Mind of a Serial Killer - MURDEROUS MINDS: The Two-Faced Killer Pt. 1

Episode Date: July 21, 2025

John List spent his life chasing the American dream, but behind closed doors, obsession, shame, and debt consumed him. In Part 1, we unpack John’s rigid upbringing, failed career ambitions, mounting financial pressure, and the terrifying moment he decided his family was better off dead. Killer Minds is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. For ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Don’t miss out on all things Killer Minds! Instagram: @killerminds | @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios X: @crimehousemedia YouTube: @crimehousestudios To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi, it's Kaitlyn Moore. Crime House is home to the most gripping true crime shows, and you don't want to miss what's coming up on my show, Clues, that I co-host with Morgan Apture. We are digging into the chilling details of Amy Archer Gilligan, a nursing home proprietor whose trail of natural deaths turned out to be anything but. Join us as we examine the evidence one clue at a time.

Listen to Clues every Wednesday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to your podcasts. This is Crime House. It's easy to idealize the 1950s nuclear family, the manicured lawns, the cheap real estate, the company pension funds. Sometimes it seems a lot simpler than the world we live in now. But behind the white picket fences, it wasn't always so easy. For every picture-perfect family, there were the ones whose marriages were crumbling,

whose children were misbehaving, or who were drowning in debt. No one felt that struggle more than John List, a man who was obsessed with cultivating the image of the all-American patriarch. He spent every penny he had trying to keep up with the Joneses. But when his finances collapsed, he began to consider other options, extreme options. Eventually, John came to a disturbing conclusion. Under his strict standards, the only acceptable replacement for an imperfect family was a dead one. The human mind is powerful. It shapes how we think, feel, love and hate.

But sometimes it drives people to commit the unthinkable. This is Killer Minds, a Crime House original. I'm Vanessa Richardson. And I'm Dr. Tristan Ingalls. Every Monday and Thursday, we uncover the darkest minds in history, analyzing what makes a killer. Crime House is made possible by you.

Please rate, review, and follow Killer Minds. To enhance your listening experience with ad-free early access to each two-part series and bonus content, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. A warning. This episode contains descriptions of extreme violence and violence toward children. Listener discretion is advised. Today, we begin our deep dive into John List. His upbringing in a strict religious community gave him a very specific vision of what a suburban American family should look like.

When his loved ones failed to live up to his impossible expectations, he killed them one after the other. Then he vanished without a trace. As Vanessa takes you through the story, I'll be talking about things like the harm that can come from overly rigid moral thinking, the unique psychology of mid-century relationships,

and John's black and white definition of success. And as always, we'll be asking the question, what makes a killer? insurance you only pay for what you need. TD ready for you. Is bedtime a nightmare? If you fear the chance of accidental leakage and skin irritation, you need to try Tennis Sensitive Care Overnight Pads. Its skin comfort formula acts as a barrier to help protect your skin. Try them now and have a smooth night. and have a smooth night. If you asked Alma List about her son, she would probably say he was a very delicate boy. Born in 1925 in Bay City, Michigan,

John Emil List was a quiet, gawky kid who loved reading, chess, and Sunday services at the local Lutheran church. He was an only child and strived to be just like his father, an old-fashioned shopkeeper named John Frederick List. John Frederick had married Alma after his first wife died from cancer. The circumstances of their union might have caused a bit of gossip in town. Alma seemed like a quick replacement, and the fact that she was 27 years younger than John Frederick didn't seem to help.

She was in her mid-30s when they were married. He was firmly in his 60s. And there was one other detail. Alma had been his wife's live-in nurse. When she died, John Frederick seemed content to keep Alma around, and promptly asked her to marry him. It wasn't a match made in heaven, but it was a functional one. John Frederick and Alma were both socially conservative, with old world beliefs about the way things should be. They believed that a man should always be the head of the household, and that a family

should always be self-sufficient. They believed in dressing up before leaving the house, that God should be at the center of every decision, and most importantly for young John, that children should be seen and never ever heard. Yeah, so that whole children should be seen and not heard approach to parenting is essentially punishing a child's self-expression It sends a message to the child that their thoughts feelings and even their presence are unwanted And over time that kind of environment doesn't just create a reserve child It can create a pretty conflicted one shame becomes internalized emotions

Don't get processed or expressed, they get buried. And when you layer on rigid gender roles, patriarchal expectations, and a kind of black and white religious ideology, what that child learns is that failure isn't just disappointing, it's morally unacceptable. There's no room for uncertainty and no tolerance for vulnerability in that kind of life, only perfection. So what do people do when they're struggling internally but they can't show it? A lot of times they fake it.

They present a calm, in-control exterior while quietly struggling on the inside. And as you take us through the story, Vanessa, we're gonna learn that John is not taught effective coping or emotional regulation. Instead, he will become an emotional pressure cooker, and people like this are at risk of having those emotions boil over

and subsequently displace their anger on more vulnerable targets. Well, while John never complained, as you said, he kept it all inside, growing up in this environment definitely wasn't easy, especially when it came to his father. Even though John Frederick had passed his own name to his son, he refused to use it.

He coldly referred to little John as the boy. When he bought a new house, he didn't even let John have a bedroom. Instead, he made his son sleep on the couch and demanded he carefully fold his sheets and blankets every morning before he went to school. Alma seemed to pick up on her husband's dismissive attitude and responded with intense, maybe overwhelming, protectiveness. John was her only child, and she needed him to grow into a successful, upstanding man. She forbade him from seeing anyone she deemed a bad influence, and they studied the Bible together almost every night.

She held hands with him on the way to church, and on cold winter days she bundled him in so many layers that he could barely walk. Unsurprisingly, this parenting style didn't help John make friends. His quietness at home carried over to the classroom where he went mostly unnoticed. To his classmates, he was just that tall boy with glasses who was always impeccably dressed and didn't talk to anyone. He was so anonymous that when John's senior yearbook was published in 1943, he was voted Most Likely to Join the Army Supply Corps, which was a non-combat department that handled logistics and procurement. most likely to join the Army Supply Corps, which was a non-combat department that handled logistics and procurement. At a time when the boys John's age were

shipping off to war, it was notable that his classmates thought the best he could do was becoming a pencil pusher. These mocking predictions turned out to be somewhat accurate. John did join the army, and his experience was predictably bland. By the time he enlisted in the summer of 1943, the war was in a holding pattern. As a result, his first year was spent stateside, slogging through infantry training in the American South. As always, John kept to himself. He hated the rowdy atmosphere of the barracks. He tried to tune his fellow soldiers out and focus on following the army's rules as closely as he'd followed his mothers.

When his duties were finished, he passed up the local bar or dance hall and listened to classical music alone instead. John's time in basic training passed in this quiet anonymity until the summer of 1944, when the base chaplain called him to say that his father was dead. John Frederick was in his 80s and had been sick for years, but even though his death wasn't a surprise, it shook 18-year-old John to his core. At the funeral, he dressed in his military uniform, but John apparently cast his eyes down whenever someone asked about the army.

He seemed embarrassed to admit that he still hadn't seen combat. It must have also been a difficult moment for John when he saw his domineering father in a wooden casket, shrunken and still. Shortly before he died, John Frederick made his son promise to always take care of Alma, and John agreed. He was determined to make his father proud and become the kind of upstanding, God-fearing man he was expected to be. It seemed that in his mind, there was no other choice. So this was a drastic and pretty abrupt shift for John, going from a child who was expected to stay silent

and be invisible to suddenly being handed the role of, quote, man of the house and taking care of his mother. Psychologically, that's incredibly disorienting. Up until this point, John had never been taught how to lead. He's only been taught how to obey, and that includes his military experience. He entered another culture of strict hierarchy and submission.

So while he wore the uniform, he was still operating within systems that told him what to do, not how to think independently or assertively. And that's important groundwork in addition to his childhood and understanding what comes later. And to really understand the kind of pressure that this put on John, we need to ask, what did he believe this role meant?

What core message had he internalized? And from what we know, it seems John equated masculinity with responsibility, specifically having a family of his own and having the ability to provide for and protect them. That's where his sense of worth came from. When his father asked him to take care of his mother, it wasn't just a request,

it was in John's mind a chance to finally prove his value. But here's the conflict. John had already struggled with identity and confidence. He wasn't assertive, he wasn't emotionally flexible. So now with all this pressure and no real tools to manage it, he's overwhelmed. That kind of expectation can generate intense anxiety, not just fear of failure, but a sense that any slip up threatens his entire identity.

And for someone like John, any perceived failure is just as catastrophic as real failure because it means in his mind that he's somehow fundamentally broken. Well, if John was hoping to prove himself in the military, he never really got the chance. After his father's funeral, John returned to the army. He spent the rest of the year in the U.S. until his unit was finally shipped overseas in February 1945. But even once he made it to the European theater,

his time there was short-lived. The Allied forces were on the brink of victory, although John briefly caught enemy fire as they crossed the German border. The Nazis took his unit captive, but released them shortly after, when they realized surrender was imminent. This brush with danger was quite minor, but for mild-mannered John, it was all the adventure he needed. He would later play up this story upon his return, referring to himself as a prisoner

of war and proudly displaying his Bronze Star Medal. John was discharged in 1946, when he was 21. True to his word, he returned home to live with his mother and enrolled at the University of Michigan. Alma wanted him to study accounting Naturally John agreed in a repeat of his high school experience He failed to connect with people in his class or make any kind of impression there Instead he spent his weekends with his mother went to church every Sunday and became active in the school's Lutheran Club

John enjoyed the simplicity of it all and used the opportunity to focus on his studies. Accounting allowed him to see the world as a simple matrix of numbers and formulas, which worked well for his rigid, rule-focused brain. This focus paid off in September 1950 when he graduated with a bachelor's degree, an MBA, and a job offer from a respected Detroit-based accounting firm. The life of his dreams, one that his father would have approved of, seemed within reach. He moved to the city, excited for his adult life to truly begin. But then another war broke out, this time in Korea.

John was called up to serve, tearing him away from his new life before it even began. It was a blessing in disguise though, because there was still one part missing from John's plan. In order to have the perfect family, he needed the perfect wife, and he was about to meet her. Or so he thought. walked into the dark and they never came back. From the director of Barbarian, a lot of people died in a lot of weird ways. We're not going to find it in the news because the police covered everything well up. On August 8th,

this is where the story really starts. Weapons. In November 1950, weapons. In November 1950, 26-year-old John List was called back into the U.S. Army to serve in the Korean War. Like in World War II, he didn't see much action. The majority of his deployment, he was in the U.S. sitting behind a desk, just like his high school classmates had predicted.

He was stationed at a sprawling military base in Fort Eustis, Virginia, and spent more time in front of a calculator than behind a gun. John had plenty of time for leisure and used the opportunity to finally socialize with other people. He even started to take girls out on dates, from church of course, and made friends with other junior officers. out on dates, from church of course, and made friends with other junior officers. One night in October 1951, he went out to a bowling alley with a few friends and noticed a pair of young women struggling through a game. One of them caught his eye.

Helen Taylor, an elegant, dark-haired 26-year-old from North Carolina. His friend asked her for a date first, but their relationship quickly dissolved. When it did, John asked Helen out a few weeks later, already hoping she'd become his wife. So given how deeply John aspired to have the, quote, perfect family, it makes sense that he became so quickly attached to Helen and wanted to accelerate their relationship. But what's striking is how little time it took. And it tells us something important. And that is that this wasn't about emotional connection or genuine compatibility. It was about fulfilling a role. For John, becoming a husband, a family man, wasn't just a life

step. It was a validation of his worth, his masculinity, and his identity. That mindset is very common in rigid conservative environments where identity is shaped by duty, not by self-exploration. So in that context, marriage isn't a personal journey, it's a moral obligation, a way to prove you're becoming the respectable, God-fearing man

you were raised to be. But here's the problem with that. When you marry someone to complete a purpose, instead of building a real emotional bond, it starts to crack pretty fast. And John, who already lacked emotional awareness and flexibility, didn't have the tools to deal with that. So instead of adapting or connecting,

he defaulted to control, withdrawal, and the belief that if he kept performing the role well enough, things would fix themselves. Is there a societal aspect to this? It feels like marriage was viewed differently back then. Absolutely. Not only was marriage expected back then, it was often required in certain cultures, especially within conservative Christian homes. Men in particular were led to believe, like I've outlined, that if they wanted to be seen as stable, respectable, and an adult, they needed to be providers, which we know was a very strong core belief for John. The

same is true for women. They were expected to have families, and they couldn't buy homes, buy cars, or even have bank accounts without a husband. So while cultural and gender roles definitely added to the pressure for John to find a wife and start a family, it definitely wasn't the only thing that contributed to it. Whatever John's reasons were for seeking out a wife, he was in luck because it turned out that Helen was also looking for a husband.

In fact, she just buried her previous one. His name was Marvin Taylor. Helen had dropped out of high school to marry him, and they had a daughter named Brenda. He was a soldier, just like John, but he made it much closer to the front lines. Marvin had been transferred to Korea, and Helen lived with him in Seoul until an infection forced her to return to the U.S. A few months later, Marvin was killed in action. His body took six months to be airlifted

back to the United States, and Helen buried him on the 12th of October. On the 13th, she met John. But despite their immediate connection, their partnership was somewhat of a mismatch. Helen was louder and more direct than John was, and didn't share his enthusiasm for Christianity. And even though he'd matured since his school years,

John remained socially awkward. Acquaintances described him as a twitchy, timid young man. Helen was willing to look past his quirks, though, maybe out of love or maybe out of something more practical. Within a few weeks of meeting, Helen told John she was pregnant. John was already planning on making Helen his wife, but as a God-fearing man, her pregnancy cemented it. On December 1, 1951, Helen and John List were married in Baltimore, Maryland.

They'd known each other for less than two months. Helen's pregnancy turned out to be a false alarm. But John didn't seem to mind being married. He cherished being a husband and did his best to connect with his stepdaughter, Brenda. The little girl didn't like him at first, but their relationship warmed up as he proved himself to be a caring, thoughtful father. He committed himself to the role, reading the latest parenting books and taking her on trips to the zoo, the circus, and the local fishing hole. In addition to now being a husband and father, other areas of John's life were falling into

place as well. He finished his second tour of duty in 1952 and returned to Detroit to restart his accounting career. He moved his small family from an apartment to a modest suburban house. At first, Helen thrived in Michigan. With John's new corporate salary, she had free reign to buy high-end decorations and fancy clothes. And it wasn't long before she got pregnant again, with no complications this time.

In January 1955, she and John welcomed their first child, a smiling, dark-haired girl named Patricia Marie List. Patty for short. With Brenda already a teenager and mostly out of the house, taking care of Patty seemed like a fresh start for Helen, a chance to live up to the stay-at-home mother ideal that had been impossible in her first marriage. When Patty was a baby, Helen joined book clubs, made dinner every night, and proudly accompanied John to church on Sundays.

Things seemed not only pleasant, but ideal. Until she got pregnant again. Over the next couple of years, Helen gave birth to a pair of boys. John Frederick called Johnny in 1956 and Frederick Michael called Fred in 1958. But as the family grew, Helen began to struggle. She started showing depressive symptoms and drank heavily, often staying in bed when the babies were screaming. A doctor gave her tranquilizers to take the edge off, primarily Doradene, which was later discontinued due to its addictive qualities.

The pills didn't mix well with alcohol, and the combination made her even more drowsy and despondent. Helen eventually stopped going to church, and would often call John at the office if a diaper needed changing or a spill needed to be cleaned. John would rush home, dutiful as ever. Often he'd also buy Helen something nice to cheer her up. But by doing that, he was only creating more problems for them. John made a nice salary, but the family was still solidly middle class.

John and Helen didn't spend like it, though. Once they dropped over $100 on a playpen, the equivalent of about $1,000 today. But the material comforts didn't do anything to improve Helen's mood. In fact, she was getting worse. Soon, neighbors started to worry when they saw baby Fred sitting outside in the fancy playpen, completely alone. So what we're seeing with Helen at this point is likely postpartum depression. And that's something that even today is still underdiagnosed and misunderstood, but in the 1950s and 60s it was barely on the radar. And according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, postpartum depression affects about one

in eight women, and that's with current awareness and screening. But back then, the symptoms like sadness, withdrawal, irritability, lack of interest in the baby, were often dismissed as a nervous condition. So women like Helen didn't get therapy, they got sedatives, which are a central nervous system depressant. We know that sedatives are not intended for the treatment of depression. Sedatives are indicated for insomnia, anxiety, agitation, and in some cases seizures. And giving someone with depression a depressant drug can actually exacerbate depressive symptoms.

And mixing a sedative with alcohol, which is also a depressant, can be fatal. Although John appeared to be trying to help Helen, what she needed was emotional support, connection, and treatment like therapy. And in that era, those things simply weren't prioritized for new mothers. New mothers were expected to carry on the physical and emotional labor of motherhood

regardless of whether or not they're physically or emotionally healed from labor itself, and medication was believed to be the quickest and easiest way to facilitate that. Their true health concerns were dismissed and stigmatized, something women struggle with in healthcare to this day. And because many, like Helen, were stay-at-home mothers back then, getting them back to, quote, work was the goal. And little attention or consideration was given to how they got them there. Well, unfortunately, Helen's struggles started to have a severe impact on their marriage.

On the rare occasions when she had enough energy to hold a conversation with John, she insulted him, comparing him to her previous husband and saying he'd never live up. John's stepdaughter Brenda, who was a teenager at this point, was home one night when Helen wouldn't stop talking about how much she hated John's hair. John silently took the abuse, his face getting redder and redder. But eventually, he had enough. He stood up and pushed the table over. Brenda was terrified.

It was the first time she'd seen her stepfather react so violently. This incident was indicative of a larger shift in the List House. Things were becoming more chaotic, more dangerous, and Brenda wanted to get away from it as quickly as possible. The moment she turned 18, she eloped with her boyfriend and moved out. John was aware that his family was falling apart and saw Brenda's departure as confirmation of that, but he didn't seem interested in directly addressing the tension that was building within the house. Instead, he doubled down on the one area where he still felt in control – the office.

Even as his home life unraveled, John made some major career jumps. He was hired to supervise the accounting department at a paper company and then found an even better paying position at Xerox, a company that had just perfected the office photocopier. It was based in upstate New York, but the pay bump was worth moving for. In 1961, the List family packed their bags and bought a ranch house in the Rochester suburbs. For a while, the influx of money and status seemed to smooth over their issues.

The move also revived Helen, who started going to church again. She then happily joined John on a grand tour of Europe, stopping in Ireland, England, and Germany. They'd been married for almost a decade, and this was their first vacation together. But as 36-year-old John continued to climb the corporate ladder, an earlier problem got even worse – their finances. The lists spent way too much money. Every time John's salary rose, so did their standard of living.

Shortly after a big pay raise at Xerox, the family went into debt to replace the appliances in their new home. And then at one point, John had to ask his sister-in-law to guarantee a small check. When it bounced, she realized he had less than $40 in his bank account. So what we're seeing here is something known as the lifestyle creep, also known in psychology as the hedonic treadmill. It's the idea that as your income increases, your spending tends to increase right along with it. So instead of feeling more secure or content,

you just end up with a more expensive version of the same financial stress. But it's important to understand why they fell into this trap. When a relationship lacks emotional security, like when there's tension or distance or some kind of unspoken resentment, couples will often look for stability in other places. And one of the most common ways of doing that is material possessions. And to John, the

more material possessions they had, the more evidence there was to support his image of being the ideal provider and the respectable patriarch. And for Helen, an illusion of success could have helped her avoid acknowledging her unhappiness. At least, that would have been her hope. But the psychological trap here is that this lifestyle became the new normal for them. And once that happens, going backward even slightly feels like a failure, especially to someone like John,

because in his case, it feels morally unacceptable. And when his sister-in-law realized he had less than $40 in the bank, that was existential for John, because it's threatening his entire identity, which in turn threatens his sense of self-worth. John managed to hold the problems at bay for a while, but at a certain point, he'd climbed the corporate ladder about as high as he could go. He was an accountant at heart, and the more nuanced skills of business continued to elude him.

He was terrible at managing others, and panicked whenever he was asked to speak in public. Additionally, whenever he went to company parties to hobnob with the upper ranks, Helen embarrassed him by flirting and drinking heavily. Still, John was determined to push his career forward. In 1965, he lobbied for a promotion at Xerox and got a termination letter instead. This dismissal was the first in a series of professional disappointments that pushed John further and further from the future he'd envisioned, and with each setback, his rage grew. For a short while, the American dream had been within reach, and when it all went away,

John decided he never wanted his family to feel his shame. Even if that meant they felt nothing at all. No Frills delivers. Get groceries delivered to your door from No Frills with PC Express. Shop online and get $15 in PC Optimum points on your first five orders. Shop now at NoFrails.ca. What's up, little psychos? I'm Investigator Slater, host of the Psychopedia podcast. Psychopedia is a true crime podcast delivering raw, real,

and absolutely gripping episodes every single week. I dig deep to uncover fascinating details of heinous true crime cases while exploring criminology and psychology theories. I take you into the absolute darkest corners of the human psyche, my favorite territory, and present cases like you've never heard them before. Follow and listen to Psychopedia

everywhere you get your podcasts. When John List was fired in 1965, the steady suburban life of his dreams slipped out of his grasp. He needed another job that could bring him the same status and salary, and he needed it fast. But if it was anything the 40-year-old accountant was good at, it was planning. He sent resumes all over the country, and within a few months, he had an offer from the first National Bank

of New Jersey. He'd make just as much there as he had at Xerox, and with a better title, vice president and comptroller. The new job allowed the family to move to an upper-class suburb in Westfield, New Jersey, a place where well-to-do businessmen raised their families. It had a Lutheran church, a good school district, and a sprawling mansion for sale that seemed like the perfect setting for the list's new life. The home was called Breeze Knoll. Built at the turn of the century, it had 19 rooms, including a massive ballroom with a stained glass window set into the ceiling. It was

perched on a hill in one of Westfield's most exclusive neighborhoods, framed by huge trees. Breeze Knoll was impressive, old-fashioned and private, all things that appealed to John List. And as a bonus, it had space for his mother. When the family moved in, Alma List came with them, living in the former servants' quarters. John resumed his childhood routine of studying the Bible with her in the evenings, and was delighted to have his whole family under one roof. For the first few years in Westfield, John was the picture of a mid-century father. He packed up for work every morning, taught Sunday school at the Lutheran church, and led his

son's Boy Scout troop. He was obsessed with Lutheran church, and led his son's boy scout troupe. He was obsessed with maintaining the house and dedicated his weekends to home improvement projects and landscaping. On paper, it looked like John had turned things around. But in reality, he was just papering over the cracks. At work, he still struggled to make new connections and close deals, and his Sunday school students described him as mean and overly pious. He also took the Boy Scouts after-school activities much too seriously, and would often scream at the young boys. As for the landscaping, neighbors noticed that he mowed the lawn in a full suit even

in the middle of summer. When they waved, he'd rarely acknowledge them. Once when a neighbor brought a pie to welcome the family to the area, John shooed him away, saying the lists liked to keep to themselves. It was clear by now that John had a mean streak, and it seemed to be getting worse as time went on. As financial strain and job instability increased, so did the pressure for John. Without any other way of concealing it, it became a total collapse of himself.

And because he had never developed emotional resilience or healthy coping strategies, every setback felt catastrophic. But we can't rule out underlying depression, especially given his isolation, rigidity, and increasingly distorted thinking. Depression in men, particularly men of John's generation, often doesn't look like sadness necessarily. It can show up as withdrawal, irritability, perfectionism, and control.

And when that depression is left untreated, it can quietly break down their ability to function, even as they try to maintain the illusion that everything is fine. So what we're likely seeing here is mounting external pressure, as well as internal psychological decline. And without any emotional outlet, any therapeutic support, or even the language to articulate what he is going through, John did what many emotionally stunted individuals do under extreme stress. He shut down. He displaced his anger onto vulnerable targets and he tried harder to preserve an identity that was already crumbling.

This image of John doing yard work in a suit, full suit, what do you make of that? That was symbolic. For John, as I've outlined, appearances weren't just superficial, they were sacred. So dressing formally, even for yard work, was a way of projecting a stable identity to the world, especially now. But psychologically, it also hints at something deeper, and that's a need for control.

When everything else in his life was starting to slip, his finances, his marriage, his sense of relevance or value, the one thing he could still control was the image he presented. So the suit became a kind of armor or uniform. It's also an example of rigid thinking, something we often see in people who struggle emotionally. Instead of adapting to new realities,

they double down on what's familiar and what's routine. And for John, that meant holding onto an idealized version of masculinity and morality, even if it meant sweating through a suit in the front yard. As John's anxieties grew, stress continued to build inside his home too. Despite a healthy salary, John's financial problems had followed the family

to New Jersey. He found out that Bree's Knoll needed thousands of dollars worth of repairs and cost a small fortune to heat on a monthly basis. But even knowing this, he was so obsessed with keeping up appearances that he did nothing to curb the family's spending habits, even as the bills soared. Then in 1967, 42-year-old John lost the job that brought him to Westfield in the first place. He didn't tell his family because he was too embarrassed. Instead, he pretended to go to work every day, packing a briefcase and driving to the train station. He did this

for six months, even as his bank accounts dwindled to nothing. Finally, to stay afloat, he started diverting money from his mother's account. John promised he'd pay her back eventually, and kept track of every dollar he took. He did find another job, but the salary was fairly low, and soon he was let go from that too. He took out loans and a new mortgage and tried to sell life insurance on the side, but it wasn't enough to maintain their current lifestyle. And soon, their problems got even worse when Helen's health took another nosedive. Around the time they moved to New Jersey, 40-year-old Helen became bedridden. She was showing symptoms of cerebral atrophy, which meant her brain tissue was shrinking

as her body struggled to fully recover from the infection she'd contracted in Korea over a decade earlier. For several years, she was in and out of hospitals, suffering from extreme fatigue and irritability. Her drinking didn't slow down either, and her critiques of John became more pointed and cruel. She started publicly commenting on John's sexual performance, and kept a photo of her deceased husband Marvin in her dresser drawer. Sometimes she would mockingly remind John of Marvin's military record, how he'd

died a hero, and John barely saw combat. But she was hiding something behind these cruel comparisons to her perfect husband. In 1969, after nearly two decades of marriage to John, Helen finally admitted that her illness was not the result of a random infection in Korea. She was experiencing the late-stage effects of syphilis, a sexually transmitted disease that she'd gotten from Marvin, who'd been cheating on her. Her initial infection was the reason she'd gone home to the United States during the war.

She recovered from the first bout before meeting John, and was purposefully vague about the illness that had sent her home. She didn't seem to consider that syphilis doesn't just go away. Although it doesn't seem like Helen passed her syphilis on to John, once you've contracted it, the disease can lay dormant for years, slowly degrading the body and brain. This was what was happening to Helen during the 18 years of their marriage, and she kept it a secret until the symptoms became too obvious to hide.

When John found out, there were a lot of aspects of their marriage that possibly made more sense. For one, it had been Helen's idea to get married in Baltimore, where pre-marriage syphilis tests were not required. She'd lied to him for 18 years. Now, her brain was shrinking and she was dying, which caused her to grow more erratic with each passing day. Syphilis, especially if left untreated, can be devastating,

not just physically but neurologically, like you mentioned. In its later stages, the disease can enter the brain and nervous system, and that's a condition known as neurocifilis. And it doesn't always happen quickly, like you mentioned. It can lie dormant for years, even decades, before symptoms start to show. In Helen's case, it's likely that by the time John realized what was happening, her cognitive functioning was already in serious decline. Neurocifilis can cause memory loss, impaired judgment, emotional instability, and even personality changes. Patients can become paranoid, irritable, confused,

or even aggressive. So it's very possible that Helen's increasing criticism of John, her emotional outbursts, her erratic behavior, weren't just the product of marital dissatisfaction, but that was also from the neurological deterioration of her brain. Now imagine John learning that not only was his wife sick, but she had manipulated him and knowingly kept this from him for their entire marriage.

That realization doesn't just trigger betrayal, it also reframes 18 years of their life together. The marriage he thought was built on faith, duty, and moral structure was now grounded in deception and betrayal. And for someone like John, who had already built his identity on control, appearances, and righteousness, this would have been profoundly destabilizing. In addition to Helen's deterioration, John had three kids to worry about.

The two boys were fine, Fred was a shy, deeply dedicated Mets fan, and Johnny was a quiet, geeky soccer player. Both were under 15 at this point and didn't seem to have a rebellious streak. Patty was a different story, though. She'd grown up to be remarkably headstrong and independent, and was right in the middle of the flower generation. She was by no means a troublemaker, but like any high schooler, she pushed against her parents' boundaries where she could.

She started sneaking out at night and smoking cigarettes with her friends. She wore t-shirts with peace signs and joined a community theater group. She told some classmates that she wanted to be a witch, the ultimate rejection of her Lutheran upbringing. She hid most of this from her father, but when he did catch wind of it, he was furious. One night in the summer of 1971, 16-year-old Patti and her friend were picked up by the police. They'd been wandering around Westfield a little past midnight, giggling and smoking cigarettes. John came to the station to pick her up, dressed in a full suit at 2.30 in the morning. The officers later recalled a whiff of aftershave as John ushered his daughter into the car. Later he screamed at her that she was out

of control and was surely going to hell. As far as John was concerned, she had left him no choice. Sometime after this, around the fall of 1971, John started planning. His debts were mounting. With more than $50,000 owed on the house and his mother's bank account completely drained. He'd earned less than $5,000 that year, and given his professional history, he wasn't sure when he'd find a job again. He still hadn't told his family that he'd lost his job or about how much financial trouble they were in, and he needed to either come clean soon or apply for government benefits. But he was too proud to put them on welfare.

In fact, he'd rather see them dead. On November 5th, 1971, John called a very odd family meeting. After dinner, he sat his three children down and asked each of them if they'd like to be buried or cremated. This is just another chilling example of John's dichotomous or black and white thinking at work. For someone like John who had spent his entire life

clinging to structure, moral clarity, and rigid roles, there was no gray area. In his mind, a man was either a good provider or a complete failure. A family was either perfect or doomed. They either followed their religion or were sinful and going to hell. And if he couldn't give his children the quote right life by his standards, then to someone with this level of rigidity, the only other option was to give them no life at all.

This kind of extreme thinking didn't just appear now. It's been there since he was a child. He was taught very early to think in black and white. He was either seen and not heard or a bad child. He was either successful or a failure. So again, that's been there since he was young. He began behaving in binary ways, starting with his marriage. He married Helen as a moral obligation and an image rather than for an emotional commitment.

Then we begin to see his obsession with appearances because they reinforced his perceived success. Then he began doing yard work in a full suit and even picking his daughter up at 2 30 in the morning in a suit. All of this was to maintain an image of success. He even hid his job losses rather than admitting failure. So at every step, John made decisions based on preserving an image that simply couldn't tolerate imperfection. So when that image was at a breaking point and there was no hiding it any longer, he couldn't adapt because he couldn't think of the gray area. He couldn't think about downsizing or asking for help or reimagining a different path forward.

Those were not acceptable options in his psychological framework. And that's the danger of rigid binary thinking like this. It trapped John in a false logic where catastrophe feels like the only morally consistent solution. Is binary thinking a symptom of any psychiatric disorders? Dichotomous or binary thinking is influenced by combination of psychological, neurological, and environmental factors. It's a cognitive distortion that can be found in a number of disorders, and it's not specific to any one singular disorder.

That being said, it is more commonly noticed in borderline personality disorder, obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, depression, autism spectrum disorder, and even post-traumatic stress disorder. But again, binary thinking alone is not enough to diagnose someone with any specific condition, even John. But it does suggest rigid perfectionistic traits stemming from his father, which may have been exasperated by his time in the military. He had a deeply ingrained belief system that

laid the foundation for this type of thinking. Well, the kids were scared. How could they not be? But they also may have chalked it up to their father's eccentricities. They had no idea that he'd applied for a gun permit a few weeks earlier, or that he'd cancelled his newspaper subscription, or that the calendar in his study had a date circled in bright red marker, November 9th, 1971. It was the day John List's entire family would die, and his second life would begin. Thanks so much for listening. Come back next time for the conclusion of our deep dive on John List. Killer Minds is a Crime House original powered by PAVE Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support.

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This episode was brought to life by the Killer Minds team, Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benedon, Lori Marinelli, Natalie Pritzowski, Sarah Camp, Kate Murdoch, Kylie Harrington, Sarah Tardiff, and Carrie Murphy. Thank you for listening. Hi, it's Caitlin Moore. Crime House is home to the most gripping true crime shows, and you don't want to miss what's coming up on my show, Cluesues that I co-host with Morgan Apshur. We are digging into the chilling details of Amy Archer Gilligan, a nursing home proprietor whose trail of natural deaths turned out to be anything but.

Join us as we examine the evidence one clue at a time. Listen to Clues every Wednesday on Apple podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to your podcasts.