Killer Stories with Harvey Guillén - “The Acid Bath Murderer” Pt. 2: John George Haigh

Episode Date: May 28, 2020

His first murder in 1944 had gone exactly as planned: the body had dissolved in acid, and he was sure no one would ever find out what he had done. So, with that in mind, John George Haigh set about repeating the process again, and again—always chasing the next big score. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater stage on April 30th, the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th, and the signature Southern Country Rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at Yamavatheater.com, only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. Due to the graphic nature of this killer's crimes, listener discretion is advised. This episode includes discussions of violence and murder, that some people may find offensive, we advise extreme caution for children under 13. John George Haig made his way to the corner of his dilapidated workshop.

He gritted his teeth as he pried the top off of a nondescript 40-gallon drum. Haig gagged as a wave of sickening gas wafted from the barrel. It smelled of rotten eggs mingled with the unmistakable stench of death. Holding his breath, Hague used a metal rod to stir the black sludge in the barrel. He frowned. There were still chunks of human bone and pools of liquid fat floating in the acid. This was frustrating. His latest victim hadn't entirely dissolved, but Hague was out of time. He had to get rid of the evidence. With a heave, Hague pushed the drum into the yard behind his laboratory. He glanced around to make sure he was alone before tipping the barrel over.

The ooze spilled onto the grass and seeped into the ground. Haig smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. There were no traces of his victim. Soon, he would be a very rich man. Hi, I'm Greg Paulson. This is Serial Killers, a podcast original. Every episode, we dive into the minds and madness of Serial. KILLers. Today we're discussing John George Haig, the diabolical acid bath murderer.

I'm here with my co-host, Vanessa Richardson. Hi, everyone. You can find episodes of serial killers and all other Parcast originals for free on Spotify or wherever you listen to podcasts. To stream serial killers for free on Spotify, just open the app and type serial killers in the search bar. At Parcast, we're grateful for you, our listeners. You allow us to do what we love. Let us know how we're doing. Reach out on Facebook and Instagram at Parcast and Twitter at Parcast Network. In our last episode, we talked about John Hague's hyper-religious upbringing

and the beginning of his career as a con artist. As the years went on, Hague's schemes became more sophisticated and violent, leading to his first murder in 1944. Today, we'll follow Hague as he continues his monstrous killing spree. Ultimately, Haig murdered at least six people, though possibly as many as nine people, before his capture. John Haig disposed of his first victim on September 10, 1944. The 35-year-old could hardly contain his excitement as he poured a vat of noxious black sludge down the drain. Less than 24 hours earlier, the substance had been his longtime friend, William McSwan.

But now William was dead. His body broken down in a solution of sulfuric acid. There was nothing to tie Hague to the crime that he planned to make quite a bit of money from William's demise. What used he had for friendship when there was money to be made? After dumping the evidence, Hague left the dingy basement workshop and returned to his swanky apartment in the heart of London. He sat down at his desk, smoothed out a sheet of paper, and saw him. started writing. He drafted a series of letters to William's wealthy parents, informing them that their son had gone into hiding. Haig claimed he was helping William dodge the draft so he could avoid fighting in World War II. While their son was indisposed,

Haig would be taking charge of William's finances. Shortly afterward, Haig went to see the McSwan's in person. A gifted charmer and a trusted former employee, he didn't have much trouble convincing them that their son was safe. At the end of the meeting, the McSwan's even thanked Hague for his help. They didn't want their son to risk his life in the war

and appreciated Hague keeping him safe. With their blessing, Hague set to work posing as a middleman between the McSwans and their son. They believed everything he told them, never suspecting that such a charming, well-dressed man was taking them for a ride. Over the next few weeks,

Hague collected rent from tenants at the properties William owned. He also regularly asked the McSwan's for money to cover their son's supposed expenses. Hague even traveled to Scotland just to send postcards to the McSwans in William's name. Once William's parents were convinced he was in hiding and very much alive, it was easy for Hague to keep the game going, but he also had to keep Williams friends from getting suspicious. To do this, Hague forged mountains of correspondence, He spent hours perfecting William's handwriting and cadence.

He was meticulous, writing messages to all of William's friends and acquaintances. In the end, even those closest to William were fooled into believing he was writing the letters. Haig made sure to manage everything, from his former friend's bills to his membership in the Amusement Caterers Association. He tried to explain William's absence as vaguely as possible to anyone who might notice something was amiss. miss. Vanessa is going to take over on the psychology here and throughout the episode. Please note, Vanessa is not a licensed psychologist or psychiatrist, but she has done a lot of research for this show. Thanks, Greg. Hague went to extreme lengths to keep up his ruse and spent a significant amount of time covering his tracks. It wasn't just about money for Hague. It was also about the thrill of

tricking his marks. According to psychologist Erwin Berg, this mindset is typical of serial forgers. He writes, evidence of great pleasure when beating a guy out of something is encountered frequently among members of this group. Some forgers would probably prefer to work a victim for a small amount of money instead of earning a larger sum, honestly, for an equal effort. This was certainly the case for Haig, who was already making decent money as a salesman at the time he killed William. Though his work provided him material security, he didn't enjoy the job. Hague needed to constantly feed his ego to feel superior to those around him. Running scams was the easiest way to get everything he wanted, and it made him feel invincible. It may have been this

arrogance that drove him to commit his second murder. At some point between September, 1944 and May of 1945, Hague said that he killed a middle-aged woman who lived in West London. However, he never learned her name and no victim was ever identified. It's likely this story was a fabrication. Haig claimed to have killed several people who were never definitively attributed to him. In stark contrast to his verifiable murders, he could not provide detailed information about these attacks. As an experienced conman, Hague knew the value of big talk. and a well-placed lie or two in the midst of a true story. On the other hand, he was also incredibly confident in his ability to get away with murder.

He was certain that because he destroyed the bodies of his victims with acid, the police could never gather enough evidence to convict him. Because of this, it's possible he could have recklessly killed a stranger if the opportunity to make a quick buck presented itself. Whether or not he made his second attack in well, London, Hague certainly kept busy. By June of 1945, he had decided that he couldn't keep his scam with William going forever. The war would be over soon, and there would be no way to keep the McSwans from finding out what had happened to their son. Something would have to be done

about them. Haig made preparations for his next attack weeks in advance, upgrading his basement workshop for easier body disposal. He installed a steel baths. tub and fashioned several face masks to protect himself from the acidic fumes. To Haig, murder was a business like any other, and he strove to be as efficient and professional as possible. He even bought a pump to deliver the acid into the bathtub without it splashing onto his skin. Hague sent his final letter to the mixed wands in June, painstakingly imitating William's handwriting. Hague asked them to reunite with their son at his underground workshop. The meeting had to take place in the dead of night.

Hague claimed that this would avoid attracting attention to William, since the war wasn't technically over yet. The McSwanes were overjoyed at the prospect of seeing their son again. They agreed to the meeting and made their way to Hague's basement on the night of July 2, 1945. Haig met them outside, affecting an air of secrecy. He convinced them they had to be led into the workshop one at a time to avoid attracting attention.

Seventy-year-old Donald McSwan followed Haig into the building first. He chatted happily with Haig as he was led down the stairs. But he stopped talking when Haig finally opened the door to reveal the dingy Spartan workshop. Haig didn't give Donald much time to take in the scenery, as Donald took his first whiff of the stuffy, acrid air. Haig reached for his weapon. He grabbed a blackjack, an iron nightstick sometimes carried by police, which he'd stashed within arm's reach of the entryway.

Then he shut the door and slammed the rod into the back of Donald's skull. The old man gasped and crumbled to the floor just as his son had nearly a year earlier. It had all gone perfectly to plan. Hague wiped his brow and dragged Donald away from the door. Then he set the blackjack down and he set the blackjack down, and put on his best smile, Amy McSwan was next. Just like her husband, Amy followed Haig into the depths of the basement and was brought down by a single blow from the blackjack.

Hague later said he wasn't positive that the McSwan's were completely dead after he hit them with the nightstick. It's possible they were only unconscious at first. It didn't seem to matter to Haig one way or another. He claimed to take no pleasure in his victim's suffering. But in reality, he didn't even bother to make sure they were dead before cutting into them. He focused only on the task at hand without feeling the slightest bit of remorse or anxiety. He took his victim's valuables first, pocketing their jewelry and wallets.

Then he prepared for the dirty work. Haig took off his pants and changed into a swimsuit. He didn't want to get blood on his clothes. He donned his tin face. mask and dragged Donald's body to his workbench. He had some dissecting to do. In order to dissolve both mixed wands in the wash tub at once, Hague butchered them into pieces. It was a demanding process. Over the next few hours, he cut into Donald and Amy, breaking their bones, severing their ligaments, and removing their limbs. In the end, Hague was left with a stack of

bloody appendages and flesh. Already the smell was overpowering, but he steeled himself to get through it. This was his ticket to wealth. In his mind, all the extra effort was proof he was earning his keep. Finally, Hague brought the body parts to the bathtub and prepared his acid pump. This time, he added hydrochloric acid to the sulfuric acid mixture to make the solution even more caustic. Hague dropped the hunks of flesh into the tub and sprayed them with acid. He watched as the bloody skin sizzled. The chemical reaction fascinated him, so he pumped in the solution slowly at first. As the chemicals continued to decay the corpses, the sludgy muck folded in on itself.

Soon, the evidence was entirely submerged. Once he was sure that the mixture was working, Hague cleaned up and left the McSwan's to stew. His work wasn't done yet. Up next, Hague milks the McSwan name for all it's worth. Now back to the story. On July 2nd, 1945, John George Hague killed Donald and Amy McSwan, the wealthy parents of his first victim.

Afterward, he put their bodies in a bathtub of sulfuric acid, acid and left them to dissolve. Now that he'd gotten rid of the evidence, it was time for him to cash in on their deaths. The next morning, 36-year-old Haig unlocked the door to the McSwan's posh apartment in central London. He left a note for their landlady, telling her that they were traveling to America and had no idea when they would come back. He then returned to his workshop to check on the bathtub of acid. It had transformed into a revolting black soup. smelling of sulfur and spoiled meat. With a heave, Hague turned the tub on its side and watched as the icor trickled down the drain in the center of the basement.

The deed was officially done. Every piece was in its place. With no one in the McSwan family alive to stop him, Hague seized their considerable property. A week after murdering Donald and Amy, he traveled to Glasgow, where the McSwan's lived for most of the year. He brazenly walked into a lawyer's office, posing as their son, William McSwan, his first victim. There he forged William's signature to grant himself, John Haig, permanent power of attorney over William's assets. Once again, Haig displayed his masterful ability to manipulate everyone he met. He played the part of William so convincingly that the lawyer

never suspected he was dealing with an imposter. Power of attorney in hand, Hague had the ability to do as he liked with everything William owned. He didn't waste any time taking full advantage of his new wealth. Haig continued collecting rent on three properties that William owned southwest of London, while cleaning out the family's valuables back at their home. After waiting a few months, he added another property to his portfolio in October 1945. This time, he used his forging skills to transfer a plot of land, from Amy McSwan to William.

Once William was the owner on paper, Haig used his power of attorney to sell the land. All told, Haig stole close to 6,000 pounds from the McSwan's, the equivalent of around $300,000 U.S. dollars today. He used the funds to quit his sales job and moved to an upscale hotel. But though Haig had enough money to live comfortably for the next few years,

he wasn't content to just rest out of laurels. Quitting his sales job simply gave him more time to pursue his true passion, swindling people. After taking control of the McSwan's assets, Hague embarked on a new, less violent con. This time, he posed as a patent liaison officer. It was a somewhat amorphous position, but essentially, Hague promised to help budding investors design products and assist them with their patent applications. Of course, Hague had no useful expertise and mostly sought to collect a consultant, fee without actually doing any work.

In many ways, the scam was a repeat of the fake investment firm he had run years before. He set up a small office in a city, talked his way into jobs, then collected a fee for as long as he could without doing any actual work. When his marks eventually got wise to what he was doing, Hague skipped town and started the whole scheme over. Over the course of the next year, he set up phony patent liaison offices in several cities. around England. Combined with the money he made collecting rent on the McSwan's properties, Haig should have been set for life, but it seemed that no amount of money was ever enough for him. Haig wasn't wanted to save his cash for a rainy day. He believed in enjoying all of life's pleasures

as often as possible. Much of his income went to paying rent on a lavish room at the Onslow Court Hotel in London. When he wasn't at the hotel bar, he visited the racetrack to bed on horses. His penchant for showmanship and flashiness made the track a tempting place for Hague. Now that he had plenty of money, there was nothing to stop him from betting hundreds of pounds on a single race. Needless to say, it wasn't long before Hague developed a full-blown gambling addiction. Once again, Hague's extreme self-confidence may have been his downfall. Professor of Psychology Dr. Ronald Riggio writes, gambling is, by its very definition, a random event.

Yet many gamblers firmly believe that they can devise a system to win. Gambling can be terribly addicting, and these psychological processes often work to increase that addiction. Because Haig believed he was smarter than everyone else, he may also have believed he could reliably make money while gambling. He constantly felt he was due for a big win and became unable to stop him. himself from betting everything he had. In a matter of months, Hague racked up significant debts. Even with income from the McSwan's and his phony patent scheme, he couldn't afford to pay

his debtors. But no matter how much he struggled, Hague was unwilling to compromise his lifestyle. His desperation may have led him to take extreme measures once again. He later said that he killed yet another victim toward the end of 1945. his earlier tale about slaying a woman in West London after William's murder, this one is dubious. This time, Hague at least provided a name for the victim, claiming he killed a man named Max, who lived in Central London. However, authorities were never able to figure out who Max may have been.

It's likely this was another embellishment by Hague, meant to confuse police or somehow raise his criminal profile. Either way, Hague spent the next year living opulently, while privately stretching himself thin. He barely managed to stave off his debts and maintain his room at the Onslow Hotel. In addition to its luxury and prestige, the Anzlo Hotel provided Haig an ideal pool of marks.

In 1947, 38-year-old Haig was much younger than many of the hotel's guests. Most met his age couldn't afford a place as lavish as the Onslow. Hague stood out and he loved the attention. He used it to make new friends. and acquire fresh targets. In the fall of 1947, he chose his next marks.

Rosalie and Archibald Henderson. He got to know 49-year-old Archibald and his younger wife, Rosalie. After learning the couple were selling an upscale property nearby, Hague had his eye in the land and attempted to buy it from the Hedgesons. Ultimately, the real estate deal never closed. By this time, Hague's debts were ponderance. He couldn't pull together the money in time to buy the Henderson's lot, but he did use the deal to get close to the older couple and kept up a friendship with them after things fell through. It seems that for the most part, their relationship was genuine. Like Haig, Rosalie was loose with her money and like being the life of the party.

Archibald had his fair share of vices as well. While Haig favored gambling, Archibald indulged in alcohol. Over the next few months, Hague made himself a central figure in the Henderson's lives. Like most people, they appreciated his friendly manner and fastidious appearance. It seemed like Hague had the world figured out. In private, though, he was plagued by anxiety. He was on his last legs financially and couldn't stop himself from spending. He went back to scamming. This time, he tried flipping used cars.

Though he stayed clear of the authorities, the scheme failed to earn him the cash he needed. Hague was running out of options. In desperation, he turned once more to murder. In January of 1948, 38-year-old Hague started making arrangements for the Henderson's demise. He rented out an abandoned building in the small town of Crawley, south of London. He spent the next few weeks turning the place into a second chemical laboratory, similar to his basement workshop back in the city. The building was decrepit,

and the yard surrounding it was a mess, but Haig didn't mind. It suited his purposes perfectly. All he needed was a quiet place where no one would come by to poke around. Haig furnished the lab with two 40-gallon drums, a huge quantity of acid, and high-quality protective equipment for himself.

In no time, the rundown building looked just as for bowed, voting inside as it did on the outside. Meanwhile, he strengthened his relationship with the Hendersons, regularly inviting them out to dinner or to the races. He needed them completely on his side for what came next. The Hendersons were happy to have Hague's company. They enjoyed his stories and lust for life. When he invited them on a vacation to the coastal town of Brighton,

they eagerly accepted. The trio left in February, enjoying a stay at a seaside resort. Hague made sure to cater to the Henderson's every need, playing the role of holiday organizer and indulgent friend. After a few days of excitement, the group found themselves looking for a bit of relaxation. Hague could tell Rosalie needed some time away from her husband, just as he'd planned. To give Rosalie and Archibald a break from each other, Hague invited Archibald to see his workshop in Crawley. Coincidentally, it was only about 20. 20 miles from the Brighton resort.

As Hague drove Archibald to the laboratory, he talked his friend's ear off about an exciting new investment opportunity. In what was no doubt an intentionally ironic pitch, Hague claimed he wanted Archibald to be his partner in a new business. They were going to make a lot of money together. At last, Hague pulled up to the dilapidated workshop. To his delight, Archibald didn't seem to notice the deserted lot or the crumbling fence surrounding the property, or else he didn't care. He had no reason to be suspicious.

For almost a year, Hague had been a completely trustworthy and kind friend. But there was no room in Hague's life for real companionship. Everyone was expendable, as long as Hague could live a few more months in a luxury hotel. As he opened the padlock on the workshop's door, Hague tried to suppress the evil smile spreading across his face. He opened the door wide for Archibald and waved him inside. By the time they both crossed the threshold, Hague was beaming. When we return, Hague gives the Hendersons an acid bath. Now back to the story.

In February of 1948, 38-year-old John George Hague lured 49-year-old Archibald Henderson to a deserted warehouse in Crawley, England. Haig claimed that he had an exciting investment opportunity for the old man to look at, but the pitch was nothing more than a ruse. As soon as Archibald entered the building, Haig closed the door behind them, pulled a revolver from his pocket, and shot his friend in the back of the head.

Archibald was dead before he hit the cement floor. Haig put the revolver back in his coat, and it began his practice disposal routine. He took Archibald's wall. a gold cigarette case and his fancy blazer. He then dragged the corpse to a 40-gallon drum in the corner of the room. After some effort, he managed to lift the body and dump it into the barrel. Haig changed his clothes, Donned protective equipment, and pumped acid into the drum.

This time he didn't bother dismembering his victim. He didn't have the time. Rosalie Henderson, Archibald's wife, would be wondering where her husband was. Haig had to take care of her as well. Soon, Archibald's body was completely bathed in acid. The liquid in the barrel took on a brown, brackish hue and stank of decay. Haig closed the lid tightly, changed into his street clothes, and jumped back in his car. From there, he sped back to the resort at Brighton, a man on a mission to deliver some terrible news.

Before talking to Rosalie, he took a second to compose himself. He knew he had to appear earnest without scaring her too badly. It was a delicate balance, but Hague had over a decade of experience working his marks. They would believe whatever he wanted them to. Haig knocked sharply on Rosalie's hotel room door and asked her to come with him at once. He claimed that Archibald had come down with a sudden illness back at the workshop. Rosalie rushed out of the room and followed Hague back to his car. On the drive to Crawley, Hague worked to Eastwood.

Hague worked to ease her mind, trying to make sure she wasn't too panicked. He needed her actions to stay predictable. She had to remain calm until he could get her inside the building. Haig was cold and calculating. Even when taking advantage of people, he seemed to like. By exploiting his friends for his own benefit, Haig displayed what psychologist George Simon calls covert aggressive behavior.

There are charming liars who have no qualms about manipulating those closest to them to get what they want. He writes, they very actively try to control other people. In other words, they behave exactly like John George Haig. Once he had Rosalie in the car, Haig was hardly even nervous about what came next. He had her exactly where he wanted. Once again, Haig's plan went off without a hitch. Rosalie barely noticed the miserable state of the building and didn't wonder why Haig had taken her husband to such an out-of-the-way location. As soon as Rosalie was inside the workshop, Hague shot her, then hauled her body to a second

drum next to Archibald. Both husband and wife suffered the same toxic fate. At least five people and possibly up to seven had now met their end at the hands of John George Hague. The next day, Haig poured out the source of soggy remains of his victims. The building in Crawley didn't have the convenient floor drain like his headquarters in London, so Hague dragged the barrels out to the back of the building and poured the sludge onto the ground. He then set off to pawn the Henderson's valuables.

Altogether, he only snagged a few hundred pounds, but Hague didn't kill for pocket change. He had bigger plans. Now that the Hendersons were no more, there was room for a hymn. to take their place. Over the next few months, Haig pulled the same scam that had worked so well after he got rid of the McSwan's. He forged documents granting himself power of attorney over the Henderson's assets. Then he sold their properties and drafted phony correspondence to friends and family to account for their disappearance.

But this time, without a war going on, it wasn't as easy to explain why his victims had vanished into thin air. Hague's excuse was that Archibald and Rosalie were in South Africa on vacation and had put him in charge of their assets while they were abroad. In particular, Rosalie's brother, Arnold, needed a lot of convincing that his sister had suddenly decided to leave the country. But Hague had an answer for everything and supplied Arnold with a deluge of phony correspondence from Rosalie. Eventually, Arnold accepted Hague's excuses and let the matter drop. By August of 1948, Hague had liquidated the Hederson's assets and earned around 8,000 pounds, worth nearly half a million U.S. dollars today. He returned to his life of luxury at the Onsla Hotel and kept up his excessive gambling.

Though he meticulously planned his murders, Hague was reckless and short-sighted about everything else. He blew through the Henderson's money even faster than the McSwan's. By late 1948, 39-year-old Haig was again running behind on his rent at the hotel. He later claimed that he committed his third unverifiable murder around this time, supposedly killing a Welsh woman named Mary. Apparently, the violence did nothing to lessen Haig's financial hardship, and he knew he would have to strike again soon. This time, he was gunning for an even larger take,

one that would keep him in pearls for years to come. His latest target was 69-year-old Olive Durand Deacon, a friendly widow who also lived at the onslao and had taken a shine to Hague. She didn't usually associate with people who hadn't been born into wealth, but she made an exception for Hague. He had the stilted, sophisticated manners she liked. He was always well-dressed and only enjoyed the finest things in life. The pair had plenty in common.

Or at least, that's what Hague wanted her to believe. He cultivated their relationship for months, waiting for the best opportunity to make his move. Though he was in dire straits, he remained as patient as ever. On Valentine's Day, 1949, he finally got his opportunity. That day, Olive showed Hague a set of plastic fingernails, telling him that she had an idea for a new beauty product. She knew Hague had some experience as an engineer. If he could mass-produce the fingernails, they could go into business together.

Haig was only too happy to oblige. The following week, he told Olive that he made progress on the artificial fingernails. He invited her to his crawly workshop to see the fruits of his labor. Olive was giddy at the prospect. The two of them left the onslao in Haig's luxury car. Olive must have been shocked at the dreary state of Haig's workshop. She'd put on diamonds, rubies, and a lamb coat for a trip to a wasteland. Nevertheless, she followed Haig into his laboratory as willingly as all of his other victims.

Sadly, she met the same fate. As soon as the door closed, Haig shot her in the back of the head. This time, Haig claimed he took his time disposing of the body. He also stated that before he locked Olive in the corrosion-proof drug, he made a small incision in her throat and drank a cupful of the woman's blood. During his childhood, Hague had been plagued by bloody nightmares, often involving images of the crucified Christ. After murdering his first victim, William McSwan,

Haig had been overcome by a need to drink his friend's blood. That same desire overtook him after Olive's death. Or so he said, ultimately the claims are impossible to prove. Whether he drank olive's blood or not, the remainder of his story followed a familiar pattern. Haig stuffed the body in a large drum and submerged her in acid. While he waited for the corpse to dissolve, Haig drove back to London and ate an expensive three-course meal to celebrate. The next day, he breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, he'd be rich again. Unfortunately for Haig, he wouldn't be able to relax for long.

People out the Onslow immediately noticed Olive's absence. Another guest at the hotel who knew her well asked Haig if he'd seen her the previous day. She knew Olive planned to go with Haig to his so-called factory in Crawley. Haig hadn't counted on anyone else knowing about their meeting. He dashed off a lie, telling Olive's friend that he had planned to meet with her, but that they'd never gone to the workshop. Instead, he claimed that when he went to pick her up, he hadn't eaten lunch yet, so he went to a restaurant while Olive went shopping.

She was supposed to meet him to drive to Collie when she was done, but she never showed. His lie shifted suspicion away from himself in the moment, but it also made Olive's friends even more concerned for her. They asked everyone at the hotel if they'd heard from Olive recently. Soon, everyone was whispering about her disappearance. Realizing there was no way to stop the story from spreading, Hague decided to to pivot and act like a concerned friend instead, he agreed to accompany another hotel guest to the police station to report Olive missing.

He likely went hoping to regain some modicum of control over the situation, to spin the narrative in his favor. But the gambit was a mistake. The police knew Hague had a history of fraud. Once they learned that he was routinely late paying his rent, their suspicions were peaked even further. They came by the hotel to quake. question Haig, and he remained remarkably cool under pressure.

He was almost too eager to assist the police in their investigation, volunteering to do whatever was necessary to help find Olive. Beneath his calm exterior, however, Haig was cracking. Olive's body hadn't completely dissolved, but he decided to dispose of her remains anyway. He sifted off the remaining bone and fat from the acid mixture and poured the liquid into the grass. He stashed Olive's mostly intact purse under a stack of bricks at the edge of the property. When he returned to London, Hague got word from a friend that the police had been asking about him. By now, it must have been clear to Hague that he was a suspect in Olive's disappearance.

Yet he never considered making a break for it. He was entirely confident that if the police couldn't find Olive's body, they couldn't convict him for murdering her. The delusion led him to continue living his life as before, making no moves to cover his tracks more thoroughly. But he should have. The police located Hague's former boss who led them to the workshop in Crawley. A simple search of the property revealed ample evidence of Hague's guilt. Officers found his protective gear, the acid-proof drums, and the revolver he'd used to shoot his final three victims. Hague was arrested on Ferryg. February 28, 1949. After he was presented with the mountain of evidence against him, he quietly

asked one of the officers how often inmates were released from a local psychiatric hospital. Clearly, he was already planning to plead insanity to avoid the consequences of his crimes. Even so, Haig confessed to his crimes, still mistakenly believing that without a body, there was little chance he could be sent to prison. couldn't resist bragging. Referring to Olive, he told the police, I've destroyed her with acid. You'll find the sludge that remains at Leopold Road.

Every trace has gone. How can you prove murder if there's no body? Needless to say, it was just about the stupidest thing he could have said. Police convinced Hague to give them a full confession. He admitted to killing six verifiable victims, and added potentially fictional details, like drinking their blood. A few days later, he confessed to killing the three additional victims who were never identified. Whatever Hague's game was in mixing facts and fiction, it ultimately did little to save him.

In all, nine psychiatrists evaluated Hague, and only one believed that he had a paranoid constitution that led to his actions. and even the dissenting psychiatrist admitted on the stand that he believed Haig fully understood his actions were illegal, if not morally wrong. In July of 1949, 40-year-old Haig was found guilty of murder and sentenced to death. The media had a field day,

plastering the front page with Haig's coy smile. Haig loved the press. He even mentioned it in letters to his parents, writing, Everybody who can create more sensation than a film star. Only Princess Margaret or Mr. Churchill could command such interest. A month later, on August 10th, Hague was sent to the gallows. He seemed calm as the noose was fixed around his neck, and as always, was impeccably dressed.

Haig ended his life much as he lived it, the center of attention, surrounded by a crowd, yet completely alone. Blocked in a world of his own, Hague never had a friend that he didn't abuse. In the end, there was no one to comfort him in his final moments. All he left behind was a legacy of violence and betrayal, a monument to his arrogance and evil. Thanks again for tuning into serial killers. We'll be back next week with a new episode. For more information on John George Haig. Amongst the many sources we used, we found the book Frenzy by Neil Root, extremely helpful to our research. You can find more episodes of serial killers and all other parcast originals for free on Spotify. Not only does Spotify already have all of your favorite

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With production assistance by Ron Shapiro, Carly Madden, and Freddie Beckley. This episode of serial killers was written by Tara Wells with writing assistance by Abigail Cannon and stars Greg Paulson and Vanessa Richardson. Want to hear something spooky. Some monster, it reminded me of Bigfoot. Monsters Among Us is a weekly podcast featuring true stories of the paranormal. One of the boys started to exhibit demonic possession. Stories straight from the witnesses' mouths themselves. Something very snake light lifted its head out of the water.

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