The Tape Library - Archive of the Paranormal & the Unexplained - The Strange Case of the Hammersmith Ghost Murder

Episode Date: August 13, 2025

In the winter of 1803, a quiet village west of London was haunted, at least, that’s what the locals believed. A ghost, cloaked in white, was said to rise from the graves in Hammersmith’s old churchyard, terrifying anyone who dared walk near after dark. But when a man with a pistol tried to stop the so-called ghost, it ended in tragedy. This is the true story of the Hammersmith Ghost Murder, one of Britain’s strangest legal cases. Where a ghost story led to real panic, a wrongful death, and a trial that changed the law. Spring Heeled Jack - https://youtu.be/m80_v9Ze3Dk Support the channel with Patreon - www.patreon.com/thetapelibrary Do you have a supernatural story to share? Drop me an email at [e-mail] You can check out The Tape Library in audio form on all of your favourite podcast providers. Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/thetapelibrary Tiktok - https://www.tiktok.com/@thetapelibrary Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/people/The-Tape-Library/100094332411836/ Archive of the Paranormal, the strange and the unexplained. The Tape Library brings you the creepiest stories, to keep you horror junkies up all night. True scary stories of ghosts, cryptids, UFOs and true crime. Additional footage and audio from Evanto, Artgrid, Epidemic Sounds, Singularity, Midjourney and Pexels. Music by Karl Casey @ White Bat Audio and the youtube audio library. All other footage used under fair use. SpectreVision Radio is a bespoke podcast network at the intersection between the arts and the uncanny, featuring a tapestry of shows exploring creativity, the esoteric, and the unknown. We’re a community for creators and fans vibrating around common curiosities, shared interests and persistent passions. spectrevisionradio.com linktr.ee/spectrevisionsocial Chapters 00:00 Cursed Land 05:09 Welcome 06:05 The Hammersmith ghost 16:35 Lies & Mistakes 20:45 The Murder 24:40 The Bricklayer 30:58 The Trial 34:23 What Really Happened? 39:11 Wrapping up Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

He sat in the cold darkness. Life was nothing but pain. Life was nothing but misery. He picked it up from the table next to him and opened his own throat. Arrangements were made, friends and family mourned, but the world kept spinning, and the residents of Hammersmith went about their day. A funeral would take place, and then he would be buried in the graveyard outside St. Paul's Church. laid to rest in an unmarked grave, but on holy land at least.

But there were whispers throughout the community. Despite the supposed age of enlightenment, having found England, many of the residents of the darkened lanes of Hammersmith still very much believed in the old ways, of superstition and things that science wasn't able to explain away. Some of them believed that burying the man here was a bad idea, that entombing a man who had taken his own life in the consecrated earth of the church would bring about something bad.

Not just for the residents, but for the soul of the deceased man. They believed if this were to happen, he would come back. Unable to find peace. Unable to find rest. Forced to walk among the gravestones. Trapped forever. But of course these worries were brought. rushed aside and the man was laid to rest. One year later, the bitter winds howled across

the fields that surrounded the village. It was a dark winter night and several men were sitting around the Black Lion pub, enjoying a few pints of ale, basked in the warm glow of the fireplace. When the calmness was shattered by a man bursting through the door, he was shaking, unable to get his words together. A few of the men attempted to calm him down asking what the matter was. It soon transpired that the man was a coach driver. He said he had been travelling down a nearby road when someone had stepped out in front of him. Quickly the men grabbed their belongings, decrying that the man had fallen victim to a highway robber, demanding they'd be taken to the place he saw him so they could capture him before anyone else failed victim to the feed. He explained,

explained where it happened. But before he could elaborate further, a dozen men rushed out of the pub that night into the dark, quiet blackness. The coach driver still shaken, rushing to catch up with them, telling them to wait that they needed to listen to him, but he couldn't quite get his words out to express what exactly had happened. When they arrived at the spot that ran along the nearby churchyard, they were confused by what they saw. The man's horses were still there, albeit further down the lane, casually grazing on the patches of grass. Their reins had been cut, freeing them from the coach. But the coach was still there, where the driver had left it. Nothing had been taken. No sign of anyone else could be found,

Confused, the men asked the coach driver what he had seen exactly. Finally able to catch his breath, he laid out the story. He had pulled onto the lane. As he did, he said he had heard some sort of rustling. He glanced from side to side, and that's when he saw it in the opposite field. A white figure, lit only by the moonlight, gliding across the line. land at an alarming speed. He had pulled his horses back to stop them as he watched in shock, unsure what he was seeing. The figure continued on until it met the road. Then it began moving

directly towards him. Its movement unnatural, smooth and fast. Fear hit him. He didn't have any intention of sticking around to find out what it wanted. There was no room to turn around. So he simply leapt from the carriage and ran as fast as he could until he found the first sign of civilization. The men all glanced at each other with trepidation, before one of them spoke. You just saw the Hammersmith ghost, he informed the coach driver. He wasn't the first, nor would he be the last. Good evening. Tonight I bring you a truly strange tale from the 19th century, A story of a haunting that saw the residents of a village locking their doors with fear as the sun set each night. A story that led to one of the most unusual court cases in the history of Britain.

A story that some argue is the genesis for a much more widely known legend. But this isn't your typical paranormal case. Because in this one, not everyone will make it out alive. It may be summer, but I'm sitting here right now on a particularly grey and red, rainy evening, which feels like the perfect time to tell this one. Get yourself a warm drink, dim the lights and get comfortable. This is the strange case of the Hammersmith Ghost Murder. Welcome to the tape library.

The village lay quiet by the river. The Thames move slow and wide, brown with silt and heavy from the autumn rains. Barges passed in silence, low in the water, hauled by men and horses. You could smell damp brick and coal smoke in the morning. It was a place of tradesmen and boatmen. The brewer's cart came early. The blacksmith worked in the yard by the church. Milk came in tins from the fields up river.

You could hear the geese before you saw them and the church bells. But also on occasion, gunfire. The church towers of St Paul's and St Peter's stood over it all, square and solemn. Beyond the church was the graveyard. where the ground rose up and stones leaned sideways in the earth. The graves were shallow and old, many with no names. At night the mist hung there, low and white, rising from the river and curling between the stones. The lane that ran alongside the churchyard was covered on either side with large hedges,

making it a particularly dark one among Hammersmith's winding snake-like roads. There were few lamps and the streets were not paved. After sunset the roads turned black and the trees hung low over the lanes. The people went indoors early, either into their homes or into one of the nearby ins. Most did not wander, especially in Hammersmith at this time. This was not London, but it was close, too close. You could see the city's smoke on the horizon. The city was expanding relentlessly, gobbling up everything that came near it.

But Hammersmith was still the edge for now, and here, on the edge, there were still farms and orchards, and the wild grew between the houses. It was quiet, but not safe, not always. Things moved in the dark that should not have. It began in November of 1803, the start of a particularly cold winter. The locals were speaking of something stalking the street. streets at night. Something was lurking in the shadows of the graveyard. A ghost, they said. Most believed it to be the spirit of a man who had taken his own life the prior year, although there seemed to be no connection beyond superstitions about him being buried on holy ground.

The ghost was said to glide between the headstones of St Paul's and St Peter's churchyards. It passed silently down Black Lion Lane. It attacked without warning, and more than once it it vanished into thin air. Yet no one could seem to agree exactly what this ghost looked like. Some said it looked more like an animal, like a horse with no head. Others said it had horns and glassy eyes. Others believed that it could brief fire and disappear into the ground in an instant. One or two even apparently claimed that it looked like the popular British villain of the time, Napoleon. These differences in appearance though were not seen as a source of conflicting information. But, But proof that seemingly this entity, whatever it was, could change its appearance.

But over time, a more concrete portrait of its appearance began to develop. It was said to be about the size of a tall man, covered in some sort of white shroud, creating what we now would see as the very outdated version of a ghost being a white sheet dripped over someone's head. But the locals for the most part did not seem to believe that there was any chance that this was just a man dressed up. They were genuinely terrified. So scared in fact that as soon as the sun would set during these few months that the reports were being made, many of the residents of the village locked their doors and refused to go out until the sun rose again, scared of running into the Hammersmith ghost. This fear became so widespread that the story quickly gained attention from the press outside

of Hammersmith, with many people around the capital read in accounts of the Hammersmith Ghost in their morning paper. The 15th of December gives us our first-named witness in this case. A young man named Thomas Groom was walking through the churchyard with another servant boy late on that evening. It was a quiet misty night as the two boys strolled through the grounds. using it as a shortcut to pass between lanes. The first servant had pulled ahead a little,

Thomas walking slowly behind, his hands in his pockets, lost in his own forts. When Thomas suddenly heard a crack, he paused, glanced around, but there was no one else there. Thomas regained his composure and started walking again, to try and catch up with the other boy. When he was suddenly grabbed from behind, the unmistakable feel of two strong hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

Thomas yelled out in shock so loud that his fellow servant turned around. But strangely, the other boy's reaction to Thomas being attacked was confusion. He yelled out asking what was wrong. Thomas was overcome with fear. No idea who it was who was gripping him so tightly. Suddenly the hands spun him around, so he was facing it. Thomas's eyes went wide as he felt the grip changed from his shoulders to his throat. It was strangling him.

It, not they. Because once Thomas was spun around, he could see there was no one there. Yet the feeling of the hands on his throat was very, very, very. real. Gasp in for air, Thomas instinctively lashed out, and he hit something. The way he described it was odd. There was nothing there, but he was sure it felt like he made contact with something. Something that felt soft, almost like a large cloak. Whatever it was released Thomas as he hit it, and the boys ran away. This is the most commonly repeated version of the story. Although apparently the press released a much more exaggerated version that claimed that Thomas had been attacked by a creature with horns, cloven feet and dressed in calf skin.

Apparently the shock of it all left the boy bedridden for several days. I'm unsure of this account is what began the whole shape-shifting narrative or not. Thomas wouldn't be the only person to have a violent encounter with the spirit. It was just after 10 o'clock. Interestingly, the hours of 10 to 12 seemed to be the most common times that people cited the ghost. A woman was walking alone past the churchyard. She was pregnant, walking slowly with her coat pulled tightly around her. You have to wonder if the stories were playing on her mind.

Had people really seen a ghost? Should she be out here all alone in such a vulnerable state? Then something moved in the corner of her eye. She was sure she saw something moving past one of the gravestones. She sped up her walking a little. Then she saw it again, clearer this time. A white shape rose up from between the tombstones. She screamed as it passed them, towards her.

She began to run, awkwardly through the tombstones. a pitch black field. But the being didn't just float, it gave chase. She was no match for how fast it could move, and it quickly cornered her. Apparently the last thing she remembered was it wrapping its arms around her, gripping her in a freezing cold, heavy embrace. And then, she blacked out. She was found a few hours later by two slightly drunk men walking home from the pub. They woke her gently and carried her back to her house. She was pale, confused but alive. She said very little, just that something had come from the grave and touched her.

Much like Thomas' account, the details of what happened to this woman seemed to have been warped by time and the various retellings of the events. But the most widely reported version is that she told her family what had happened, and then she was put into her bed. She fell asleep surprisingly quickly, but she never woke up. Then there were the cases of the coachman who were passing through the area late at night

and came across the specter. The first encounter we already spoke about at the start of tonight's episode. Then there was another account where apparently the horses were so spooked by seeing the ghost, they bolted and didn't stop running for miles, no matter how much the coach.

coach driver tried to calm them. But there is another slightly more comical account of a coach driver that I had to include here. Riding down the same lane late one night in December was a much larger coach, pulled by eight horses and containing a total of 16 passengers. A very similar instance occurred. The coach was riding along when the driver saw something further down the lane, a white figure, gliding towards him. If the coach driver was familiar with the Hammersmith ghost legends or not, seems unclear. But either way, the sight of this white spectre scared him so much that he leapt from his seat and ran away. Leaving his horses and passengers behind, sat in the dark.

The ghost also apparently ran off straight away, meaning the passengers had no idea why they had been left abandoned on this darkened village lane. While accounts of the ghoul were rife in the area, there were also a number of misidentifications, as well as incidents that seemed to point towards a possible hoax. A chimney sweep making his way home after work, said he saw a large, oddly shaped figure, standing still beneath a tree. It looked like it was floating. It didn't move. The wind shifted, but the figure stayed where it was.

He stopped uneasy Then he bent down, picked up a stick And held it like a spear Ghost, he said Steadying his voice Or whatever you might be Pray be civil The figure gave no answer

He stepped closer The stick held out before him Jabbing once and then again On the third poke the thing moved and let out a shriek. It was not a ghost at all. It was a young couple beneath a large coat, tangled together in the dark.

The woman pulled the coat tight. The man cursed and tried to stand. The chimney sweep dropped his stick and turned away, muttering apologies, embarrassed but also relieved. It was no spirit, just a slightly embarrassed couple who thought they wouldn't be caught enjoying each of other's company, in the church's graveyard, we've all been there, right? There was another notable

misidentification, but we'll have to talk about that one in a bit. There were also a few incidents where people appeared to be playing along with the legends. At one point, a local boy who worked for the butcher had apparently been found hiding in the churchyard late one night. He had claimed he intended to scare one of the maids who worked in his home. Interestingly though, he wasn't exactly dressed like a ghost. He decided it would scare the maid more if he dressed up in her clothes. The maid's reaction to discovering a boy in a cemetery dressed in her clothes has unfortunately also been lost to time. Then there was a more notable account that was provided by the local night watchman, William Gerdler, a man who will play a key part in the rest of tonight's story.

It was Thursday the 29th December. The air was sharp. wet. The streets were near empty. William Girdler was on his rounds when he heard footsteps running fast, followed by the sound of a panicked young voice, shouting out for help. It was a local boy, the apprentice shoemaker, out of breath and wide-eyed. He said he'd seen a ghost. Gerdler followed his gaze across the lane. There, just for a moment, he saw it too. A figure in white, sprinting across the road. The shape looked like it wore a sheet, the fabric loose and trailing. Then, quick as anything, it gathered the sheet under what seemed to be a coat and vanished

into the shadows. That same night others came forward and said they too had seen something similar, a figure all in white, darting between trees and slipping down alleys. but Girdler sensibly made the point. Why would a ghost be gathering up its costume and hiding it? Why would a ghost be running away from the watchman? It was clear now. Someone was dressing up as a ghost.

But whether it was a prankster, a madman or something worse, no one could say. And soon it wouldn't matter. Because on the night of January 3rd, 1804, The ghost of Hammersmith was shot. A reward of 10 guineas was announced for anyone who could provide information on who the supposed ghost of Hammersmith was. While many were still too scared to leave their homes at night, groups of men, oftentimes mildly drunk ones, would gather in small groups, unofficially of course, and prowl the streets of Hammersmith looking for the spectre. But despite reported sightings, the winding darkened lanes gave just too many different routes

for the supposed ghost to take and no one was able to catch him. One of these men was a 29-year-old by the name of Francis Smith, who decided he had had enough of this whole charade. He was angry that someone was causing so much chaos in his local community and he wanted to put a stop to it. But first, of course, he would be able to be. popped to his local pub, The White Heart, for a few pints. He brought with him a gun.

Smith had spoken with the night watchman Girdler that evening, and the two men went out together, walking the darkened lanes of Hammersmith that night, to see if they could find anything amiss. Nothing was, and Gerdler needed to go back to his duties. He still had an area he needed to patrol, and it was also his duty to announce the hour, shouting aloud the time for the residence.

He told Smith that he would go off and do that, then he would return to him just after 11pm to resume their search. The two men noted it was a particularly dark night, it would be difficult to make out one another. So they agreed upon a call they would use to identify themselves. One would shout friend, the other would respond, advance friend. And so Smith was left alone. walking just near Black Lion Lane, the path that runs along the perimeter of the St. Peter's

Churchyard, flanked on either side at the time, by large hedges that made the already dark night even darker. Smith apparently heard Gerdler's call for the hour off in the distance, and decided to start walking towards it to resume their search. But that was when he heard something, a rustling sound. Then came the sudden realization that he was no longer alone on this lane. He couldn't quite make it out at first. It was just the outline of a figure in the dark, silently shuffling towards him. But as it grew closer, Smith realized it was white, from head to toe.

Damn you, who are you and what are you? Smith shouted out. He had been so confident before that it was. They were searching for a man. But now he was face to face with this being, whatever it was, down this pitch black lane. His nerve had evaporated. Could it really be a ghost? He thought to himself.

The figure didn't speak. Damn you, I will shoot you. Smith shouted again, preparing his gun and pointing it in the direction of the white figure. didn't warn it again. He fired. The figure immediately dropped to the floor. He froze, breathing in the icy cold air into his lungs, as he slowly approached and how crumpled pile of white that lay in the middle of the path. It was a ghost, he was sure. It was actually a ghost. How long he kept that belief up for is unclear, but it must have wavered at least a little bit as he approached and saw its face.

To continue this story we need to rewind a little bit to a few weeks prior and introduce a 22-year-old man named Thomas Millwood, a bricklayer who wore the traditional uniform of the time, white linen trousers, a white linen waistcoat and a white apron. Millwood would often be seen walking home in the dark. The sun would set around 5 or 6pm at the time, so seeing the bricklayer in the dark wasn't unusual. But that didn't stop him being accused of being the Hammersmith Ghost, apparently on more than one occasion. The most notable one being were a carriage of two young women and the man pulled up behind him, screeching that it was the Hammersmith Ghost. The man yelled, there goes the ghost.

Millwood turned to face them and said he was no more a ghost than they were. and then, in a rather polite tone, asked a man if he wanted a punch in the head. These misidentifications led to his family suggesting that maybe Millwood should wear a different coloured overcoat on his journey home. But he thought the whole thing was ridiculous and refused, not wanting to play into the mass hysteria that was plaguing their village. This refusal would, of course, be his downfall. On the night of January 3rd, Millwood had stopped at his parents' house on Black Lion Lane to speak with his sister Anne.

He was due to collect his wife from work later that night and was just passing the time until she was ready. Upon hearing girdle's call, Milwood stepped out into the cold, dark night, as Anne closed the door behind him, almost immediately, Anne heard a shout, followed by a flash and the same. sound of a gunshot. She called out to her brother from the window but got no response. She rushed to her parents' bedroom to wake them, but they brushed her off, claiming that she was imagining things. She then attempted to wake their lodger, who responded much the same, leaving the young girl to run out into the freezing night herself. Still unsure what had happened, but worried about her brother. She found him.

laying in the middle of the road, his face covered in powder burns and blood. He was dead. She said there had only been a brief moment between the shout and the shot, not leaving Millwood a chance to respond before he had been killed. After the shooting, in a distrault panic, Smith had rushed back to the pub. There he had found Gerdler, who seemed confused, when Smith began ranting and raving that he had shot a ghost, but he seemed almost remorseful, saying that he feared he had hurt it badly. Gerdler had heard the gunshots but had fought nothing of it.

Apparently it was so common to hear gunshots in the area that they would ring through the air every 15 minutes or so. Gerdler, seemingly a little more aware of what had actually happened at this point than Smith, demanded he take him to the lane. They were joined by two other men, and sure enough, there they found out of his. the body of Thomas Millwood. Smith was broken by this discovery. He had shot a man, a man who wasn't even dressed up as a ghost. Smith was temporarily sent home to regain his senses. The body of Millwood was taken to the Black Lion pub nearby. A few hours later, Smith arrived at

the pub to turn himself in. The following morning, the body, still at the pub, was inspected by authorities and witness statements were taken. Mielwood had been killed by a single bullet that had shattered his jaw and passed through into his spine. At the initial inquiry, the coroner said to the jury that he was shocked that such an incident like this could happen as what they viewed as an enlightened age. In fact, the entire trial appeared to be tinged with a sense of intellectual snobbery, aimed at the misguided and superstitious villages of Hammersmith. On the day of the inquiry, a man stepped forward. He spoke plainly and said,

There wasn't a ghost at all. His name was John Graham, a local shoemaker, respected enough. He said his neighbour had seen him out at night, wearing a white blanket. He hadn't meant to frighten the whole parish. He had only meant to scare one man, his apprentice. The boy had been telling ghost stories to Graham's children, scratching at their bedroom walls at night to make them scream.

So Graham turned it back on him. One night he sent the boy out on an errand after dark, then waited in the lane draped in white. When the apprentice returned, Graham leapt out from behind the wall. That was all, he said, just once. But this was the first. The 29th, the Knight Girdler had seen someone running in a sheet. The stories were already well underway at that point. But this was the incident that kick-started the vigilante groups,

looking for the ghost. In the eyes of the press, this wrapped up the entire story. Graham was the ghost, the white figure, the cause of it all. He denied it, said he only did it once, that he wasn't to blame for all the other sightings, but the damage had been done. Making the whole story all the more morbidly strange, Graham was a member of the local church's choir and he ended up singing at the funeral of Millwood, the man he had inadvertently set the wills of fate in motion for. Nevertheless, this didn't change what had happened. It was decided that Smith would be put on trial at the old Bailey for the murder of Thomas Millwood. On January 13th the trial began.

It instantly gained a great deal of attention throughout the country. All lies were on this jury. Would they find this man guilty of murder? If he truly believed he was actually firing at a ghost. Smith admitted that yes, he had killed the man, but he was adamant that it was a mistake and entered a plea of not guilty. Throughout the trial, his remorse was caused.

clear. He could barely stand without assistance. He found it difficult to speak when forced to explain the events of that night. He had never intended to kill anyone. He was just trying to help his community in his eyes. Smith seemed to gain a lot of sympathy from the people in the courtroom, but the judge kept bringing them back to the actual matter at hand. Smith testified that he called out twice to the white figure approaching him, but with no response. He became so agitated by what he now assumed was an actual ghost that he fired out of fear. But Anne disputed this detail, saying she didn't believe that Smith gave her brother long enough to respond before firing his pistol. Lord Chief Baron MacDonald, the judge presiding over the case, addressed the jury saying that nothing in the case could make the offence anything but murder.

He gave the example of a man setting out not to shoot a ghost, but a highway robber. If that man shot someone who turned out not to be a robber, but he thought they were, that would still be murder. He also reminded them that no matter how upset Smith might be, that someone was out dressed as a ghost scaring people, this did not entitle him to go out of a gun and shoot the person. But the sympathy that Smith had stirred up in the court left the jury very conflicted.

After an hour's deliberation, they returned with the decision that Smith was guilty of manslaughter. The judge, however, would not accept this. This was not an option. It was either guilty of murder or innocent. They went away again and came back, declaring Smith guilty of murder.

He would be hanged the following Monday, and his body then given over for medical science. Smith broke down in tears as the verdict was read out. But despite this, both the jury and the judge believe some sort of special consideration needed to be made in this case. It seemed this man truly did believe he had been shooting at a ghost. There was just nothing written in British law that could cover this strange detail. After the trial, the judge referred the case to the Crown and the execution was temporarily

at least, put on hold. The sheer amount of public interest in the case ultimately saw King George deferred himself getting involved, who agreed to pardon Smith on the condition he served one year of hard labour as his sentence. This case would lead to decades of debate about self-defence law in the UK, which would only actually be resolved in the 1980s, leaving it a particularly unusual but important bit of legal history. But what about the ghost? Millwood wasn't one responsible, and Graham had only omitted to play in the ghost on one occasion. Some suggested that this wasn't the work of an individual, that rumours simply spread about a ghost and numerous locals wanting to have a bit of fun, decided to take turns scaring people.

There was, of course, the death of the pregnant woman, although there doesn't seem to be. to be any actual recorded evidence identifying who this was. After the trial, sightings of the ghosts seemed to dry up. Understandably if this was the work of pranksters, the idea of being shot for it likely dampened their spirits to continue. Although, did it actually stop? While it seemed initially the sightings had ended, over the years numerous reports continued to circulate throughout the area. There was a case in 1824 of a ghost with hooks for hands scaring people. Only this time it could breathe fire. This was apparently blamed on a local farmer. Although I wasn't able to get a clear understanding of how he had been faking these sightings exactly. Years later, numerous reports in the

area were made of a ghostly figure in white being spotted. What made this one different however was that it apparently had claws, and when the locals attempted to chase it, it would use those claws to climb up walls and escape. These two later sightings, along with some of the more shapeshifter-like descriptions used in the early days of the haunting, sound remarkably similar to another famous London legend. Springhill Jack was a figure from Victorian era of English folklore, first reported in London in 1837. He was described as a tall, thin man with a terrifying appearance. Fiery red eyes, clawed hands, and the ability to leap impossibly high, clearing walls and rooftops in a single bound, other times using his claws to clamber up high

walls. Some claimed that he wore a dark cloak and a helmet. Others said his face was hideous, or even demonic, with horns and even hoofed feet. The earliest reports involved a young woman named Mary Stevens, who claimed that Jack leapt at her in Clapham and assaulted her before vanishing. Soon after, another woman, Jane Alsop, said a strange man came to her door claiming to be a policeman. When she brought him a light, he breathed blue flames into her face

and tore at her clothing with metal claws. Over the next several decades, Spring Hill Jack sightings spread across England, from London to Liverpool and beyond. He was said to laugh maniacly, leap over carriages and disappear into the night. Despite public outcry and newspaper coverage, no one was ever caught or proven to be the culprit. Some believe he was a prankster aristocrat, with special footwear or springs, Others thought he was a ghost or a demon. He became part of urban legend, inspiring Penny Dreadfuls, stageplays and sensational headlines. If you want to delve more into the story of Jack, one of the first ever episodes I did was on him.

So I'll leave a link to that. The other theory is that there truly was a ghost haunting Hammersmith. That was how the initial story began, but it became more convoluted and confused, when other people began adding their own elements to the story and dressing up as the ghost. In fact, some still believe that the ghost remains. The story goes that every 50 years or so, on a full moon, people see a ghostly white specter floating between the gravestones with St. Paul's Churchyard. If you find yourself in Hammersmith today,

it is obviously a totally different place to what it was back then. But the Black Lion pub still stands, and they have a sign on their wall commemorating the story of the Hammersmith Ghost Murder. What's more, the pub has its own ghost stories now, and numerous strange occurrences have been reported over the years. Some believe it's the ghost of Thomas Millwood, trapped there, after his lifeless body was brought inside on that fateful night. Maybe there wasn't a Hammersmith ghost before Thomas Millwood was killed. But maybe there is now. That's all for this entry into the tape library. This wasn't actually the episode I had planned.

My initial one got pushed back to September as it's going to be a bit of a beast of an episode. But I really fancied covering something a little different and while still very much a ghost story, this felt very different. Obviously I always like to ask you guys a question, but there's a few here really, isn't there? isn't there? Do you believe the Hammersmith ghost was ever really a thing? Or was it a simple case of mass hysteria? But also, do you believe Smith should have been charged with murder? Or was it right that he was let off with a much more lenient sentence? Let me know your thoughts in the comments below. I just wanted to highlight another show here for a moment and talk a little about research. If you're

bored of me, feel free to end the episode here. I'm very much not a professional. researcher, it's a skill set I still need to work on and I'm learning as I go. Generally I tend to favour books for the paranormal cases I cover. The reason for this is that I generally lean very much into the story side of things before we discuss theories. So wherever possible, I want to tell you guys the story as it was reported, either from the people involved, or written about by someone who had direct contact with the witnesses. Obviously in cases like this, it's a little different, but that is normally my process. One thing I do though is to try and get an overview of a case before I delve in deeper to the research.

To do this, I'll either read a brief write-up or watch a documentary or listen to a podcast on the topic. One podcast that keeps coming up for me when doing this is a series called Dark Histories. It's not a strictly paranormal show, although it does talk about a number of paranormal cases including this one. I've only listened to a handful of episodes over the last couple of years, but every time I do I'm so impressed by it. Doing this type of thing, it can be easy just to phone this in a bit and not really get into the details of a case. I'm not calling anyone out for that, it's kind of the nature of the beast, when you're expected to release an episode every week or two. But every time I listen to Dark Histories, the presenter really does seem to do fantastic research. And his episode on this was a massive help in filling out some of the more common.

reportedly blanks in the story, as well as seemingly correcting a few errors that I found present in many other versions. I don't know the guy behind it and this isn't a sponsor situation. I just wanted to recommend the show because I think it's great. If you enjoy my stuff, I'm sure you'll like it. So I guess it's time to wrap up. If you enjoyed this episode, please hit like and subscribe if you're on YouTube. And of course, if you're listening to the podcast version, leaving a five-star rating, or even a review, is a massive, massive help. I know I go on about this a lot, but it's so hard to get people to leave a rating for a podcast, for some reason.

And it really does make a huge difference on those platforms. No expectations whatsoever, but if you do want to support the show of your wallet, you can do that from as little as £2 a month through YouTube memberships and Patreon. Some of those patreon tiers get you shoutouts at the end of the episode. So let's thank those wonderful people now. Our tape library archivist, Umico Grimm, West Virginia Vegetable Man, Tina S, Thomas Botewright, The Crimson, Diem, Detective.

Stephen Lutman, Sean Miller, Sandy Lusk, Sagal, El Cary, Sarah Boyd, Restock, 1731,1, Quirley, Quirkey Joseph Monty, Monter's, Mirashard, Midias, Emmy Bartley, Lady Bett Noir, Juno, Judif Hacker, Joseph Condola, Jonna, Jolla, Jail, Jail, Emily Carlin, Eric Salas, Dagan Odorlin, Dominic, Danyl, Dahlast, Dahl, Crystal Edwards, Ashlas Books, Alfred Andoval and Adeline. Our lead archivist Xavier Angle, Van Yell, Tyler Michael, Tracy Torello, the original dear, ridiculous, old soul like mine, plate doctor is in, Melissa Harrison, Law William, London Grace, Creepy Candy, Brian Baker, Amy Stubblefield, Alex O'Neill, Alex Goldberg and 1000th Ghost, and our very generous grand overseers, the God

Emperor of Mankind, Morning Rain 2619, Leah Carmela, Katie, Harrison the Yoga Lord, Badidley, Agent 355 and Queen Fatchelands. As always, a huge thank you to all of the them, all my junior archive is on Patreon and my members on YouTube. All your contributions play a huge part in keeping the tape library and night drive paranormal going. Plans are forever changing at the moment behind the scenes here. But if all goes well, I'll have something special for you guys in a couple of weeks time before we return to our regularly scheduled broadcasting in September with two beefy episodes. Until next time my friends. Pleasant dreams.