Sword and Scale Nightmares - Sucker

Episode Date: November 9, 2023

During some of Romania’s toughest times under Communist control, a vampire stalked the streets after midnight seeking out prey to satisfy his urges for blood and death. While the crimes were initially ignored to spare the country’s reputation, Ion Rimaru would finally be caught and named the Butcher of Bucharest.This show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/5863198/advertisement

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Remember to follow all traffic signals. Be careful along our tracks, and only make left turns where it's safe to do so. Be alert, be aware, and stay safe. In 1944, a series of four murders sent shockwaves through war-torn Romania. Each victim, all women, lived in basement apartments, unknowingly becoming prey to an elusive predator. Under the cover of nocturnal storms, the intruder stealthily infiltrated their abodes, sought his oblivious victims, and used a blunt instrument to repeatedly strike their delicate skulls until no life remained. As the dead bodies mounted, a haunting clue emerged, a trail of footprints, the telltale

marks of military boots. Welcome to Sword and Scale Nightmares, True Crime for Bedtime. When Nightmare begins now. email, text, and social media messages? Keep your edge with Thrive Small Business software and never miss a message again. Thrive offers one solution to communicate, market, and run your business, but simply, small businesses run better on Thrive. Get Command Center for free today at thrive.ca. That's THR-Y-V dot CA. Terms and conditions apply, free plans have limited functionality. within the dark annals of communist history, Bucharest, Romania's capital, experienced an era of unparalleled suffering that can only be described as the worst of times. From 1965 through 1989, it charismatic and shrewd dictator

held the reins. His desire to satiate his hunger for power led him to believe he could remake Romania into his personal utopia grandiose palaces everywhere Meanwhile the Romanian people were suffering behind the country's gilded gates Outsiders looking in would think that the dictator and his wife were God and goddess Working for the good of the people and his wife were God and goddess, working for the good of the people and creating the perfect environment for all. But the environment was oppressive in reality, and all that glitters and gold was a mere holograph to trick the rest of the world. As much as the citizens rightly feared their cruel leader,

the people living in Bucharest had something just as sinister to fear in their own backyards, a homegrown terrorist. Not the kind we think of in 2023, but rather the kind who prowls the night streets, driven by an insatiable hunger for blood and flesh. This predator seemed to mirror the haunting echoes of the 1944 murders, evoking the ghastly imagery associated with infamous creatures like vampires, Dracula,

or the fabled Wolfman. Given the lack of resources due to misdirected monies, the citizens basically had to start over. Many important services and commodities were unavailable, including mental health services and facilities, leaving the doors open for madmen to rule the streets at night. In late 1970, a young waitress finished her shift at a popular restaurant. Overworked and fatigued, she envisions returning to her warm apartment, where she'll wash the smell of grease and smoke from her body, before climbing into a fluffy bed.

But it's difficult to stay focused on this pleasant, mental imagery when all the voices in the night are howling. The stormy city is consumed by an eerie atmosphere. The rain pours relentlessly from the brooding, gloomy clouds overhead, turning the streets into stretches of black, glassy asphalt. A thick mist rises from the ground and lingers ominously, obscuring the view. The wind bellows through the narrow alleyways and between the tattered buildings, creating an unsettling symphony of creaking signs and rattling windows.

Gusts of wind send loose debris skittering across the soaked sidewalks, adding to the sense of desolation. The streets, usually bustling with activity, now appear deserted as people seek refuge in the comfort of their homes. The young woman can't be sure whether her imagination is at play. Her quiet figure is trailing behind her. Flickering lights in the dense fog give the impression of phantoms lurking in the darkness, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting.

It's nearly 2 a.m. She's entering the courtyard of her apartment complex. When she is now absolutely sure, she hears someone's footsteps behind her, feet slapping against the wet pavement and puddles. Next, she hears the low but resonant voice of a man. Her eyes widen as she realizes she may be in trouble. So she picks up her pace, but so does he.

Just as she feels him coming upon her, she lets out a horrific scream, but it's too late, in the next seconds she is struck on the head with a heavy rod of some kind. As her cries for help become fainter, the man begins stabbing her furiously. Her body collapses and her blood mixes with the trickling streams of rain. Her plaintive shouts, or heard by neighbors who rushed to her rescue. Drag her limp body inside and call an ambulance. Her attacker escapes into the fog and she succumbs to death just a few hours later. This vicious and unprovoked attack was bad enough, but the reign of terror for

the city was just getting started. Business notifications getting out of hand, buried under an avalanche of customer emails, texts, and social media messages, keep your edge with Thrive Small Business software and never miss a message again. Thrive offers one solution to communicate, market, and run your business. Put simply, small businesses run better on Thrive. Get Command Center for free today at thrive.ca. That's THR-Y-V dot CA. Terms and conditions apply. Free plans have limited functionality. The first attack occurred in April, and it was now just two months later when the stalker

struck again. This time, the assault happened amidst extreme weather conditions, and the target was a waitress. In this chilling moment, the killer shadows her every step, silently tailing her right to her front door. Unaware of any impending danger she nonchalantly turns the key, a sense of calm enveloping her as her bed awaits. Little does she know that this calculated pursuit is all part of his twisted game, testing the limits of proximity before making his move.

Seizing the opportune moment, he lunges forward and staring her from behind, and ruthlessly strikes her with a heavy rod, rendering her unconscious. With her head bleeding profusely, he hoists her lifeless form over his shoulder, the weight pressing down on him, and forcibly transports her to a desolate cemetery. Navigating the murky darkness, the assailant persists, carrying the burden on a shoulder with grim determination. His purpose is clear, and his actions are deliberate. Upon reaching a fence, he flings her body over it, selecting this eerie setting for the next macabre act. Violently, he subjects her to unspeakable horrors, raping her, stabbing her, and savagely indulging in her blood, literally sucking her wounds. As her senses gradually return instinctively, she unleashes piercing screams,

the harrowing sound traveling through the night. In a twist of fate, a truck driver for two at the time parks nearby, his presence masked by the torrents of rain and enveloping shadows of the cemetery. The chilling screams cut through the stormy night, reaching the driver's ears, and he springs into action. Undeterred by the treacherous conditions, he boldly navigates through the maze of gravestones, propelled by the urgency of cries echoing through the air. Unbeknownst to him, his boisterous shouts deter the killer. Little does he realize the profound impact of his presence, safeguarding the life of the intended second victim who, against all odds, survives. One month and ten days later, his third victim would also grave injuries after being attacked,

robbed, and then raped. The streets of Bucharest once bustling with activity became hauntingly empty after dark. Fearful whispers echoed through the neighborhoods, warning one another to be cautious and vigilant. Women found themselves on high alert afraid to venture out alone, especially during late hours when the killer was known to strike. During that period, the atmosphere in Bucharest was marked by a pervasive sense of unease and vulnerability. The news of brutal crimes spread rapidly, leaving the community gripped with fear and anxiety.

Yet, the police and press were disallowing any details to the public. Officials had a reputation to maintain under the communist dictator. No one wanted to cross that line because to devolve to the ghastly specifics and Mara Romanias false veneer could mean prison or even death. Waitresses in particular faced heightened distress as they realized they were the primary targets of his violent acts.

The shroud of uncertainty enveloped the community as the killer prowled in secrecy, and the withholding of crucial information by the authorities only deepened the mystery, leaving the townspeople in a state of perpetual unease. Still roaming free, the night walker carried on with his relentless quest. Whispers and tales swirled throughout the city, weaving an eerie narrative of a genuine vampire, prowling the streets. In a land so adorned with imposing castles andouded by brooding weather, the notion of a menacing creature seemed plausible. Could it be Dracula himself? From July 1970 through March of 1971, at least eight more crimes of rape, theft and assault took place in the same manner under similar conditions. In April of 1971, darkness and golfs the night,

as the assailant strikes again, singling out another unsuspecting waitress. The relentless rain adds to the atmosphere of menace, as the woman oblivious to the impending horror finds herself in the vicinity of her residence. But fate offers her no reprieve. She succumbs to the relentless onslaught of 48 merciless strikes upon her head, chest, arms, and legs. The assailant continues to violate her, and with brutal force he ruthlessly crushes her chest, shattering her fragile ribs. But the depths of the praveté reach even further. In a sickening twist reserved for the most abhorrent of psychopaths, he commits an unspeakable act, a grotesque display of inhumanity. Without remorse he severers her genitalia, consuming them with an insatiable appetite like a ravenous

wolf. The magnitude of his sadism earns him chilling monik's, forever marking his infamy. The butcher of Bucharest, the vampire of Bucharest, and the wolfman. The horror stemmed not only from the crimes, but also the unpredictability of his actions. Whereas he was targeting only waitresses in his first few attacks, he was now broadening his scope to include all women. He operated with sinister stealth, choosing his victims seemingly at random, and the thought of who might be his next target

cast a shadow of dread over the entire city. Within a span of days he went on a binge, committing at least six more abominable attacks consisting of theft, physical assault, rape and murder. In one incident his first victim escaped, so he immediately pursued another, all in the same night. Fortunately, his second victim also escaped when the killer dropped the iron bar he was using to beat women. She grabbed her opportunity and ran, leaving a heavy trail of blood behind.

After the most recent murder in April, authorities finally went on high alert and named their case after the street where the victims empty carcass lay. The street was uncannily called Vulture Street. Until this point, women were expected to protect themselves, and the killings were kept under cover. Now, 6,000 law enforcement personnel manned the Bucharest streets at night in addition to 100 police cars and 40 motorcycles. Emergency services were mobilized

and more than 8,000 people were stopped for an ID check. But this monster was not done ming and mutilating innocent women. The answers were invisible until Forensic examined a note that was hidden beneath the body of his most recent murder victim, giving them a chance to connect the dots. Though the note was stained, the dots. Though the note was stained damp and bloody, they were able to make out a letterhead from Bucharest's students' hospital. When they discovered the identity of the student, they also discovered he'd been diagnosed with a condition called intermittent epilepsy. They would soon find out that this vile person was also assessed with dementia, even though he was just a young adult.

But for now, they still needed some kind of evidence to connect the patient on the note with the dead body lying on top of it. The answer they needed was clutched tightly within the grip of his lifeless victim. Dark strands of hair. Each strand a silent witness to the horrors that unfolded. And those strands belonged to none other than that same student, Ian Romaro. in that same student, Ian Romaro. Ian Romaro was born in Bucharest and came from humble beginnings, but Ian himself was anything but humble. Born in the fall of 1946, Ian was the oldest of three boys living in what was then Communist

Romania. His dad set a horrible example for his boys who witnessed their mother being regularly beaten by him. As a child, Ian had shown signs of violent behavior and his childhood had been troubled, but his needs were never addressed. His issues were buried even deeper with the Communist regime, who refused to acknowledge that such a thing as mental health issues could exist in their pretend utopia. The feeling was that these kinds of people could only exist in greedy and twisted capitalist societies.

It was later discovered that he displayed the very tell-tale signs of a psychopath, torturing and killing small defenseless animals as a child. In a crowd, Ian probably wouldn't have stood out, but for his reasonably good looks. He was of average height with dark hair, intense black eyes, and conventionally attractive features. He wore a pompous expression as if he was better than, or even untouchable. Intellectually, he had nothing to brag about. In fact, he seemed rather dim than his grades reflected it. He repeated the ninth grade at least twice, but his poor grades didn't stop him from being accepted into veterinary school, where he continued to fail miserably and had to repeat another

two whole years. Teachers described him as shy and basically vapid because he didn't have very many interests or friends. His roommates called him weird and tried to avoid him. And everyone that knew him recognized his low intelligence by his poor vocabulary and illiteracy. As a young adult, Ian had already caused his entire town to fall under the shadow of scandal. When he started having sex with one of his teacher's daughters, who happened to be a minor. Although he was a fairly well-behaved student, the relationship was just the beginning of his anti-social acts. It was during his years as a university student that he started creeping on girls.

His dorm roommate recalled that one night Ian was up all night unable to sleep. When the roommate got up for a drink of water, he caught Ian leering outside another room with a female visitor inside. He was unmistakably excited as if fueled by the intimate activity unfolding within. It was also during his years as a university student that he was diagnosed with dementia, most likely stemming from his epileptic brain condition. Some doctors at the time believed that these ailments caused his excessive libido and fits of rage.

He, in his thirst for maiming, mutilating and cannibalizing women would have continued, where it not further clump of hairs from his last victim, who from death was poised to speak the truth. Just when all hope seemed lost in connecting this blood-lusting predator, He returned in a dark secrecy to his very dorm room where he left behind a bag of tools. These tools were covered in the bloody remnants of his victims. After DNA tied the strands of hair to Ian Romaro, he was quickly tracked down and arrested at the hostel he stayed in. It was May 27, 1971. Not only would the facts crush him, but the surviving women were all able to identify

him. Victims brought in for police lineups would tremble when they made eye contact with the monster in the courtroom, despite no immediate danger. He admitted nothing in custody. For more than two months, he barely moved his lips to utter anything, let alone an admission. The only other words he spoke were to cry out for his dad. Police believe that perhaps this would be a step in the right direction. But when Ian's father was brought in to encourage Ian to talk, the silent glances they exchanged for the revealed the sick father's

son relationship. It seemed as if the father took perverse pride in Ian's actions, and then with calculated precision as father-famed confusion with holding any further confessions. Like father, like son, was a phrase that seemed to be coined expressly for Ian and his father. Not only did his father know of his son's crimes, he washed some of his bloody clothing to help cover them up. And not only was he complicit in the cover-up, he knew exactly what his son was doing because he was an excellent teacher. Years later, the mounting evidence intertwined their fates, connecting the father to the

1944 murders through his measurements and boot size. Yet, it was too late to hold him accountable, as his life met an abrupt end when he allegedly fell from a train. An incident officially labeled as an accident, but whispers of skepticism suggested a darker truth, a possibility that he may have been pushed on purpose. But Ian would be brought to justice after police were finally forced to send an undercover agent into a cell. At least, following two months of interrogations Ian confessed to a total of 23 serious crimes. At last, following two months of interrogations, Ian confessed to a total of 23 serious crimes.

Ian confessed to a total of 23 serious crimes. When he did finally speak, it was to offer an insanity defense. He had the nerve to claim that he didn't think the women would actually die. In a strange twist, however, he insisted on his guilt and wanted to be taken to the scenes of his crimes. Ian's trial was highly publicized, and prior to it, Ian believed he had convinced everyone he was insane. He was flabbergasted when a report was filed, concluding that he did not have mental issues,

such as hallucinations, delusions, or delirium. Suddenly he took back his confession and stopped talking again. Amidst the awful and appalling murders followed by the realization that this set of crimes directly mimicked his father's, it would be hard to believe there would be no more surprises. But there were. The courtroom erupted in

resounding applause when Ian was sentenced to death. On October 23, 1971, Ramaru was transported to prison in a van. From the moment he left the vehicle, he had to be forcibly dragged to the execution site. Throughout this process, he showed intense rage and tried to escape. The three officers assigned to carry out the execution tied him to a post in the prison yard. He was asked if there were any last wishes to which he said there were none. But officers saw the true ravenous beast biting at his own clothing and contorting himself around the post to wiggle free, like an animal.

He shouted, call my father, so he could see what's happening to me. Make him come. He's the only guilty one, and then he pleaded. I want to live. His wish was not granted, and he actually added to his own grotesque death, because he was writhing in attempts not to be executed. The guards were unable to aim precisely. As a result, Ian was literally shot in the ass multiple times before the final bullet

pierced his vitals and took him to his final destination, an unmarked grave. For years to come, the mere mention of Ian Ramaru's name, which incidentally translate to Earthworm, evoked terror and dread amongst the general public of Romania. If you enjoyed the show, please consider joining Plus at swordandscale.com slash Plus. But if you can't, consider leaving us a positive review on your preferred listening platform. Sweet dreams and good night. and good night.