Money Crimes with Nicole Lapin - True Crime This Week: Infamous Inmates

Episode Date: November 16, 2025

This week on True Crime This Week, host Vanessa Richardson explores the twisted lives of two of history’s most notorious prisoners. First, the story of Charles Manson, the manipulative cult leader whose “Family” turned peace and love into terror. From failed musician to prophet of “Helter Skelter,” Manson’s descent into madness culminated in one of the most chilling murder sprees in American history. Then, meet Robert Stroud, the “Birdman of Alcatraz.” Though immortalized as a gentle animal lover, the real Stroud was a violent killer who spent more than 40 years in solitary confinement. His obsession with canaries and his unlikely fame reveal the strange line between redemption and myth. Two men. Two cells. One shared legacy of infamy. Scams, Money, & Murder 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 Scams, Money, & Murder! Instagram: @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, Crime House community. It's Vanessa Richardson. And if you love digging into the most gripping true crime stories, then you need to listen to another Crime House original, Crimes of, with Sabrina Deanna Roga and Corinne Vienne. Crimes of is a weekly series that explores a new theme each season from crimes of paranormal, unsolved murders, mysterious disappearances, and more. Sabrina and Corinne have been covering the true stories behind Hollywood's most iconic horror villains, and this month, they'll be diving into the paranormal. Listen to Crimes of every Tuesday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to podcasts.

This is Crime House. This week in crime history, we're looking at the life and deaths of the life and deaths of two infamous inmates. After nearly 50 years behind bars, cult leader Charles Manson died in a California prison on November 19, 2017, at 83 years old. His notorious group of followers, known as the Manson family, didn't just so fear throughout Los Angeles. They also claimed the lives of at least nine innocent people. Fifty-four years earlier, on November 21, 1963, Robert Stroud, better known as the Birdman of Alcatraz, also died in prison at 73 years old. During his many decades in solitary confinement, Robert began breeding and raising birds to pass the time.

But even Robert's affection for his feathered friends didn't erase the truth that he was a cold-blooded killer. Welcome to True Crime This Week, part of Crime House Daily. I'm Vanessa Richardson. Every Sunday, we'll be revisiting notorious crimes from the coming week in history. From serial killers to mysterious disappearances or murders, every episode will explore stories that share a common theme. Each week will cover two stories, one further in the past and one more rooted in the present. Here at Crime House, we know none of this would be.

be possible without you, our community. Please support us by rating, reviewing, and following, Crimehouse Daily, wherever you get your podcasts. And for ad-free and early access to Crimehouse Daily, plus exciting bonus content, subscribe to Crimehouse Plus on Apple Podcasts. This week's theme is infamous inmates. We're starting our episode in 2017 with The Sorted Story of Charles Manson, an aspiring musician whose message of free love attracted dozens of followers in California during the 1960s. Before long, his once peaceful ideas became much darker when he ordered his so-called family to commit several brutal murders. Then we're jumping back in time to 1963 to the Birdman of Alcatraz, Robert Stroud. At just 19 years old, Robert was already a convicted

murderer, he spent the next 54 years in prison, 42 of them in solitary confinement. Despite all that, Robert went on to become the subject of an Academy Award-nominated movie about his love of birds. All that and more coming up. With Instacart, you get groceries that over-deliver. Like, when you get groceries that are the same price as in store. With no markups at select retailers, you get in-store products for in-store prices, and the only thing that isn't in-store is you. That means you could order in-store products at in-store prices while you're in sweatpants,

in spin class, in stuffy work meeting, in anywhere but in store. So download the app today and get $0 delivery fees on your first three orders. Instacart, groceries that over-deliver. Service fees, exclusions, and terms apply. On the night of November 19th, 2017, an 83-year-old man was lying in a prison hospital in Bakersfield, California. He was short, frail, and dying of cancer. If you didn't know anything about inmate number B33920, you might have felt sympathy for his final moments. But once you saw the swastika he'd carved into his own forehead, you'd probably.

feel differently, because that prisoner was none other than Charles Manson. He died at 8.13 that evening. Over the previous five decades, his name had become synonymous with sex, psychological manipulation, and cold-blooded murder. But long before he was a California cult leader, Charles Manson was just a Midwestern boy who was desperate for love and affection. Charles Manson was born Charles Maddox on November 12th, 1934 in Cincinnati, Ohio. His mother, Kathleen, was just 16 years old when she gave birth to him. No one knows who Charles' father was, but when he was a year old, Kathleen married an older man named William Manson.

Their marriage didn't last long, but Charles kept the Manson name for the rest of his life. That might have been because Kathleen turned out to be anything but motherly. Kathleen was a neglectful alcoholic who once tried to trade her three-year-old son to a bartender in exchange for a pitcher of beer. But Kathleen was all Charles had, so he loved her anyway. When his mother was sent to prison for five years on armed robbery charges, Charlie was devastated. He lived with his physically abusive uncle while she was locked up and later described the day she was released from prison when he was eight years old, as the happiest day of his life. Sadly, the love he felt for Kathleen wasn't reciprocated.

Not long after her release, Kathleen decided that motherhood wasn't for her. She petitioned a judge to have Charles placed in a home for wayward boys in Tara Hout, Indiana. But Charles wasn't going without a fight. He ran away from home a few years later in 1948 when he was 12. He spent several months living on the streets of Indianapolis, stealing anything he could eat or sell to get by. Eventually, he was caught behind the wheel of a stolen car and sent to a state-run reform school, the Indiana School for Boys. There, Charles was allegedly physically and sexually abused by staff and fellow students. And when he left the school in 1953, 19-year-old Charles definitely wasn't reformed.

Charles was a free man for two years, enough time to get married and have a son, but being a husband and father didn't stop him from getting on the wrong side of the law. By 1955, he was back in jail for car theft. By 1958, he was divorced, and by 1960, he was arrested for transporting women across state lines for sex. He spent the next seven years at the federal prison on Terminal Island in Southern California. From inside his prison cell, Charles experienced the cultural upheaval of the 1960s. He read about Eastern religion, listened to The Beatles, and taught himself how to play guitar. When he was released in 1967, 32-year-old Charles Manson thought he had it all figured out.

His destiny was to become a famous musician. So with his guitar in hand, he tried to make that dream come true in San Francisco. When Charles arrived, the summer of love was in full swing, as many as 100,000 young people from all over the country had flooded the city to protest the Vietnam War. And while San Francisco was full of gurus preaching love and peace, Charles was especially captivating. He was handsome, charismatic, and talked confidently about spirituality and the universe. In freewheeling sermons, he claimed, he was a reincarnated version of Jesus. His message was popular, and in just a few months, he'd amassed a small but very loyal group of followers, mostly women. They worshipped Charles

like he was a god, and slept with him too. The women, and a small number of men who lived with Charles and followed his teachings, came to be known as the Manson family. Charles was certainly enjoying all the love and attention they gave him. But even then, he was still focused on his goal. After about a year of playing guitar and preaching on the streets of San Francisco, Charles decided it was time to take his career to the next level. So in the spring of 1968, he and about 20 followers made the journey to Los Angeles in search of a record deal.

Charles quickly discovered that L.A. was fertile ground for a new-age guru like him. Lots of Hollywood bigwigs were intrigued by the new arrival. and Charles found himself rubbing elbows with the city's rich and famous. One of these people was a man named Dennis Wilson, who was a drummer for the Beach Boys. Charles seized the moment and played Dennis some of the psychedelic folk rock songs he'd written. Dennis was so impressed that he offered to help Charles record an album. Over the next several months, Dennis paid for studio time so Charles could record some of his songs. All the while, Charles and roughly a dozen.

and female members of his family lived at Dennis's mansion on Sunset Boulevard. In their downtime, Charles and Dennis jammed together, and Dennis introduced Charles to powerful figures in the industry, including music producer Terry Melcher. Terry tried to give Charles a chance, but he was stubborn and confrontational in the recording booth, unwilling to take direction or make any changes to his songs. Terry wasn't interested in working with someone like that, and before long, Terry wasn't the only one who wanted to give Charles the slip. The Manson family had cost Wilson over $100,000 in food, medical bills, and their house. By August of 1968, he'd finally had enough. Wilson moved out, and the landlord kicked the group out of the house. Although Charles

was livid, he assured his followers that fame and prosperity were right around the corner, But first, they'd have to follow him into the wilderness. Charles contacted a friend of a friend named George Spawn, who owned a 55-acre property on the northern edge of Los Angeles called Spawn Ranch. George rented the property out to movie studios that needed authentic backdrops for Western films and TV shows. But business was drying up, and George, who was 81 years old and nearly blind, needed help maintaining the property. So he and Charles struck a deal. Charles and his 18 followers could live there for free if they helped take care of the ranch and keep George company. The Mansons spent the next year

at Spawn Ranch, living in huts and trailers scattered around the property. They sang and froliced in the grass. They did acid and partied through the night. They sold drugs, raced stolen cars, and shot guns in an empty canyon. George was old and his health was failing, so he was mostly unaware of what was going on at his property. But just to be sure, Charles had one of his followers, a 20-year-old runaway who pronounces her name Lynette Squeaky Frommi, keep him distracted. It was the perfect situation. Life was one big party for the Manson family, and Charles was having the time of his life. But he was still angry at the world and at the Hollywood Insiders.

who'd rejected him. That, combined with all the drugs he was taking, led Charles down a dark path of fear and paranoia. Soon, he came to believe that civilization was coming to an end, and that he and his followers would inherit what was left. Charles claimed the Beatles had foretold his vision of the future in their White album, released in November 1968. In sermons to the family, Charles claimed the record was full of coded references to an upcoming race war. He called it Helter Skelter after one of the songs on the album. But Charles had a plan to protect himself and his family. He told them there was an underground city somewhere in Death Valley

in eastern California's Mojave Desert. When Helter Skelter started, he'd lead his followers there to take shelter. Then once the fighting stopped, the Manson family would return to the surface, and claim the world for themselves. This all made perfect sense to Charles' followers. They idolized him. They were doing a lot of psychedelic drugs, and they were all cut off from society on George Spahn's remote ranch.

They'd think whatever Charles wanted them to think, and do whatever Charles wanted them to do. Even murder. You think you understand how this business works, but you don't. Landman, TV's biggest phenomenon returns to Paramount Plus. From Taylor Sheridan, co-creator of Yellowstone, starring Billy Bob Thornton. You have to know the rules of the game and bend them. And you really have to know them to break them.

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34-year-old cult leader Charles Manson was preparing for the end of the world. He told his devoted followers that a race war called Helter Skelter was coming. According to Charles, the Manson family would rule whatever was left after the fighting stopped. His acolytes believed every word and would do anything to bring his vision to life. And they were always looking for more people. people to join them in the coming battle. The number of people living at Spawn Ranch fluctuated from 18 to nearly 40 at times, a collection that included teen runaways, artists, hippies, and pleasure seekers.

But by the summer of 1969, an inner circle had formed, made up of some of Charles' most devoted followers. This included 21-year-old Patricia Crenwinkle, a college dropout who'd left her life behind, to follow Charles and his teachings. Another 21-year-old Susan Atkins was a former stripper who believed Charles Manson was Jesus. One of the newest members was 20-year-old Linda Kasabian, a former housewife who moved to Spawn Ranch

with her young daughter early in the summer of 1969. Charles' second in command was 23-year-old Tex Watson, who also happened to be one of the only men in the group. He was a Texas fratboy turned L.A. hippie who'd met Charles through Dennis Wilson. Although everyone in the Manson family was involved in criminal activity, this group would take a lead role in the summer of violence that made the Manson's infamous. On the night of August 8, 1969, Charles Manson told texts to take Susan, Patricia, and Linda to the home of Terry Melcher. This was the record producer Charles had met

through Dennis Wilson, the one who'd refused to work with him. For the last year, Charles had nursed his grudge against Terry, and now he'd come up with a plan to kick off Helter-Skelter and get revenge on the music industry that had spurned him. Charles told his disciples to destroy everyone in the house and do it as gruesome as you can. Charles gave them Terry's address, 10050 Cello Drive in the Hollywood Hills. It was a 3,200 square foot mansion that sat at the end of a long driveway high above the city, surrounded by trees that isolated it from nearby houses. Charles had no idea that Terry didn't live there anymore. Now the property was being rented by film director Roman Polanski and his actress wife Sharon Tate, who was pregnant. At the time,

Roman was in Europe shooting a movie, and 26-year-old Sharon had a few friends staying with her, including 35-year-old Jay Sebring, a celebrity hairstylist, 25-year-old Abigail Folger, the heiress to the Folger's coffee fortune, and Abigail's 32-year-old boyfriend, Voichek Vrykowski. The home's caretaker, 19-year-old William Gerritsen, was also there that evening, in the guesthouse, along with his friend, 18-year-old Stephen Parent. Just after midnight on August 9th, Tex, Susan, Patricia, and Linda arrived at the gates of Cello Drive. Tex climbed up a phone pole and cut the lines.

Then the four of them hopped the fence and entered the property. As they walked up the driveway, they encountered Stephen Parent driving away in his AMC Rambler. They flagged him down. When he came to a stop, Tex shot him four times with a 22-caliber pistol. With Stephen dead, Tex turned off the car and told Linda to stay by the gates as a lookout. Then he, Susan and Patricia, proceeded up the driveway to continue their killing spree. Tex broke into the house through a window, then let Susan and Patricia inside. Together, they woke up the four occupants and herded them into the living room, where they tied them up.

Then Voicek Vrykowski asked who they were. Tex reportedly replied, I'm the devil, and I'm here to do the devil's business. At one point, the family got a little too rough with Sharon Tate, who was eight and a half months pregnant. Her friend Jay Sebring intervened. In response, Tex shot Jay, then stabbed him to death. At that point, the other hostages knew they had to fight back.

Their lives depended on it. Voichick managed to get out of his, bindings and ran out the front door, screaming for help. Tex and Susan sprinted after him onto the front lawn. Once they caught up, they stabbed and pistol-whipped Vojek dozens of times until he was dead. Back in the house, Abigail Folger also managed to get untied and tackle Patricia Crenwinkel, the Manson family member who was watching her and Sharon. As they fought, Patricia stabbed Abigail several times. Abigail tried to flee down a hallway, but Patricia chased her down and stabbed her to death.

Tex, Patricia, and Susan reunited in the living room, where the last hostage, Sharon Tate, begged them to let her live long enough to give birth to her baby. Instead, they stabbed her to death. Charles had told them to make it as gruesome as you can, so the group tied two nooses with a length of nylon rope and hung Sharon and Jay Sibring's lifeless bodies from the round. Afters. Before leaving, Susan put the finishing touch on the crime scene. She dipped a towel into a pool of Sharon Tate's blood and used it to write pig on the house's front door. In the early morning hours of August 9th, text Susan, Patricia, and Linda washed the blood off themselves at a gas station, then returned to Spawn Ranch to tell Charles the job was done.

Charles didn't mind that his followers hadn't killed Terry Melcher, but he did want to be sure that the police and the media believed that a race war had begun. After all, that was the whole point of the killing. The sooner that Helter Skelter began, the faster the Manson family would inherit what was left of the earth. So that same night, Charles went out with Tex, Susan, Patricia Linda, and two other members to commit another murder. He directed Linda to drive them to a house in L.A.'s Los Felis neighborhood, which he'd spotted while attending a party in the area last year.

He and the family broke in and found 44-year-old grocery store executive Lino Labianca and his wife, 39-year-old Rosemary LaBianca, asleep in bed. Members of the family tied up the couple. Then Tex and the others took turns stabbing them to death. Afterward, they wrote, Rise, Death to Pigs, and Helter Skelter all over the walls in the La Bianca's blood. When they left the La Bianca house, Charles and his family were confident that their work would spark a media sensation and instigate an apocalyptic race war. They were only half right. The gruesome murders of seven people in 24 hours, one of them a well-known actress,

was front-page news. Los Angeles was thrown into a panic, and the LAPD jumped into action to catch the killers before they could strike again. Despite Charles' best efforts, investigators never really thought the murders had anything to do with race. Instead, their working theory was that the killings were the result of a drug deal gone wrong, and even though the Manson family hadn't done much to cover their tracks, it still took nearly six weeks until there was a break in the case. Meanwhile, Charles was convinced that his plan was working, so he gathered up his family to make the trip to Death Valley,

planning to look for the underground city where they'd ride out Helter Skelter. But just before they left Spawn Ranch on August 26, Charles had Tex and two other guys kill the ranch foreman, Donald Shea, who they wrongly suspected was a police informant. Charles and his family spent over a month cruising around the desert and stolen cars and dune buggies, searching fruitlessly for the entrance to his fabled underground city. But their new-age lifestyle wasn't well-received outside of L.A. Nearby residents complained to the police about the group of rowdy, thieving, drug-using hippies, and on October 12, 1969, two months after the murders,

Manson and over 20 of his followers were arrested for car theft in Inyo County, California. Once Charles was in custody, the LAPD started to connect the dots. Earlier in the summer, the Manson family had killed their drug dealer, a 35-year-old Ph.D. student named Gary Hinman. Before leaving Gary's home, they'd used his blood to draw a panther's paw on the wall. They'd hoped the police would come to the conclusion that Gary, a white man, had been killed by a Black Panther. Instead, Bobby Boussela, a white man who had participated in the murder, but was not in the Manson family, was arrested. And soon the rest of the story came out.

Under questioning, several of Manson's followers admitted that they hadn't just killed Gary. They were also behind the Tate and La Bianca murders. They also made it clear that they were acting on. on the orders of Charles Manson. But authorities would need more if they wanted to prosecute Charles. Luckily, one former member was ready to talk. After the La Bianca killings,

Linda Casabian had fled to her family in New Hampshire, but she'd seen the news. She knew Charles and the others were in custody and figured it was just a matter of time until the police came for her too. So she decided to turn herself in. By December of 1969, Linda had agreed to testify against Charles and his accomplices. She would prove to be a star witness when the trial began in June 1970. During the proceedings, 35-year-old

Charles was disruptive and made frequent outbursts. At one point, he arrived in court with an X carved into his forehead as an act of protest, which he later modified into a swastika. But none of his antics affected the outcome. On March 29th, 1971, Charles Manson, Leslie Van Houten, Susan Atkins, and Patricia Crenwinkel were sentenced to death for their roles in the murders. Tex Watson was sentenced to death seven months later. A year later, the California Supreme Court put a moratorium on capital punishment, so their sentences were commuted to life in prison. And because the option of life without parole did not yet exist in California, they got life with parole. Over the next 46 years, Charles Manson, the most infamous inmate in the California prison system,

was denied parole 12 times. He gave cryptic rambling interviews to TV reporters, published in autobiography, and got engaged to a 26-year-old fan when he was 80. Three years after, After his brief engagement, Charles Manson died on November 19, 2017, of colon cancer. Even from his prison cell, Charles Manson lived his life like a rock star. Despite all that, he still never achieved his dream of becoming a famous musician. Instead, he left behind a legacy as an infamous murderer. Up next, the life and death. of another controversial inmate.

You may have heard of the sex cult nexium and the famous actress who went to prison for her involvement, Alison Mack. But she's never told her side of the story until now. People assume that I'm like this pervert. My name is Natalie Robamed, and in my new podcast, I talked to Allison to try to understand how she went from TV actor

to cult member. How do you feel about having been involved in bringing sexual trauma at other people? I don't even know how to answer that question. Allison after Nexium from CBC. Uncover is available now on Spotify. That's annoying. What?

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54 years before Charles Manson died, another famous prisoner took his final breath after spending most of his life behind bars. On November 21st, 1963, Robert Stroud, aka the Birdman of Alcatraz, died in a Missouri prison hospital at the age of 73. Like Manson, Robert was violent and unpredictable, but unlike the cult leader, that wasn't the only thing he had to show for his life. Robert Stroud was born on January 28th, 1890 in Seattle, Washington. His father, Frank, was abusive towards his mother and reserved a special hatred for Robert. For some reason, Frank refused to talk to or even look at his son. This became especially hurtful when Robert's younger brother Marcus was born.

Unlike Robert, Frank showered his new son with love and affection. Over the years, Robert grew angry and resentful, and by the time he was 13, he decided he'd had enough. He dropped out of school and ran away from home, turning to street crime to support himself. In 1907, at the age of 17, Robert moved to Juneau, Alaska, and by 1909, he was acting as a pimp for a sex worker named Kitty O'Brien, who was 20 years older than him. When a local bartender refused to pay her for services, Robert grabbed a pistol and confronted the bartender. Their conversation ended when Robert shot him in the head, killing the bartender instantly. Immediately after the murder, 19-year-old Robert walked into the U.S. Marshal's office

and turned himself in. It was the last thing he'd ever do as a free man. Robert pleaded guilty to manslaughter in exchange for a lighter sentence, 12 years behind bars instead of life in prison, and in August 1909, the 19-year-old began serving his time at the McNeill Island Federal Penitentiary in Washington State. The conditions were rough. Robert spent 15 hours a day in a tiny cell. When he was allowed outside, he spent his time breaking rocks in the yard.

It was the only thing he could think to do. If the inmates tried to talk to one another, the guards beat them severely. But Robert got bored quickly. Eventually, he put down the rocks and picked up a book. He immersed himself in religion and philosophy. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to tamp down his violent tendencies. In 1912, 22-year-old Robert suspected that a fellow inmate was snitching on him to the guards. To settle the score, Robert chased his rival down a hallway with a shank,

stabbing him seven times before guards were able to separate them. The stabbing marked the end of his time at McNeil Island. Not long after, Robert was transferred to the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas. With its sprawling 40-foot-high walls, Leavenworth was much more secure than McNeil, and it would be Robert's home for the next 30 years. Though Leavenworth was a maximum security prison, it was actually more humaneen than McNeil Island. The warden allowed the inmates to have certain privileges in exchange for good behavior. He invited musicians to perform at the facility, and inmates were even allowed to produce their own newspaper.

Still, none of those amenities were enough to persuade Robert to straighten up. In 1916, Robert's brother Marcus came to visit him, but it turned out, Robert's brother, Marcus, came to visit him. But it turned out, Robert had a disciplinary violation, which meant the reunion would have to wait. The next day in the cafeteria, Robert confronted the guard who'd written him up, a man named Andrew Turner. In front of over a thousand witnesses, Robert stabbed Andrew in the heart with a five-inch blade, killing him instantly. Robert later denied responsibility for Andrew's death, writing, quote, the guard took ill and died all of a sudden. He had a heart condition.

There was a knife hole in it. Robert thought it was funny, but the justice system did not. He was convicted of murder and sentenced to death. For the safety of the other guards and inmates, the warden ordered that Robert be held in solitary confinement until the death sentence could be carried out. Over the next four years, Robert's mother, Elizabeth Stroud, waged a desperate public campaign to try to save her son's life.

In letters to President Woodrow Wilson, she explained that insanity ran in her family. She argued that executing her son because of his mental illness would be cruel and unusual punishment. Eventually, she was able to get in touch with First Lady Edith Wilson, who took pity on her. In 1920, she convinced the president to commute 30-year-old Robert's sentence to life in prison. The warden wasn't happy with the decision. He felt it put all the other guards at risk, and while he didn't have the power to change Robert's sentence, he could try to protect his staff.

The warden announced that Robert would spend the rest of his life in solitary confinement, where he had no contact with other inmates or guards. He had no job privileges and was only allowed short amounts of time out in the prison yard, alone. On one of these lonely trips to the prison yard, Robert discovered three baby sparrows had fallen out of their nest and onto the prison property. Desperate for contact with any living thing, Robert smuggled the three birds back to his cell and began caring for them. Eventually, prison staff discovered the stowaways, which weren't allowed, but they also. also noticed the bird seemed to have a calming effect on Robert. The warden figured that keeping Robert happy would be safer for everyone,

so he let him hold on to the animals. Shortly after Robert started collecting birds, the prison got a new warden, an ex-journalist named William Billy Biddle, former managing editor of the Leavenworth Times. Billy saw Robert's birds as a great way to prove to prison reformers that inmates at Leavenworth were flourishing. So he took things one step further and provided Robert with cages and books about birds.

Most importantly, he allowed him to buy canaries and keep them in his cell, where he raised bread and studied them. Throughout the 1920s, the size of Robert's flock grew. At times, he had more than a hundred small birds in the cell with him. Robert wrote down all his observations about the birds' diet and development. When they got sick, he tested out remedies. When they died, he performed autopsies, sometimes with his bare hands. In 1933, he published his findings in a book called Diseases of Canaries, which became popular with bird enthusiasts all over the country.

Before long, Robert had developed a fan base of fellow ornithologists, many of whom became his pen pals. He even started selling them some of his remedies and specially formulated bird food. As a prisoner, he didn't have much use for the money he was making, so he sent the profits to his aging mother to help cover her bills. The birds were good for Robert. But Robert wasn't necessarily good for them. Many of the animals got sick and died because of the poor conditions in his cell.

And while his writing about bird medicine was celebrated at the time, veterinarians today dispute most of his findings as unscientific folk remedies. And that wasn't the only issue with Robert's hobby. By the early 1930s, his bird obsession had become a serious headache for prison staff. He was sending and receiving so many letters that the prison had to assign a secretary just to manage his correspondence. Worst of all, his entire cell was constantly covered in a pungent layer of bird droppings. In 1931, officials from the newly first of... formed Bureau of Prisons, decided that enough was enough. Prison was about doing hard time,

not turning your cell into a zoo or running a mail-order business. They took away Robert's birds, clamped down on his letter-writing privileges, and shut down his bird medicine business. Robert was furious, but even from his tiny cell, he had the power to strike back at prison officials, not with a knife attack, but a good old letter-writing campaign. By 1931, 41-year-old Robert Stroud had spent more than half his life in prison. At Leavenworth Penitentiary in Kansas, he was sentenced to life in solitary confinement after killing a guard. Deprived of all-human contact, Robert began breathing. and raising hundreds of birds in his cell, and eventually published a book about canaries.

All of this work made him a sensation among bird enthusiasts nationwide, but inside the prison walls, the staff wasn't as happy with Robert. When prison officials finally took away his birds, they thought they were reasserting control over their unruly prisoner, but Robert had become more powerful than they realized, and he wasn't going down. without a fight. Robert reached out to his mother, Elizabeth, who had come to depend on the income from his bird medicine business

and told her what had happened. For the second time, she flew into action to advocate for her son. She partnered with a sympathetic newspaper reporter named Della Jones for a series of articles about her bird-loving son. These articles glossed over Robert's murders and violent temper

and instead depicted him as a gentle soul who found peace through his love of animals. Not only that, but they painted the prison officials as cruel and uncaring monsters who had taken away Robert's only source of joy. Della's articles appeared in newspapers all over Kansas and in bird enthusiast magazines nationwide, and her angle worked. Readers were outraged at Robert's treatment. Soon, officials at Leavenworth began receiving thousands of letters and petitions, all demanding that Robert be allowed to keep his birds. People wrote to their congressmen, their senators, and even the White House about Robert's plight. Eventually, prison officials realized dealing with Robert's fan base was an even

bigger headache than dealing with his birds. So they gave in and even made a few modifications. Even though the prison was overcrowded, Robert was given a second cell to keep additional birds in. Not only that, but he was allowed to keep selling his bird remedies through the mail. The officials at Leavenworth had the keys to Robert's cell, but Robert had shown them he was the one in charge. For the rest of the 1930s, Robert raised his birds and worked on his second book, Strouds Digest on the Diseases of Birds, which was published in 1943. He spent most days in his cell naked, covered in bird droppings, canaries perched on his head and shoulders,

as he brewed up new medicines and remedies. But that wasn't the only thing he was brewing. Prison officials had allowed him to have burners, beakers, and chemicals to make bird medicines. It didn't take long for him to realize he could use these tools to distill alcohol, too, Robert cooked up booze for himself for years until the early 1940s when guards caught him in the act. Prison officials were relieved. They wanted him out of their hair for good. Now they finally had an excuse to crack down. And because he'd broken the rules, they wouldn't have to endure the wrath of his nationwide fan base. Officials at Leavenworth pointed to Robert's violent past and his ongoing

record of disciplinary infractions to argue that he needed to be locked up in a more secure prison. And they had just the place in mind, Alcatraz. Located on a small rocky island in the middle of San Francisco Bay, Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary was established in 1934. It was America's highest security prison designed to hold the country's most dangerous prisoners, from gangsters like Al Capone and Mickey Cohen to bank robber machine gun Kelly. Cells were designed with extra thick bars, which were impossible to saw through. The staff was hand-picked and all trained in judo. There were watchtowers staffed around the clock by guards armed with machine guns, and any inmate brave and clever enough to make it

past these security measures would still have to swim over a mile through the Bay. Every aspect of their lives was tightly controlled at Alcatraz. Inmates weren't even allowed to speak, except for a three-minute period once in the morning and once at night. Male privileges were limited, and every letter was carefully screened. Needless to say, inmates at Alcatraz were not allowed to keep hundreds of birds in their cells or run mail order businesses. Even though he's best known as the birdman of Alcatraz, Robert Stroud's birdkeeping days were over by the time he set foot on the island. Without his birds to keep him occupied, Robert tried writing a book about himself instead. In his autobiography titled Bobby, he painted himself as a noble

man whose intellectual achievements proved he was fully rehabilitated and should be released. Robert had been able to manipulate public opinion twice before. But this time, it didn't work. Although he tried to publish the manuscript through his brother, Marcus, nobody was interested. It was disappointing, but Robert didn't let the setback bring him down, because the truth was his experience caring for his beloved animals had changed him. In 1946, when he was 56, six inmates in his cell block launched a daring escape attempt by breaking into a guard booth, arming themselves with machine guns, and taking 10 guards hostage. Over the next two days, prison guards and U.S. Marines repeatedly assaulted the cell block with gunfire and grenades. In the chaos,

some prisoners' cell doors were opened, including Roberts. He wanted nothing to do with the escape attempt. But when he saw that water from a broken pipe was filling the cells of six men who were still locked inside, he sprang into action. Robert, climbing over the third floor railing, lowered himself two tiers and then dropped to the floor of the cell block. He then rushed to close a heavy steel door, blocking the flow of water and saving the men from drowning. Then he returned turned to his cell and lay low until the Marines killed the escapees and ended the siege. Things were quiet for Robert for the next few years, but then in the 1950s, an opportunity came his way. Non-fiction author Thomas Gaddis had published a few articles about Robert

Stroud's unlikely career as a bird expert. They were popular, and Thomas could tell there was a market for a book. He reached out to Robert to try and set up an interview, but prison staff wouldn't allow it. They didn't want anyone to glorify one of their inmates, especially a man who'd killed a prison guard. But Robert was an expert at working around prison rules. Instead of sitting for an interview, he had his brother provide Thomas with over 2,000 letters he'd written during his time behind bars. Thomas used the stories in these letters to write the biography, Birdman of Alcatraz, published in 1955.

The book was a huge success. In fact, Robert's story was so popular that Hollywood took an interest. And in 1962, the book was adapted into an Academy Award-nominated movie starring Burt Lancaster as Robert. The secret to the book and movies' success, was that neither portrayed Robert accurately. Both were based entirely on letters written by Robert, in which he painted himself in the best possible light. His murders are depicted as tragic mistakes, not cold-blooded killings, and the character of Robert Stroud is much

kinder, gentler, and more hygienic than the real one. Because Robert's biographer never met him face-to-face, he wasn't aware of how far off the mark the book was. Robert probably would have been pleased with this portrayal, but because of prison regulations, he never got the chance to read the book or see the movie. In the late 1950s, Robert's health took a turn for the worse, and in 1959, he was transferred to a prison hospital in Springfield, Missouri. He stayed there for four years until he passed away on November 21, 1963, at the age of 73. Even then, he still had the last laugh. Eight months before his death, in March of 1963,

Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary closed for good. The prison was very expensive to run, was three times more expensive to operate than any other federal prison, because everything, including water and food, had to be brought there by boat. Robert Stroud spent 54 years behind bars, 42 of them in solitary confinement. But at the end of his life, he still managed to outlive the prison that forced him to give up his beloved birds. Looking back on this week in crime history, we can see that infamy takes, many forms. Charles Manson was well known because of his ghastly crimes. Robert Stroud made a

name for himself because people didn't know how violent he actually was. But whether you're feared or beloved, one thing is certain. Infamy comes at much too high a cost. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is True Crime This Week, part of Crime House Daily. Crimehouse Daily is a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. At Crime House, we want to express our gratitude to you, our community, for making this possible. Please support us by rating, reviewing, and following Crime House Daily, wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly matters.

And for ad-free and early access to Crime House Daily, plus exciting bonus content, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. We'll be back tomorrow. True Crime This Week is hosted by me, Vanessa Richardson, and is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the True Crime This Week team. Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Natalie Pertzowski, Lori Maranelli, Sarah Camp, Truman Capps.

Beth Johnson and Michael Langsner. Thank you for listening. Looking for your next crimehouse listen, don't miss Crimes of with Sabrina DeAnna Roga and Corinne Vienne. Crimes of is a weekly series that explores a new theme each season from Crimes of the Paranormal, Unsolved Murders, mysterious disappearances, and more. Their first season is Crimes of.

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