Casefile True Crime - Case 308: Ruth Finley

Episode Date: March 1, 2025

In the late 1970s, Wichita secretary Ruth Finley began to receive cryptic letters and chilling threats from a mysterious figure known only as ‘The Poet.’ For years, The Poet tormented Ruth and her husband, Ed, leaving them in a constant state of confusion and fear. Despite relentless efforts from the police, The Poet continued to evade detection. But as the investigation unfolded, the truth that emerged left everyone questioning what was real.---Narration – Anonymous HostResearch & writing – Milly RasoCreative direction – Milly RasoProduction and music – Mike MigasMusic – Andrew D.B. JoslynAudio editing – Anthony TelferSign up for Casefile Premium:Apple PremiumSpotify PremiumPatreonFor all credits and sources, please visit https://casefilepodcast.com/case-308-ruth-finley Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Dr. Jordan B. Peterson, an evening to transform your life. If you say the truth and nothing else, you'll have an immense adventure as a consequence. You won't know what's going to happen to you, but the truth will reveal the world the way it's intended to be revealed, and the consequence for you will be that you'll have the adventure of your life. Live at Scotiabank Arena, March 6th. Get tickets now at libnation.com. With the Fizz loyalty program, you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan. You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off

with your mobile plan, you're not with Fizz. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at fizz.ca. Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local crisis centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support and for a more detailed list of content warnings, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. It was getting late on Tuesday October 15 1946 when 16 year old Ruth Smock was startled by the sound of a screen door creaking behind her. Ruth had recently moved into a rooming house in Fort Scott, Kansas to attend a larger high school that offered more varied classes than the one in her rural Missouri hometown.

Living in the city also allowed Ruth to work part time as a telephone operator for Southwestern Bell so she could save some money. The problem was, Ruth lived alone and she wasn't expecting any visitors that evening. A chilling realisation quickly set in. She had left the front door unlocked after returning home from the grocery store earlier. An unfamiliar man was now standing in her apartment. The man was tall, appeared to be in his 50s, and was dressed in dirty bib overalls, the kind typically worn by farmers. He greeted Ruth casually, saying, hi sis, before reaching for a wall switch and turning off the lights.

Moving quickly, the stranger grabbed Ruth and tore at her clothes. She fought back and managed to press her thumbs into his eyes. This only enraged him further. "'I'll fix you so no one will look at you again,' he threatened, shoving a rag against Ruth's face. Ruth felt herself growing dizzy and drowsy. Her vision blurred. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed completely was the man heating a flat iron on the kitchen stove. By the time Ruth regained consciousness, it was seven thirty the next morning. She was sprawled on the kitchen floor, her clothes torn with cuts and scratches across her legs, neck, and face. These wounds were superficial, unlike the injuries to her thighs.

Both of Ruth's legs bore painful first-degree burns, which had been branded onto her flesh by the flatiron. Ruth stayed silent on the floor until she was sure her attacker was no longer there. She then called her parents, who contacted the police. They deduced that Ruth's attacker had soaked the rag he pressed to her face with chloroform, a sweet smelling anesthetic, before burning her legs while she lay unconscious. Although a physician confirmed that Ruth hadn't been raped, police were certain the crime was sexually motivated. Ruth was brought to her parents' home to recover but later moved in with a family friend as the thought of staying in her apartment overwhelms her with such intense dread

that it made her physically ill. Meanwhile, the violent incident made the local newspapers as authorities worked to identify the man responsible. By 1977, 31 years had passed since Ruth Smock was attacked. 47-year-old Ruth now went by the last name Finley after marrying her high school sweetheart, 49-year-old Ed. The Finleys lived in a modest, single-storey wood-frame house on a dead-end street in Wichita, Kansas, 150 miles west of Fort Scott. One warm June afternoon, Ed was taking a break from building a patio in the backyard when he suddenly collapsed. Ruth frantically called for an ambulance and Ed was rushed to the hospital, where he regained consciousness in the emergency department. It was initially thought that Ed had suffered a heart attack due to the strenuous outdoor work,

but doctors kept him overnight for further tests to make an official diagnosis. In the meantime, Ruth returned home alone, overwhelmed at the thought of almost losing her husband. She called the couple's two adult sons, as well as other family and friends, to update them on his condition. As the night wore on, Ruth anxiously waited for an update from the hospital. She kept herself occupied with the television and radio, but this only made her anxiety worse. A serial killer had been targeting women in Kansas, and the media was obsessed with reporting on the lurid details of his crimes, which involved breaking into victims' homes and committing

gruesome acts of sexualised violence. Being home alone at night did little to calm Ruth's nerves. Every creak and crack she heard only heightened her unease. Then, at around 10.30pm, the phone rang. When Ruth answered, a male voice on the other line asked, is this Ruth Smock from Fort Scott, Kansas? The question struck her as odd. Ruth had been married since 1950, and few people in her life knew her maiden name. The only connection she still had to her past in Fort Scott was her ongoing employment with South Western Bell, though she now worked as a secretary in the company's Wichita office. Assuming the caller was an old acquaintance, Ruth confirmed her identity.

The man began asking about her past, specifically the rooming house she had lived in when she was sixteen. He then asked cryptically, do you still wear your brands? Feeling uneasy about his intrusive questions, Ruth cautiously gave vague answers. This irritated the caller, who snapped, look, I know all about that night. Confused, Ruth replied, I don't know what you're talking about. The man then read out what sounded like a newspaper article. Branded on both thighs by a hot flat iron, Ruth Smock, 16 year old Fort Scott High School girl, was resting today at the home of her parents following an attack upon her early last night by a man police called a sex maniac. The caller continued recounting the violent assault against Ruth from over 30 years

earlier. While Ruth's physical wounds from that night had healed, the case had never been solved. She had pushed the terrifying experience to the back of her mind, choosing to move forward with her life. It wasn't something she discussed with anyone, not even her sons knew about it. The caller explained that he worked for a construction company and had recently discovered a stack of old newspapers while demolishing a building in Fort Scott. He claimed he'd found embarrassing stories about three people and planned to call them all, starting with Ruth. The caller told Ruth he knew where she lived and worked, and threatened to leave a copy of the article about her attack where everyone in her life could see it.

However, he said he'd reconsider if Ruth sent him money. At that point, Ruth hung up the phone. The strange call left Ruth shaken. Not only did it force her to confront a part of her past she had long since buried, she feared the man trying to extort her might show up at her house to confront her in person. Yet the night passed without incident, and the next morning Ruth visited her husband in the hospital. By then, Ed's sudden collapse had been linked to an untreated injury from a car accident the previous year. Although Ruth was relieved to learn that Ed's heart was healthy, he remained in the hospital for several more days to recover. Meanwhile, Ruth nervously waited to see if the extorter would contact her again, but he didn't.

By the time Ed returned home, life for the Finleys returned to normal. Ruth didn't tell Ed about the caller, choosing to act as though nothing had ever happened. Less than a month later, in early July, Ruth was sitting in her office at South Western Bell going through her Daily Mail when she came across a peculiar brown envelope. Her name was written on it in childlike handwriting, but there was no address. Ruth realised the envelope must have been hand delivered as there was no way it could have made it to her through the postal system without an address printed on it. Inside was a yellowed newspaper clipping from the Fort Scott Tribune. It was the same article detailing the 1946 attack on teenage Ruth that the anonymous caller had

read to her weeks before. Startled, Ruth tore up the article and threw it in the trash. Ruth's parents had raised her to be self-reliant, instilling in her the belief that emotions should be repressed and personal problems handled privately. As a result, Ruth chose not to tell Ed about the harassment. Over the following months, the man called the Finlay home six more times. As soon as Ruth recognised his voice, she hung up immediately. Occasionally, Ed answered the phone, only to hear a dial tone. He assumed they were being pranked by mischievous children. Ruth kept the truth secret, along with the fact that her chronic headaches were getting worse. She just hoped the stranger would leave her alone once he realised she wasn't willing

to engage with him. By August, two months had passed since the anonymous caller first contacted Ruth. She was walking the streets of downtown Wichita after finishing work for the day, waiting for Ed's shift to end so they could carpool home together. As she crossed the road at the corner of Broadway and Douglas, a male voice suddenly said, "'You've done a good job at work this week. You can take the weekend off.'" Ruth realised the comment was directed at her. It had come from a stranger who was walking alongside her. He was tall, lean and appeared to be in his late forties with brown eyes and black

hair that was beginning to grey. He seemed innocuous, dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt and white tennis shoes. The man tried to engage Ruth in small talk, but she wasn't interested and barely acknowledged him. Undeterred, he kept pace, his questions growing more pointed. You work for the telephone company, don't you?" Despite Ruth's clear disinterest, he pressed on. What do you do there? Are you an operator? Ruth remained silent as the man rambled on about his love of gambling in Las Vegas, even inviting her to join him for a trip there sometime. He then began talking about his interest in photography. Annoyed, Ruth turned her attention to the nearby shop windows, hoping the man would take the hint and leave her alone. When it became clear that he wasn't getting the message, Ruth finally said she was waiting for her husband. The man then asked,

are you still married? Fed up, Ruth said nothing. The man's friendly demeanor abruptly changed. He leaned in close and said menacingly, I like your face. I'll see you again. You can count on that. Some people's fantasies are other people's nightmares." With that, he stormed off. Ruth met up with Ed shortly afterward and told him about the unsettling encounter. Despite his wife's unease, Ed assumed the man had been flirting with her and had reacted poorly to her rejection. Privately, Ruth couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that he might have been the same man who'd been trying to blackmail her. But as the months passed, the troubling calls stopped and the man in the city didn't reappear.

Nearly a year later, in July 1978, Ruth was walking the streets of Wichita during her lunch break when a hand suddenly shot out from an alleyway and gripped her wrist tightly. She turned to find the man who had accosted her eleven months earlier. Frightened, she broke free and sprinted across the street as the man yelled, Ruth, get back here you stupid bitch and talk to me. Ruth darted into a nearby department store, rushed into an elevator, and frantically pressed the button for the fifth floor. When the doors reopened, she hurried out and concealed herself among the shop displays, hoping the man wouldn't find her. As time passed, Ruth's nerves began to settle. Eventually, she left the store and made her way to a payphone.

She called her husband, telling him to come and get her right away. When Ed arrived, Ruth finally broke down and told him everything about the harassment she'd endured over the past year. Ed was shocked and upset to learn what his wife had been dealing with in silence. was shocked and upset to learn what his wife had been dealing with in silence. He drove her to the police station to file a report, but the officer the Finley spoke to never followed up with them, leaving the couple uncertain as to whether their case had been investigated or brushed aside. Months later, Ruth was at home when the mail arrived. An envelope addressed to her in large black block letters caught her attention. Inside was a single sheet of lined paper. It featured the same childlike handwriting that had been on the envelope she received the previous year that had contained the newspaper article about her 1946

attack. Scrawled at the top of the page was the line, fuck you, fuck the police, fuck the telephone company. The rest of the letter's contents were a rambling mess, filled with poor spelling, grammar and punctuation. Yet, scattered throughout were several complex words that seemed oddly out of place. In essence, the writer demanded money from Ruth and threatened to hurt her if she didn't comply. Ruth showed the letter to her husband and they took it to the Wichita Police Department headquarters. Ruth was certain that she had no connection to her harasser. She was well liked with no known enemies and couldn't think of a single person who would target her so maliciously. The Finleys were introduced to the seasoned detectives of the Major Crimes Division.

Ruth and Ed were surprised that their case had been escalated to such an elite unit. They would soon learn the troubling reason why. Wichita had spent the last three years gripped by fear it had never felt before. The city's first known serial killer had claimed the lives of seven victims, including four members of the same family. The killer had adopted the moniker BTK Strangler, which was short for Bind, Torture, Kill, a reflection of his sadistic method of attack. His crimes made headlines and were a hot topic among locals who lived in a state of perpetual terror, uncertainty and suspicion. By late 1978, police had no substantial leads on who the BTK

strangler was, only vague witness descriptions and a series of graphic taunting letters that he'd sent to authorities and media outlets. In them, the BTK Strangler detailed his crimes and sometimes included disturbing cryptic poems. Most were handwritten in distinct blocky handwriting. Most were handwritten in distinct blocky handwriting. When Wichita's Major Crimes Division learned of Ruth Finley's case, they noted troubling similarities to BTK's MO, but there were enough differences to prevent an unequivocal connection. Since Ruth didn't appear to be in immediate life-threatening danger, her case was relegated to the bottom of the pile of leads the division was sorting through in the larger investigation.

A week later, Ruth received another letter. Filled with similar writing errors to the previous one, this long-winded note demanded that Ruth leave $100 under a seat in Ed's pickup truck and park it in a location where the cash could be collected. The author made it clear that they knew Ruth had enlisted the help of her husband, her colleagues at Southwestern Bell, and even the police, warning, I can tell if anybody is watching me. Don't be a dumb bitch again and blow this. I will have to see you soon if you do." The letter ended with a poem. Wherever you go, on water or land, you still got to pay or I'll tell about your brand.

tell about your brand. I am smart and know things to do. You talk to people I despise, like police lieutenant and telespies." Ruth took the letter to the police, and soon more arrived, each more erratic, illegible and profane than the last. The writing featured near incomprehensible abbreviations and was sometimes penned upside down, backwards, or scribbled in circles at the corners of the page. The police struggled to make sense of them. Ruth took it upon herself to type out the content of each letter in an effort to clarify and decode them. Though poorly written, the letters contained sophisticated words like prolegomenos, constantaneous, and jacktotation, suggesting that the author was more intelligent than they were letting on. Ruth had to look up these words in the dictionary to understand their meaning.

Ruth had to look up these words in the dictionary to understand their meaning. She also discovered that some of the letter's elaborate terms like Sanchus and psychosthenia were entirely made up. The author remained fascinated by Ruth's past and frequently mentioned wanting to see her brands, a reference to the burns she had sustained in her teens. She passed her research on to the police, who were grateful for her help, but still didn't treat the situation with urgency. At the same time, the troubling phone calls resumed. If Ruth answered, the man simply said, Ruth, before hanging up. If Ed answered, the caller immediately hung up. One day, Ed decided to stay on the line and wait to see what happened. Several minutes of silence passed before Ed was startled by a whistling sound blowing down the line.

down the line. Who is this? he demanded. An unfamiliar voice finally spoke up. This is the damnedest thing. I was walking by this phone here at the post office downtown and it's just hanging off the hook. Who are you? It was a bust. Whoever had made the call had fled the area. was a bust. Whoever had made the call had fled the area. By October 1978, the call stopped. The Finleys were relieved, thinking the man had finally given up and moved on, marking the end of their 16-month ordeal. Case file will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. Give the perfect gift that keeps on giving, an Aura frame. It's one that friends and family are sure to love and has been named the best digital photo frame by Wirecutter.

Aura frames come with a vivid HD display, unlimited storage, and the ability to preload the frame with photos and videos. Right now you can get $25 off Aura's best-selling Carver matte frames by using promo code A-CAST. Just visit AuraFrames.com. That's A-U-R-A-Frames.com promo code A-CAST. Conditions apply. Dr. Jordan B. Peterson, an evening to transform your life. If you say the truth and nothing else, you'll have an immense adventure as a consequence. You won't know what's going to happen to you, but the truth will reveal the world the way it's intended to be revealed.

And the consequence for you will be that you'll have the adventure of your life. Live at Scotiabank Arena March 6th. Get tickets now at LiveNation.com. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. It was cold and wet in Wichita on the afternoon of Tuesday November 21, 1978 when Ruth Finlay stepped out on her lunch break to run a few errands. After picking up a

birthday card for a friend, she crossed North Market Street and was struck by an unnerving feeling that she was being followed. She turned around, but no one was there. Ruth continued on her way when, all of a sudden, an old blue-green 1964 Chevrolet Bel Air pulled up to the curb, blocking her path. A man jumped out of the vehicle and demanded, have you got my money? It was the man Ruth had encountered twice before, this time wearing a denim jacket over a sweater and black framed glasses. He demanded that Ruth get into his car, but she froze in fear, unable to move or speak. The man kicked Ruth hard in the shin, causing her to double over in pain. He then forced her into the back seat of the Bel Air and

climbed in beside her. A second man sat behind the wheel. He hit the accelerator and the car shot forward. The car had seen better days. The tattered backseat was cluttered with the junk that Ruth assumed had come from a farm – gas cans, chunks of concrete, chains, and rags. farm. Gas cans, chunks of concrete, chains, and rags. The left rear window was taped with plastic, the passenger door was bashed in, and the dashboard was patched with white tape. As they drove along, the two men talked incessantly, taking long swigs from a bottle wrapped in brown paper that they passed between them. Ruth strained to catch as much of their conversation as she could. She deduced that the driver was called Buddy, but she didn't catch the name of the man who'd grabbed her. The man soon turned his attention back to Ruth and demanded

she give him her purse. Ruth handed it over and the man rummaged through it before announcing gleefully, we've struck it rich. But his mood soured when he found a business card for one of the detectives working on her case. He showed it to Buddy and the two men exchanged a volley of angry profanities. Without warning, the man struck Ruth in the side of the face with a chunk of concrete, barking, you damn stupid bitch. Ruth sat back, dazed and silent, while Buddy drove aimlessly through the city. She occasionally caught glimpses of her cap door wielding a switchblade. She occasionally caught glimpses of her cap door wielding a switchblade.

Thoughts of escape crossed her mind, but the door handle next to her was broken, and she wasn't sure she'd survive if she jumped from the speeding car. Her purse had been returned, and inside it was a can of mace, but she couldn't figure out how to retrieve it without the man noticing. At one point, Ruth overheard Buddy ominously say, wait until dark. Her anxiety spiked when he pulled into the parking lot of the Twin Lakes shopping centre. The other man muttered, we'll get rid of her, but not here. The other man muttered, We'll get rid of her, but not here.

Meanwhile, back at South Western Belle, Ruth's colleagues noticed that she hadn't returned from lunch. Calls were made to Ed Finley and then to the police, but without anyone knowing Ruth's exact location, her situation grew dire. Hours passed and the sun set as Ruth's captors continued driving her around town. All the while, Ruth despaired over what might be in store for her. At one point, the man in the back seat sneered, Do you like beer? We'll get some beer and have a party. I'll be real nice to you. By the fourth hour of her ordeal, Ruth finally found the courage to speak up, telling the man that she needed to use the restroom. They laughed at her, so Ruth forced herself to gag, explaining that she would throw up if she didn't get to a toilet. Although they seemed dubious, Buddy pulled up at a small park near West 21st Street and Salina, close to the little Arkansas River. To prevent Ruth from fleeing,

the men ordered that she hand over her coat and shoes. Ruth's captor got out of the car and dragged her by the arm into the park, remarking, I'll watch you and you'll watch me. Doesn't that sound like fun? As they walked, Ruth discreetly tucked her hand into her purse, gripping the can of mace. When they reached a small lake, the man released his hold on Ruth so that he could urinate first. As he unzipped his pants, Ruth grabbed the mace and sprayed it at him. The man collapsed in a coughing fit, giving Ruth the opportunity to flee. Barefoot, she darted across the muddy ground, slid down an embankment, and crouched behind a large bush. She heard the man yell, "'You'll freeze if we leave you here. Come and get your shoes and your coat,

and we won't bother you anymore.'" Ruth remained silent, her body shivering and her feet numb from the cold. She stayed hidden in the dark until the man stopped shouting and she sensed he had gone. Ruth crept out from behind the bush and climbed back up the small rise, scanning the area for the Bel Air. It was nowhere to be seen. She quickly left the park and ran to a liquor store across the road, yelling, someone's after me. The store clerk immediately called the police, who arrived to collect Ruth and take her to the station, where she was reunited with her husband dad. Ruth learned that her abductors had stolen her $315 paycheck, a $100 US savings bond, and a few other random items, including some stationery. Police examined the park where Ruth had been taken. They found her shoes and coat near the embankment

she had fled down, along with footprints showing her escape route. However, the assailants had left behind no other clues. A localised check on every model of Chevrolet that matched Ruth's description was conducted, with each vehicle tracked down and ruled out. description was conducted, with each vehicle tracked down and ruled out. Detectives also revisited the 1946 attack on Ruth, travelling to Fort Scott to search for leads. In the meantime, Ruth continued to receive long rambling letters from her tormentor. In one, he enclosed the stationery that was stolen from her purse, confirming that the letter-writer and the abductor were one and the same. In another letter, he accused Ruth of deliberately confusing him. He claimed to have mistaken Ruth's

sister, Jean, for her, a common mistake as the two sisters looked alike. Jean was rattled when she learned that the man had been mistakenly stalking her as well. Ruth tried to reassure her, saying, He doesn't want you. He wants me. Ruth was in a state of despair. Her headaches were now a daily occurrence and accompanied by crippling abdominal pain. Things worsened when the man began leaving letters about Ruth throughout Wichita and writing to the local papers. This thrust Ruth into the spotlight and made the otherwise private and reserved woman the subject of local gossip. The man claimed he was a poet, though people didn't know it. This, along with his habit

for penning violent and sexual rhymes, led to him being referred to as the poet. Sometimes his poems were long and elaborate, other times they were short and simple, resembling children's rhymes. In his writings he called Ruth a whore, an accusation that seemed completely unfounded. Detectives spoke at length with Ruth and concluded that she was a kind, upstanding, church-going woman who was fiercely devoted to her husband. This wasn't a case of a married woman living a secret double life. They could tell Ruth's fear was genuine and that she truly had no idea who the poet was or why she was being targeted. Despite this, the poet continued to imply a personal connection between them, writing, You know in your fucked up mind you are going to die. You don't know when, but you do know why.

In a letter to local newspaper The Eagle Beacon, the poet gloated about his anonymity. newspaper The Eagle Beacon, the poet gloated about his anonymity. Good or evil, my secret shall not be known. I unnoticed go my way. I may just prosper for one day. He also scolded the publication for mentioning both him and the BTK Strangler in the same article, warning them not to confuse the executioners again. I am not dangerous, he claimed, just to those who are too dumb to do what they are told. He even sent a letter to a detective overseeing Ruth's case, accusing him of protecting our quote, whore from death. In an effort to generate more leads, the detective appeared on a live radio talk show and described Ruth's ordeal in detail. During the broadcast, Ruth listened closely to each incoming call to the radio station,

but none of the callers sounded like her stalker. Each night, while Ruth slept, Ed kept watch over the house, hiding in the bushes armed with a 12-gauge shotgun and a revolver. The Finleys continued to receive letters sporadically into 1979, sometimes as many as two at a time. They tried to maintain a sense of normalcy in their lives, even preparing for their annual trip to a ranch resort in western Colorado. On Monday, August 13, while Ruth was packing for the trip, she realised she needed a new pair of jeans. Putting her fears aside, she drove to Town East Mall and bought what she needed a new pair of jeans. Putting her fears aside, she drove to Town East Mall and bought what she needed. By the time she finished shopping, it was late and the sun was setting. As she walked back to her car, Ruth was struck by the unsettling sensation that someone was following her. However, each time she turned around, the parking lot seemed deserted,

with no one in sight. Nervous, Ruth hurried toward her car when a familiar voice called out. Hey Ruth, I didn't know you were going to make this so easy. Ruth broke into a sprint. She reached her car and jammed a key into the door, but it wouldn't open. She had used the wrong key. A gloved hand appeared from behind her and grabbed her wrist. It was the same man who had abducted her the year before. He pushed Ruth's head against the car and ordered her to get in, tossing a brown paper shopping bag through the partially open rear window. We'll go to a nice little place where it says, keep out, he said. Ruth pushed the man away and tried to run, but within seconds he pulled an 8-inch boning knife from his

pocket and stabbed her twice in the back and once in the side. Fuelled by adrenaline and desperation, Ruth scrambled into her car. The man reached through the open driver's side window, but she managed to wind it up quickly, trapping his hand for a moment before he withdrew. Ruth started the engine and sped off, the boning knife still lodged in her side. Blood soaked into the car seat as she fought back tears, her body wracked with pain. She pulled into a gas station and called the police from a payphone. They urged her to stay put, but terrified that the man might be following her, Ruth got back into her car and drove home. By the time she arrived, her vision blurred and she was on the verge of passing out.

Ed rushed to Ruth the moment she pulled up. He gently moved her into the passenger seat and drove to the hospital, while Ruth drifted in and out of consciousness. The doctors concluded that Ruth had been incredibly lucky. If the knife had been a fraction of an inch deeper, her kidney would have been punctured and she would have died. The paper bag her attacker threw into her back seat painted a harrowing image of his intentions. It contained clothesline rope, white tape, a red bandana, and a half-empty bottle of wine. After a successful surgery and nine days of recovery under 24-hour police protection, Ruth was cleared to return home. Before she arrived, the police thoroughly examined every inch of the Finley's house and deemed it safe. Not long after Ruth was released from hospital, a detective arrived at the Finley's door,

visibly shaken. He explained that he'd received a call from the hospital where Ruth had been treated. A man had shown up, asking specifically for her. A nurse believed he might have been Ruth's assailant, but by the time authorities arrived, he'd already left. Fearing for her safety, police quietly moved Ruth to a safe location. In the days that followed, they kept the Finley's house under constant surveillance, but the man didn't appear. News of Ruth's stabbing made headlines across Wichita, with composite sketches of the offender

widely circulated and a $3,000 reward offered for information leading to his capture. At one point, the Poet case generated more tips than the higher-profile BTK Strangler investigation. Detectives began looking into individuals with criminal backgrounds that matched the poet's behaviour. They showed Ruth photos of potential suspects, but she ruled each of them out. At one stage, the investigation turned toward the Finleys themselves. Ed was questioned thoroughly, but he assured the police that he would never hurt his wife. The FBI compared his handwriting with that of the poet and determined it wasn't a match.

Additionally, a medical report ruled out the possibility that Ruth could have inflicted the stab wounds to herself at such an angle and with such force. An independent doctor reached the same conclusion. For a while, Ruth was closely monitored by eight plainclothes police officers as she went about her daily activities outside the home. On some occasions, a detective hid out of sight in the back of her car armed with a shotgun. Others patrolled the city in unmarked police cars or went undercover, spending weeks lurking through Wichita, keeping an eye out for the poet. But he managed to elude them. In an attempt to lure him out, Ed Finley posted a coded message in the classified section of

the Eagle Beacon. The ad read, Poet, tell me what I owe you. It was signed with Ruth's initials, RSF. To Ed's surprise, the poet seemingly responded, To RSF, the price of my service, to stay alive, can now be settled at five. The cryptic nature of the message left Ed and the police baffled. The poet continued to communicate to them through the newspaper, though his messages offered no new or helpful information.

As time wore on, Ruth's fear gave way to profound depression. She felt utterly helpless, resigned to the belief that the poet would eventually get her. The sense of dread grew when the Finleys found another letter from the poet wedged in the slats of their front porch, marking the first time he'd personally delivered a letter to their home. At night, they began hearing strange noises coming from their garage, leading them to believe someone was lurking there. Then, on Christmas Eve of 1979, their phone lines were cut. Ruth agreed to undergo hypnosis in an attempt to uncover any suppressed memories of her abduction and stabbing. In the first session, she quickly slipped into a trance and recounted the events in vivid detail, even shouting, I want out of the car, as she relived the abduction.

However, no new insights emerged from this first session. During her second session a few days later, Ruth recalled that her attacker had mentioned something about a bridge over a river near the airfield east of town. Detectives followed this fresh lead and eventually located a bridge matching Ruth's description, but they couldn't determine its relevance to the case. Later, the poet sent the police written instructions to meet him at the bridge, but he never showed up. In another letter, he referred to a box full of things the police would love to find, allegedly near a rocky stream. Officers spent eight hours digging

along a dry riverbed near the airfield, but found nothing. Riverbed near the airfield, but found nothing. The psychologist who had hypnotised Ruth suggested that the poet might have received psychological treatment or spent time in a state institution. He described the attacker as withdrawn, seclusive, secretive and suspicious. After reviewing the poet's letters, the psychologist confirmed that the author was highly intelligent. A prominent psycholinguist created a psychological profile of the poet, describing him as severely psychotic, schizophrenic, pathologically paranoid, and a loner with a deep sense of persecution.

Although he acknowledged that the poet and the BTK strangler shared a highly similar style and pathology, he didn't believe they were the same person. While the investigation kept stalling, the letters to Ruth continued to arrive. One read, You'll not go directly to your tomb. Your mind must give thought. There will be gloom. Your face no more will anyone meet.

At home, day or night, or in the street. Your mind is beaten, dark, forever more hid. All because of what you did. This game is fun to plan and plot, but can you stop me? No, you cannot." The poet remained active into 1980 and a new officer in command was assigned to oversee the case. The poet mocked him in a letter, writing, There once was a captain who had an asshole for a heart. The Finley's house gate was rigged with an alarm and the police hid a surveillance camera in a birdhouse in the backyard. The wires snaked through a garden hose leading to a monitor on the Finley's dining table, producing a live feed. Police officers worked round the clock to monitor the feed 24-7,

but eventually, the poet managed to inconspicuously cut the garden hose. In January, Ruth received a call at work. In January, Ruth received a call at work. "'I have a surprise for you in the lobby,' the poet said, before abruptly hanging up. Ruth immediately contacted the police, who arrived to find a 12-inch butcher knife wrapped in a red bandana in the lobby's phone booth. Two witnesses reported seeing a man matching the poet's description near the booth, but he had left by the time authorities arrived. Two days later, Ruth received another chilling poem. Shut your eyes and think of the twelve-inch blade. Will you remember the hole it made?

Dream of me and obey my commands. Think of me with a knife in my hands." In February, the poet sent Ruth a strip of red bandana tied with twine accompanied by a letter that read, "'Here's to you tender Valentine, red with blood and tied with twine. Nothing too much for a valentine, gone from here by whim of mind." By this point, the Finley's entire life was consumed by the poet. Much of their day was spent examining their home for letters, attempting to decode his latest ramblings, speaking with the police, and worrying about his next move. They barely slept, with Ed reaching for his gun at every creek in the night. The poet went to great lengths to upend every facet of Ruth's life. He sent a letter to a

local florist instructing them to deliver a single black flower to her. He wrote to Ruth's bank, demanding the transfer of all her funds. He contacted the Kansas Department of Motor Vehicles, falsely claiming that Ruth had been driving recklessly and urging them to revoke her driver's licence. Utility providers received letters requesting that the Finley household's gas and electricity be shut off. A locksmith was asked to create a new set of keys for their home, while a construction company was instructed to dump a mound of dirt in their driveway. A towing company was told to collect the Finleys' vehicles, and the health department was falsely informed that Ruth was spreading venereal diseases.

The most chilling correspondence was sent to a local mortuary, warning them that Ruth would soon be in need of their services. Detectives compared the poet's handwriting to samples from a wide range of sources, but no match was found. The letters underwent extensive analysis, focusing on word choice, phrasing, and writing patterns, but these efforts also yielded no results. Chemical testing for fingerprints or saliva on the envelopes came up inconclusive. At one stage, the police received a call from someone claiming to be Buddy, one of the men who had abducted Ruth back in November 1978. The man promised to call back, but never followed through. Numerous hoaxes and mentally ill

individuals also claimed to be the poet, further complicating the investigation. In early June 1980, the first letter from the poet arrived that wasn't postmarked from Wichita, but from Oklahoma City, 160 miles to the south. Around the same time, police received an anonymous tip saying that a man resembling the poet was living in a trailer west of the city, having been fired from his job seven months earlier. Detectives looked into his psychological profile, which appeared to match the poet's. Hopeful that they finally had a promising lead, they organised for Ruth Finley to view the man in a police line-up. She determined that he was not her stalker.

Over a month and a half later, the poet escalated once more, leaving a bottle of urine on the Finley's front porch. This was just one of many disturbing items he had placed on the couple's property during his reign of terror. Among the other objects were an ice pick, firecrackers, cigarettes, hair, matches, and trash. On several occasions, the Finleys discovered ingredients for Molotov cocktails. Eggs were thrown at their house, broken glass was scattered on their front steps,

and the lock on their gate was damaged. Ed was horrified when he found a bag containing feces. The situation reached a horrifying peak in December 1980. The Finleys were watching television in their basement one Sunday night when they were startled by the sound of glass smashing. Rushing upstairs, they found that the Christmas wreath on their front door had been set alight, the flames cracking the glass in the door. Ed quickly put out the blaze, then grabbed a pair of garden shears and sprinted down the road, intent on confronting the poet. But he never caught up with him.

Afterwards, the poet sent the couple a chilling poem written in the style of the famous Christmas classic, Twas the Night Before Christmas. The verses ominously warned of Ruth's impending death. Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, Ruth wasn't stirring. You're as quiet as a mouse. Your stocking was tight around your neck with care. I hoped the lieutenant would not soon be there." Fearing an attack, a detective spent Christmas Eve at the Finley's home as they hosted a family get-together. During the night, the Finley's phone lines were cut for a second time, without anyone hearing a thing.

Another holiday-themed poem alluded to Ruth's seedy past of sexual impropriety, saying, "...Once upon the night so dreary, premonitions of disaster keep you weary. The whore bore her guilt in her bed of slime from selling her ass and not charging a dime. Slept with strangers in evil bed, enraged demon hunters saw blood was red. All bitches should keep their names and faces secret. Defenseless instincts released with demonic sluts threats. Blurred vision and suffering in accuser's cage, umbilical cord connected by seed in a rage. In January 1981, the Finley's phone lines were cut for a third time. However, after the poet's previous attack, South Western Bell had buried the replacement lines underground and installed dummy wires to prevent further sabotage. It was only those dummy wires

that were severed. In February, investigators set a trap for the poet by fitting Ruth with a bulletproof vest and letting her walk around to downtown Wichita accompanied by an undercover detective. The poet never appeared, but he wrote a letter after which read, I saw her Friday, but she was with some other female. This confirmed to detectives that the poet was observing Ruth in real time. in real time. In March, the poet threatened to kill Ruth on St. Patrick's Day. On April Fool's Day, he threw pieces of concrete at the Finley's house. By this point, police had investigated over 300 individuals amassing 14 large binders of information. Weeks were spent surveilling potential leads, examining criminal histories,

and executing search warrants, yet all their efforts proved futile. Despite the significant time and resources invested, the police were left with nothing but the growing pile of anonymous letters. Ruth Finley kept all of the poet's letters stored in a notebook, telling the press, I wonder how long it takes him to write this crap. He doesn't do a bad job of writing poetry. Some of them are kind of funny. However, she admitted that the contents of some of the letters made her stomach ache, particularly the one sent at Christmas, which frightened her the most. Ed Finley said of the poet, I don't think he's crazy or insane. I'm sure he's a coward. He knows what he's doing, what the risks

are. As time dragged on and the poet remained unidentified, Ruth's mental and emotional health spiralled. She confided in her sister that she felt as though she were coming out of her body, though she struggled to articulate what that meant. Ruth often spent hours staring blankly out of the windows of her home, disconnected from the world around her. The constant anxiety and fear left her body aching with persistent cramps and pains which she believed were physical manifestations of the overwhelming stress she was under. Ruth was also plagued by vivid nightmares. In one, she reached the top of a stairwell with the poet close behind her, only to find that the door at the top wouldn't open, allowing him to grab her. In another, she was surrounded by police

but couldn't get their attention as the poet closed in. Panicking, Ruth ran into the street, only to be struck by a bus. There were also moments where Ruth's sense of reality seemed to slip. She could be going about her daily routine when she'd suddenly feel as though the world was spinning out of control. After one of these dizzying episodes, she woke up on the bathroom floor, disoriented and confused. Privately, Ruth had reached a breaking point and was planning to take her own life. On Wednesday October 1, 1981, just over four years after Ruth Finley's ordeal began, her husband Ed arrived at the Wichita Police Department headquarters with another letter from the poet. This one contained a poem resembling Shirley Locks, a piece penned by the still

unidentified BTK Strangler in 1978. Ed intended to simply hand the letter over for the police's records and return to work, but instead he was escorted into an interview room. Confused and taken off guard, Ed was immediately read his rights. He was then questioned about his relationship with Ruth from their first meeting to the recent attacks. After he answered their questions, the detectives delivered a shocking statement. We know who the poet is, Ed. Casefile will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at phys.ca. Give the perfect gift that keeps on giving. An Aura Frame. It's one that friends and family are sure to love and has been named the best digital photo frame by Wirecutter.

Aura Frames come with a vivid HD display, unlimited storage, and the ability to preload the frame with photos and videos. Right now you can get $25 off Aura's best-selling Carver Mac Frames by using promo code ACAST. Just visit AuraFrames.com. That's A-U-R-ver Mac Frames by using promo code ACAST. Just visit AuraFrames.com. That's A-U-R-A-Frames.com promo code ACAST. Conditions apply. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content." A few weeks earlier, a letter had arrived from the poet that differed from the others.

In it, he claimed that once he was finished with Ruth Finley, he would be turning his attention to a new target, the wife of Wichita's Chief of Police, Richard Lemunion. The letter included personal details about Chief Lemunion's wife, including the make and model of her car and the route she regularly drove home from the city. Normally, Chief Lemunyan adopted a hands-off approach, trusting his officers to manage their investigations independently. However, with the Poet case now striking close to home, he took the threat personally. Over the weekend, Chief Lemunyan immersed himself in the Poet's massive case file, meticulously combing through every little detail. By Sunday evening, he was convinced he had solved the case.

Chief Lamanian held a confidential meeting with sixteen of his officers who had worked tirelessly on the Poe case over the years. Many of them had become personally acquainted with the Finleys, some even forming close friendships with Ruth and Ed beyond the confines of the investigation. By all accounts, the Finleys were warm, hospitable people who were deeply grateful for the dedication the police had shown in trying to bring their tormentor to justice. The only person in the room who hadn't met the Finleys was Chief Lemunyan himself. The officers sat in stunned silence as Chief Lemunyan presented his theory. He pointed out that the Finleys lived on a quiet, dead-end street, yet none of the neighbours

or the police surveillance team had ever sighted anyone suspicious in the area when the poet struck. Similarly, there were no witnesses to the times Ruth had been confronted in public, despite these incidents occurring in heavily frequented areas. When the police installed the clandestine security camera in the Finley's backyard, the only other people who knew about it were Ruth and Dad. This raised the question of how the poet had managed to avoid it entirely. Moreover, the poet struck at the Finley's house when there wasn't a detective present to guard them. How did he always seem to know when the Finley's house when there wasn't a detective present to guard them. How did he always seem to know when the Finleys were unprotected? Whenever the couple went away for extended periods,

the poet's communications in the Eagle Beacons classified section immediately ceased, only to resume once the Finleys returned. When a new detective took over the case in 1980, he received a taunting letter from the poet. Yet, the Finleys were the only ones who knew about the change in leadership at the time. As for the November 1978 abduction, there were inconsistencies in Ruth's story, such as the time the attack took place. She also described the backseat of the Bel Air as being filled with random farmyard junk, including gas cans and chunks of concrete. But as Chief Lemunyan pointed out, if the car was packed with such items, how could two people fit in the backseat? Ruth claimed that one of the captors

had chased her through the muddy park, yet when police examined the park, only one set of footprints were uncovered. Ruth's. Ruth claimed to have been struck in the face with a piece of concrete during the attack, but she had no injuries consistent with such a blow. As for the stabbing attack, Ruth said she rolled up her car window after fighting her way into the car, yet the door had been locked when she arrived. Chief Lemunion found it strange that she had left her car locked but with the window down. To him, nothing about the case made sense. Chief Lemunyan announced to the group, the poet is Ruth Finley herself. The claim flew in the face of everything the case detectives believed, as well as the information

gathered from medical personnel and other experts. Doctors were certain Ruth couldn't have stabbed herself. Chief Lemunyan disagreed. He insisted that Ruth had inflicted the wounds on herself, and everything else about the situation had been fabricated. He felt the same way about the abduction and all the other acts attributed to the poet. Chief Lemunyan sensed the other detectives' incredulity and reluctance to accept his theory. What he was suggesting contradicted everything they knew about the Finleys.

What he was suggesting contradicted everything they knew about the Finleys. Ruth was neither unstable nor attention seeking, she was modest and gentle, and her distress seemed undeniably genuine. Chief Lemunyan believed he could view Ruth with suspicion because he'd examined the case file objectively without biases that might come from knowing her personally. Chief Lemonyan proposed 24-hour covert surveillance of the Finleys starting that very night. While the other detectives remained uncertain about his assertions, they ultimately agreed to his plan. On Thursday September 17, Ruth and Ed Finley drove to East Gate Mall, oblivious to the fact that they were being tailed by an unmarked police car. Ed pulled into the mall's parking lot and stopped at a mailbox. Ruth got out and deposited several letters before returning to the vehicle.

After the Finleys drove off, officers converged on the mailbox and retrieved five letters that Ruth had mailed. Three were identified as personal business or private correspondence. One was addressed to a police reporter at a local television station, and the final one was addressed to Ruth herself. Both of these letters were from the poet and featured his unmistakable handwriting. The one to Ruth was written in the style of the children's poem Hickory Dickory Dock and referenced her attack in 1946. Hickory Dickory Dock, the name on this face, is Smock. Heat the iron for the brand.

Co-operate for games planned. Hickory Dickory Dock. The next day, Ed and Ruth continued with their normal routine. Then on Saturday, Ed drove Ruth to Eastgate Mall once again. This time, she deposited four more letters, another of which was addressed to herself from the poet. Dark-eyed bitch sat all alone, near the river and tied to a stone. Sink in the water and in fear. Call for help and no one's near. Weep no more. The race is run. You lost the battle, and I have won." A search of Ruth's office at South Western Bell uncovered a book of prose and poetry, a swatch of red bandana, and a sheet of carbon paper bearing the poet's handwriting.

It was not uncommon for the poet to send an original letter to the Finleys and a carbon copy of the same letter to the police. For Chief Richard Lemunyan, these discoveries vindicated his controversial belief that Ruth Finley was indeed the poet. However, the question of what role, if any, Ed Finley played in the scheme lingered. When Ed arrived at the Wichita Police Department headquarters on Wednesday October 1 1981 to hand over the Shirley Locks-style letter from the poet, he was led into an interview room and asked several questions about his wife and their recent experiences. Afterwards, Ed was hit with a bombshell.

The detectives knew who the poet was. Ed stared at them, processing the statement, before responding, statement before responding, I hope the hell you do, let's go get him then. But the detectives had other plans. They showed Ed some photographs, the first of which was a candid shot of Ruth as she mailed letters at the East Gate Mall. The detectives told Ed they'd caught Ruth mailing five letters from the poet in the past two weeks. "'The poet is Ruth,' they told him matter-of-factly." Ed seemingly couldn't believe what he was hearing. He repeatedly muttered, "'Oh my God,' as the detectives informed him of all the evidence they'd uncovered in Ruth's office. Ed agreed to take a lie detector test to eliminate himself from the investigation.

During the test, he firmly denied knowing that Ruth was the poet, or helping her carry out the scheme. The examiner found that Ed was telling the truth, and Chief Lemunyan agreed. After conducting his extensive research into the case, Chief Lemunyan was confident that Ruth had acted alone. A search of the Finley home uncovered another book of poetry, more pieces of carbon paper and scraps of red bandana. Meanwhile, detectives approached Ruth at work and requested she come to the station under the pretense of looking at mugshots of potential poet suspects. Ruth happily agreed. She arrived at the station and cheerfully greeted officers there, asking how they were and flashing her trademark kind smile. She was then

led into an interview room. The detectives informed Ruth that they were about to ask her some tough questions, starting with the 1946 attack in Fort Scott. As they worked their way up to the stabbing incident of 1976, the detective's tone shifted, becoming more pointed and accusatory. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Ruth's smile faded. She slumped in her seat, her expression turning cold. Have you ever written any of the poet's letters? the detective asked point blank. Have you ever written any of the poet's letters?" the detective asked point blank. No, sir, Ruth replied staunchly. The detective pressed on. What if I told you I have evidence that shows you did? It's time to come clean.

Ruth appeared puzzled and struggled to respond. The detectives weren't convinced. They asked Ruth, do you want to keep playing your game? Telling her, you got a problem, lady. Ruth seems confused. When did I mail those letters? She asked softly. The detectives showed her the photos they took of her at the East Gate Mall. Ruth shook her head, refusing to meet their eyes as tears began to well. "'Do you need help?' the detective asked gently. In a quiet voice, Ruth responded, "'Yes.'" In a quiet voice, Ruth responded, yes. Ruth gradually admitted she was responsible for all of the incidents attributed to the poet, except for setting fire to the Christmas wreath on her front door. The abduction in 1978 had never happened either. In reality, Ruth had taken the bus to the park where she planted her coat and shoes and staged the scene of her escape. She based the description of her abductor on an

unrelated man who once stopped her on the street. As for the stabbing, Ruth admitted that was a lie too, but she claimed to have no recollection of it whatsoever. When asked why she made the whole thing up, Ruth buried her head in her hands and responded, I don't know. Ruth claimed she couldn't remember what was going through her mind when she wrote the letters from the poet. Regarding the single letter sent from Oklahoma City, she explained that she had mailed it directly to the post office there, requesting that they forward it back to Wichita. Detectives didn't even know such a scenario was possible.

They remained perplexed as to why Ruth had gone to such lengths to manipulate those around her, and she seemed equally puzzled. She denied ever wanting the publicity that came with her ordeal, and could offer no explanation as to why she had done it. When asked if Ed was involved, Ruth firmly replied, absolutely not. She maintained that he had always been a good husband and that he'd done nothing to influence her behaviour. Detectives worked to uncover more information about Ruth's scheme, but she only gave vague responses. In an effort to reassure her, the detectives said there were no hard feelings between them.

There should be, Ruth replied quietly. When asked how she felt, Ruth admitted, I wish I was dead. A doctor arrived to assess Ruth, but he was unable to provide a clear explanation for her behaviour either. I guess I am just crazy, Ruth told him sadly. She was subsequently admitted to the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation, where she said she remembered some flashes of things, such as writing a letter while seated next to her washing machine. Overall though, Ruth could recall very little about her time as the poet. Regardless, she maintained that her actions hadn't been willful and that something else entirely was at play. Ruth was eventually deemed stable enough

to return home, though she continued to work with a psychiatrist named Dr. Andrew Pickens to better understand herself and her actions. During one of their therapy sessions, Ruth broke down in tears as she grappled with the profound humiliation of her deception being exposed. She referred to herself as a bad person before suddenly composing herself and saying, I'm a bad little girl for crying. This moment sparked a crucial conversation with Dr. Pickens about the deep shame Ruth felt whenever she expressed emotions. She traced this shame back to her mother's dismissive attitude toward her feelings during childhood. Ruth had initially described her mother with reverence, remembering her as strong,

confident and flawless, an ideal she admired and sought to emulate. But as Dr. Pickens gently guided Ruth through her feelings, it became clear that she held conflicting emotions. Ruth had been told she was an unplanned pregnancy, one that led to a difficult birth that traumatised her mother, who then developed a drinking problem. Her parents also expressed a disappointment that she hadn't been born a boy, and Ruth felt her mother favoured her sister. Sex was a forbidden topic in the Smock household, and whenever Ruth expressed curiosity, her staunchly religious mother would snap. Why do you have to talk this filth?

When speaking with Dr Pickens, Ruth often apologised for any negative comments about her mother, before recounting more positive memories. During a therapy session, Ruth recalled an uncomfortable childhood memory of sitting naked on someone's lap. She couldn't remember who it was, but the thought made her feel terrible. She broke into tears before quickly dismissing the memory, saying, It's not right to cry. It took time for Ruth to open up about her negative feelings toward crying and expressing emotions. She eventually admitted that as a child she was very clinginging and emotional, which she believed embarrassed her mother.

Dr. Pickens understood that clingingness in children often stems from overprotective parenting or from feeling rejected by caregivers. In Ruth's case, he believed her mother fell into the latter category. Whenever Ruth cried, her mother scolded her, saying it made her look ugly. Ruth recalled how her mother displayed an unflattering photo of a child screaming in a picture frame at home, claiming it was a picture of Ruth herself. What a big crybaby you are, her mother would say. Ruth later realised that the photo wasn't of her at all, but her random child clipped from a magazine. Ruth also remembered an incident from her childhood where a man took her into a room

and tied her to a bed. Though she couldn't remember what happened next, she vividly recalled the fear she felt, sobbing in the dark until the man untied her and let her go. When Ruth later told her parents about the ordeal, they showed no concern and were instead irritated by her crying. When Dr. Pickens asked how she felt about this incident as an adult, Ruth starkly replied, I don't have any feelings about it. But as therapy progressed, Ruth began to express anger at her parents' lack of care. That poor little girl, she said aloud, why didn't her parents do something? poor little girl," she said aloud. Why didn't her parents do something? Yet, she quickly blames herself, saying her parents were right and that she shouldn't

have cried. It was determined that Ruth had used repression since childhood to bury what she had been taught were unacceptable feelings, hiding her true emotions and needs behind a mask of being agreeable. Over time, Ruth unlocked more repressed memories until she came to the painful realisation that she had been the victim of severe childhood sexual abuse. The perpetrator was an adult neighbour, with most of the abuse taking place in a barn near her family's farm.

During each attack, Ruth was filled with fear and often cried, which angered her abuser. He threatened to put her in a sack and throw her into a river if she told anyone. Terrified, Ruth stayed silent. When her parents noticed her distress, they called her a crybaby instead of offering support or trying to understand the cause. Ruth blocked out these painful memories, only confronting them years later in therapy. At the time, recovered memory therapy was a popular form of psychotherapy. It is worth noting, however, that it has since been widely discredited, and its legitimacy remains up for debate among clinical and legal professionals. Recovered memory therapy is no longer recommended by professional mental health associations, as evidence has shown it can

result in patients developing false memories. Ruth told Dr. Pickens that during the abuse, she would envision a beautiful young girl like a guardian angel who distracted and comforted her. Dr. Pickens believed this was an early sign of Ruth disassociating from reality during trauma. He also believed that the poet was another psychological manifestation born from trauma. The poet first appeared the night of Ed Finley's suspected heart attack in 1977. The presence of the BTK Strangler in Wichita at the time likely contributed, as his crimes resembled Ruth's childhood abuse. Like the Guardian Angel from her childhood, the poet felt very real to Ruth. However, unlike the Angel, he appeared as a figure to punish her,

embodying her repressed guilt and anger. Elements tied to the poet, such as the red bandana, chunks of concrete, and the bridge over the river, were connected to the man who had abused her. One of the earliest memories Ruth could recall hinted at why her punisher took on the identity of a poet. One day, while flipping through a cherished book of children's poems, something strange happened. The familiar rhymes like Hickory Dickory Dock and Mary Had a Little Lamb were replaced by dark, unsettling verses that told Ruth she was a bad little girl. The poems frightened her so deeply that she hid the book away and never opened it again. Ruth was ultimately diagnosed with atypical impulse disorder with the disassociative and

depressive features, a condition marked by sudden temporary changes in consciousness, identity or motor behaviour. This can cause memory loss, confusion about one's identity, or a distorted sense of reality. In hindsight, the connection between the poet and Ruth was clear. One letter stated, A fucked up childhood causes anger and hate, while another described, childhood causes anger and hate, while another described, Two fiends housed in a throbbing head, one with fumbling and weakened grasp, winning one tightened to the rope's strangling clasp. The poet also wrote that it felt like people were exploding to get out of his head.

In another letter, he asserted, out of his head. In another letter, he asserted, Dear Ruth, the game is over. The players are dead. I can play any part, coming out of my head. Blunder on and win the fight, stealthily unquestioned, day or night. Ruth claimed to remember nothing about the stabbing incident at Town East Mall. As part of her recovery, she returned to the scene and envisioned snakes writhing on the parking lot ground. Over time, through therapy, her memories of that day became clearer. She recalled hearing the words, you have to do it, as she looked down at a knife in her

hands before stabbing herself. Ruth accepted that the axe she had attributed to the poet were either fabricated or committed by her. However, her unreliable memories left many questions about what was real. She maintained that the 1946 attack in her Fort's God apartment had happened and that the burns on her thighs were caused by an intruder, though some questioned the truth of these claims. Despite the uncertainty, the realisation that she and the poet were the same person brought Ruth a sense of wholeness. Still, she feared he might resurface and take control again if she experienced further trauma. The poet's dark verses continued to surface in Ruth's mind, though they now focused on her unloving mother and childhood abuse.

Ruth would sit at her table, letting the words flow onto paper without consciously thinking about them. Sometimes these poems exceeded 2,000 words. She brought them to therapy, reading them aloud and discovering their content for the first time. This process provided insight into how she had written as the poet without remembering it. At first, the poems were incredibly dark and self-critical. A little girl alone in tears, the worst person born in years. I don't have a mother, I am not born. No one upset, and she's not forlorn." In time, however, the poems began to reflect feelings of self-forgiveness and a readiness to heal. One read, "...a child was born, but was not anywhere. She wanted you to find her, she was so sad, she wished you would not think of her as bad. She searched for you but then she knew,

her childish ways, it was time she outgrew. But just the same I dread the day, when I remain and you fade away." In total, the Wichita police had spent over $370,000 investigating the poet, the equivalent of over a million dollars today. After reviewing Ruth Finley's psychiatric reports, authorities found no evidence of malicious intent and concluded that she wasn't a threat to the community, only to herself. Prosecutors decided not to press charges. After six years of therapy, Ruth worked to repair her reputation in Wichita. Outraged locals misunderstood the context, believing she had acted intentionally. Ruth was initially reluctant to speak publicly about her

childhood trauma, but agreed to a televised interview for the local news accompanied by her therapist, Dr Andrew Pickens. In the interview, Dr. Pickens expressed his belief that the poet no longer existed, a sentiment Ruth shared. Following the broadcast, Ruth received overwhelming support. It inspired many people to share their own stories of childhood abuse for the first time. Ruth publicly thanked everyone who had helped her during the four years she had been taunted by the poet, including the doctors and nurses who treated her, and her family, who continued to stand by her. She expressed immense gratitude to the officers of the Wichita Police Department, saying, "...in the end, they saved me from either a mental breakdown

or my own self-destruction." Ruth later shared her experience with author Jean Stone, who released an in-depth book on the case titled, Little Girl Fly Away, with additional input from Dr Pickens. In 2024, a film based on Ruth's story, The Killer Inside, The Ruth Finley Story, was released. Ed Finley remained unwaveringly supportive of his wife, even after learning the truth. They went on to live a stable and happy life together. Ruth Finley dedicated her life to advocating for mental health awareness and encouraging others to seek therapy. She also learned to write Braille and volunteered for the Braille Association of Kansas, manually transcribing textbooks for people with vision

impairments. A lover of needlework and knitting, she donated handmade hats and scarves to US troops in Afghanistan. Ruth passed away in May 2019 at the age of 89. During her final therapy session with Dr Andrew Pickens, Ruth read a poem she'd written for the occasion. Thank you for helping me see as a goal, having the little girl melted into me and being whole. I can't be rescued except in my mind, but that's only possible because you have been so kind. My heart feels it might break on this sad day as I leave here and you go away. But my heart is also happy inside, that I gained my freedom and also some pride. In my mind when the need may arise, I'll be with you and I'll shut my eyes. In my heart, your spot will always be there, close to a little girl who felt you did care."

After that, Ruth never wrote another poem again. With the Fizz loyalty program, you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan. You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off with your mobile plan, you're not with Fizz. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at fizz.ca. Dr. Jordan B. Peterson. An evening to transform your life. If you say the truth and nothing else, you'll have an immense adventure as a consequence. You won't know what's going to happen to you, but the truth will reveal the world the way it's intended to be revealed, and the consequence for you will be that you'll have the adventure of your life.

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