Mind of a Serial Killer - SERIAL KILLER: The Death House Landlady Pt. 1

Episode Date: January 5, 2026

Before she became one of America’s most notorious female serial killers, Dorothea Puente was a master of reinvention — a woman who survived a traumatic childhood, escaped into elaborate lies, and learned to weaponize trust. In Part 1, Killer Minds traces Dorothea’s tumultuous early life, from abuse, abandonment, and shapeshifting identities to the scams, marriages, and manipulations that set the stage for her deadly crimes. Vanessa Richardson and Dr. Tristin Engels explore how Dorothea’s need for control, admiration, and survival shaped the dangerous caretaker she would eventually become. If you’re new here, don’t forget to follow Killer Minds to never miss a case! For Ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Killer Minds is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios 🎧 Need More to Binge?  Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Murder True Crime Stories, Crime House Daily and Crimes and more wherever you get your podcasts! Follow me on Social Instagram: @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios 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, Crime House community. It's Vanessa Richardson. Exciting news. Conspiracy theories, cults, and crimes is leveling up. Starting the week of January 12th, you'll be getting two episodes every week. Wednesdays, we unravel the conspiracy or the cult, and on Fridays we look at a corresponding crime. Every week has a theme. Tech, bioterror, power, paranoia, you name it. Follow conspiracy theories, cults and crimes now. on your podcast app because you're about to dive deeper, get weirder, and go darker than ever before. We all like to reinvent ourselves every once in a while. Maybe we move to a new city, start a new job, or take up a new hobby.

Sometimes we want to challenge ourselves to try something new, and usually it's healthy. But Dorothea Puente took her love of reinvention to new extremes. Dorothea loved to make up stories about her past and who she was, and what started as a way to cope with her demons became a pathological love of power and manipulation. Soon, Dorothea's mistruths and misdeeds spiraled out of control, When the truth about her was finally uncovered, she became known as one of the most prolific female serial killers in U.S. history. 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 Engels. Every Monday and Thursday, we uncover the darkest minds in history, analyzing what makes a killer. Crime House is made possible by you. Follow Killer Minds and subscribe to Crimehouse Plus on Apple Podcasts for ad-free early access to each two-part series. Before we get started, you should know this episode contains descriptions of child abuse,

sexual abuse, domestic violence, and murder. Listener discretion is advised. Today we begin our deep dive on Dorothea Puente, a scammer turned serial killer who posed as a caretaker to gain people's trust and bleed them dry. Dorothea hid her crimes in plain sight, but eventually people caught on to the woman known as the Death House Landlady, and the true extent of her heartless crimes was revealed.

As Vanessa goes through the story, I'll be talking about things like how people use escapism to cope with past trauma, how some criminals use elaborate lies to manipulate others, and how a need for control can turn deadly. And as always, we'll be asking the question, what makes a killer? Dorothea Puente's early life was marked by chaos and danger. Born Dorothea Helen Gray in Redlands, California in 1929, she was the sixth of seven children. Both of her parents, Jessie and Trudy, were abusive alcoholics who struggled to make a living. They took that anger out on their kids. Since Dorothea was one of the youngest and smallest, she often bore the brunt of their abuse.

And they weren't just abusive, they were neglectful. Dorothea and her siblings often had to beg and scavenge for food on the street. streets. When Dorothea was just a toddler, her brothers and sisters used her tiny, cute face to gain sympathy from strangers. They would hold her up and force people to look into her big, sad eyes. That's how Dorothea learned that if she wanted to survive, she had to act as innocent and helpless as possible. Dorothea's childhood is a textbook example of what happens when a child grows up in an environment with no stability, no safety, and no reliable caregiver. When your earliest experiences are marked by abuse and neglect like this, you're not learning typical

emotional development, you're learning survival. And she and her siblings were trying to survive on all levels. Her siblings literally positioned her in front of strangers to evoke sympathy, and it worked. So she learned that vulnerability, or at least the performance of it, got attention. It got food, and it got protection. And these were things that she should have had provided to her by her parents. Instead, she's discovering that survival depends on pleasing others or shaping herself into whatever elicits care, and sadly, that becomes part of her psychological framework. It likely taught her a very distorted lesson that manipulation and performance are safer than

honesty, or even your own parents, and that she can't rely on anyone, but she can rely on her ability to craft an image that others will respond to in ways that benefit. her. And that truly sets the stage for who she would later become. Do you think that Dorothea, when she was a toddler, experienced mixed emotions? Like, do you think she felt pride or maybe flattery when her siblings used her to persuade strangers to give them food? So children want to feel value and belonging. In Dorothea's home, none of those needs were being met. So when her siblings used her to elicit sympathy from strangers, she was actually finding a distorted form of value in belonging there. Because in that tiny role, she had a purpose, and she was being rewarded, not only with food and basic necessities, but emotionally, too, because her siblings approved of her when she played that part.

But at the same time, she was far too young to understand the complexity of what was happening at this time. And as I mentioned, the groundwork is being laid. This is conditioning her to associate identity and safety with manipulation, appeasement, and emotional performance. While Dorothea and her siblings were able to elicit generosity from many people, their tactics were also dangerous. As they roamed the streets, they never knew which people they could trust and who would take advantage of them. They often encountered thieves, drunks, or worse, on multiple occasions. Both Dorothea and her siblings were sexually assaulted. Since they were just kids, there was nothing they could do about it.

They didn't even talk about it with each other. all they could do was accept the abuse as part of their grim reality. They couldn't escape the tormented home either. The entire family lived in a one-bedroom apartment, and Dorothea's parents, fueled by alcohol, weren't shy about their own sexual encounters, even when the children were around. At the same time, Dorothy's parents prioritized one thing

that they hoped would be good for their kids, and that was going to church every Sunday. However, if Dorothea's parents wanted religion to help their kids stay on a good path, it actually had the opposite effect. At church, Dorothea often heard messages of how evil sex was. She not only found it confusing, but it made her think the abuse she experienced was her own fault and that she was evil too. Well, this is truly sad because not only was she experiencing sexual violence,

but she had nowhere safe to process any of it. She was growing up in a world with no boundaries and no guidance to help her understand what was happening to her. Her home wasn't protective. In fact, it was a continuation of violations of privacy and safety and bodily autonomy. And then she goes to church and hears that sex is evil. And it sounds like that message was received as a sweeping moral judgment. And because of that, Dorothea internalized that and applied it to herself, even though none of her sexual experiences were voluntary or concerned. sensual, and that's devastating because it creates shame, confusion, and self-blame. Consequently, a child who feels inherently bad begins to see themselves as defective or unworthy, and over time that can lead to emotional numbness, chronic insecurity, or coping

strategies that involve manipulation, secrecy, or avoidance, especially when they're never given safe or healthy ways to cope. So Dorothea wasn't only harmed by the abuse itself. She was harmed by the absence of boundaries at home and by a religious framework that convinced her she was responsible for her own victimization. And those layers of trauma can shape how she learns to relate to herself, to others, and to power for the rest of her life. Do you think once Dorothea formed that belief that she was evil, would that have become sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy? Oh yes. Beliefs that are formed that early, especially ones that are rooted in shame, can absolutely become self-fulfilling prophecies. If Dorothea believed she was bad at her core, then she wouldn't expect safety or

kindness or stability from others, and she would likely not see herself as someone who deserves those things. Instead, she'd gravitate toward behaviors that match the identity she's already internalized. That can mean secrecy, that can mean manipulation, detachment, or living behind constructed persona. And here's the tragedy of this. Once someone adopts that identity, every negative experience reinforces it. So at that point, the belief isn't just shaping her behavior. It's shaping her interpretation of reality. And it can become her identity. By early 1937, when Dorothea was just eight years old, she was basically desensitized to all the horrible things that happened to her. However, that year, when her father,

passed away from tuberculosis, Dorothea witnessed something that was new to her. Pure kindness. Jesse's medical bills had been a huge expense, and after he passed, their neighbors stepped up to help the struggling family. Most of Dorothea's neighbors were Mexican, so Dorothea's family didn't always feel like they had a lot in common with them. But now, people in their community were making sure they had food to eat, and that Dorothea and her siblings had somewhere safe to be while Trudy was out looking for work.

As a way to repay them, Dorothea helped clean the dishes after a meal or did other chores for them. She'd have to keep doing this, too, because there wasn't anyone willing to hire her alcoholic single mother of seven. So instead, Trudy turned to sex work. But she kept wasting most of her cash on alcohol, all while other families took care of her kids. Then, just a year after Dorothea's father died, Trudy was killed in a motorcycle accident. It was devastating news, but it wasn't surprising to any of the children she had left behind. They continued to manage on their own for a little while, but soon the state stepped in and split them all up, sending them to different orphanages throughout California.

For the first time, Dorothea was completely separated from her family. She found the orphanages to be even bleaker than what she was already used to. The facilities were understaffed and packed with children, and the food was no. better than what Dorothea could find on the street. But a few months later, good news came through. Dorothea's aunt in Fresno had tracked her and her siblings down. She wanted to adopt them and have them go to school with their cousins. Dorothea thought it would be her ticket to a normal life.

When she was around 10 years old, she happily moved in with her aunt, and it felt like they were one big, happy family. She and her siblings finally had a stable roof over their heads, clean clothes, and a sense of routine. However, when Dorothea's siblings made any small mention of the past, Dorothea became extremely upset. She didn't want to think about her former life at all. She wanted to become someone entirely new. Dorothea recalled the generosity of her Mexican neighbors after her father's death, and she decided to write a whole new backstory for herself based on her admiration of those people. She started telling other kids at school that she had

grown up in Mexico, and that her family was made up of 18 kids who had all come to the U.S. together. Dorothea was so committed to this facade, she even started learning Spanish and using a fake accent when she spoke in English. This is a very sophisticated form of psychological escapism. Dorothea's childhood was filled with terror and shame, instability, and a sense of being just fundamentally unwanted. So when she finally entered a stable home, she didn't just want a new

environment, she wanted a new self. And children who grow up in severe trauma often try to sever themselves from their own histories because the past is unsafe and uncomfortable. And for Dorothea, every reminder of where she came from triggered shame and it triggered fear. And her siblings mentioning their past threatened the fragile new identity she was trying to construct. And she chose a story that was dignified. It was warm, communal, and admired. Her Mexican neighbors represented the opposite of her parents. They were stable, generous, and protective. So she incorporated herself into their identity. It was aspirational, but also symbolic because she wasn't just lying. She was trying to inhabit a version of herself that felt lovable. But again, this fabricated

identity allowed her to maintain psychological distance from her real life, which she found unbearable and traumatic because it was. This was her way of saying, the girl that suffered doesn't exist anymore. But unfortunately, trauma doesn't disappear just because you change the story. It follows you, and you see that pattern of reinvention, concealment, and emotional disconnection continue throughout her entire life. So when does rewriting your story stop being healing and actually start becoming denial? Rewriting your story can be very healing when it's done with awareness. A person has to be willing to acknowledge the truth of their past in order to reinterpret the meaning. how people build resilience. They integrate what happened to them when they're rebuilding. They

don't just erase it. Dorothea is wanting to erase it entirely. She's seeking detachment and dissociation, which is a trauma-based strategy. It's adaptive in the moment because it lets her function, but it's not restorative, and it doesn't help her develop a stable sense of self moving forward. Dorothea may have been trying to put herself on a better path in life, but soon she'd make the devastating realization that she actually had no control over what happened to her, and that the only way to avoid danger was to become it. In 1939, 10-year-old Dorothea Gray moved in with her aunt in Fresno, California, and began rewriting her own story. She lied to kids at school and said that her family was from Mexico,

and even learned some Spanish and started speaking English with an accent. Dorothea believed that shedding her painful past was the only way to ensure herself a bright future. But unfortunately, any hopes she had were quickly shattered. One day the authorities came by her aunt's house and said that there were too many children living inside the home. Dorothea was quickly torn from the only stable, healthy home she'd ever known and was once again separated from her siblings.

She was placed in foster care and spent the next few years bouncing between homes up and down California. Finally, when Dorothea was 16 years old, she aged out of the foster care system. She was eager as always to get away from her troubled past, so she made her way north to Washington State. The problem now was that she'd moved around so much as a child that she'd missed out on a consistent education.

With no other prospects, Dorothea turned to sex work to get by. It turned out to provide a pretty stable income for her. Not only was Dorothea attractive, with blonde hair and blue eyes, but she was still pretending to be from Mexico. So to the men whose business she solicited, she seemed, quote-unquote, exotic. Not to mention it was 1945.

World War II had just ended, and countless young soldiers were returning from the front lines in search of a good time and the company of a woman. One of those returning soldiers was 22-year-old Fred McFall. He hired Dorothea for a few weeks, and during that short time, he fell in love with her. Soon, Fred proposed. Dorothea didn't feel the same way about him. Rather, what she saw in Fred was a financially stable life.

She thought that being married to him would mean never going hungry or cold again, so she said yes. This makes sense. Dorothea's entire life has been unstable, with the experience. of the time with her aunt. But being stripped from that unexpectedly is also a trauma in itself, making it harder for her to feel stable and trust others. Her mind has always been focused on survival. Emotional fulfillment or attachment, romance, and compatibility were things that she's never had to consider, let alone had the bandwidth likely to even focus on. So with Fred, it makes sense that she sees stability and utility above all else. Those are things as very

valuable to her as love would be to Fred or to anyone who didn't have to deal with the level of scarcity and survival that she had. But she's marrying Fred for survival and Fred is marrying Dorothea for love and that is not a stable foundation for marriage. So already this relationship is built on deception to some degree and that sets the stage for resentment and unmet needs on both sides. For Dorothea, marrying Fred was a straightforward solution to her problems. And just two months after the couple got engaged, they had a big wedding in his home state of Nevada. After the wedding, Dorothea and Fred returned to Washington State and moved into a house together. While Fred was at work every day, Dorothea kept the home spotless and cooked Mexican food for dinner.

For a while, her new role as a housewife was enough to keep her happy. However, in 1946, when Dorothea was just 17 years old, their marriage began to unravel. It started when Dorothea found out she was pregnant. She was terrified of becoming a mother, and as soon as her baby daughter entered the world, Dorothea struggled to bond with her. She also refused to care for the new baby. Oftentimes when Fred came home from work,

he'd realized that their daughter was wearing the same diaper she had on when he'd left that morning. Fred was horrified at his wife's behavior, so one day Dorothea came up with a solution. She drove to Nevada and dropped her daughter off with Fred's mother. It was supposed to be temporary, a way for Dorothea to reset. But days went by without Dorothea coming back to get the baby, and then weeks. Fred and his mother kept asking Dorothea when she was going to come back and get her,

but Dorothea never planned to. It appears that motherhood itself was profoundly triggering for Dorothea. For some trauma survivors, especially those who grew up with her, severe neglect and abuse or a total absence of caregiving, becoming a parent feels terrifying rather than comforting or even natural. Motherhood requires a sense of internal stability, emotional regulation, and a template for nurturing. And Dorothea had none of those. So instead of seeing a baby as something to love, she may have seen a symbol of everything she feared in herself, like how she believes she is evil,

or the possibility that she would harm, abandon, or fail a child the way she was harmed, abandoned, and failed herself. For people with early chronic trauma, rejection can feel safer than attachment because they carry the threat of repeating the past or being overwhelmed by feelings they've spent their entire lives avoiding. So in Dorothea's case, her decision to distance herself from her daughter seems to me like a trauma response. motherhood activated her deepest wounds in the parts of her identity she feared most.

And when you pair that with being 17 and married to someone she didn't love and locked into a life she chose for survival rather than love, the urge to flee makes even more psychological sense because she's in this for her own survival, not so that she can take care of another dependent. How would postpartum depression factor into this? I'm really glad you brought up postpartum. factors because they're absolutely relevant here. We know that rates of postpartum depression and anxiety are significantly higher in teenage mothers, especially those who lack support or come

from trauma backgrounds. And again, when you look at Dorothea's history, caring for a newborn wouldn't have felt stabilizing for her. It would have felt threatening to her equilibrium. The shift from protecting herself, which is ingrained from her childhood, to protecting a dependent infant will trigger panic, emotional flooding, detachment, or even avoidance. So postpartum symptoms may very well have compounded or exacerbated an already fragile sense of safety and low capacity, making motherhood for her psychologically intolerable. Fred could tell something was wrong with his wife, especially once Dorothea started taking after her own mother even more and began drinking regularly. Eventually, Fred stopped pressing her

to bring their daughter home. Still, he maintained hope that they could get their marriage back on track, and within about a year, Dorothea was pregnant again. Fred believed that growing their family even more was the fix they needed. He thought that once the new baby was born, they could also reunite with their firstborn, but the reality would be a lot harsher. Dorothea went into labor while Fred was at work one day, and rather than get in touch with him to let him know, she went to the hospital alone. She delivered her baby without Fred by her side, and just a few minutes after her second child entered the world,

Dorothea put the baby up for adoption. Hospital staff allowed her to sign away parental rights, and by the next day, Dorothea was back home, no longer pregnant, and without their baby. She told Fred the truth of what she'd done, and he was livid. He immediately contacted the hospital to try and get his child back, but he couldn't. Now, Fred finally saw Dorothea's true colors, and he quickly filed for divorce.

When Dorothea realized that he was about to cut her out of his life entirely, she grabbed the last bit of cash she could find around the house and headed back to California. Dorothea planned to return to sex work, so she set her sights on L.A., where she knew she could find a lot of clients. However, she slipped back into her old ways a little too easily. Dorothea wasn't satisfied with the money she was making, so she started stealing her client's checkbooks. She also followed men home from bars and robbed them when they were drunk. Eventually, Dorothea got caught and landed a year-long prison sentence.

Dorothea hated the thought of going to prison, but pretty soon she realized there were a lot of benefits to being behind bars. She befriended some fellow inmates who taught her tips and tricks to avoid getting caught in the future. They even helped her practice her pickpocketing skills and taught her the art of forgery. Once Dorothea was a free woman again, she returned to the streets of L.A., sharper than ever. She continued to engage in sex work and stole from her clients on a regular basis without getting caught, at least until she became pregnant again. Dorothea didn't know who the father was, and just like before, she gave her baby up for adoption

immediately after giving birth. After taking some time off from work during her pregnancy, Dorothea then moved to San Francisco in 1950 when she was 21 years old. By now, she felt that her lifestyle came with too many risks, so now she wanted to turn a new leaf and keep a low profile. To do that and keep a roof over her head, she knew she had to be a new leaf. to find a husband. She kept seeing clients as a sex worker, but she didn't play as fast and loose as before. Dorothea simply worked as much as she needed to to survive. All the while, she searched for husband number two. In 1952, she found him. His name was Axel Johansson, and he was a Swedish-American sailor hoping to settle down. Axel was often out at sea,

and he wanted a wife to keep the home fires burning. Dorothea told Axel the same, life story she told everyone about being from Mexico, but added even more detail. She said she'd been a Radio City Rockette in New York City, as well as a chef at a renowned seafood restaurant. Dorothea told Axel that a tragic accident had marked the end of her dance career, but that on the bright side, it brought her to him. Axel was immediately enchanted. The pair quickly got married, but soon Dorothea realized how hard it was to be a sailor's wife. Like Fred, she was truly enamored with Axel, so when he was away at sea, she felt lonely and restless.

She'd drink herself into oblivion and make a huge mess of their house. And when Axel came home to find their home in that state, he was furious. Axel would get so mad at Dorothea, he'd beat her. And each time she blamed herself, believing that she deserved it. So let's talk about that. someone like Dorothea experiences intimate partner violence, it's tragically common for them to view the abuse as justified. Now remember, she grew up in a home where harm and chaos and humiliation were predictable and where love and abuse were somewhat commingled. That creates a

distorted association, that the people who hurt me are also the people I depend on. So by the time Dorothea reaches adulthood, she seemingly internalized a belief that she is fundamentally defective or evil, as she calls it, somehow deserving of mistreatment. That then becomes how she interprets conflict. So when Axel beats her, she experiences it as confirmation of what she already believes about herself. And because she genuinely loved Axel or was enamored by him, perhaps more than anyone up to that point, there was more at stake. If she admits that his behavior is wrong, she risks losing the first relationship she's emotionally invested in, which is a big thing for her. So blaming herself is psychologically safer than confronting the reality that the person she loves

is also a source of danger to her once again. Dorothy's marriage went on like this for years. No matter how hard she tried to be the kind of wife Axel wanted, she struggled to overcome her alcohol addiction, which meant she often lost control of her actions. When her attempts to change her behavior didn't work, Dorothea tried to keep Axel happy by telling him stories from her past. but he either knew she was making them up or he just didn't care. Finally, Dorothea turned to her one tried and true method of survival, escapism. She started fantasizing about different types of lives.

It was like she was the star of her own movie in her mind. But soon, the stories became a survival mechanism in their own right. Dorothea started engaging an even riskier behavior while Axel was away by seeing other men. Her neighbors often gossiped about all the men coming and going from the house. Dorothea knew that if Axel heard about it, he'd be furious. So she started telling her neighbors that those men weren't her lovers. They were her patience, because she was a holistic healer. She claimed that her mother had also been a traditional healer,

and that when they lived in Mexico, Dorothy had traveled with her to different villages to treat the poor and sick. Dorothea's neighbors believed her, and they started going to her for advice, too. To really sell her story, she piled medical books and pill bottles around the house. It's not clear whether Dorothea charged her neighbors, but she certainly played the role of healer flawlessly. People really believed she was helping them. But in reality, she was probably doing more harm than good, because she actually started giving people medication. Eventually, Axel learned what Dorothea was doing, and he was on board with

it. It seemed like she'd found a way to occupy her time that didn't involve drinking herself into oblivion. But then, when he realized she was giving people pills, Dorothea's plan backfired. Axel had no idea how she'd even gotten her hands on certain pills to begin with. But either way, he realized there was something seriously wrong with his wife if she was willing to put people's health and safety at risk like this. So in 1961, when Dorothea was 32 years old, Axel had her committed to a psychiatric ward. She didn't want to go, but as her husband, Axel could legally force her to, and soon after arriving, Dorothea was given a catch-all diagnosis of undifferentiated schizophrenia.

All right, let's talk about this diagnosis. Most people have at least heard of schizophrenia. It's a psychotic disorder in the diagnostic and statistical manual mental disorders characterized by hallucinations, delusions, disorganized thinking or behavior, and diminished emotional expression. Historically, schizophrenia had several subtypes. For example, paranoid type or paranoia was dominant, or disorganized type, or disorganization was the primary feature. Undifferentiated schizophrenia was essentially the catch-all category. It was used when someone appeared to show some features of schizophrenia but didn't fit into any specific subtype.

However, in the most recent DSM, those subtypes have been removed, and schizophrenia is now recognized and understood as a spectrum. In Dorothea's case, she was likely given this diagnosis because her presentation was confusing and inconsistent. Clinicians in the 1950s didn't have the trauma-informed framework or the nuanced understanding of personality disorders that we have today. So when someone appeared emotionally detached, evasive, or unreliable in their reporting, it wasn't uncommon for clinicians to interpret that as psychosis. But when we look back now with modern criteria, Dorothea shows far more indicators of a personality disorder, likely with antisocial, borderline, or histrionic features. She was manipulative, strategic, emotionally detached,

and from what I can tell with the information we have, and obviously having now, ever met nor evaluated her. She's in touch with reality. She wasn't hallucinating from what we know. She wasn't delusional. She was calculating and oriented. She's running a rather sophisticated and illegal operation that is generating income for her family and that takes some level of rational thought and reality testing. So what likely happened is that trauma-based attachment, identity disturbance, and habitual manipulation were misread as psychosis. And it's worth noting that women were, and often still are, disproportionately overdiagnosed with psychotic disorders due to gender-based biases. And let's not forget that she was brought to that facility by

her husband. Remember the era. It's the 1950s. That alone likely magnified that bias. A husband's account carried disproportionate diagnostic weight. They could legally force their wives into psychiatric facilities. So that dynamic likely magnified the diagnostic bias that she faced at that time. Back in the 1950s, how could receiving that diagnosis of undifferentiated schizophrenia have altered her life, especially as a woman? So at that time, schizophrenia was viewed as one of the most severe mental illnesses there were, something chronic, dangerous, and deeply stigmatizing. Treatments were limited, and they were often punitive and included involuntary hospitalization, heavy sedation, restraints, and in some cases, electroconvulsive therapy.

And once a woman gets that label, it tended to follow her everywhere. It affected how doctors listened to her, how employers saw her if she was seeking employment, and even how the legal system would treat her. And socially, the implications were even more damaging. Women were expected to be emotionally stable, nurturing, and compliant. So if a woman was diagnosed with a serious mental illness like schizophrenia, she was often assumed to be unfit. And it wasn't unusual for husbands or relatives to use that diagnosis to control or dismiss her because the assumption was that she was incapable in general. So now imagine what that would do to someone like Dorothea, who's already struggled with trauma, identity confusion, and instability. First, her autonomy was

taken once again by being forced into that facility by her husband, who was at least previously on board with the very thing he was bringing her there for. And then now she's being labeled defective by society. That just reinforces the idea that she is, quote, bad or evil. And that strengthens her mistrust in others, especially her husband. There was nothing Dorothea hated more than having her autonomy stripped away. So when she was released back into Axel's care after that brief stay, she didn't trust him anymore. Now she refused. to change her ways, which meant they were at a stalemate. She wouldn't behave the way he wanted her to, and he wouldn't stay home to take care of her. They couldn't come to an agreement

on how to move forward in their relationship, so one day, Dorothea made an executive decision. While Axel was out at sea, she cleaned the house and got it into pristine condition, then she packed her bags and left. Dorothea was striking out on her own again, and this time she would do whatever was necessary to maintain her independence, even if it meant taking deadly measures. Hey, Crime House Community. I'm Carter Roy, the host of murder true crime stories. If you listen to True Crime because you want more than just what happened, this show is for you.

on murder true crime stories we take deep dives into history's most notorious murders but we don't stop at the crime scene we look beyond the headlines to understand the real story and the people who are impacted the most because these cases aren't just mysteries their lives families communities that were changed forever whether a case is solved or unsolved my goal is for you to walk away understanding why these stories still matter and why they deserve to be told with care. Each episode explores the darkest corners of true crime while keeping the focus where it belongs on the human cost. If you're already part of the crimehouse community, murder true crime stories is a natural next listen. New episodes drop every Tuesday and Thursday, beginning

January 16th, new episodes will also drop every Friday. Follow Murder, True Crime stories on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen. In 1961, 32-year-old Dorothea left her second husband and was back out on her own. She left San Francisco and went to Sacramento. Instead of seeking out another marriage, Dorothea focused on reinventing herself again, except this time she wanted to make her tall tales a reality. To start, even though she left her husband, Dorothea continued using his last name, Johansson. This was a way for her to hide her criminal past while she got back on her feet.

Then she scraped together some money, likely through sex work, and rented a house in Sacramento. Since she knew the ins and outs of the industry, she decided to stay in it. But instead of taking on her own clients, Dorothea wanted to manage other women. So she got the names of some other sex workers through former inmates and other people she'd met during her criminal endeavors. Once she had a few women working for her, Dorothea started finding clients. While the other women took on those clients, Dorothea handled the books, pricing, and scheduling. She never actually called her business a brothel, but per the terms of the 1960s, that's what

it was. And it was also illegal. This went well for a couple of years until Dorothea's business was busted by undercover police. She was initially sentenced to 90 days in county jail, and she got another 90 when Axel refused to vouch for her address. This meant Dorothea would also lose her rental house. She knew she needed to land on her feet once she got out of jail, without getting herself into trouble again.

So while she was behind bars, Dorothea studied medical textbooks and nursing manuals. She also kept pretending to be a traditional healer from Mexico, and soon, Dorothea started practicing her new set of skills on fellow inmates. Dorothea began teaching the other women about health and wellness, and they loved learning from her. Since women at this time weren't usually empowered to take control of their own health, they felt like Dorothea was giving them a true gift. And they were giving her one too,

because in exchange for her knowledge, Dorothea got their undivided attention. The other women not only hung on to her every word, but they also took her advice. Dorothea was thriving. It felt good to be needed, even if she didn't really know what she was talking about. So Dorothea went from telling stories

to acting the part of a health and wellness provider, and this isn't surprising when we consider what we know about her. Remember from our earlier discussion, She learned when she was a child that performance equaled survival, and when she was performing for her siblings to get money for food, she felt powerful, she felt valuable, and needed for the first time. And that same dynamic is being recreated right now. In jail, her audience is receptive, vulnerable, and eager to learn, which makes them primed for manipulation, and in return, she's gaining power, admiration, and relevance without the risk of intimacy or emotional connection. That's an intoxicating combination for someone like her, and it's very addictive and reinforcing because now where's the incentive for her to stop? Do you think there's a part of her that actually actually genuinely likes caring for others,

or do you think it's just the easiest way for her to manipulate people? If Dorothea truly possessed stable, empathic, caregiving capacity, we would expect to see it expressed consistently across relationships, and we'll start with her own children. But we don't, because someone motivated by genuine concern for others doesn't secretly place their child for adoption, and certainly not without involving the father. Whatever her internal reasons were for rejecting motherhood, and we've talked about those, and there's no shaming on that whatsoever, right? We talked about what those could be. Her decisions in doing that still erase the role of the father as the parent,

and she showed no regard for the father before making that choice. That's the part that matters clinically. Her pattern is one of prioritizing her own needs and survival above all else, even when it causes profound harm to others. That lack of empathy and consideration shows up repeatedly across her life. So I think she likes the idea of performing a caregiver role because of what she gains from it, which is validation, control, admiration, and identity,

but I don't think that she truly, genuinely likes caring for others. By the time Dorothea was released, she'd perfected her caretaker persona. She exuded calm, confidence, and know-how. One of her fellow inmates introduced her to someone who got her a job as a nurse's aide. Dorothea had finally turned one of her fantasies into reality. She was also able to afford a small apartment for herself. During the day, she cared for elderly patients throughout Sacramento. She bathed them, cooked for them, managed their medications, and even ran errands for them.

Dorothea didn't make a lot of money in this line of work, but she did earn something else. People's trust. Elderly patients are a particularly vulnerable population, and they're often targeted because they are dependent on caregivers and others for support. So it's significant in telling that she positioned herself in a role where people were predisposed, to depend on her, because this creates that perfect environment for manipulation. Dorothea had started dressing conservatively so that she'd seem more straight-laced and proper, and it seemed to work. Her clients let her handle their medications without supervision. Soon, Dorothea started stealing pills. Then when clients started asking for help,

cashing checks at the bank, Dorothea offered to do it herself so they could stay at home and relax. That way, she could skim a little cash, too. By the mid-1960s, Dorothea had a healthy amount of savings and appeared to be a responsible, honest woman. So in 1966, she used her money and her image to rent another house. There, Dorothea opened her own care facility, and she had a specific type of clientele in mind. Dorothea advertised her services to people who were elderly,

disabled, or recently released from psychiatric facilities. That's because she felt they'd be easier to trick. With Dorothea's clients living under her own roof, she'd have even easier access to their money and medication. There was another benefit, too. Dorothea's boarding house was one of the only facilities in the area that catered to this clientele. Social workers thought she was a godsend,

and when she opened her doors, they immediately brought Dorothea her first few boarders. Right away, Dorothea handled everyone's meals, laundry, mail, finances, and medications. She knew this system well, so she knew exactly how to steal from her tenant's government checks, whether it be a pension, social security, veterans' benefits, or disability pay. She'd pocket some, or even all of the money. Dorothy's tenants thought she was their guardian angel. In reality, she was bleeding them dry. So again, like I mentioned, she's strategically selecting people who are not only vulnerable and dependent, but are less likely to question her

or less likely to be believed if they did question her. So for example, with elderly patients, they could be dismissed as being cognitively impaired or confused. And for psychiatric patients, they can be dismissed as being out of touch with reality. She is aiming to control the entire ecosystem her victims live in, such as their meals, their medication, and their communication with the outside world. And to do that, you have to pick people who can be easily dismissed or discredited. And this is why Adult Protective Services exists today for elderly people. But she's also exploiting the system around them. Social workers are seeing her as a community resource. That meant she could continue operating with praise rather than scrutiny, which only reinforces her sense of

entitlement and invincibility. This is calculating, entitled, and callous. and it's very coercive and controlling. I totally understand that, but it's so confusing because Dorothea was actually caring for people at the same time, cooking for them, helping them bathe. But is she just using that role as a caretaker to justify her misdeeds? Yes, this caretaker role is a mask. She provided just enough care to maintain the facade

and keep the entire operation running. All of that was the minimum required to avoid suspicion from social workers who could drop in at any time and also avoid suspicion from family members or friends of the people she's caring for and to also entice more people to come into her boarding home. It also ensured her current tenants

continue to trust her, which minimized complaints or outside involvement. I don't think there's anything more meaningful behind her caregiving than that. It wasn't compassion, it was maintenance. It was the upkeep of an image that allowed her to continue exploiting the system

and the people in her care without being detected. At the end of the day, the most important thing to Dorothea was her image and having full control over it. Soon, she met a man who could give her the cherry on top of everything she'd been hoping for. When Dorothea was 39 years old, she met a man in his mid-20s named Robert Puente. Robert was from Mexico, and Dorothea knew he could help bolster her fake image as someone

who was from there, too. It's not clear when Dorothea officially became divorced from her previous husband, but she and Robert traveled to Mexico shortly after they met for an elaborate wedding. Now she was officially Dorothea Puente. While Dorothea's third marriage didn't last long, she did keep Robert's last name. Over the next couple of years, she used her fake Mexican heritage to portray herself as someone who'd overcome great odds to get where she was. No one in Sacramento seemed to know that she was a convicted thief and a scammer.

As Dorothea made more money off her boarding house clients, she started donating regularly to charities, which helped her get in with certain social and political circles. As she raised her profile, Dorothea also perfected her look. In addition to her ultra-conservative outfits, she lightened her blonde hair to make it look white and started wearing large glasses.

Now, even though Dorothea was only in her, in her early 50s, she looked like a grandmother, and that made people trust her even more. Members of high society believed that Dorothea was an elderly woman dedicating her life to helping others and improving her community. By 1982, at the age of 53,

Dorothea had reached the height of her local celebrity status. However, as her fame rose, so did suspicions surrounding her business. Some of her clients' family members started to notice that their loved ones' bank accounts were low. They alerted the police, who began looking into the matter, but they kept their investigation on the down low so that Dorothea wouldn't catch on.

At the same time, Dorothea also seemed to realize that she couldn't keep stealing from the same people. If she really wanted to make money, she'd need to rotate her clients. So she hatched her most diabolical scheme yet. That same year, Dorothea met six. 61-year-old Ruth Monroe, a widow who'd recently lost her husband. Dorothea offered her a spot in her boarding house, and Ruth accepted.

Ruth was relatively healthy, but her children lived far away, and she needed company. She felt that she and Dorothea were fast friends. However, just a few weeks after moving in, Ruth fell gravely ill. Her son, William, raced to Sacramento to visit her. When he saw her, he was shocked. Ruth looked completely frail. Her skin was pale and she could barely move around on her own. Not only that, but William was confused to see his mother, who had been sober her whole life, drinking a creme de menth cocktail. Dorothy told William that the drink was meant to calm Ruth's nerves,

but William knew something fishy was going on. Throughout his visit, he kept trying to get some alone time with his mother so they could speak privately, but Dorothea wouldn't leave her side. She said she was looking after Ruth, but in reality, Dorothea had been drugging her. Dorothea hadn't been expecting any of Ruth's children to come and see her, and while it's not clear how exactly Dorothea planned to siphon Ruth's money, she definitely wanted her dead and had concocted a scheme to steal some of Ruth's wealth once she was gone. But William had foiled her plan, so Dorothea had to make it seem like Ruth was getting better, so he'd leave. Once William was convinced that his mother would be okay, he was finally out of Dorothea's hair.

Then, in April, 1982, Dorothea slipped Ruth something that she couldn't recover from, and she died. We don't know exactly what Dorothea poisoned Ruth with, but before calling the police to report her death, Dorothea scattered codeine and acetaminophen bottles and pills around her to make it look like Ruth had taken her life by overdosing. on the drugs. When the police arrived, Dorothea pretended to be distraught. She told the officers that Ruth had been extremely depressed over her husband's passing. The officers believed her story. So there were several factors that contributed to Dorothea's escalation into murder, her early trauma, her personality structure, her lifelong reliance on manipulation and

detachment, but the timing matters. She was in her 50s, which is unusually late for a serial killer, unless, of course, there are deaths we don't know of, but presuming this is, in fact, her first time. Why now in her 50s? I think it's because the boarding house created the perfect ecosystem for her pathology to flourish. It became a closed world where her rules superseded everyone else's. She wasn't just a landlord. She was the authority, the caregiver to food, medication, money, mobility, and even identity. And in that insulated environment, her behavior went unchecked and her sense of entitlement expanded. She was running her own society. The boarding house also allowed her to fully embody the fantasy identity she'd been constructing

since childhood. But because she lacked empathy and was driven by control and survival, that fantasy could only function if she remained an absolute unchallenged power. And layered onto all of this was her financial motive. She knew she couldn't continue siphoning money from the same tenants indefinitely without raising suspicion. And for someone with antisocial traits, escalation becomes a calculated solution, not a moral dilemma. So eliminating tenants wasn't about rage or impulse. It was about protecting her system and her income and her financial needs. So her killing was the convergence of opportunity, control, and a lifetime of maladaptive coping. When the coroner confirmed that Ruth had died by suicide, Dorothea felt even more confident in her ability to get away with

murder, and she wasted no time trying similar tactics on other victims outside of her boarding house. Dorothea started going out to bars at night to target men who seemed wealthy. She always brought potent medications with her and used them to render her marks incapacitated before robbing them. One of these men was a 74-year-old retiree named Malcolm McKenzie. Malcolm was a regular at a place called the Zebra Club. He'd seen Dorothea around the club before and thought she was elegant and alluring. One night, shortly after Ruth Monroe died, they finally struck up a conversation. And when Dorothea asked Malcolm for a nightcap at his place, Malcolm thought it was his lucky day. But as they walked down the darkened streets together, Malcolm's legs suddenly gave

out. Then his vision became blurry. Fortunately, they were close to his house and Dorothea helped him get inside. Once there, she carefully set Malcolm down in a chair, and that's when he realized that he could no longer move at all. Malcolm's heart started racing, and his panic only grew worse as he watched Dorothea rifle through his home and steal money, including his precious coin collection. Finally, Dorothea walked over to Malcolm and pulled a diamond ring from his finger. Then she was gone. As Malcolm remained motionless in his chair, he promised himself he would tell the whole city the truth about Dorothea Puente. And he wasn't the only one. Ruth's son, William, was also onto her. So within a few weeks, after police in Sacramento had spoken with both men, they finally had

enough witness testimony to place her under arrest. The only problem was that Dorothea had caught wind of the mounting investigation into her, and now she was nowhere to be found. By the time Dorothea Puente would resurface, she'd show the world she was only just getting started. We want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on all social media at Crime House. Don't forget to rate, review, and follow Killer Minds wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your listening experience, subscribe to Crimehouse Plus on Apple Podcasts.

You'll get every episode of Killer Minds ad-free, along with early access to each thrilling two-part series. Killer Minds is hosted by me, Vanessa Richardson, and Dr. Tristan Engels, and is a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Killer Minds team, Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Lori Marinelli, Natalie Pertzowski, Sarah Kamp, Sarah Batchelor, Inez Renique, Sarah Tardif, and Carrie Murphy. Thank you for listening. Looking for your next listen? Hi, it's Vanessa Richardson, and I have exciting news. Conspiracy theories, cults, and crimes is leveling up.

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