriginal boy whose murder was barely recorded in colonial documents—a child whose name we'll never know but whose life mattered just as much. Why This Case MattersJohn Lynch's killing spree across colonial New South Wales exposed the brutal vulnerabilities of frontier justice and the systematic devaluation of certain lives in 1840s Australia. His 1836 acquittal for Thomas Smith's murder—despite clear evidence—taught him he could kill with impunity in a justice system stretched impossibly thin across vast wilderness. The case reveals how colonial authorities treated crimes differently based on victims' race and social status: a white child's murder shocked the colony, while an Aboriginal boy's death warranted barely a sentence in court records. The 2019 memorial plaque installed at All Saints Anglican Church in Sutton Forest represents a crucial shift toward victim-centered historical narrative, finally naming those whose stories were nearly lost to history. Content WarningThis episode contains descriptions of violence against children and references to sexual assault. Listener discretion advised. Key Case DetailsLynch's methodical approach to murder began after his 1836 acquittal emboldened him. Operating along isolated bush tracks in the Razorback Range, he targeted travelers with money or goods, striking them from behind with a tomahawk before stealing their possessions and assuming their identities. Timeline & Investigation: March 1836: Thomas Smith murdered at Oldbury Farm; Lynch tried and acquitted1836-1837: Multiple murders in Razorback Range (exact count unknown)November 1841: Mulligan family massacre (four victims including 13-year-old Mary)February 19, 1842: Kearns Landregan murdered near Ironstone BridgeFebruary 21, 1842: Lynch arrested after Landregan's body discovered by Hugh Tinney Resolution: Chief Constable James Chapman's investigation connected Lynch to Landregan's distinctive felt hat, which Lynch had been wearing openly around Berrima. Excavation of the Mulligan property revealed four shallow graves. Lynch confessed to all murders during questioning, showing no remorse. He was tried, convicted of Landregan's murder, and hanged at Berrima Jail on April 22nd, 1842 at age 29. Historical Context & SourcesThis episode draws on colonial court records from the 1842 Supreme Court trial proceedings in Sydney, contemporary newspaper accounts from the Sydney Morning Herald, and historical research from the Berrima District Historical and Family History Society. The case documentation reveals the challenges of frontier policing in 1840s New South Wales, where vast distances and limited communication made coordinating murder investigations exceptionally difficult. Sergeant James Wilson's creation of a primitive geographic profile to track disappearances along the Berrima-Campbelltown Road represented early criminal investigative innovation. The 2019 memorial plaque commemorating Lynch's victims by name marks an important shift toward victim-centered historical narrative, particularly significant in finally acknowledging the unnamed Aboriginal child whose murder colonial authorities barely recorded. Foul Play CreditsFoul Play is hosted by Shane Waters and Wendy Cee. Research and writing by the Foul Play production team. For more historical true crime stories from the Victorian era and beyond, subscribe to Foul Play wherever you listen to podcasts. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In 1826, fellow priests caring for an ailing Father Juan Severino Mallari made a horrifying discovery in his residence: bloodstained clothing belonging to dozens of missing parishioners. Over the next ten years, investigators would uncover fifty-seven murders committed by the parish priest of Magalang, Pampanga—a man who believed killing his congregants would break a curse afflicting his mother. Father Mallari's victims trusted him completely. They came to him for confession, for blessings, for spiritual guidance. And then they disappeared. What makes this case even more tragic is that Spanish colonial authorities meticulously documented Mallari's education and artwork, but never bothered to record a single name of the fifty-seven Filipinos he murdered. This is the story of colonial erasure, untreated mental illness, and a murderous priest. This is Episode 7 of Season 36: Serial Killers in History, our ambitious exploration of forgotten murderers from ancient Rome through the early 20th century. This season examines how social inequality, colonial systems, and institutional failures enabled killers across continents and centuries. Juan Severino Mallari's case reveals the devastating intersection of Spanish colonial racism, primitive mental healthcare, and religious authority in early 19th-century Philippines. The next episode continues our journey through history's darkest moments with another case of power, isolation, and the victims erased from official records. Historical Context & Background Juan Severino Mallari was born in 1785 in San Nicolas, Pampanga, into a respected Kapampangan family with church benefactor status. He earned his philosophy degree around 1800, his theology degree in 1805 at San Carlos Seminary, and was ordained at the University of Santo Tomas in 1809 by Archbishop Juan Antonio Zulaybar. But being a Filipino priest in Spanish colonial Philippines meant systemic discrimination. From 1809 to 1812, Mallari served as coadjutor in multiple parishes, applying repeatedly for parish priest positions in Orani, Mariveles, Lubao, and as chaplain at the Port of Cavite. Spanish authorities rejected him every time—not for lack of qualifications, but due to colonial racism that viewed Filipino secular priests as inferior to Spanish friars. Finally, in 1812, he became parish priest of San Bartolome Parish in Magalang, the first Filipino to hold that position in all of Pampanga. In that isolated agricultural community, trusted completely by his parishioners, Father Mallari would commit fifty-seven murders over the next decade. The Descent into Madness Around 1816, four years after becoming parish priest, Mallari's mother fell gravely ill. He became convinced she was cursed—a belief that merged Catholic faith with pre-colonial Filipino traditions about mangkukulam (witches) who could cast deadly kulam (curses). Historical accounts describe Mallari experiencing severe hallucinations during Mass, stopping mid-sermon to converse with invisible figures. Spain had pioneered psychiatric treatment in Europe, and the Hospicio de San Jose psychiatric facility in Manila had been operational since 1811. But Mallari was in rural Pampanga, miles from Manila, and he was the parish priest—the highest religious authority in Magalang. No one recognized his psychotic delusions as treatable illness requiring intervention. When Mallari decided that killing the people he believed were witches would cure his mother, no one stopped him. His first victim likely came to confession in 1816. We don't know this person's name, age, or family situation—Spanish colonial records didn't consider such details worth documenting. The Ten-Year Killing Spree Over the next decade, Father Mallari murdered fifty-seven of his parishioners. He killed in the privacy of the parish house—people who came for spiritual guidance, to arrange marriages, to request baptisms. After each murder, he carefully folded the victim's bloodstained clothing and preserved it in his residence. This level of organization existing alongside complete psychotic delusion reveals the terrifying complexity of his mental state. His mother died December 4, 1825. The killings hadn't saved her. Everything had been for nothing. But Mallari didn't stop because of his mother's death—he stopped because sixteen days later, several families finally gathered courage to file a formal complaint with the gobernadorcillo (town mayor). Imagine the bravery required: Filipino families in 1825 Spanish colonial Philippines accusing the parish priest—the most powerful religious figure in their town. In February 1826, when Mallari fell ill and fellow priests came to care for him, they discovered the horrifying evidence: bloodstained belongings of dozens of missing parishioners, folded and stored in his residence. Word reached the constabulary. Townspeople gathered with torches. Ten years of disappearances converged on that moment. Investigation, Trial & Execution When Spanish authorities arrested Mallari in 1826, he confessed immediately—not with remorse, but with explanation. He detailed his mother's curse, identifying fifty-seven witches, explaining why their deaths would break the curse. The trial began later that year, drawing unprecedented attention across Spanish colonial territory. Prosecutors methodically presented bloodstained clothing, stolen items from victims' families, witness testimony about Mallari's erratic behavior during Mass. The defense attempted to portray him as a respected leader framed by jealous rivals, but couldn't explain the overwhelming physical evidence or Mallari's own detailed confession. He was convicted, but not executed immediately. Mallari spent fourteen years imprisoned—fourteen years between his 1826 arrest and his 1840 execution. The colonial legal system required multiple levels of review for an unprecedented case: a Filipino priest convicted of fifty-seven murders. Those victim families waited fourteen years for justice. Finally, in 1840, Juan Severino Mallari was hanged at Bagumbayan field (today Luneta Park in Manila). He was fifty-five years old, the first Filipino priest ever executed by Spanish colonial authorities. Thirty-two years later, three more Filipino priests—the GOMBURZA martyrs—would be executed for allegedly inspiring revolt, helping spark the Philippine Revolution. The Unnamed Fifty-Seven Father Juan Severino Mallari's life is extensively recorded. Spanish colonial documents detail his birth in San Nicolas, his family's church benefactor status, his philosophy degree (circa 1800), theology degree (1805), ordination (1809), every parish appointment, every rejected job application. Examples of his calligraphy—ornate ecclesiastical documents—survive in historical archives. The Spanish system found Mallari worth documenting in extraordinary detail. The fifty-seven Filipinos he murdered? Not one name recorded. Not one age. Not one occupation. Not one family detail. Were they farmers? Merchants? Young? Old? Parents leaving behind children? We don't know. Spanish authorities didn't care. This isn't accident—it's colonial violence manifesting as bureaucratic erasure. The Spanish system existed to extract wealth and maintain control. Individual Filipino lives didn't serve Spanish interests, so they weren't recorded. Somewhere in Pampanga, descendants of those fifty-seven victims exist. People who grew up hearing family stories about a great-great-grandparent who vanished mysteriously in the 1820s, inheriting trauma without closure. Those descendants deserve to know their family member's death mattered, that their ancestor's life had value, that we haven't forgotten them even if we can't name them. Resources & Further Reading The National Archives of the Philippines in Manila maintain limited records from Spanish colonial Pampanga, though documentation of crimes against Filipino civilians remains incomplete. The University of Santo Tomas archives preserve ecclesiastical records from the period, including ordination documentation for Filipino priests like Mallari. Historical studies of Spanish colonial mental healthcare reveal the stark disparity between psychiatric facilities available in Manila (like the Hospicio de San Jose, operational from 1811) and the complete absence of mental health resources in rural provinces. Research into the principalía class structure and Spanish colonial racism illuminates how systemic discrimination created the conditions for Mallari's prolonged killing spree. Philippine Revolution history provides context for understanding how cases like Mallari's—and the later GOMBURZA executions—contributed to growing Filipino resistance against colonial rule. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

On a warm June afternoon in 1868, a 24-year-old woman accepted a glass of lemonade from her nurse at a Geneva boarding house. Within moments, her pupils dilated grotesquely, her heart pounded violently, and reality dissolved into nightmare. That glass of lemonade broke open one of Switzerland's most disturbing criminal cases. SEASON & EPISODE CONTEXT This is Episode 9 of Foul Play Season 36: "Serial Killers in History," examining murderers from ancient times through the early 1900s. This season explores 15 cases spanning centuries and continents, revealing how serial murder predates modern criminology by millennia. THE CASE SUMMARY Between 1865 and 1868, Marie Jeanneret worked as a private nurse in Geneva and surrounding areas of Switzerland, moving between respectable boarding houses and private hospitals. Everywhere she went, patients died under mysterious circumstances. Eleven-year-old children. Elderly widows. Entire families. Her method was both calculated and cruel. She used cutting-edge poisons for the 1860s—plant alkaloids like atropine from belladonna and morphine from opium poppies. These substances were so difficult to detect in corpses that she might never have been caught. She offered candy she called "princesses" to children. She served sweetened water to friends. She predicted deaths days before they happened—not because she had medical insight, but because she knew exactly when the poison would finish its work. When authorities finally exhumed the bodies in 1868, they found chemical signatures of murder in decomposing tissue. The trial revealed at least six confirmed murders and perhaps thirty attempted murders. But the verdict the jury reached would create one of criminal history's most profound paradoxes—her case helped abolish the death penalty in Geneva three years later. THE VICTIMS Marie Jeanneret's victims weren't random—they were people who trusted her completely during their most vulnerable moments: Marie Grétillat, 61, hired Jeanneret for what should have been a minor illness. She died in February 1867 after weeks of escalating agony. Sophie Juvet, 58, died in September 1867 at the Maison de Santé hospital where Jeanneret worked as a nurse. Jenny-Julie Juvet, Sophie's daughter, was only 11 years old. She loved candy and trusted the nurse who brought her special bonbons called "princesses." Before she died in January 1868, she begged her family not to let the nurse near her anymore. They thought she was delirious. She wasn't—she knew. Auguste Perrod (around 80), Louise-Marie Lenoir (72), Madame Hahn, Demoiselle Gay, Demoiselle Junod, Julie Bouvier, and Jacques Gros (Julie's father) all died under Jeanneret's care between 1867 and 1868. KEY CASE DETAILS THE METHOD: Jeanneret used belladonna (deadly nightshade) and morphine as her primary weapons. Belladonna poisoning produces distinctive symptoms: grotesquely dilated pupils, rapid heartbeat, extreme light sensitivity, terrifying hallucinations, and eventually seizures and respiratory failure. Morphine suppresses breathing until victims simply stop inhaling—the death looks peaceful but is actually suffocation. As a nurse, she had legitimate access to these substances and professional cover for every action. She mixed poisons into sweet items—lemonade, sweetened water, candy—because sugar masks the bitter taste effectively. For some victims, she administered lower doses over time, creating slow declines that mimicked natural illness. For others, she used massive doses intended to kill quickly. THE BREAKTHROUGH: The case broke open when Marie-Catherine Fritzgès, 24, survived a belladonna poisoning in June 1868. Her doctor recognized the symptoms immediately and contacted authorities. Police searched Jeanneret's rooms and found bottles of belladonna extract, containers of morphine, and detailed nursing notes documenting every symptom, decline, and death—inadvertently documenting her own crimes. HISTORICAL CONTEXT & SOURCES The 1860s represented a turning point in forensic medicine. Swiss medical examiners used groundbreaking techniques to test tissue samples for alkaloid compounds in exhumed bodies—finding chemical signatures consistent with belladonna and morphine poisoning. This case marked one of the first instances where forensic medicine played a crucial role in securing a conviction in Switzerland. The trial opened in Geneva in late 1868 with overwhelming evidence: poisoned bodies, survivors' testimony, bottles of poison, and Jeanneret's own nursing notes. On November 19, 1868, the jury returned a stunning verdict—guilty on all counts, but they recommended clemency. Instead of execution, Jeanneret received life imprisonment with hard labor. Three years later, in 1871, the Canton of Geneva abolished the death penalty. Jeanneret's case was cited as a key example—a jury had looked at overwhelming evidence of serial murder and chosen mercy over execution. RESOURCES & FURTHER READING Swiss criminal history archives maintain extensive records of the Jeanneret case, including original trial transcripts and forensic reports that revolutionized poison detection methods. The case remains a standard reference in medical ethics courses throughout Europe, illustrating the catastrophic consequences of betrayed medical trust. The Geneva State Archives houses original court documents from the 1868 trial. Swiss forensic medicine institutes continue to study the case as a landmark example of early toxicology and the systematic safeguards developed in response to healthcare serial killers. RELATED FOUL PLAY EPISODES If you found this episode compelling, explore other Foul Play cases involving Victorian-era poisoners and medical professionals who betrayed their sacred trust. Season 36 examines serial killers throughout history, from ancient Rome through the early 1900s, revealing how murder predates modern criminology and how society responded to unimaginable crimes. Each episode of Foul Play combines meticulous historical research with victim-centered storytelling, honoring those whose lives were taken while examining the criminals who took them. THE LEGACY Marie Jeanneret's crimes fundamentally transformed Switzerland's approach to medical safety and criminal investigation. The case exposed critical gaps in poison control, leading to strict measures including detailed record-keeping of sales and mandatory identification checks. Background checks for medical staff became more thorough, references were more carefully vetted, and supervision was enhanced throughout Europe. Perhaps most significantly, Jeanneret's case transformed public consciousness about the nature of evil. The idea that a healthcare professional could systematically murder patients while maintaining an appearance of respectability forced society to confront uncomfortable truths. The poisoner who took at least six lives became part of the movement that saved countless others from execution—the most paradoxical legacy imaginable. ABOUT FOUL PLAY Foul Play examines history's most compelling true crime cases with meticulous research and sophisticated storytelling. Hosts Shane Waters and Wendy Cee explore serial killers from ancient Rome through the early 1900s, focusing on victim-centered narratives that honor the dead rather than sensationalizing killers. Each episode combines atmospheric period detail with rigorous historical accuracy, transporting listeners to crimes that shaped criminal justice systems across centuries and continents. CONNECT WITH FOUL PLAY New episodes release every Tuesday at 5:00 AM EST. Follow Foul Play on social media for behind-the-scenes research, historical context, and episode updates. Visit our website for complete episode archives, source lists, and additional resources about the cases we cover. CONTENT WARNING This episode contains detailed descriptions of poisoning, murder of children, and medical betrayal. Listener discretion is advised. If you or someone you know needs support, resources are available through crisis helplines and mental health services. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Episode 10 of 15 | Series 36: Serial Killers in History Finland's first documented serial killer terrorized two continents across three decades. This episode traces Matti Haapoja's brutal journey from famine-ravaged Finland to Siberian exile and back—a life defined by escape, violence, and ultimately, one final act of defiance. Victim HumanizationHeikki Impponen was forty-two years old when he walked along that frozen road in December 1867. A farmer with a wife named Kaisa and three children waiting at home, he had known young Matti since childhood—their fathers had worked neighboring fields, they had been boys together in the harsh Finnish countryside. He carried what little money he had, perhaps hoping to buy food during Finland's devastating Great Famine. Maria Jemina Salo was in her early twenties, trying to survive in Helsinki's rougher districts, wearing a silver necklace her mother had given her. Guard Juho Rosted had worked at Kakola Prison for eleven years, with a pregnant wife expecting their fourth child—a daughter who would never know her father. Why This Case MattersMatti Haapoja's crimes fundamentally reshaped Finland's approach to criminal justice and prison security. His four successful escapes from Kakola Prison exposed critical weaknesses in the nation's penal system, earning the facility the mocking nickname "Pakola"—the escape prison. His case prompted a complete overhaul of prison architecture and security protocols throughout Finland. The investigation techniques developed to track him helped establish the framework for modern Finnish police procedures, while the case demonstrated how the Great Famine of 1866-1868, which killed 270,000 Finns, created conditions where desperate violence flourished. Content WarningThis episode contains descriptions of violent murders and suicide. Listener discretion advised. Key Case DetailsHaapoja's criminal career spanned three decades across two continents, leaving eight confirmed victims dead and exposing the limitations of 19th-century criminal justice systems across Finland and Siberia. • Timeline: First murder December 6, 1867, during Finland's Great Famine; sentenced to Siberian exile in 1880; returned to Finland September 1890; final escape attempt October 10, 1894; death by suicide January 8, 1895 • Investigation: Haapoja's escapes revealed major security flaws in Finnish prisons; his capture after Maria Salo's murder came when his notorious reputation led to his recognition in Porvoo just days after the crime • Resolution: Sentenced to death in 1891 (automatically commuted to life imprisonment as Finland had abolished capital punishment in 1826); died by his own hand while awaiting trial for murdering Guard Juho Rosted • Historical Context: The puukkojunkkari (knife-fighter) culture of Southern Ostrobothnia shaped Haapoja's violent identity; his skeleton was displayed in the Finnish Museum of Crime for 99 years before burial in 1995 Historical Context & SourcesThis episode draws on records from the National Museum of Finland, the National Biography of Finland, and the BiographySampo database. Prison museum collections preserve the tools of Haapoja's escapes—rope, wooden slats, and a floorboard with a drilled hole. Contemporary newspaper accounts from the 1890s, which sensationally compared his crimes to Jack the Ripper's London murders, provide crucial details about his final trial and death. The Circuit Court records of Hausjärvi from 1891 document his arrogant confession and the commutation of his death sentence. Resources & Further ReadingFor listeners interested in exploring this case and era further, these historically significant sources provide additional context: • The National Museum of Finland maintains archival materials on 19th-century Finnish criminal justice and the puukkojunkkari phenomenon • The Finnish National Biography database (Biografiakeskus) contains verified biographical details on Haapoja and his contemporaries • Academic research on the Great Famine of 1866-1868 illuminates the devastating conditions that shaped Haapoja's early crimes Call-to-ActionNext week on Foul Play: Francisco Guerrero Pérez terrorized Mexico City for decades, targeting women the newspapers refused to mourn. Subscribe now to follow Season 36: Serial Killers in History to its conclusion. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

In the fog-shrouded streets of 1880s Leiden, a woman everyone called "Good Mary" brought food to the sick, consoled the grieving, and prepared the dead for burial. For three years, she was the angel of her neighborhood—the trusted caregiver who helped when no one else would. No one suspected that the porridge she served was laced with arsenic. No one questioned why so many of her patients died. Until a doctor noticed something Maria Swanenburg's victims included 27 confirmed deaths among the most vulnerable members of Victorian Leiden's working-class community. Among them were her own parents—Johanna Dingjan and Clemens Swanenburg—murdered for whatever meager inheritance they might leave. Two young sisters died while Maria babysat them, followed by attempted poisonings of six mourners at their wake, including their pregnant mother. The Frankhuizen family lost three members: Maria Frankhuizen, her infant son, and her husband Hendrik, whose agonizing final days would ultimately expose the killer. Elderly neighbors who trusted Maria with their care, relatives who welcomed her help, and community members who saw her as Goeie Mie—"Good Mary"—all fell victim to her arsenic-laced kindness. Another 45 survivors lived with permanent health damage, many walking Leiden's streets on crutches for the rest of their lives. Between 1880 and 1883, Maria Swanenburg systematically poisoned at least 102 people in Leiden, Netherlands, killing 27 and permanently disabling dozens more. Operating in disease-ridden working-class neighborhoods where cholera deaths were common, she exploited the era's limited medical knowledge and the community's trust in her caregiving reputation. Maria purchased arsenic from multiple pharmacies across Leiden—ostensibly for pest control—accumulating lethal quantities without raising suspicion. She poisoned her victims through food and drink while nursing them, then collected on small life insurance policies she'd secretly taken out. When victims displayed symptoms of violent gastric distress, doctors assumed cholera or typhoid. When they died, Maria helped prepare their bodies for burial and consoled grieving families. Her downfall came in December 1883 when Dr. Wijnand Rutgers van der Loeff connected multiple patients with identical symptoms to one common factor: all had been under Maria Swanenburg's care. The Investigation: Dr. van der Loeff's suspicions led police to arrest Maria on December 15, 1883. When searched, she carried multiple insurance policies in her pockets—policies taken out on people currently under her care. Authorities exhumed thirteen bodies from Leiden cemeteries; all tested positive for arsenic. The Trial: Proceedings began April 23, 1885, drawing national attention. Medical experts explained how arsenic accumulated in victims' tissues. Family members testified about their loved ones' rapid deterioration under Maria's care. Throughout, she maintained an eerily calm demeanor, claiming she was being framed. The Verdict: On May 1, 1885, Maria Swanenburg was convicted of three murders from the Frankhuizen family case—though prosecutors had evidence for 27 deaths. She became the first woman in Dutch history to receive a life sentence. The Sentence: Maria was sent to Gorinchem Correctional Facility, where she died on April 11, 1915, at age 75, having served thirty years. Victorian Leiden provided the perfect hunting ground for a poisoner. The textile industry had drawn workers into overcrowded slums where families of ten lived in cramped cottages with earthen floors, no sanitation, and no ventilation. Cholera, typhoid, and tuberculosis killed regularly. Child mortality was staggeringly high. Doctors rarely visited poor districts because residents couldn't pay. In this environment, additional deaths barely registered. Arsenic was legally sold in pharmacies for pest control with minimal regulation—no questions asked, no records kept. The poison was tasteless, odorless, and produced symptoms indistinguishable from endemic diseases without expensive chemical analysis that the poor could never afford. Maria's role as a community caregiver—taking in elderly boarders, nursing the sick, preparing bodies for burial—gave her unlimited access to vulnerable victims and made suspicion seem impossible. She was Goeie Mie. Good Mary. The angel. Primary research for this episode draws from Dutch criminal archives and the work of historian Stefan Glasbergen, whose book on Maria Swanenburg provides crucial contemporary documentation including court testimony and neighborhood accounts. The case fundamentally changed Dutch law. Following Maria's conviction, the Netherlands implemented strict regulations on arsenic sales, requiring pharmacies to maintain detailed purchase records and verify legitimate need. Dutch law enforcement developed standardized protocols for investigating suspicious deaths and recognizing serial murder patterns. The Swanenburg case became a cornerstone study in criminal investigation training throughout Europe, demonstrating how serial killers exploit community trust and institutional blind spots to operate undetected for years. For those interested in exploring this case further: The Rijksmuseum van Oudheden in Leiden maintains records from the Victorian eraDutch National Archives hold original court documents from the 1885 trialAcademic studies on Victorian-era poisoning cases and forensic toxicology developmentMaria Swanenburg's victims trusted her completely. She was their neighbor, their caregiver, their friend. In the fog-shrouded slums of Victorian Leiden, the angel of the neighborhood was actually its deadliest predator—and the 45 survivors on crutches walked as permanent reminders of her betrayal. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Season 36, Episode 13 of our Serial Killers in History series. This episode examines one of North Africa's most notorious crimes and the execution that shocked the world. In the spring of 1906, authorities in Marrakesh make a discovery that will reverberate across continents. Beneath the packed-earth floor of a modest shoemaker's workshop, they uncover the remains of twenty-six women. Ten more bodies lie buried in a garden nearby. Thirty-six victims in total—women who came to a trusted craftsman for help and never walked out alive. What follows is a story of community betrayal, colonial politics, and a punishment so brutal that diplomats from New York to London demanded intervention. But the screaming from inside the marketplace walls continued for two days before... VICTIM PROFILE: The thirty-six women murdered by Hadj Mohammed Mesfewi remain largely unnamed in historical records—a final cruelty in a case dominated by its killer's infamy. They were working-class women from Marrakesh's medina, women who needed help with everyday tasks in a society where female literacy was rare. Some came to dictate letters to relatives in distant cities. Others needed shoes repaired. They were mothers, daughters, sisters who trusted a man their community trusted. They walked into his shop for legitimate business and vanished into the earth beneath his floor, their identities lost to time while their murderer's name lives in infamy. THE CRIME: Between 1902 and 1906, Mesfewi operated his shop near one of Marrakesh's public bathhouses, positioning himself perfectly to encounter women conducting business without male accompaniment. His method was consistent across all victims: he offered tea laced with narcotics, likely opium, rendering women unconscious. Once incapacitated, he killed them with a dagger and buried them beneath his workshop floor or in a garden he owned, using quicklime to accelerate decomposition. His seventy-year-old accomplice, a woman named Annah, assisted in the crimes until her capture in April 1906. KEY CASE DETAILS: The murders unraveled when families noticed a pattern—women who mentioned visiting Mesfewi's shop were never seen again. One young woman named Fatima escaped after growing dizzy from drugged tea, providing the first direct testimony against the shoemaker. When Annah was captured by a victim's family and forced to confess, she revealed the burial sites before dying from her injuries. Authorities excavating Mesfewi's workshop found twenty-six bodies, methodically buried with layers of quicklime. A second property yielded ten more victims. Forensic science in 1906 Morocco was rudimentary—no fingerprinting, no crime scene photography—so investigators relied on shovels, sketches, and eyewitness accounts to document the horror. HISTORICAL CONTEXT AND SOURCES: Mesfewi's crimes occurred during Morocco's final years of independence before European colonization. As his victims were being discovered in April 1906, diplomats gathered in Algeciras, Spain, carving up Morocco's future at an international conference. Within six years, the Treaty of Fez would establish the French Protectorate, ending twelve centuries of Moroccan sovereignty. European powers seized on Mesfewi's execution—he was sealed alive inside a wall in the Marrakesh marketplace—as evidence of "barbaric" Moroccan justice requiring European oversight. Contemporary newspapers from The Times and Democrat to the St. John Sun published detailed accounts and illustrations, framing the case within colonial narratives that justified intervention. RESOURCES AND FURTHER READING: For those who want to explore further: Wikipedia article on Hadj Mohammed Mesfewi provides comprehensive case details and contemporary source citations: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadj_Mohammed_MesfewiMurderpedia entry includes execution details and victim count documentation: https://murderpedia.org/male.M/m/mesfewi-hadj-mohammed.htmYabiladi article examines the case from a Moroccan historical perspective: https://en.yabiladi.com/articles/details/94637/hadj-mohammed-mesfewi-morocco-serial.html Follow us on social media and visit mythsandmalice.com for more historical true crime. Our Sponsors: * Check out BetterHelp: https://www.betterhelp.com Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/foul-play-crime-series/donations Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy