WEBVTT - S03 Episode 12: The Square (Pt.1 of 2)

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<v Speaker 1>Please be advised the following episode contained scenes of an

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<v Speaker 1>extremely graphic nature that may be distressing for some listeners.

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<v Speaker 1>As the flames rolled ever higher into the night sky,

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<v Speaker 1>the thick clouds that had been so gray only hours

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<v Speaker 1>before were now lit up, turning a strange shade of

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<v Speaker 1>sanguine in the process. It gave the impression, if only

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<v Speaker 1>just for a moment, that it wasn't drops of rain

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<v Speaker 1>that were falling, but drops of blood. As the merciless

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<v Speaker 1>downpour continued, mixed with flashes of lightning and eruptions of thunder,

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<v Speaker 1>it was as if everything had been turned on its head,

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<v Speaker 1>the heavens above replaced by the bowels of hell. But

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<v Speaker 1>where heaven had gone to exactly none could say. For surely,

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<v Speaker 1>wherever it was, it certainly wasn't down here. The East

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<v Speaker 1>end of London, eighteen eighty eight. The fires had begun

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<v Speaker 1>sometime in the evening, the first having broken out at

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<v Speaker 1>the South Key warehouses. A scent of charcoal had blown

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<v Speaker 1>softly through the streets before the fire announced itself with

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<v Speaker 1>an immense explosion from out of the dockyard. Before long,

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<v Speaker 1>two hundred yards of warehouse stuffed with the dubious spoils

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<v Speaker 1>of colonial practices were ablaze under that reddening August sky,

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<v Speaker 1>flashing with electricity, each jagged discharge appearing like rips in

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<v Speaker 1>the air, cracks that might at any point be opened

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<v Speaker 1>up for something abominable to come through. Three hours later,

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<v Speaker 1>with the help of twelve steam pumper fire engines and

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<v Speaker 1>almost a hundred firefighters, the flames were subdued and the

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<v Speaker 1>men able to return to their beds. But chaos will

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<v Speaker 1>not be stilled at Shortly before one o'clock, another call

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<v Speaker 1>came in. A second fire had broken out at Ratcliff

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<v Speaker 1>dry Dock, even more devastating than the first. A large

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<v Speaker 1>two story warehouse was soon consumed. The flames then danced

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<v Speaker 1>on the wind across the yard and set light to

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<v Speaker 1>a sailing ship fresh in for repairs, before making their

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<v Speaker 1>way to the mother load, a one hundred and twenty

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<v Speaker 1>foot long warehouse stuffed with eight hundred tons of coal.

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<v Speaker 1>Hundreds of nearby residents crammed into the surrounding tenements, now

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<v Speaker 1>threatened by the flames, poured into the street fearing for

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<v Speaker 1>their lives. Others drawn in by the strange confluence of chaos,

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<v Speaker 1>beauty and destruction, came simply to watch the ominous spectacle.

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<v Speaker 1>One face among them was fifty year old Emily Holland,

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<v Speaker 1>a long time resident of the East End's Whitechapel district,

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<v Speaker 1>a woman for whom the spectacle was a welcome respite

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<v Speaker 1>from the hellish existence of a life spent on the

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<v Speaker 1>margins of society, doing anything to stay afloat in the gutter,

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<v Speaker 1>where any distraction from the sheer truth of it all

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<v Speaker 1>was about as much as you could hope for. You're

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<v Speaker 1>listening to Unexplained and I'm Richard mc lane Smith. Having

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<v Speaker 1>seen enough of the fire, Emily set off back towards Wilmot's,

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<v Speaker 1>a roughly twenty minute walk away, where she shared one

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<v Speaker 1>room with five other women. Framed by the deep red

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<v Speaker 1>sky above, she made her way west along the main

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<v Speaker 1>thoroughfare of Commercial Road, careful to stay away from the

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<v Speaker 1>many narrow roads and unlit alleyways, but branched off it,

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<v Speaker 1>for she was only too aware of what horrors might

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<v Speaker 1>await women who walk through such places alone. No doubt

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<v Speaker 1>each of them had a story. Five months previously, forty

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<v Speaker 1>five year old local resident Emma Smith was brutally raped

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<v Speaker 1>and beaten on an unlit corner of near by Brick

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<v Speaker 1>Lane by four young men who finished their assault by

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<v Speaker 1>jabbing a blunt object into her vagina, ripping through the

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<v Speaker 1>internal wall. After the assault, Smith had stood up and

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<v Speaker 1>walked alone back to her lodgings against her will. The

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<v Speaker 1>lodgings manager helped her to a nearby hospital, where she

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<v Speaker 1>later succumbed to her injuries. Only three weeks ago, the

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<v Speaker 1>body of thirty nine year old Martha Tabrim was found

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<v Speaker 1>in the stairwell of a building on George Yard, which

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<v Speaker 1>ran parallel to Brick Lane. Tabrim, who occasionally carried out

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<v Speaker 1>sex work, had been last seen heading off with a

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<v Speaker 1>client before her body was discovered in a pool of blood,

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<v Speaker 1>left displayed in such a way by her killer in

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<v Speaker 1>an effort to inflict maximum shame on the woman. She

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<v Speaker 1>had been stabbed twenty one times across the body, predominantly

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<v Speaker 1>in the breasts and around the groin. Only minutes away

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<v Speaker 1>from Wilmot's, Emily turns into Osborne Street at the bottom

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<v Speaker 1>of Brick Lane, where she spots her friend and fellow lodger,

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<v Speaker 1>Polly Nicholls, stumbling down the road. She didn't recognize her

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<v Speaker 1>at first, owing to the new black straw bonnet she

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<v Speaker 1>was wearing. It was good to see her, since although

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<v Speaker 1>she had lodged at Wilmot's for the last six weeks,

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<v Speaker 1>she had recently been staying somewhere else. As it happened,

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<v Speaker 1>Polly had just been back to Wilmot's to ask for

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<v Speaker 1>a bed for that night, but had been told to

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<v Speaker 1>come back when she had the money for it. Clearly

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<v Speaker 1>a little drunk, she joked about how she had made

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<v Speaker 1>three times the amount for a bed already that night,

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<v Speaker 1>only to drink it all away. The type of service

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<v Speaker 1>that Polly was supplying that evening could be had for

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<v Speaker 1>as little as threepence, the price of a large glass

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<v Speaker 1>of chin. Worried for her friend, Emily tries to convince

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<v Speaker 1>her to come back to Wilmot's. Perhaps they can make

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<v Speaker 1>a bargain with the deputy, she says, but Polly refuses,

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<v Speaker 1>deciding instead to try the White House, a lodging only

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<v Speaker 1>a few minutes away on Flower and Dean Street that

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<v Speaker 1>permitted sex workers to use their beds. The pair say

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<v Speaker 1>there goodbyes as a nearby church bell makes the chime

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<v Speaker 1>two thirty am Emily watches her friend stumbled down Whitechapel

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<v Speaker 1>Road as the rains continue to fall. She hated to

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<v Speaker 1>leave her on her own, especially in such a state,

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<v Speaker 1>but reassures herself that at forty four years old and

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<v Speaker 1>no stranger to this world, Polly was more than able

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<v Speaker 1>to look after herself. An hour later, thirty nine year

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<v Speaker 1>old cart driver Charles cross steps into the cool early

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<v Speaker 1>morning air and sets off on his way to work.

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<v Speaker 1>Turning into the darkness of Buck's Row, he made his

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<v Speaker 1>way hurriedly towards the sanctuary of the soft light of

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<v Speaker 1>a gas lamp. At the far end, he notices what

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<v Speaker 1>looks like a tarpaulin lying on the pavement just ahead

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<v Speaker 1>of him, but as he draws closer, he realizes it

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<v Speaker 1>is in fact the body of a woman lying unconscious

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<v Speaker 1>in the street. Spotting his friend Robert Paul at the

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<v Speaker 1>other end, he calls him over. I think she's dead,

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<v Speaker 1>he says, as Paul bends down to examine her, checking

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<v Speaker 1>her wrist for a pulse. She's breathing, but it's little

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<v Speaker 1>if she is, he says, looking furtively about the street. However,

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<v Speaker 1>not wanting to be late for work, the two men

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<v Speaker 1>decide to leave her, agreeing only to alert the first

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<v Speaker 1>policeman they see. Minutes later, P. C. John Neil, walking

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<v Speaker 1>his usual beat turned into Buck's row. Angling his light

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<v Speaker 1>into the dimness, he spots the body and hurries over

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<v Speaker 1>to it. He calls out to the woman but gets

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<v Speaker 1>no response. Bending down, he holds the light to her

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<v Speaker 1>face and recoils in horror at the sight of blood

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<v Speaker 1>leaking out of a deep wound around the neck. Her

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<v Speaker 1>eyes still open wide frozen in shock, he placed the

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<v Speaker 1>lamp on the pavement, illuminating a black straw bonnet left

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<v Speaker 1>upturned next to the body. Seeing two colleagues enter the street,

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<v Speaker 1>he calls for them to fetch a doctor immediately. By

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<v Speaker 1>the time doctor Llewelyn arrives minutes later, the woman is dead.

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<v Speaker 1>Inspecting the body at the scene, it was clear that

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<v Speaker 1>she had bled to death due to the severity of

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<v Speaker 1>two brutal cuts to her neck, each reaching from one

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<v Speaker 1>ear to the middle of the throat, cutting all the

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<v Speaker 1>way back to the vertebrae. Since there are no signs

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<v Speaker 1>of blood on the woman's clothing, the doctor assumes there

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<v Speaker 1>are no other injuries. Noticing a large crowd gathering, Llewellyn

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<v Speaker 1>is keen to preserve what he can of the woman's

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<v Speaker 1>dignity and have the body removed to a moutree before

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<v Speaker 1>continuing his assessment. The crowd stare aghast as the body

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<v Speaker 1>is lifted from the pavement and placed in the back

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<v Speaker 1>of a police wagon as all about the surrounding streets

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<v Speaker 1>workers from the nearby slaughterhouses in blood spattered overalls lend

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<v Speaker 1>a further macabre edge to the proceedings. With the body

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<v Speaker 1>having finally been taken away, local resident James Green steps

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<v Speaker 1>forward into the space and throws a bucket full of

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<v Speaker 1>water onto the ground, before sweeping the resultant bloody wash

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<v Speaker 1>into the gutter. An hour later, Llewellyn, who is now

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<v Speaker 1>back at home, receives a call from the police inspector

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<v Speaker 1>with a hint of grave concern in his voice. They

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<v Speaker 1>had discovered something else. Soon after, Llewellyn is led into

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<v Speaker 1>the morgue and toward the body, now lying prostrate on

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<v Speaker 1>an autopsy table. He gasps at the sight of it.

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<v Speaker 1>It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Three

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<v Speaker 1>inches from the left side, at the lower part of

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<v Speaker 1>the abdomen ran a very deep, jagged wound. It was

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<v Speaker 1>only one of four similar cuts that ran downward on

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<v Speaker 1>the right hand side, as if centered on the woman's womb.

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<v Speaker 1>All the cuts appeared to have been made with the

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<v Speaker 1>same long bladed knife and inflicted with a very deliberate brutality.

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<v Speaker 1>At the Wilmot lodging House, Emily Holland wakes to the

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<v Speaker 1>devastating news that yet another woman had been murdered. For

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<v Speaker 1>a moment, she sees Polly's face as it disappears into

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<v Speaker 1>the sheds of Whitechapel Road. A short time later, she

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<v Speaker 1>learns the news from Mary Anne Monk, another friend of

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<v Speaker 1>Polly's whom she had met at Lambeth Workhouse, that the

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<v Speaker 1>dead woman was indeed Polly. A devastated Emily will later

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<v Speaker 1>travel to the mark herself that day to identify her

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<v Speaker 1>friend at the inquest to Polly's death. On being asked

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<v Speaker 1>if he knew anyone who might have done this to

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<v Speaker 1>his daughter, her father will reply, I don't think she

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<v Speaker 1>had any enemies. She was too good for that. Are

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<v Speaker 1>you always taking care of your family? Do you often

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<v Speaker 1>take care of others and not yourself? Now it's time

0:12:48.480 --> 0:12:51.680
<v Speaker 1>to take care of yourself. To make time for you

0:12:51.679 --> 0:12:54.480
<v Speaker 1>you deserve it. Tell a doc gives you access to

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<v Speaker 1>a licensed therapist to help you get back to feeling

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<v Speaker 1>your best, to feeling like yourself again. With teledoc, you

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<v Speaker 1>can speak to a licensed therapist by phone or video.

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<v Speaker 1>Therapy appointments are available seven days a week from seven

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<v Speaker 1>a m. To nine p m. Local time. If you

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<v Speaker 1>feel overwhelmed sometimes maybe you feel stressed or anxious, depressed

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<v Speaker 1>through most insurance or employers. Download the app or visit

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<v Speaker 1>teledoc dot com Forward Slash Unexplained podcast to Day to

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<v Speaker 1>Get Started. That's t e l a d oc dot

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<v Speaker 1>com slash Unexplained podcast. Annie Smith was twenty eight when

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<v Speaker 1>she met and married John Chapman in eighteen sixty nine.

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<v Speaker 1>The following year, the couple celebrated the arrival of their

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<v Speaker 1>first child, Emily, and three years later a second daughter,

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<v Speaker 1>Annie was born. They were joined in eighteen eighty by

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<v Speaker 1>a brother, John, but the family would soon be torn

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<v Speaker 1>apart owing to some form of disability, Annie and John

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<v Speaker 1>were forced to send their son to a home. Their

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<v Speaker 1>misery was compounded when two years later the couple's first daughter, Emily,

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<v Speaker 1>died at the age of twelve from meningitis. John worked

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<v Speaker 1>as a coachman, and though they didn't have a great

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<v Speaker 1>deal of money coming in, it was at least stable. However,

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<v Speaker 1>both he and Annie struggled with alcoholism that served only

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<v Speaker 1>to intensify an increasingly fractious relationship, and by eighteen eighty

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<v Speaker 1>five the pair agreed to go their separate ways. Though

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<v Speaker 1>many women worked in those days, sometimes taking on entire

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<v Speaker 1>businesses when their partners died prematurely, the majority of work

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<v Speaker 1>available was strictly manual and low paid if you could

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<v Speaker 1>get it. The situation owed much to a sexist education system,

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<v Speaker 1>and though some significant changes were around the corner as

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<v Speaker 1>the nineteenth century drew to a close, for those like

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<v Speaker 1>Annie Chapman, options were few and far between. Girls from

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<v Speaker 1>low income households, yet they were lucky enough to get

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<v Speaker 1>an education at all, were schooled only in domestic skills.

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<v Speaker 1>Even for those from more fortunate backgrounds who might have

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<v Speaker 1>been given an academic education comparable to boys, it was

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<v Speaker 1>widely deemed unnecessary, since the only role they were considered

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<v Speaker 1>destined for was that of a wife and mother whose

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<v Speaker 1>only other occupation would be to supervise domestic staff. For Annie,

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<v Speaker 1>there would be no such luxuries. A semi regular payment

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<v Speaker 1>from her husband helped her to just about stay afloat

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<v Speaker 1>and out of the workhouses, and loneliness was kept at

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<v Speaker 1>bay in the form of a new boyfriend, John, who

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<v Speaker 1>made sieves for a living and with whom she shared

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<v Speaker 1>a room at a lodging house in Spittlefields, just to

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<v Speaker 1>the west of Whitechapel. On Christmas Day eighteen eighty six,

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<v Speaker 1>Annie is devastated to hear that her ex husband John

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<v Speaker 1>has died. She breaks up with her boyfriend soon after,

0:16:39.200 --> 0:16:43.200
<v Speaker 1>the summer of eighteen eighty eight sees Annie, now forty seven,

0:16:43.680 --> 0:16:47.360
<v Speaker 1>bouncing about from one lodging house to another, before managing

0:16:47.400 --> 0:16:51.840
<v Speaker 1>a period of stability settling at Crossingham's lodging house on

0:16:51.960 --> 0:16:55.720
<v Speaker 1>Dorset Street in Spittle Fields, home to three hundred or

0:16:55.720 --> 0:17:01.920
<v Speaker 1>so residents of varying itinerancy. In recent months, she had

0:17:01.960 --> 0:17:06.040
<v Speaker 1>come into an arrangement with bricklayer Edward Stanley, which covered

0:17:06.040 --> 0:17:10.440
<v Speaker 1>the cost of her bed most weekends. However, The arrangement

0:17:10.480 --> 0:17:14.600
<v Speaker 1>also complicated matters since Stanley had ordered the lodging house

0:17:14.640 --> 0:17:18.560
<v Speaker 1>Deputy Timothy Donovan not to let her stay if she

0:17:18.600 --> 0:17:22.960
<v Speaker 1>ever brought another man back with her, a situation rendered

0:17:22.960 --> 0:17:25.919
<v Speaker 1>all the more fraught. With rumors flying about in the

0:17:25.920 --> 0:17:29.240
<v Speaker 1>wake of Polly's murder that some of the recent murders

0:17:29.240 --> 0:17:45.000
<v Speaker 1>in the area could be linked. London's Metropolitan Police had

0:17:45.040 --> 0:17:48.000
<v Speaker 1>been homing in on a suspect over the last few days,

0:17:48.440 --> 0:17:54.000
<v Speaker 1>and by September fifth, the press had a name leather Apron.

0:17:56.080 --> 0:18:00.359
<v Speaker 1>Annie knew of him well. The women all talked about him,

0:18:00.520 --> 0:18:04.680
<v Speaker 1>warning each other to stay out of his way. Real

0:18:04.760 --> 0:18:08.280
<v Speaker 1>name John Pyser, around five and a half foot, tour

0:18:09.000 --> 0:18:13.000
<v Speaker 1>with dark hair and a mustache, He was said to

0:18:13.040 --> 0:18:16.719
<v Speaker 1>stalk the streets silently, wearing a deer stalker hat and

0:18:16.880 --> 0:18:21.520
<v Speaker 1>leather apron, looking for sex workers to extort. He was

0:18:21.560 --> 0:18:25.400
<v Speaker 1>said also to carry a sharp leather knife at all times.

0:18:27.080 --> 0:18:30.080
<v Speaker 1>On Friday the seventh, Annie is struggling to get the

0:18:30.160 --> 0:18:34.160
<v Speaker 1>money together for a bed. If a roof over your

0:18:34.160 --> 0:18:37.320
<v Speaker 1>head was your only concern, there was always the option

0:18:37.400 --> 0:18:41.320
<v Speaker 1>of a workhouse, whereby lodging could be sought in return

0:18:41.400 --> 0:18:46.240
<v Speaker 1>for a sustained commitment of work. However, it was and

0:18:46.440 --> 0:18:50.240
<v Speaker 1>is often still the case that the ruling establishment viewed

0:18:50.359 --> 0:18:54.760
<v Speaker 1>low income earners as feckless and lazy, that their predicament

0:18:54.920 --> 0:18:58.960
<v Speaker 1>was down to their own ineptitude, and as such were

0:18:59.000 --> 0:19:02.359
<v Speaker 1>to be discouraged at all times from leaning on the state.

0:19:04.160 --> 0:19:08.400
<v Speaker 1>As a result, workhouses were designed to offer such unfavorable

0:19:08.440 --> 0:19:14.359
<v Speaker 1>conditions that people would be discouraged from using them. A

0:19:14.480 --> 0:19:18.480
<v Speaker 1>midway option could be found in the casual ward, a

0:19:18.600 --> 0:19:21.960
<v Speaker 1>small section of the workhouse offering little more than a floor,

0:19:22.480 --> 0:19:25.320
<v Speaker 1>a shared bucket, and some bread to those in need.

0:19:26.840 --> 0:19:30.320
<v Speaker 1>Occupants of the casual ward were entitled to spend one night,

0:19:30.960 --> 0:19:34.119
<v Speaker 1>after which they were barred from coming back within thirty days,

0:19:35.119 --> 0:19:39.480
<v Speaker 1>in return for a day's work breaking rocks or unpicking rope.

0:19:41.119 --> 0:19:44.960
<v Speaker 1>Having spent the last few days in a casual ward, Annie,

0:19:45.000 --> 0:19:48.399
<v Speaker 1>who struggled with a serious ailment of the lungs, was

0:19:48.480 --> 0:19:51.000
<v Speaker 1>determined not to make it three nights in a row.

0:19:52.560 --> 0:19:55.760
<v Speaker 1>That afternoon, she made a three mile trek to Vauxhall,

0:19:56.119 --> 0:19:59.680
<v Speaker 1>just south of the Thames, where she successfully convinces her

0:19:59.680 --> 0:20:02.760
<v Speaker 1>mother to give her fivepence for a bed at Crossingham's.

0:20:04.000 --> 0:20:10.560
<v Speaker 1>By midnight, however, she had spent it all Regardless, Annie

0:20:10.560 --> 0:20:13.280
<v Speaker 1>makes her way to the lodging house and shares a

0:20:13.320 --> 0:20:16.480
<v Speaker 1>drink with a friend in the communal kitchen before heading

0:20:16.480 --> 0:20:21.199
<v Speaker 1>out again, hoping to sneak back in. Later. At just

0:20:21.359 --> 0:20:25.760
<v Speaker 1>past one thirty a m. Lodging house deputy Timothy Donovan

0:20:26.560 --> 0:20:29.480
<v Speaker 1>is informed that Annie has just been spotted again in

0:20:29.520 --> 0:20:33.960
<v Speaker 1>the kitchen. Moments later, she is at the door of

0:20:34.000 --> 0:20:37.080
<v Speaker 1>Donovan's office, pleading to be allowed to stay the night,

0:20:38.000 --> 0:20:42.960
<v Speaker 1>but Donovan refuses, reprimanding her that if she can find

0:20:43.040 --> 0:20:45.960
<v Speaker 1>money for her beer, then she can find money for

0:20:46.000 --> 0:20:51.560
<v Speaker 1>a bed. Defeated, Annie asks that Donovan at least save

0:20:51.600 --> 0:20:55.080
<v Speaker 1>her usual bed and that she'll be back soon to

0:20:55.119 --> 0:21:11.360
<v Speaker 1>sleep in it. Four hours later, local resident Elizabeth Long

0:21:12.440 --> 0:21:16.280
<v Speaker 1>is making her way toward nearby Spittlefield's Market when she

0:21:16.359 --> 0:21:21.119
<v Speaker 1>turns into Hanbury Street. It was here only the day before,

0:21:21.480 --> 0:21:25.080
<v Speaker 1>under a bright sun, that a hearse carrying the mutilated

0:21:25.119 --> 0:21:29.080
<v Speaker 1>body of Polly Nichols, followed somberly by her father, ex

0:21:29.160 --> 0:21:32.960
<v Speaker 1>husband and son, had begun its four mile journey toward

0:21:33.080 --> 0:21:38.679
<v Speaker 1>Manor Park Cemetery in forest Gate at five thirty am. However,

0:21:39.200 --> 0:21:42.760
<v Speaker 1>the windows of the undertakers are blacked out, and only

0:21:42.800 --> 0:21:46.439
<v Speaker 1>silence and darkness is to be found as Elizabeth hurries

0:21:46.440 --> 0:21:53.040
<v Speaker 1>along the deserted road, passing number twenty nine. However, it

0:21:53.119 --> 0:21:55.840
<v Speaker 1>appears the street is not as deserted as she had

0:21:55.840 --> 0:21:59.359
<v Speaker 1>thought when she spots a man with his back to

0:21:59.440 --> 0:22:02.800
<v Speaker 1>her ending in the shadows. He is roughly five and

0:22:02.840 --> 0:22:06.960
<v Speaker 1>a half feet tall, late thirtieth wearing a dark coat

0:22:07.440 --> 0:22:12.600
<v Speaker 1>and a low crowned felt hat. A moment later, she

0:22:12.720 --> 0:22:17.960
<v Speaker 1>realizes he is talking to a woman. As she passes,

0:22:18.400 --> 0:22:24.160
<v Speaker 1>Elizabeth catches the end of their conversation. Will you, asks

0:22:24.200 --> 0:22:31.359
<v Speaker 1>the man, to which the woman replies yes. Trying to

0:22:31.400 --> 0:22:34.680
<v Speaker 1>mind her own business, Elizabeth hurries on and out of

0:22:34.760 --> 0:22:38.520
<v Speaker 1>the street, just as Albert Kadosh, who lives at number

0:22:38.520 --> 0:22:43.680
<v Speaker 1>twenty seven, is preparing himself for the working day. Having

0:22:43.680 --> 0:22:46.199
<v Speaker 1>put on some clothes, he makes his way towards the

0:22:46.200 --> 0:22:50.040
<v Speaker 1>outhouse at the back of the property. Stepping into the yard,

0:22:50.280 --> 0:22:53.280
<v Speaker 1>he hears a voice cry out from behind the dividing

0:22:53.320 --> 0:22:57.720
<v Speaker 1>fence to number twenty nine on his right. Moments later,

0:22:58.359 --> 0:23:01.760
<v Speaker 1>he hears something clattering aginst the fence from the other side,

0:23:03.000 --> 0:23:06.120
<v Speaker 1>assuming it to be someone stacking crates for the business

0:23:06.160 --> 0:23:13.800
<v Speaker 1>next door. He heads back inside. Minutes later, John Davis,

0:23:14.160 --> 0:23:17.399
<v Speaker 1>a resident of number twenty nine, steps out the front

0:23:17.400 --> 0:23:20.720
<v Speaker 1>door into a dividing passage between the yard and the street.

0:23:22.440 --> 0:23:25.560
<v Speaker 1>Surprised to find the gate has been left open, He

0:23:25.680 --> 0:23:29.200
<v Speaker 1>watches a few people pass by before turning to open

0:23:29.240 --> 0:23:34.800
<v Speaker 1>the back gate and stepping into the yard. It took

0:23:34.800 --> 0:23:37.919
<v Speaker 1>a moment for Davis to process exactly what it was

0:23:38.000 --> 0:23:41.800
<v Speaker 1>He was looking at the body of a woman left

0:23:41.960 --> 0:23:45.199
<v Speaker 1>lying on her back, her clothes hoisted up to her

0:23:45.200 --> 0:23:48.200
<v Speaker 1>waist and her feet planted on the ground with the

0:23:48.320 --> 0:23:52.639
<v Speaker 1>knees up. The wet lump of material draped over her

0:23:52.680 --> 0:23:56.960
<v Speaker 1>shoulder was comprised of intestines that had been completely severed

0:23:57.000 --> 0:24:00.439
<v Speaker 1>from and lifted out of her stomach, and at the

0:24:00.520 --> 0:24:04.080
<v Speaker 1>neck two jagged wounds where she had been savagely sliced

0:24:04.280 --> 0:24:09.560
<v Speaker 1>from one side to the other. What Davis didn't see, however,

0:24:09.880 --> 0:24:13.880
<v Speaker 1>before he ran screaming from the scene, was how the uterus,

0:24:14.280 --> 0:24:17.280
<v Speaker 1>the upper part of the vagina, and two thirds of

0:24:17.320 --> 0:24:31.840
<v Speaker 1>the bladder had also been entirely removed. An hour and

0:24:31.880 --> 0:24:35.400
<v Speaker 1>a half later, in the Prince Albert Pub, only four

0:24:35.520 --> 0:24:39.159
<v Speaker 1>hundred yards from Hanbury Street, a sandy haired man with

0:24:39.200 --> 0:24:42.920
<v Speaker 1>a large mustache curled at each end, wearing a dark

0:24:43.000 --> 0:24:47.960
<v Speaker 1>jacket and soft felt hat, nervously approaches the bar, ordering

0:24:48.000 --> 0:24:50.600
<v Speaker 1>a half pint of veil, making sure to keep his

0:24:50.680 --> 0:24:56.360
<v Speaker 1>face hidden. Landlady missus Fiddimont, suspicious of his general demeanor,

0:24:56.840 --> 0:24:59.480
<v Speaker 1>pulls his drink while trying to catch the reflection of

0:24:59.520 --> 0:25:03.160
<v Speaker 1>his face in a mirror on the back wall. As

0:25:03.200 --> 0:25:06.960
<v Speaker 1>he takes his glass, she notices blood spatters on the

0:25:07.000 --> 0:25:11.199
<v Speaker 1>back of his hand. Realizing he is being watched, the

0:25:11.280 --> 0:25:17.520
<v Speaker 1>man swiftly finishes his drink and leaps. Later that day,

0:25:17.560 --> 0:25:20.040
<v Speaker 1>the woman found in the yard of twenty nine Hanbury

0:25:20.080 --> 0:25:24.879
<v Speaker 1>Street will be formally identified as Annie Chapman. She is

0:25:24.920 --> 0:25:27.560
<v Speaker 1>the fourth of what the press have taken to calling

0:25:27.800 --> 0:25:33.280
<v Speaker 1>the White Chapel Murders. Chief Suspect Leather Apron John Pyser.

0:25:34.440 --> 0:25:38.040
<v Speaker 1>Pyser makes a perfect suspect for the press, not least

0:25:38.040 --> 0:25:40.840
<v Speaker 1>of all because he is believed to be Jewish, a

0:25:41.000 --> 0:25:46.720
<v Speaker 1>cast iron boger man, if ever one was needed. Fears

0:25:46.720 --> 0:25:50.199
<v Speaker 1>and frustrations mount throughout the East End when news of

0:25:50.200 --> 0:25:54.359
<v Speaker 1>Annie's murder sweeps through the streets, and with the fixation

0:25:54.680 --> 0:25:58.399
<v Speaker 1>on Leather apron being a Jew. It isn't long before

0:25:58.440 --> 0:26:02.120
<v Speaker 1>some residents are turning their anger toward the Jewish members

0:26:02.119 --> 0:26:07.080
<v Speaker 1>of their community. But finally, after days spent scouring the

0:26:07.119 --> 0:26:13.560
<v Speaker 1>neighborhood for John Peyser, on September tenth, he is apprehended. Sadly,

0:26:13.640 --> 0:26:16.640
<v Speaker 1>for the police and the women of Whitechapel, he has

0:26:16.680 --> 0:26:19.960
<v Speaker 1>a solid alibi for the night of Annie and Polly's murders.

0:26:21.359 --> 0:26:24.959
<v Speaker 1>On the Friday, four days later, a handful of friends

0:26:24.960 --> 0:26:28.639
<v Speaker 1>and family watch as Annie Chapman's body is buried not

0:26:28.800 --> 0:26:33.679
<v Speaker 1>far from Polly Nichols in Manor Park Cemetery. By the

0:26:33.720 --> 0:26:36.280
<v Speaker 1>time Nichols's inquest has drawn to a close on the

0:26:36.320 --> 0:26:39.560
<v Speaker 1>twenty third, it is clear to the police that although

0:26:39.560 --> 0:26:42.040
<v Speaker 1>the choice of victim is not by any means out

0:26:42.080 --> 0:26:45.240
<v Speaker 1>of the ordinary, the manner in which Nichols and Chapman

0:26:45.280 --> 0:26:48.520
<v Speaker 1>were murdered suggests they are dealing with something that not

0:26:48.680 --> 0:26:53.080
<v Speaker 1>many had seen before. As the coroner noted in his

0:26:53.119 --> 0:26:56.880
<v Speaker 1>summing up, the audacity and daring is equal to its

0:26:56.880 --> 0:27:03.119
<v Speaker 1>maniacal fanaticism and abhorrent wickedness. The suggested motive may be wrong,

0:27:03.880 --> 0:27:07.200
<v Speaker 1>but one thing is very clear that murders of a

0:27:07.280 --> 0:27:20.920
<v Speaker 1>most atrocious character have been committed. Three days later, a

0:27:21.080 --> 0:27:24.280
<v Speaker 1>letter arrives at the front desk of the Central News Agency,

0:27:24.960 --> 0:27:27.959
<v Speaker 1>a news distribution service based in the city of London

0:27:28.400 --> 0:27:32.399
<v Speaker 1>that borders the borough of Whitechapel to the west. On

0:27:32.520 --> 0:27:36.760
<v Speaker 1>the envelope written in red ink, it is addressed only

0:27:36.800 --> 0:27:42.159
<v Speaker 1>to the boss. Inside there is a letter, also written

0:27:42.200 --> 0:27:47.200
<v Speaker 1>in red ink and dated twenty fifth September eighteen eighty eight.

0:27:48.320 --> 0:27:53.040
<v Speaker 1>It reads, Dear Boss, I keep on hearing the police

0:27:53.040 --> 0:27:55.800
<v Speaker 1>have court me, but they won't fix me just yet.

0:27:56.720 --> 0:27:59.040
<v Speaker 1>I have laughed when they look so clever and talk

0:27:59.080 --> 0:28:03.080
<v Speaker 1>about being on the right track. That joke about leather

0:28:03.160 --> 0:28:08.200
<v Speaker 1>apron gave me real fit. I am down on horse

0:28:08.520 --> 0:28:11.400
<v Speaker 1>and I shan't quit ripping them till I do get buckled.

0:28:12.680 --> 0:28:16.000
<v Speaker 1>Grand work. The last job was, I gave the lady

0:28:16.280 --> 0:28:19.680
<v Speaker 1>no time to squeal? How can they catch me? Now?

0:28:20.280 --> 0:28:24.119
<v Speaker 1>I love my work and want to start again. You

0:28:24.160 --> 0:28:26.560
<v Speaker 1>will soon hear of me with my funny little games.

0:28:27.560 --> 0:28:29.840
<v Speaker 1>I saved some of the proper red stuff in a

0:28:29.880 --> 0:28:32.359
<v Speaker 1>ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with,

0:28:32.920 --> 0:28:36.200
<v Speaker 1>but it went thick like glue and I can't use it.

0:28:37.000 --> 0:28:41.720
<v Speaker 1>Red Ink is fit enough. I hope the next job

0:28:41.760 --> 0:28:44.240
<v Speaker 1>I do, I shall clip the lady's ears off and

0:28:44.360 --> 0:28:48.200
<v Speaker 1>send to the police officers just for jolly. Keep this

0:28:48.280 --> 0:28:51.960
<v Speaker 1>letter back, then give it out straight. My knife's so

0:28:52.120 --> 0:28:54.720
<v Speaker 1>nice and sharp. I want to get to work right

0:28:54.760 --> 0:28:59.320
<v Speaker 1>away if I get a chance. Good luck, yours truly,

0:29:00.200 --> 0:29:07.600
<v Speaker 1>Jack the Ripper. Part two of the Square will be

0:29:07.640 --> 0:29:13.600
<v Speaker 1>out Tuesday, October two. If you enjoy listening to Unexplained

0:29:13.840 --> 0:29:16.400
<v Speaker 1>and would like to help supporters, you can now go

0:29:16.480 --> 0:29:21.920
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0:29:22.080 --> 0:29:27.760
<v Speaker 1>no matter how large or small, are massively appreciated. All

0:29:27.760 --> 0:29:31.000
<v Speaker 1>elements of Unexplained are produced by me, Richard McClain smith.

0:29:31.360 --> 0:29:33.840
<v Speaker 1>Please subscribe and rate the show on night tunes. Feel

0:29:33.840 --> 0:29:36.000
<v Speaker 1>free to get in touch with any thoughts or ideas

0:29:36.040 --> 0:29:39.160
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0:29:39.200 --> 0:29:41.160
<v Speaker 1>have an explanation of your own you'd like to share.

0:29:41.920 --> 0:29:44.640
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