Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 212 - The Boston Strangler

Episode Date: October 5, 2020

The Boston Strangler! The residents of Boston, in late 1962 through the summer of 1964, were terrified of a man the newspapers dubbed “the Boston Strangler.” A sadistic serial rapist and murderer who was somehow seemingly tricking one area women after another into letting him into their homes where he’d then proceed to strangle and rape them. Police in five different jurisdictions scrambled to question every known pervert, petty criminal, and person with a history of mental illness and violence who could maybe be connected to the heinous crimes of the Strangler in some way. And then the police found Albert DeSalvo… a man brought in on seemingly unrelated charges, who confessed to everything! The Boston Strangler was behind bars. Case closed! …or maybe not. Irregularities in the crimes, gaps in DeSalvo’s story, and the pressure on authorities to solve the case have led some to believe that DeSalvo was responsible for maybe one or two of the Strangler’s murders, but not for the rest. And he was never charged with ANY of the murders. Actually, no one was EVER officially charged with the Boston Strangler murders. So who really was the Boston Strangler? Today we’ll dig into the life of the man who would confess to being the Strangler - a man who for sure committed other disgusting violent crimes - Albert DeSalvo. And we’ll follow the Boston Police Department's hunt for this psycho as they form what was colloquially known as the “Strangler Bureau.” All of this and more on another true crime, “bet you’re gonna lock your doors now if you weren’t already,” edition of Timesuck. Which candidate(s) do you align with?: https://www.isidewith.com/ Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/ErAAU9bLs2Q Merch - https://badmagicmerch.com/ Discord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89v Want to join the Cult of the Curious private Facebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" in order to locate whatever current page hasn't been put in FB Jail :) For all merch related questions: https://badmagicmerch.com/pages/contact Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcast Wanna become a Space Lizard? We're over 9500 strong! Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcast Sign up through Patreon and for $5 a month you get to listen to the Secret Suck, which will drop Thursdays at Noon, PST. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch. You get to vote on two Monday topics each month via the app. And you get the download link for my new comedy album, Feel the Heat. Check the Patreon posts to find out how to download the new album and take advantage of other benefits.

The Boston Strangler, the mid 1960s were a turbulent time for a lot of people in America. The burgeoning civil rights movement, the counter-cultural sexual revolution of the hippie movement was kicking off and tensions from the Cold War meant that a lot of people were carrying around a decent amount of anxiety about the future every single day. And the residents of Boston and the Boston area from June 14th 1962 through July of 1964, they had even more to worry about. A man in the newspapers dubbed the Boston Strangler. Somehow seemingly tricking one area woman after another into being led into their homes, where he would then proceed to strangle and rape them.

The papers were printing graphic crime scene details and criticizing the police for not being able to catch the killer or even come up with a lead suspect, pushing many residents to the brink of near hysteria. Police in five different jurisdictions scrambled to question every known pervert, petty criminal, person with the history of mental illness and violence who might be connected to the heinous crimes in some way in any way, and then the police found Albert DeSalvo. A man brought in on seemingly unrelated charges who then confessed to everything. The Boston Strangler was behind bars, case closed, or maybe not. Irregularities in the crimes, gaps in the salvo story, and the pressure on authorities to solve

the case have led some to believe that the salvo was responsible for maybe one or two of the stranglers' murders, but not for the rest. And he was never charged with any of the murders. Actually, no one was ever officially charged with the Boston Strangler murders murders, but not for the rest. And he was never charged with any of the murders. Actually, no one was ever officially charged with the Boston Strangler murders. Many years later, evidence would reveal that the salvo was responsible for at least one, but what about the others?

Today we'll dig into the strange case of the Boston Strangler, and into the life of the man who would confess to being the Strangler, a man who for sure committed, other disgusting violent crimes, Albert DeSalvo. We'll follow the Boston Police Department as they struggle to find the strangler, a man who for sure committed other disgusting violent crimes, Albert DeSalvo. We'll follow the Boston Police Department as they struggle to find the perpetrator of these crimes that eventually form what was colloquially known as the Strangler Bureau, a team dedicated to finding one killer.

All of this and more on another true crime, bet you're going to lock your doors now if you weren't already addition of Time Suck. Happy Monday. Welcome back to the Cult of the Cur meat sacks. I'm Dan Cummins the manual David sock designer socks Time traveling Karen historian the sock master the master sucker and you are listening to time suck Nimrod loose phenobojangles and triple M hail to all of you. Thank you for giving us something interesting to suck once more Vintage time suck hoodie and the shop at bad magic merch.com today so soft so warm so much sucky snugliness Is that a word even if it isn't love it wouldn't change a thing three out of five stars I recorded this episode before knowing how much we made via patreon this month

Uh from the space list so I will wait until next week to announce the charity and how much we'll be able to donate And that's it for announcements. We're just cruising right to it today. Time to head back to the 1960s and over to the area of Massachusetts and meet some dirty birds. Today will meet a few dirty dudes, but mostly focus on one man, who may or may not have been the Boston Strangler, but was certainly a killer rapist and all around dirt back. His name was Albert DeSalvo, and he would be given a few different nicknames for the preserve, preserve, what even is that?

Proverse life of sexual crime, see lead, including the measuring man, the green man, the master sucker. Wait, what? That last one is me. Oh, my God, I'm the Strangler. Uh, no, I wasn't even born yet. These crimes happened. Those first two nicknames were true. Most of the salvos major crimes involved in the molestation and rape and they would allegedly evolve into potentially 13 murders

of women ranging tremendously in age from 19 to 85. Two additional murders were initially reported by Boston papers as belonging to the strangler, but were later definitively attributed to other killers, the murders whomever committed them scared the shit out of the women in Boston. And they terrified most of the men as well who are worried about their wife or sister, mother or daughter, because of the wide range in victims ages that even their grandmother could be the Stranglers next victim. Most of the bodies were sexually violated in a number of ways.

And when the papers printed details of this sexual depravity, the crime shook many Bostonians to their core. In the early 60s, the still very Catholic city, and much of America was extremely sexually conservative. The counterculture revolution still hadn't quite kicked off. The age of leave it to beaver and father knows best of malt shops and sock hops being the place most teenagers rebelled was still where Americans dwelled.

On married casual sex was definitely happening, but it was still very frowned upon in mainstream polite society. widespread use of birth control pills, which have been approved by the FDA in 1960 and would quickly lead to increased premarital promiscuity. Still in its very beginnings. People were a long ways from casually and frequently accessing hardcore porn on free sites like porn hub and you porn on their cell phones. People were a long ways from having cell phones.

Adult movie theaters had just popped up and lost the angels for the first time in 1960, making it to New York City soon after that, but they still hadn't made it to Boston. Kinks, Jamie, though not a term yet, was not only alive and well, it was accepted and expected. Moms weren't walking in on their son's masterbating to Bukkaki or ATM videos yet, or finding butt plugs under their daughter's beds, or under their son's beds. A hardcore magazines like Hustler and Penhouse

still actually, or still wouldn't casually be sold at gas stations and bookstores for many years, and no one was prepared to reckon with a serious sexual sadist, a perverted killer, who targeted women from young co-eds to old widows. When the killings began in 1962, people in Boston, like people everywhere in America, were still watching Bonanza, the Andy Griffiths show, the Flintstones, the Beverly Hillbillies, shows where, oh my heck, was about the most profanity thing you never gosh dang here.

The most sexual activity you might see on your boob tube, would be a light quick pick on the lips. Most TV couples still slept in separate beds and some top heavy TV mom wearing a tight sweater. Was about the most sexual thing you'd see. Luciferina was super sad and felt super sexually stifled in 1962. She was not being hailed.

She was putting, being put in an ill-fitting blouse and told to sit up straight and watch her language. The most provocative film release in 1962 by far was Stanley Kubrick's Lolita, which strongly insinuated very age in appropriate sexual attraction intention, but didn't have any nude scenes or sex scenes. When it came to crime, Perry Mason was about his hard course, TV got. Today was all of the uncensored true crime podcasts out there, you know, like this one, with documentaries featuring crime scene photos, a murder victims with sexuality and nudity depicted regularly in both film and television.

Hard to imagine how shocking newspaper accounts of sexual barbarism must have felt to some 1962 readers. Descriptions of analacerations and of random objects left inside of a genus for investigators to find these descriptions must have blown people's fucking minds 1962. Many of them had truly never read anything like it. Boston's media outlets cause a great deal of hysteria with their sensationalized accounts of the killings.

The fear of the people of Boston felt about the Boston strangler was very, very real. I actually can't think of a modern equivalence, at least not in recent years, maybe the 2002 DC sniper attacks in terms of just no one feeling safe. No one feeling like they knew when the attack was going to come next and as far as killing a wide variety of victim types. But those attacks were far more detached and not sexually violent. The fear of Bostonians felt maybe similar to the fear of New York City's residents

felt over the sun of Sam killings during the summer of 76, or the fear of the zodiac killer put into the hearts of people in the Bay Area in 69 and 70. Probably even more intense than those examples because there were more victims and the killings again were sexualized. And the killings occurred in a much smaller span of time than say the Zodiac Killings. 15 women originally reported to be Boston Strangler victims, all murdered in an 18 month period. They began on June 14th 1962, ended on January 4th, 1964.

And then almost 11 months later, Albert DeSalvo's arrested for rape ends up confessing to the murders and Bostonians breathe a collective sigh of relief. But was he really the Boston Strangler? Maybe, maybe not. He definitely killed at least one of the women. A lot of people around the original investigation who are still alive seem to feel pretty confident that he was responsible for most, if not, all the killings.

And the killings attributed to the Strangler definitely did not continue once he was behind bars, which you know, could point to him, looking like the guilty party. Whether he killed the other victims or not, he was the man deemed guilty of the Boston Stranger murders in the court of public opinion, and the public did rest easier after his arrest. And since he is by far the man most commonly thought to be the Boston Stranger,

Albert DeSalvo is the man whose life we're gonna suck on in today's time, suck timeline. And towards the end of the timeline, for you true crime, aficionados are already familiar with this case. We will definitely explore the possibility that he wasn't a strangler, looking to some other options. And now, let us bow our heads and suck.

Shrap on those boots soldier, we're marching down a time, time, time line. On September 3rd, 1931, Albert DeSalvo is born in Chelsea, Massachusetts, city of Chelsea located in Suffolk County directly across the Mystic River from the city of Boston. By the way, what a badass name for a river, mystic river. I remember watching the 2003 Clint Eastwood movie, the same name, great movie. And I just thought the term mystic river

was made up for that movie. Nope, it's a real river. A real short river, only seven miles long, flowing into the Boston Harbor out of a lower mystic lake. Unfortunately, the name mystic has nothing to do with being mystical. Wasn't given its cool name, you know,

because Spirit for once, witness coming out of the water, going into the lake, or because the lake was thought to be a portal, some other plane with demons or monsters or some shit on the other side. Now, it comes from the Algonquin word, misadtook, which just means large estuary. Damn it! I couldn't have mean watery monster stream, or liquid demon tube, moving lake of mayhem.

Something anything cooler than large estuary. Oh well, enough about the once very full of fish, especially herring, but then very polluted, but now not so polluted river. The divide Chelsea from Boston and has nothing to do with today's tail. As of the 2010 census, Chelsea had a population of 35,177 in a total area of just 2.2 square miles,

make it the smallest city in Massachusetts area wise. The 26th most densely populated and incorporated place in the country and the second most densely populated city in the state behind Somerville. Back in 1919, Chelsea was even more densely populated, super crowded. In fact, there was 52,662 people living in that area of just over two square miles. About half of them were recent immigrants, foreign-born residents comprised 46% of the population. Chelsea still has the highest percentage of foreign-born residents in any city of Massachusetts or in Massachusetts.

As recently as 2010, 38% of Chelsea residents had been born outside the US. All those foreign people were living there because that's where a lot of blue collar jobs were. In the first two decades, the 20th century, Chelsea had transformed from a quiet suburb to an industrial city with shipbuilding, lumber yards, metalworks, paint companies, and more lining marginal street. Albert's parents, Frank and Charlotte had five other children in addition to him. Charlotte, Irene DeSalvo, born three years before Albert in 1928.

Joseph Frank DeSalvo born two years ahead of Albert in 1929. Dorothy May born three years later in 1934, Richard Edward born five years after Albert in 1936. And then the baby, the family Frank DeSalvo, junior, seven years younger than Albert born in 1938. So Albert was basically a middle child. Albert's mother, Charlotte Irene, born Charlotte Irene Roberts, was a local born to other locals. She was of Irish descent, shocking. An Irish person born in

or across the river from Boston? What are the odds? Super high. If you know anything about Boston, Boston has the highest concentration of people of primarily Irish descent of any city in the US by quite a bit. At roughly 23% as of 2017, more back than most of the immigrants who poured into Boston in the 19th century were Irish. I fucking love Boston by the way. Both Lindsey and I do. Easily one of our favorite American cities, great city, great accent.

Charlottes and Sessor were amongst those Irish immigrants and then Charlotte was born in Chelsea in August of 1910. Her listed occupation in the 1940 census is housewife listed level of education is none. Her family had lived in Massachusetts for several generations before her working as you know poor shoemakers, labor's laborers factory workers that sort of thing albert's father frank disalvo not irish uh... he was a hundred percent piece of shit and also a hundred percent italian uh... born in boston and may of nineteen oh eight frank was the son of two italian immigrants hit a we go

uh... come to master's together in eighteen ninety two uh... his occupation on the nineteen forty census has laborer and is listed completed level of education seventh grade. And Frank has been described in interviews with Albert's younger brother Richard and also with Susan Kelly and Albert DeSalvo biographer and a couple others as basically being truly a colossal piece of shit. Described as being an incredibly violent, very abusive man who regularly and horrifically beat his wife and children. At one point, Frank allegedly knocked out all of his wife's teeth and then bent her fingers back one by one, breaking them as a psychopath does right in front of their children.

His father of the year, the son of a bitch, Richard remembers another fight where he and Albert's dad knocked their mom to the ground and then, uh, yeah, Frank knocked them off to the ground and then when Albert got in between them, his dad grabbed him by the neck, lifted him off the ground, shook him like a rag doll. Money problems apparently were a real issue in the DeSavvo household, which added attentions that would be used as an excuse for physical abuse. During the Great Depression, when Albert was born, the factory town of Chelsea was the poorest town in all of Massachusetts, arguably just as rough as any of the worst neighborhoods in Boston or maybe rougher. And Frank Tassalvo was particularly rough. Albert's dad was not just physically abusive. He also liked to sexually degrade and humiliate his wife in front of the family.

He did things almost guaranteed to fuck his kids up for life. Frank would allegedly bring prostitutes home, have sex with them in front of his wife and children. According to one source, biographer Susan Kelly, Frank would force his family to watch him fuck prostitutes. Albert's childhood does not even feel real. It feels like one of the one of time suck resident dark crew or dark true crime comics. Excuse me, Steph Cox curvy's routines. If you're daddy made you and your brothers and your sisters watch him have sex, we're the prostitute in front of his wife who was your mother. You might be a killer.

If you're daddy snapped your mama's fingers one by one, like a couple pieces of dry candy in front of you, when you was just a little boy, you might be a cure. If you're confused right now, well, welcome to Time Stock New Lister. Get the fuck out of here. You can't take some serious weird. Some of the psychiatrists who later met with Albert after his arrest would say that Albert carried the trauma of watching his dad have sex with prostitutes the rest of his life and then he'd express it in the sexual nature of his crimes.

Yeah, I bet. Albert, not surprisingly, we grow up to have a very skewed view of what sex should be and how he should interact with women. What a childhood. What a childhood at home raised by one barely educated parent, one not educated at all parent, barely scraped from buying the 30s, witnessing domestic abuse, violent, especially violent abuse, while also being given an incredibly crude, demeaning, and dysfunctional introduction into sexuality.

Sounds like a good recipe to bake up a sexually deviant psychopath. Not surprisingly, while specific details are not given, several sources state that young Albert, like many serial killers, seem to enjoy torturing small animals growing up. Yeah, he and his dad probably torched them together, speculating there, no source says that Albert and Frank tag teamed on any animals, but I would not shock me in the least to learn that they had. Frank did teach his kids how to shoplift. Seriously, that's a new one. Albert would get in trouble for petty theft and burglaries numerous times throughout his life as would many of his siblings. And of course they did because their dad, Frank, was the one who taught them how to steal. I told you, Frank, disavow his neppie piece of shit. wood many of his siblings and of course they did because their dad Frank was the one who taught them how to steal.

I told you Frank the Salvo was an epic piece of shit so many of the killers we covered I'm not saying this excuses anything they did but their dads were either not around or they had a super shitty dad. In another incident of dark the Salvo family lore Albert's older brother Joe was thrown down the stairs by dad when he was nine and then young Albert only seven trying to defend his brother smashed his dad in the head with a glass vase shattering it. If you're fan of shameless on showtime, the disavowals feel like an even more dysfunctional Gallagher family.

1940 when Albert was nine, according again to that U.S. census, the disavowal family lived on Arlington Street in Chelsea, a short few blocks from the waterfront and near a railroad. This year, Albert's dad Frank abandoned the family, but don't think that means he was done abusing them. No, no, no, no. He was, he was way too much of a piece of shit, just let them live in peace. After abandoning the family, he would still show up randomly and go on drunken rampages and tear up the house, beat his sons, ripped their clothes to shreds, hit his wife, just

you weird, hateful shit, like destroy the family's furniture by drilling holes in it, smash glasses, break dishes, bash in, cupboards. And I'm sure he only had nice respectful comments and compliments to toss around, you know, at the family while he's doing all that. If you wrote this motherfucker into some lifetime or oxygen made for cable kind of mellow drama,

that movie would get terrible reviews for the abusive husband and father character not being believable, just for being too over the top. But also kind of fun, right? I mean, maybe not the best guy, but pretty fun. I did I mention that most people in the neighborhood knew Frank is fun Frank. It's such a good time. People would be like, hey, have you seen fun Frank recently? And they'd be like, yeah, yeah, he stopped by my house about two months ago. I kicked in the front door, knocked out two of my teeth, then he squeezed my wife's breast while she screamed for him to stop. Then he ripped off her dress and then he threw one of our dining room chairs through the window and right before stealing some money, we had stuff

in a cookie jar. Wouldn't you know, he took a shit on our dining room table. That's fun Frank, all right. Classic Frank. My wife's pregnant with his kid right now. Did I mention that? I'm still trying to get a bunch of my blood out of the carpet. So much fun with Frank. Everybody knows I'm kidding about the fun, Frank stuff, right? I'm being sarcastic. Let's move on.

By the time he was 12 and 1943, Frank's son Albert was already a budding delinquent, having been arrested numerous times for various petty theft crimes, also more than once on assault and battery charges already. Throughout his adolescence, Albert went through periods of very good behavior, then lapses into criminality. In December of 1943, the local police had had enough of dealing with Albert shit. He was sent to the Lyman School for Boys, along with his older brother, Joe. The police were probably sick of the entire Gallagher. I mean, the Salvo clan. Lyman School for Boys was open on the side of the state reform school for boys,

which had opened back in 1848, believed to have believed to be the first publicly funded reform school ever opened in the US. The Lyman School no longer in operation as 1971. Located just over 35 miles west of Chelsea in Westbroituated on roughly a thousand acres near Lake Chonsea. About 500 acres were a prime farmland, maintained by the 400 students living there. Students were subjected to strict discipline, lived in so-called cottages, large brick buildings, providing shelter

for about a hundred boys in each. Corporal punishment used to keep kids in line at Lyman. Some kids may have gotten more than just a beating. Various sources referenced rumors of runaways who were never caught nor heard from again, local folklore says that the missing runaways were not runaways at all, but kids killed by abusive staff. These bodies were buried in swamps behind the hill. And that is folklore.

And even if it was true though, living there probably still a step up for Albert and Joe, then it was, you know, from living back home and having dad always swing and buy. Probably still better than Fun Frank. In early 1944, while Albert was in Lyman, his mom, Charlotte, finally filed for divorce from Fun Frank and the divorce was finalized on July 1st. Frank was ordered to pay child support and according to social worker reports, never paid what he was supposed to. Instead, he would send his ex-wife threatening and demeaning letters, telling her she was ugly and diseased a disgusting neglectful mom.

I'm sure the spelling and grammar in those letters was perfect. He tell her she needed money. She should go whore herself out. Just so much fun. Ha ha, all class. Fun Frank. So much class. In October of 1944, the age of 13 Albert was paroled from Lyman.

Returned home started working as delivery boy in Chelsea. A delivery boy in Chelsea. Just a few months later, things in the already rough town of Chelsea got even worse. In late 1945, after World War II, long, slow and steady population decline hit Chelsea. It would lose 38% of its population between 1940 and 1980. This was due in part to the construction of an elevated expressway, which destroyed hundreds of homes, and the resulting out migration took away a lot of local businesses.

In August of 1946 at the age of 14, Albert returned to the Lyman School for a second round, a rehab, this time for stealing a car. He finished with a second term in 1948, and then he briefly enrolled in middle school at the William School of Weathereded brick building at 180 Walnut Street in Chelsea, junior high that's still there. And he graduated from eighth grade, 1948. In the sixties, when author Gerald Frank wrote a book about a salvo, he said that Albert's 1948 class picture still hung on the wall in Williams. Albert stood ahead taller than the rest of his class because he was two years older, having been held back twice. After graduating from junior high, 16- old Albert decided to join the Army.

And I usually think when I read about guys under the age of 18 joining the Army, what a culture shock that must have been. But an Albert's case, probably such a relief to get away from his poor dysfunctional family. Right? Fun Frank wouldn't be allowed on base. Taking orders wasn't going to be anything new for him. Consider he'd spent roughly three years of his, you know, adolescence between the age of 12 and 17 in a reform school, where you could beaten by staff if you got out of line.

From 1948 until 1956, Albert served in the army as a military police sergeant with the second squadron, 14th armored cavalry regiment. Fairly ironic considering his past and future life a crime. For a time, Albert was stationed in Germany, was honorably discharged after his first tour of duty. He quickly re-enlisted, took a boxing and a while in Germany, actually became the European middleweight army champion. Fun Frank's son, you had to use his fists.

Only good can come from that, right? Too bad he couldn't have just stayed with boxing and took all that fun Frank rage out on punching bags and opponents in the ring. Instead, he would later use his hands to overpower women. He would then rape and murder during the second tour in Germany in 1952. Albert met his wife, 19 year old, Irmgaard Beck, an attractive German woman from a local, supposedly respectable family who hasn't had much written about her in secondary sources.

She would later change her name to Sonja and her last name to Anderson to make it harder for people to track her down and ask her questions about being married to the Boston Strangler. She'd moved to Oklahoma where she would live until the age of 79 and then died there in 2012. Albert Irmgard lived modestly in Germany off of his military money. Albert was promoted to specialist E5 during the second tour, but then demoted back down to private for failing to obey in order. He would still receive an honorable discharge at the end of the second tour. In April 1954, the young couple, maybe happy couple. I don't know, moved to New Jersey after Albert was transferred to Fort Dix and New Jersey, located about 16 miles southeast of Trenton. And while at Fort Dix, it seems that Albert's sexual crimes begin. It's at least where we have

the first record of an accusation that would end up involving law enforcement. On January 3rd, 1955, a distraught new Jersey mom live in near Fort Dicks called the police. That afternoon, she been preparing a roast for dinner, is about two o'clock in the afternoon. She had to hurry out briefly to shop for a few ingredients she didn't have and then she left behind her nine year old daughter Lucy, her two younger kids, Billy 8 and one-year-old Alan sleeping in the bedroom. The baby was. When she returned 45 minutes later, Lucy told her they had a visitor, a soldier, who said he was here for the rent. And this made zero sense because this woman and her husband own the house.

Questioning her daughter, Lucy ended up saying, and mommy, I don't like that man. He touched me here and here. Lucy indicated her chest in between her legs. Lucy said that after the man touched her, her brother Billy came into the room and the guy took off running. Her mom called the police, Billy and Lucy told him the same story. They described what the man looked like

and the description reminded one of the officers they were talking to of a description of another man, a woman had reported the week before. This other woman had said the week before this other woman had said that she was reading in her bungalow about nine in the evening when she heard a knock on the door young man stood there when she answered dark hair dark eyed wearing a sports jacket and blue slacks he asked man did you see a prowler looking through your window no she said with some alarm is your husband home so so he can look for him her

visitor asked when she shook her head, no, he went on, well, do you mind if I look around? She said, okay, he wanted around her yard for a few minutes and returned to the front door. Then when he asked her about her husband and when he would return home, she got a little suspicious, said goodbye, shut and locked her door. Then she peeked at her window, watched this dude walk over to his car, he was parked in front of the house, sitting it without turning it on for 10 minutes, like a fucking creep before driving away. She wrote down his license plate number, nice work, anonymous lady, hail Nimrod. She had the police called, or she called the police, reported the incident, the plates ended

up along into a car registered, of course, to one Albert DeSalvo. The officer speaking with Lucy and her mom had questioned Albert about the incident and the woman's description matched the kid's description. So going with this gut, this officer brought Albert in, Lucie and her brother, Billy, immediately identified him as the man who had molested her. The next day Albert was indicted on the charge of carnal abuse by the Burlington County, New Jersey grand jury, but Lucie's mom, fearful of the publicity, fearful of what her daughter would have to go through with the trial, refused to press the complaint and the charges were dropped. So, damn it, this dirt bag got away with it.

And I have to wonder how many times had he done something similar before? How many other houses had he weaseled his way into? Had he been pulling similar shit back in Germany? Was he molesting girls over there, raping women? I think there's a decent chance he was. While Albert was out trying to rape molesting New Jersey, his wife was pregnant. It's like his dad, fun, frank, son, it's all class, gentleman in a scholar. The spring in 1955, Albert's first kid is born Judy, no exact date given for her birth. Couldn't find the exact date in ancestry.com or any other sources. Seems like Judy's mom worked real hard to stay out of the public spotlight and make it

hard for reporters to find out any info about her or her kids after Albert's later arrest for rape and then for well, he actually never got arrested for murder, but suspected of the murders. And good for her. While we don't know Judy's birthday, we do know she was born with some type of congenital congenital genital abnormalities that we don't know exactly what those were. Congenital genital abnormalities, this is not real off the tongue, very well, refers to a variety of structural disorders of the reproductive tract that occur when the child is growing in the womb.

Apparently, Judy's abnormalities were significant enough to draw the attention of her parents, and this would not work out well for Albert. After Judy's birth, Irmgarb became terrified. They'd have another child with a physical handicap, and she allegedly did everything she could to avoid having sex with her husband. And this was extremely frustrating for Albert, who's like hiatus, would later determine had an abnormally voracious sexual appetite, like off the fucking chart sexual appetite, masturbating five or six times a day, and he wanted to have sex constantly.

And does it officially make me old to read five or six times a day and think, man, it sounds like a lot of work Is the six-time actually fun? If you just answered yes, well good for you. You're one of Luciferina sexual warriors You have the stamina of a wild horny stallion of it seriously six times a day And we're not talking about like here and there like on some days like a few times a year on some type of sex vacation We're talking every day day after after day, every few hours, whenever you're awake, just beating off or fucking, his dick must look like a snake,

someone who ran over on the highway, just all mangled and abused. Early 1956, 24 year old Albert and his 23 year old wife, Irmgar moved to Chelsea, the prodigal son returns or something like that. Between 56 and 60, back at Chelsea, Albert would be arrested several times for breaking and entering.

I wonder if he was ever arrested by one of the same officers who'd busted him when he was a kid or who'd busted his brother's or his dad. So hey, yeah, nice to see you back home. This is busted your brother Joe last week. How's your dad, fun Frank? Each time he was arrested during these years, he'd only receive a suspended sentence.

And I have to think each time, excuse me, he wasn't just looking to steal stuff. He was looking to also molest or rape. I also wonder, did his dad ever stop by after he returned home? Maybe just show up, right? Try and rough up Albert or Irmgard, throw a little Judy around,

maybe break some of their shit. Albert's your father's shut up today and he punched up baby guns and all of a sudden come and slap and took a piss on the couch. Yeah, that's my pops. All right. Fun Frank. Just spread a little mirth and merriment.

No word on whether or not Frank did stop by. 1960 Albert second child with Irmgard a Sunday Michael is born doesn't have any physical handicaps much to his parents relief. Maybe kind of much to Irmgard's horror because they started to have more sex after this. I was chaining around six times a day. And the dude was half rabbit. Despite semi frequent brushes with the law, Albert remained employed in the late 50s, early 60s. He worked as a press operator at American built right rubber.

Then he got a job in a shipyard and he was a laborer. Then he's employed as a construction maintenance worker after that. And based on several interviews, it seems like most of his co-workers seem to like him. One of his bosses characterized him as a good, decent family man and a good worker. Others thought of him as a very devoted family man and someone who treat his wife with love and tenderness. A lot of other people also saw him as being totally full of shit. Those people were correct.

Dude was a hundred percent of dirtbag. He was apparently quite the storyteller. He's described as being the classic one-upper. They like to have the best story. He's described as being the classic one upper. They like to have the best story. He's seen as the coolest dude in the room. Love detention. Love to be thought of as, you know, the top dog, cool guy, former Boston Police Commissioner Edmund MacDamerra would say the salvos a blowhard. By 1960, although no one at the time knew it was him, Albert was also an additional mean of blowhard in his first pervy criminal nickname, the measuring man.

This is so weird. It's definitely not a cool dude. This is the oddest scam. A couple years before the Strangland murders began kicking off somewhere around 1960, a series of strange sexual offenses were being committed in the Cambridge area. Cambridge less than two miles from Chelsea. You cross the Tobin Bridge, formerly known as the Mystic River Bridge. You get from Chelsea to Boston and you keep driving about two miles here in Cambridge.

In Cambridge, 1960, women started reporting to do, and his late 20s knocked on the doors of their apartments, and when these young women would answer, women would answer, he would introduce himself saying, my name is Johnson, and I work for a modeling agency. Your name was given to us by someone who thought you would make a good model. And the student, of course, was Albert DeSalvo, and Albert would then go out of his way to assure these women that the modeling would not be nude, just taste all stuff, just evening gowns and swimsuits. He'd pay them, you know, they get paid $40 an hour for this modeling. He'd, you know, then let them know he'd been sent to get their measurements and other information if they were interested in modeling.

And if you don't already know, you know, lady listeners, modeling agents, legit ones, don't fucking do that. They don't come knocking on your door, asking for measurements. Uh, tell that guy you need to talk things over with your husband, uh, you know, whether you're married or not, whether you're into dudes or not, then call me shut the door lock it, call the fucking police immediately. And if you have a giant scary looking dude for a neighbor, preferably a dude with a gun handy, maybe call him to come over and let this motherfucker know he needs to leave the property immediately. If you prefer not to add some additional holes to his head, number of women told Albert they were interested in inviting him in.

He seemed like a nice enough guy. Charming, boyish smile. He was finished taking her measurements. He would tell them that Mrs. Lewis from the agency would be contacting them soon if the measurements were suitable. Albert also later claimed some of these women invited him into their beds to have sex and maybe they did or maybe he's full shit He was definitely full shit about the modeling. There was never a call from Mrs. Lewis because she didn't exist neither did the modeling agency

And eventually some of these women once they'd realized they've been had they've been scammed they would contact the police Roughly a year after these reports started to trickle in on March 17th 1961 Cambridge police caught a man trying to break into a woman's house Once they had him not only did he confess to breaking and entering But he also just randomly confessed to being the measuring man, like he was proud of it. This man, of course, you know, Albert Salvo again, would ask why he perpetrated his modeling agency charade. He responded, I'm not good looking. I'm not educated, but I was able to put something over on some high class people. They were all college kids.

I never had anything in my life and I have smarter them. Interesting rationalization. He saw himself as the good guy, the smart guy in this situation. For lying to women and tricking them into letting him grow up under the guise of getting modeling measurements. Also, it's so random he didn't need to confess to being the measure man. He wasn't a prime suspect in that case. Had he not confessed, he wouldn't have been caught for those crimes.

But he wanted to let the police know that he had gotten away with it. He had outsmarted people. Love to brag. He wanted people to know he was smart. He was able to pull stuff off, important to note that. You know, he was smart enough and, you know, he wanted to let people know he's smart often tricking people because some, some think his desire to be seen as a clever criminal would later lead him to confess to the Boston Strangler murders that he may not have committed.

The judge ultimately sympathetic to DeSalvo's role as the father of two and the only bread earner in his home gave him a light sentence for his crimes, 18 months in prison. Then in April of 1962, DeSalvo released after serving 11 months for having good behavior. If authorities only could have known what was going to happen in the following months, they probably would have tried to keep him locked up forever. Also, what kind of crazy arguments did he and Irmgard have once he came back home? Abelts, Kenzie, watch the kids tonight.

Oh, come on, you know I can. I'm with the boys tonight. Are you Abelts? Are you hanging with supplies? Are you going to measure some ladies? I did my time for that. Satsar on stones, Irmgard, you're not perfect. Yeah, okay.

Sure, I talk some ladies and they let me measure their breasts and hips and stuff, but you you also have done stuff you you burn a casserole a couple weeks ago, you know So there's two months after he was released the killings attributed to the Boston Strangler begin suspicious timing June 14th 1962 started out for most Bostonians like any other Thursday NBC was preparing for Johnny Carson's late night TV debut. I love watching those old Carson clips. By the way, he was a great host.

A Fenway box seat was only three bucks. The red socks were ninth place. And then Anna E. Slesser's 55 was doing what she normally did. Working for a church and joining some classical music and keeping to herself. Anna was a, Anna was a petite, divorcee who looked years younger than her age. More than a decade earlier, she had fled Latvia with her son and daughter after the Soviet Union occupied it in 1944. She'd settled in her small apartment in the quiet, quiet old-fashioned neighborhood in the back bay area of Boston.

Her address was 77 Gainesboro Street, one of many brick townhouses that have been subdivided into small apartments to meet the needs of people with limited incomes, both students and retired people. Anna was a seamstress making about 60 bucks a week and she lived on the third floor. In that evening, she just finished her dinner, taken a quick bath before her son, Juris arrived to pick her up for a Latvian memorial service at the church. They went to that evening. On her robe, Anna went into the bathroom, turned on the water. You know, listening to the inspiring strains of some opera record just before seven o'clock

jurors knocked at his mom's door. No answer. He tries the door. It's locked. He's annoyed. He didn't want to take his mom to that church service in the first place. Now she's not coming to the door. He pounds on the door.

Still no answer. He's starting to worry. Is his mom sick? Is she lying helpless on the floor inside? He throws his weight into the door. Smashes it open on the second try., storms in, see something far worse than anything he could have expected. She says mom, Anna lying on the bathroom floor with a cord from her robe wrapped tightly around her neck.

Jürgen calls the police and calls a sister in Maryland telling his sister about their mom's tragic suicide. The police would quickly figure out it was not a suicide. It was a homicide. Gerald Frank in that book, The Boston Stranger, or in his book, The Boston Stranger, describes how homicide detectives James Mellon and John Driscoll found her. She lay outstretched, a fragile appearing woman with brown-bobbed hair and thin mouth,

lying on her back on a gray runner. She wore a blue to fetid house coat with the red lining, but had been spread completely apart in the front so that her shoulders are that so that from shoulders down, she was nude. She lay grotesquely her head a few feet from the open bathroom door, her left leg stretched straight toward him, the other flung wide, almost at right angles, and bent into knees so she was grossly exposed. The blue cloth cord of her house coat had been knotted tightly around her neck.

Its ends turned up so that it might have been a bow tied little girl fashion under her chin. So far for the pauses. The way like authors used to write sometimes, it's just like the rhythm, anyway, throws me. The apartment had been ransacked or rather made to look that way as if it was a burglary. And as purse was lined up with his contents, partially strewn on the floor, waist, waist basket and the kitchen have been rummaged through and trash scattered across the floor. Drowers have been rifled through. Drowers left open in the bedroom dresser. Case of colored

slides have been carefully placed not dropped on the bedroom floor. Some of them going through all kinds of stuff. But a gold watch other piece of jewelry, easily visible and left untouched. So it wasn't a burglary and Anna hadn't hanged herself, right? She'd been strangled with the court of a robe, something she could not have done herself. No seeming was found inside of her, but her vagina showed evidence of sexual assault with an unknown object, perhaps a soda bottle or something of that size. Police assumed that the crime had or may have had started out as a burglary. They theorized that the burglar then saw Anna in a robe was overcome by the urge to sexually

assault her that he then killed her afterwards to avoid being recognized and caught. That theory still didn't answer why the jewelry remained, maybe after raping and killing her, maybe the burger panicked and fled. They thought only two weeks later, there would be another murder. June 28th, 1962 was the Thursday on Commonwealth Avenue in the back bay and elderly woman Mary Mullin 85 years old found dead on her sofa in the apartment. Her apartment had been broken into years later to Salva or had excuse me had not been obviously broken into years later to Salva would tell

investigators that he was in her apartment that he did not strangle her simply that she simply died in his arms. The death certificate confirms the cause of death was a heart attack. Police speculated that Albert had broken into assault Mary and then Mary died of fright. Her story would not be linked to the Boston Stranger murders until much later and only because of Albert's selfless confession. The next two murders would occur on the same day and due to the way these women were killed, they would soon be linked to the murder of Anna Slesers. June 30th 1962 was a Saturday, Nina Nichols, 68 years old, found murdered in her apartment

at 1940 Commonwealth Avenue in the Brighton neighborhood of Boston. Nina found with her leg spread, house coat, and slip pulled up to her waist. Tied tightly around her neck were two of her own nylon stockings with the ends tied again in a bow. She had also been sexually assaulted. She'd been bitten.

And the time for death was estimated to be around 5 pm. While no seem was found in Regina, it's thought a wine bottle had been used to penetrate her and some light traces of what they thought may have been semen was found on her thigh. Her apartment looked like it had been burglarized. Every drawer had been pulled open, possessions lay scattered around wildly on the floor, and oddly enough, one open drawer revealed a set of sterling silver that had been untouched. There was also a few dollars in a purse or expensive camera, the watch on her wrist. So, not a burglary. Police determined that, though, nothing had actually been taken,

the killer had gone through her address book and mail, weird. Like Anna Slesher's, Nina Nichols let a quiet life, a retired physiotherapist. She'd been widowed for two decades, had no male friends except for her brother-in-law. And she wasn't the only woman in the Boston area to be strangled that day. Earlier on the 30s, some 15 miles north of Boston in the suburb of Lin, Helen Blake was strangled with her own nylon stockings sometime between 8 and 10 AM. The 65-year-old divorcee's ex-br-br-seer had been looped around her neck over the stockings, and yet again tied in a bow. Like Nina, she'd been bitten both her vagina and ainas had been lacerated. She was found lying face down,

nude on her bed with her leg spread apart. Again, traces of what appeared to be semen found on her thigh, none inside of her. Her apartment had been thoroughly ransacked. And this time some items had actually been stolen. Two diamond rings, Helen war have been pulled from her fingers and taken the killer tried unsuccessfully to open a metal strong box and a footlocker. Police were alarmed. Now a Boston Police Commissioner Edmund McNamara orders that a warning be sent out to women in the Boston area to lock their doors, be wary of strangers. McNamara cancels all police vacations, transfers all detectives to the homicide department.

Despite the similarity in these crimes, all these women were sexually violated after they'd been murdered, the police still didn't think that the murders were necessarily the work of a single person. A thorough investigation of all-known sex offenders and violent, former mental patients begins, police theorized that the killer attacked older women or killers out of hatred for his own mother, MacDamerra, who had been formally working for the FBI called the Bureau to ask them to hold a seminar for his 50 best detectives on sex crimes. Press has now alerted. People around Boston are told to lock their doors, three strangulation murders.

Hadn't shown any signs of forced entry. Even with the warning out, the murders continue. Lesson two months later, police find the body of Ida Irga, 75-year-old widow. In her apartment, it's seven-grove Avenue in Boston's West End on August 21st. She died from manual strangulation two days before in August 19th, police sergeant James McDonald described how he found her. Upon entering the department, the officers observed the body of Ida Irga laying on her back on the living room floor wearing a light brown night dress, which was torn completely exposing her body. There was a white pillowcase, not a tightly around her neck. Her legs were spread approximately four to five feet from a heel to heel, and her feet were propped up on individual

chairs and a standard bed pillow, lest the cover was placed under her buttocks. It was an alarming parody of an, uh, Obstra, uh, Obstret, God, I had this word figured out right before the episode, but it takes too long to get there. Obst, Obstetrical, Obstetrical. There we go. It's like, kind of, kind of, kind of, kind of ecological. God, fucking met these words. Uh, it was an alarming parody of an obstetrical position, like going to the fucking doctor, I can see that word. I just body faced the front door of the apartment and was the first thing anyone saw when coming through the entrance. These last few details were withheld from the press.

Dry, blood covered her head, mouth, ears. She too had been sexually assaulted after death and just like with the first strangulation murder, there was no sperm presence or at least none was found. Later, DeSalvo would describe to investigators how his attack on Ida had gone down. He said he knocked on her door, told her that he was there to do some work on the apartment. She told him straight up.

She didn't trust him. She didn't want anyone. She didn't know in her apartment. Rather than just push his way in to Salva, told her, all right, no worries. I'll come back tomorrow. As he walked down the stairs, she changed her mind. Decided that he must not be too bad after all of these won't walk away. And she said, well, come on in.

If only she would have trusted her first gut instinct. She walked out to her bedroom where he was supposed to look at a leak. When she turned her back to him, he put his arms around her back, began to strangle her. Later investigated what asked him why he chose such an old woman to attack and to salvage. He told him that, quote, attractiveness had nothing to do with it. She was a woman.

That was enough. What an odd chilling statement to make. Now the police thought they had a sexually motivated serial killer on the loose embossed. They did think that these were the work of one man now. And a lot of people in the Boston area started to freak out just over two months time. Four Boston area women have been strangled sexually assaulted. The police have no suspects. The local newspapers publish advice to women living by themselves, including tips from Commissioner McNamara. One, make sure all doors are locked and if possible, have a safety lock put on doors.

Check all windows to ascertain they are safely locked. Two, have a superintendent or janitor in building make sure Andrance door is securely locked. Three, let no one into an apartment until positive identification is established. Four, keep a handgun loaded if you have one, buy and load one if you don't. If any solicitors or supposed servicemen show up for unscheduled appointments, shoot on site, shoot to kill. Five, notify police department immediately if you see anyone in the neighborhood acting suspiciously.

Six, remember the police department wants all information, which may have a connection to any of those crimes. Thousands of women in Boston adopt these policies immediately, but sadly, thousands of others do not. Within just 24 hours of eye to ear, the stangler strikes again. Oh, and before we move forward, I made up number four. Newspapers can't publish shoot to kill orders. Put out by, you know, to, like, for put out on shady, seeming repairmen. They were probably getting a little bit of trouble

if he just killed some random repairman, because the newspaper told you to. The day before Ida's body was found on August 20th, a Monday, Boston newspapers that morning referred to the strangler as the deranged killer who has brought chilling terror to the home of every Boston woman who lives alone. Jane Sullivan, a 67 year old nurse, has killed in her apartment that day at 435 Columbia Road in Dorchester, cross town from where I lived. But the police won't find her body until August 30. Police found her on her knees in her bathtub with her feet up over the back of the tub,

her head underneath the faucet. She too had been strangled by her own nylons, probably in the kitchen, bedroom or hall, where blood was found on the floors. She may have also been sexually assaulted, but the corpse was too badly decomposed to properly determine that. There were, however, blood stains on the handle of a broom, so that's not good. There was no sign of force of entry, nor was the apartment ransacked, even though Jane's purse was found to open. Panic now truly grifts Boston. But then after Sullivan's murder, there are no attacks for three months and the fear starts to lessen a bit.

During those three months, please look at hundreds of possible suspects, but nothing comes to their investigation efforts except for a long list of people with solid alibis. Albert DeSalle, the measuring man, still not even remotely on their radar. Before the murder spree continues, feels like now is as good a time as ever

to take a sponsor break. Thank you for continuing to listen. I have one or all of those deals appealed to you back to 1962 now. The December 5th 1962 is a Wednesday and this day fear of the Boston Strangler would be rekindled and greatly increased. The dead body of Sophie Clark, just 20 years old, found by two roommates. Police determined she was murdered at approximately 230 pm. The apartment Sophie, and the women's shared, was located at 315 Huntington Avenue in the back bay area, just a couple of blocks away from Anna Slesher's apartment. Later, DeSavva would also describe how this attack went down.

He said he knocked on the yellow door for apartment, and that when Sophie answered the door, she didn't want to let him in at first. She said her two roommates were not home at the time. Then the salvo promised to set up modeling and photography work for her, nothing nude. He told her he'd pay her anywhere from $20 to $35 an hour. Kind of weird.

I think weird how he was like $40 earlier and now he's like lowered the price on the fake fucking modeling job. Apparently she let him in and then he says he's to dooster. Yeah, sure he did. That was his story. I don't necessarily bite it all. He said when he tried to have sex with her, he noticed she was menstruating. Then he removed her sanitary napkin, looked through her bureau to find something to strangle her with. Or she had no interest in him and overpowering overpower her from the very beginning or that. When investigators found her Sophie laid nude with her legs spread wide apart in the living room,

strangled by three of her own nylon stockings, which have been knotted and tied very tightly around her neck, her half-slip have been tied around her neck as well. There was evidence of sexual assault. This time, some semen was found on the rug near her body. Like with the other murders, the killer had sex with her after she was dead and left no semen inside of her.

Also, once again, just like the other strangulation murderers, thus far no sign of forced entry. Her roommates were shocked by this because they knew Sophie to be cautious. She'd actually previously insisted on having a second lock put on their apartment door. She was so cautious, she even questioned friends that came to the door in the past.

Before she let them in, yet her killer somehow convinced her to allow him to enter. So maybe this dude really was a world-class smooth talker and bullsharer. This new murder baffles investigators. There have been a gap of three months between this Boston Stranger attack and the last and some very interesting differences. While all the other victims had been white, Sophie was black. Also, when I find this far more interesting, all the previous victims had been significantly older. While the youngest previous victim was 55, Sophie again, only 20, 35 years younger, 55 years younger than victim Ida Irga.

She also did not live alone as the previous victims had. Was this the work of the same killer? Very odd for a sexually motivated killer, but not unprecedented to have such a wide range of victims. Maybe Albert was at line when he later told investigators, right, attractiveness had nothing to do with it. She was a woman that was enough. When police questioned the neighbors,

Mrs. Marcella Luca, roughly 30 years old, mentioned that around 2.30 that afternoon, a man had knocked on her door and said that the super had sent him to see her about painting her apartment. He then told her that he'd have to fix her bathroom ceiling and then complemented her on her figure. Have you ever thought of modeling? He asked her. Look, put her finger to her lips and told him my husband's sleeping in the next room. The man then became angry, said he had the wrong

apartment and left in a hurry. Look, a describe gem is being between 25 and 30 years old, of average height, with honey colored hair wearing a dark jacket and dark green trousers. Albert had just turned 31 a few months before looked young for his age, was described to be in a average height and weight. He would be known later to where the green during his crimes. His hair are a lot darker than honey though, but I guess he could have colored it. Just three weeks later, the strangler would strike again. December 31, 1962, New Year's Eve. That year at Felon a Monday, it was the coldest New Year's Eve in over 40 years, just four degrees below zero. 23-year-old Patricia Passette's body would be discovered. She was a secretary for a Boston engineering firm in her boss

who hadn't seen her for a few days was getting really worried about her. Drove to her apartment to check on her. Drove to work to see if she was there, couldn't find any place, and she hasn't show up at work. The next day when she's supposed to be her boss returns to her apartment at 515 park drive in the back bay area, a few blocks from where Anna Slesher's and Sophie Clark have been killed. Her apartment's locked, but with the help of the custodian, her boss manages to climb through a window

into the apartment, finds Patricia Laine face up in bed with the covers drawn up to her chin, looking like she's taken a nap. Underneath the covers, Patricia Laine with several stockings knotted and interwoven with the blouse tied tightly around her neck. Naked from the breast down, and while no seam was found,

there was evidence of recent sexual intercourse and later investigators find Patricia was also in the early stages of pregnancy. And also her rectum was damaged. The medical examiner, Dr. Michael Wongo, thought it was odd that Patricia was not only covered, but that her arms have been placed neatly along her sides, her legs placed together. Almost as if the killer had tenderly arranged her body and had tenderly drawn up the covers

to hide her nakedness. Dr. Luongo, who at 46, conducted several thousand autopsies had seen this type of, quote, compassionate murder setting before. He usually came upon a man and killed his wife or mistress mistress and already remorseful a moment after the act, painstakingly rearranges her clothes, cleans up the room before turning himself into police. The police wondered also if she was killed by a lover. Patricia, they learned, had been having an affair. This might explain the signs of recent in her course and the fact that she was one month pregnant. Could her lover have killed her? I guess maybe, but she was also strangled. The police wonder could the Stranger have been hiding

in the closet while Patricia and her lover were together, waiting for the lover to leave before carrying out his insane compulsion. Seems like a stretch, but maybe. Whatever the exact detail is the basic facts for that a 23 year old woman had been strangled and sexually assaulted, decorated in the strangler's fashion, her body found in her locked apartment,

no signs of a break in. Again, happened in the strangler's area at the Str the stranglers time, just like with the other murders, the killer had also searched her apartment, sure seemed like the work of the strangler. Even if it wasn't, you know, maybe the work of a copycat, would that make it any less scary? Absolutely not. Women still being raped and strangled in Boston, the police still have no idea who's doing it. Boston's fucking freaked out at this point. And then, and then the attacks again stopped for a little while, stopped over two months. Just like before the police used this kind of murder sabbatical

to backtrack look for some clues he might have missed. Anyone all the victims may have known, any place they might have visited or shopped at, various creeps, nuts and perverts are all checked with no significant results. And that is exactly how it's written in one of the sources by the way, which I found very amusing. Creeps, nuts, and perverts. We're checked again. As if these were three

distinct groups of people. I picture them being brought in one after another for witness line-ups. Right? Maybe have that neighbor who talked to the dude pretending to work for the model in agency. Mrs. Luca. Luca brought in to look at them. All right, boys, let's bring in those creeps. Miss Luca, take a good look at these creeps. Do you recognize number one? The guy with a really greasy skin, wispy peach fuzz mustache, and a comb over. A guy wearing the loose dirty sweatpants. The guy with his hand clearly pushed through his hole in the bottom of his pockets.

Obviously masturbating. Is it him? No. Okay. What about the guy with his hair pulled back and do a ponytail? Looks like his hair is about to rip his scalp off. A guy who's yellow teeth on just wearing sweaters. That wear went to pockets.

The guy went to trench coats, sticking his tongue through two of his fingers and some type of kind of lingus imitation. Is it that creep? No? Any others? Alright. Okay boys, release those creeps. Let's bring in those nuts now.

Get those nuts in here. Is it the guy spinning around on roller skates while barking like a dog wearing a hat made up tin foil while waving in American flag? No? What about the guy wearing about 10 different pairs of socks, cotton socks, nylon socks, wool socks, wet socks, velvet socks,

velvet ever socks, so many socks. No, all right boys, let's get those nuts out of here. Let's bring in those perverts. Man, it's the old Russian guy in the tracksuit, aggressively waving his limp of penis around. What's this big deal? So I have limp shamecock. So I show up and police line up in the wrong country. 16 years before I start kill spree.

I do it. I bust a strangle guy. That's just why no semen find inside. That jerk in corner. I don't know one. It's about time she go man, anotherio chikotillo me another cameio This has been too long since that since that creep stop by Was a creep or I guess he was a perfect. He's creepy nutty perfect. He was all of them

All right, I know there was a long deviation when we left off It was after the December 31st 1962 discovery of 23 year old Patricia Bassett's murdered body. And it was a period of over two months, no one was strangled in Boston. Then on March 9, 1963, I still keep thinking about those lineups, just fucking three groups. I don't know why it's so amusing to me. Another murder victim was found. 25 miles north of Boston and Lauren's 68-year-old Mary Brown found on the floor of her apartment. She'd been raped, strangled, beaten about the head. Her breasts have been stabbed with a kitchen fork. She'd been raped, strangled, beaten about the head. Her breasts have been stabbed with a kitchen fork. It was left in her chest.

She'd been strangled. When he later confessed to Salvo to persuade authorities of his guilt to provide details about her kitchen faucet, which was brass and her kitchen radio, he also got some key details wrong. When an investigator said that sheet you covered her with must have been bloody, the Salvo replied, oh, was it my god, but there was no bloody sheet.

No sheet of any kind had anything to do with that crime scene. Did he just forget or did he cave into some social pressure? Just told the officer what he thought the officer wanted to hear, you know, just following those leading questions. Or, you know, did he, did someone else come here? For the next murder of the Boston Strangler moved back to Boston a little under two months later on May 6, 1963, Beverly Sammons, a pretty 23-year-old college graduate, a recent graduate, Mrs. Choir Practice at the Second Euditarian Church in Back Bay.

A friend worried ghost her apartment to check on her, opening it with a key she'd given him. When he opens the door, he sees her immediately. She's lying directly in front of him on a sofa bed, legs spread apart. Her hands been tied behind her with one of her scarves, nylon stocking again, two handkerchiefs tied together, knotted around her neck, clothed over the bottom half of her face under it. A second cloud had been stuffed into her mouth. It appeared obviously the Beverly had been strangled to death, but when medical examiner's inspected her body, he was discovered that was not the

case. She had in fact been killed by four stab wounds to her throat. She'd actually been stabbed 22 times. 18 of those stab wounds formed a bull's eye, a kind of design on her left breast. The ligature around her neck was deemed decorative. And it had been tied tightly. It hadn't been, excuse me, tied tightly enough to strangle her. The bloody knife was found in the kitchen sink. Also, she had not been raped, estimated she had been dead for approximately 48-72 hours, probably been killed between late Sunday evening, Monday morning. Beverly, we're studying to be an opera singer, a planned trial for the Met in New York that year. Police speculated

that because of her singing, she had developed very strong throat muscles that may have made strangulation more difficult and resulted in her stabbing. That seems odd to me, but okay, maybe. I understand that her murder would be blamed on the salvo when the crime feels so different. I mean, if he did it, why would she stab so many times when other victims weren't? Why would she not sexually violated like other victims? Why try and make it look like a strangulation after the fact? Feels like someone trying to pin a murder on the strangler

from the perspective of this armchair investigator who's never worked in law enforcement, let alone a bit of homicide to take. The police were now growing desperate to catch a killer. Public pressure to solve these crimes is immense. And since desperate times call for desperate measures, the authorities do something desperate and they take a chance on a psychic.

Yay! Someone put them in touch with an ad copywriter named Paul Gordon, who supposedly had special ESP powers. He claimed he knew who the stranger was was, what Stranger looked like. Paul began his description of the man who killed Anna Slesters. This background music feels fitting to me for this. I picture him as fairly tall, bony hands, pale white skin, red bony knuckles, his eyes, hollow set.

I was particularly struck by his eyes, his hair disturbed me a little because he has a habit of pushing back a little curl of his hair that follows on his forehead. He's got a tooth missing in the upper right front of his mouth, he's in a hospital, or some kind of home. He's not confined, I know that, because I see him walking across a wide expanse of lawn. He can walk about, and he does a lot of sitting on a bench on the grounds. He has many problems. He used to beat up his mother, Crowley, she was an idiotic, domineering woman in his two sisters. But here they live unhappy lives. The family comes from...

...a main of a month. He's terribly lonely. When he's in the city, I see him sleeping in cellars, but he likes to wander about the street watching women, wanting to get as close as possible to them. You see, the poor fellow isn't a continual search for his mother, but he can't find her because, well, she's dead. Uh, yeah, okay.

What the fuck is he talking about? The Stranger, uh, live in a hospital? Or some kind of home? Not helpful. Describe just about everybody in Boston, bony hands and pale white skin. Well, you know, it is a city full of a lot of poor Irish people. Again, doesn't narrow it down much. Sleeping in random sellers, like some kind of cartoonish ghoul. Get out of here. Contangually searching for his dead mom, right? Okay, the killer is just a total maniac.

Sleeping in sellers looking for his dead mom, but the police can't catch him. They had to have been so pissed. They took a chance on this clown. If this guy really was a psychic, if he really did have important information regarding Anna Slesgers, why didn't he contact the police? Why did he wait for the police to contact him? And actually, if he really had ESP powers, how would he not already be working full-time for law enforcement as their highest paid by far employee, continually solving difficult

and important cases with his superhuman abilities? And the craziest thing about this to me is if he really was a psychic, what the fuck was he working as an ad copywriter? Hello? Is this Paul Gordon speaking? Paul, my name is Marie Anderson and you have to help me. My daughter, she's gone missing, oh, cut. You're to tell the police where she is before it's too late.

I'm on it, Maria. I was soon. Call me back in a few minutes after 5 p.m. I'll figure it all out. Right now I have to finish a new radio jingle for Crane's potato chips. Actually, if you don't mind, what do you think of what I got so far? Just listen for a second. Your stomach is aching, your hands are shaking.

You feel like a drip, you've really taken a dip. Sounds like you need the world's tastiest chip. Crane's for your cravings. Crane's for your savings. Just a nickel of bag each way out of a drag. Crane's chips, Cr cranes chips, everyone flips for cranes and taste these chips. Maria.

Maria sounds like a crime. Are you crying because of the missing kid or because you hate the new jingle? Look, the sooner I nail this, the sooner my boss let's be safe, your daughter. It's fucking ridiculous. No one who had that power would work as a fucking ad writer. That's be crazy. One of the detectives brought Paul a number of photos of men who've been caught mugging or breaking an entering

into buildings in the back bay area, Gordon identified one of them in Arnold Wallace. As the strangler, a man who kind of matched the description Gordon had given earlier, Wallace was a 26 year old mental patient at Boston State Hospital with an IQ somewhere around 60. A few days earlier, he'd wandered away and he was sleeping in the basement of apartment houses.

And then the police determined that Gordon had been to that hospital where Arnold Wallace lived before he talked to the police, weird, that he would almost perfectly describe a dude. He knew about who he'd just fucking seen, almost like the whole thing was a hoax. Wallace didn't do it, he was never charged. Gordon then switched to the murder of Sophie Clark and Apparently he correctly described her apartment with some impressive detail. The killer Gordon said was a large, husky black man who, Sophie knew, Lewis Barnett, who fit Gordon's description, was a suspect in Sophie's murder.

He'd have dated her once and it was possible. She could have let him in the apartment, but he was never charged. Gordon said that the stranger would identify himself soon and confess that was kind of true. Gordon would ultimately prove, of course, not to help investigators at all when it came to catching the stranger. identify himself soon and confess that was kind of true. Gordon would ultimately prove a course not to help investigators at all when it came to catching the stranger. He could have learned those other details through newspaper articles. They would move on. The summer of 1963 passed quietly.

Another murder wouldn't happen for four months on September 8, 1963, and Salem, 15 miles up to coast from Boston, Evelyn Corbin, pretty 58 year old divorcee who often passed herself off with more than a decade younger found murder murdered. Like 10 others before her, she'd been strangled with two of her nylon stockings. She lay across the bed, face up and nude. Underpants have been stuffed into her mouth as a gag around the bed with lipstick marked tissues that had traces of semen on them.

Spurm found this time in her mouth, not in her vagina. Her locked apartment had been searched, but apparently like with almost all the victims, nothing was stolen. A tray of jewelry had been put on the floor her person had emptied onto the sofa. There was something in the apartment

that the police hadn't seen before at other crime scenes. Outside her window in the fire escape was a fresh donut, which was not deposited or thrown there by anyone in the building. Apparently, I did the killer leave it. I don't know, maybe sadly, once again, no leads would come from another murder in the rest of September, all of October, and most of November would pass without any more killings. And then on November 23rd, 1963, the day after John F. Kennedy's assassination, while so many Americans were glued to their television sets, especially in the Boston area

where the president was from, Joanne Graf was being raped and murdered in her ransacked Lawrence apartment, 30 miles northwest of the city. The conservative and religious 23 year old industrial designer will be found by police two days later on November 25th. Neighbors would say she was a quiet girl, she was a Sunday school teacher and artist

who lived alone and kept to herself. She was found with two nylon stockings and a leotard tied in a elaborate bow around her neck, her blouse pushed up to her armpits, the ret히 marks on her left breast, the outside of her vagina, bloody and lacerated. Once again, no sign of force entry into her apartment. Reports came in from neighbors about strange occurrences in the apartment building the morning before Joanne's death and the apartment down the hall. A woman had heard someone outside her door.

Then she watched as a piece of paper slipped under her door, wiggling back and forth. And then suddenly the paper vanished and she heard footsteps. Not creepy at all. What was the point of that paper? We'll never know. Did the Strangler write a note or something? Just passing some little paper into the door. Please let me in. Not the Strler, just a nice guy looking to make new friends. 325 PM in November 23rd, the day of Joanne Graf's murder in Northeast during University Engineering student

lived above her, heard footsteps in the hall. Students wife had been concerned that someone had been sneaking around the hallways, so he went to the door and listened. When you heard a knock on the door, the apartment opposite his, the student opened his door to find a man of about 27 with palm-aided hair, dressed in dark green slacks.

Those green slacks again and a dark shirt and jacket. Does Joanne Graff live here? The man asked mispronouncing. Oh, sorry, I was not even seeing how he said. He said does Joan Graff live here? The man asked mispronouncing Joanne's name. The student told him that Joanne lived on the floor below. A moment later, he heard that door open and shut,

or some door, he assumed it was that door in the floor beneath him, and he assumed that Joanne had left the man in her apartment, poor bastard. I wonder if he felt guilty about that later. I mean, not as fault at all. Something happened to her, but still I would probably feel terrible

if I told some dude who turned out to be a fucking murderer where one of his murder victims was living. 10 minutes later, a friend teleph, Joanne, there was no answer. A little over a month later, came to 13th victim, the disavow would later confess to murdering. On January 24th, 1964, a Saturday, two young women came home after her work to their apartment on Charles Street and the Beacon Hill section of Boston. They are stunned to find their new roommate 19 year old Mary Sullivan murdered. She's been strangled to death first with a dark stocking then over the stocking at pink

silk scarf tied with a huge bow under her chin always like these bows and always multiple fabrics over that another pink and white flowered scarf curiously a bright happy new year card have been placed against her feet. She's found in a sitting position on the bed with her back against the headboard thick liquid that looks like semen dripping from her mouth onto her exposed breasts. And a broomstick handle had been rammed three and a half inches into her vagina. Fuck. After news broke, Mary Sullivan's murder panic over the strangler in Boston at an all-time high. The police still had no suspects. It was clear the women were continuing to let

the killer or killers into their apartment. Force entry not part of the killer's MO. The police immediately let's urge women, please do not let anyone, you do not know, into your home. Heaps of door locked at all times. Couple of weeks after the murder of Mary Sullivan, Massachusetts attorney general Edward Brooke took the investigation over. Brooke was no ordinary law enforcement type nor was he an ordinary politician.

He was a handsome intelligent, polished professional. He was also the only African American attorney general in the country at that time and a Republican and a solidly democratic state. And he was taking a big political risk by jumping into the Strangler investigation. If the Strangler or Stranglers continued to kill and not be caught, now he'd take the blame. But he a plan, case span five police jurisdictions making it difficult for police to coordinate their investigations. The group broke put together fixed that permanent staff members were assigned to the Stranger case. No information between the areas police

departments would would be withheld going forward because of petty jealousies or local feuds. Furthermore, Brooks Task Force aimed to shut the newspapers up, which had only been scaring people, making them lose faith in the police in the months since the first attacks. Two reporters, Gene Cole and Loretta McLaughlin, wrote in the record American for months about the Boston Police Department's mistakes, you know, charging them with extreme inefficiency, to head up this task force, which was formerly called the special division of crime research and detection, Rook selected a close friend assistant attorney general, John S. Bottomley. Bottomley was a controversial choice because of his lack of experience in criminal law. However, his bottomless supporters pointed out he was exceptionally honest and enthusiastic.

It was a non-traditional case and bottomly was a man of non-traditional methods. Bottomley's team consisted of Boston police departments detective Philip, the Natto, the Natalie, uh, special officer James Mellon, Metropolitan police officer Steven Delaney, state police detective lieutenant Andrew Tune, Dr. Donald, Kenneth, uh, was the man who would lead the medical psychiatric advisory committee. Governor Peabody offered a $10,000 reward, any person furnishing information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person who committed the murders of the 11 official victims now attributed to the strangler. The strangler bureau, as the task force became known, had a lot to do.

They had to collect, organize, and assimilate over 37,000 pages of material from the various police departments that have been involved in the case. The Medical Committee worked on developing a profile for the killer. There was an important difference they thought between the murders of the older women and those of the younger women.

For that reason, they thought I was unlikely that one person was responsible for all the killings and other words of her copycats. Folks seen on the killer who murdered the older women, Dr. Kenneth Fick reported that the killer was at least 30 years old, probably a good deal older. He's neat, orderly, and punctual. He either works with his hands or has a hobby involving handiwork. He most probably is single, separated or divorced. He would not impress the average observer as crazy. He has no close friends of either sex. It's eight years

before the FBI establishes the FBI's behavioral science unit, a Massachusetts psychiatrist is putting together a criminal profile. I found that pretty interesting. And bottomly, suggestion Brooke consented to a risky move consulting the second psychic of our story. Oh boy. Peter Herko, so here's this son of a bitch. Peter Herko's a Dutchman was known as a psychic detective or the telepathic detective by people who were fucking idiots.

He'd supposedly helped officer search for clues in several famous cases including the Manson family case, born in Dartrich, Holland in 1911. He immigrated to United States in 1956, lived in LA for 25 years. Herkho's claim that he became a psychic in 1941. He's about 30 years old after tumbling four stories off of a ladder, fucking big ass ladder, landing on his head. Uh-huh. That's sure that happens. Some of us get dumber when we suffer a massive head injury.

Some of us are left, you know, with lingering headaches, with blurred vision, a lot of people die. When they land on their head after falling for fucking stories. I'd say almost everyone dies from something like that. And almost everyone who doesn't ends up paralyzed, but this dude became a superhero. Okay, I don't believe he ever fell for stories and land on his head.

Right out of the gate, I think this guy's full of shit. Upon regaining consciousness four days after his fall, again, if it ever happened, Herko said he possessed the ability to see the future. The exercise, artistic and musical talents he had never exhibited before and to trace missing persons by psycho-metroid. It's hard to pronounce because it's not a real word. Psycho-matrising, I guess, or tuning into their psychic vibrations. Oh my God. By touching their clothing or other personal possessions.

He couldn't do any of that shit. He never helped solve the man's case, but the Strangler Bureau was desperate. Two private groups paid for Herko's services and expenses. I hope they didn't pay him too much. Herko's identified as suspect. The suspect was a shoe salesman with a history of mental illness, whom the Strangler Bureau had already investigated and ruled out. There was no evidence whatsoever to link the shoe salesman with a history of mental illness, whom the Stranger Bureau had already investigated and ruled out. There was no evidence whatsoever to link the shoe salesman with the murders.

The Stranger Bureau's credibility suffered on account of her co's who would go on to get in trouble for impersonating an FBI agent at one point. This dirt bag would later find some commercial success, however, appearing on the Johnny Carson show and writing several books. He'd agreed back in 1960, also on an episode of a TV show called One Step Beyond to have a psychic abilities put to the test. Parapsychologist Charles Tarte of the University of California, Davis did test him and the test came back negative. Skeptic and investigator and professional fucking wack and doodle hunter. The legendary James

Randy modern day, who Dini when it comes to debunking bullshitters, wanted Canada's national treasures called hercos out to be tested again.kos refused and Randy called him a fraud. It's just another grief vampire, a cold reader like John Edwards and all those other medium hacks. Fucking hate those charlatans. Really, you think you can maybe kind of see the future? You know things? Okay, fine, offer up your services for free to help.

And if it's proven time and time again that you can really prove things that you shouldn't be able to know, if you can prove psychic powers, awesome. Make that money. I would love for free to help. And if it's proven time and time again, that you can really prove things that you shouldn't be able to know if you can prove psychic powers, awesome. Make that money. I would love for that to be true. I would love to have proof that, you know, powers like that that science can't understand are real. But thus far, literally no one has ever done that. If I, we go over these claims of these types

almost every week on the Patreon counterpart of TimeSuck, the Secret Suck. We've covered about 100 of these not so far and they just never come off as credible. But a lot of them make money because, you know, people who can't think critically are choose to not to just keep giving them money. All right, been a while since we checked in with fun Frank's favorite son, Albert DeSalvo. What's that loony tune but up to? Nothing good. On October 27th, 1964, he impersonated a motorist with car trouble while he attempted to enter a home in Bridgewater, Massachusetts, about 30 miles south of Boston near the Rhode Island

border. The owner of the home, future Brockton Police Chief, Richard Sproles, became very suspicious. Ultimately grabbed his shotgun and shot at the son of a bitch. Nice. I got a nice Mossberg pump action tactical 12 gauge sitting in my gun cabinet at home, just waiting to shred some creep and wants to roll the dice and enter my house. Probably don't even need it. I also have two vicious, just so you know,

just under 30 pound Australian Labrudodles that may or may not like to be held like babies. Little creatures who asked me to pick up and consult by dad whenever they played too rough with one another. Penny and Ginger Bell would for sure tear an intruder apart or at least bark from a, you know, a little while from a safe the way and then hide in the basement. Sadly, Sprouls does not hit Albert.

He escapes. Then later that same day, a newly way, newly married woman, excuse me, lies in bed, dozing just after her husband left for work. She hears a noise, opens her eyes to find a man in her room, a man who puts a knife to her throat and tells her not a sound or I'll kill you. He stuffs her underwear in her mouth, ties her in a spread eagle position to the bedposts with her clothes. This is all very similar to some strangler crimes.

Kisses her fondles her. Then he asks how to get out of the apartment after he's done. You be quiet for 10 minutes, he tells her. He apologizes and flees. It fucking apologizes. That makes me angry. So ridiculous. This guy doesn't understand that you can't make certain things okay.

I say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I raped you. I gotta take off now. Doesn't quite cut it. During this assault, the woman gets a real good look at this face. A better look, I'm sure, than she wanted. Her description of the salvo would be a break in the stranger case that police have been waiting for.

The police sketch looks familiar to investigators. The guy they're looking at looks like sketches of the measuring man from years ago. So on November 3rd, 1964, police bring the salvo to the station where the woman who was raped was able to observe him through a one-way mirror. She immediately identifies him, no doubt about it. She knows for certain this is a dude who raped her. He's charged, then released on $8,000 bail,

still denying it. He pleads innocent to charges of breaking entering, assaulting, battery, confining, putting in fear, engaging in an unnatural and lascivious act. He has a hearing two weeks later. As a matter of routine, the Salvo's photograph is taken and then sent out over six states, this teletype network, within 36 hours, it brought detectors from Connecticut, contacting the police in Boston, where similar assaults have taken place through the summer and autumn

and every instance a man tying up women on their beds. A man who'd become known as the Green Man, Albert's second criminal nickname, because he almost wore green work pants and green pants have come up a couple of times in the stock already. He would wear the uniform of a building maintenance worker sometimes, and he was an extremely active rapist. If the records were correct on one day, May 6, 1964, between 9 a.m. and midday, he'd bound and assaulted four different women in four different Connecticut towns, Hamden,

two hours from Boston, Meridan, less than 20 minutes from Hamden on the way back to Boston, New Haven, 30 minutes south of Meridian, and then Hartford, 40 minutes back towards Boston from New Haven, four rapes, four separate towns one day. Acting on this new information, right? And then, you know, speaks to the salvo, we know about how like sexually active this dude is, Mr. fucking six times a day, Jack Rabbit. Acting on this new info, Boston police on November 5th

descend on the salvo's home, a modest neatly kept one family house at the end of a dead end street in Maldon, us in four miles from where he grew up in Chelsea. He's not home, so they wait. When the salvo shows up, he sees the police car, his attempts to reverse his car, drive off, but they block him in, sees him. He's brought again to Cambridge police headquarters where several victims from Connecticut are on

hand to identify him. He begs to speak to his wife before he confesses those women do identify him. Yep, that's the guy. Irmgard, an Albert sister, Irene, come to the station. And for nearly an hour, he talks to them in the presence of three detectives. He breaks down in tears. He pleases his wife, please, please.

Let me be a man just as once. I've done some very bad things with women. I've broken into houses. I've used a gun, but it was a toy gun. I used a knife, but I never killed anybody. I'm tired of running. I want to get it off my chest. I need help.

I want help. When they had me before, I didn't know how to ask for it. His wife who suspected he'd been doing something not surprised about his sexual assaults on women. She would later tell police about Albert being insatiable. She would tell police that he would want her in the morning. He'd want her again when he came home for lunch. He'd want her early in the evening after supper again before they fell asleep at night on the weekends. When he was home from the job, he now had an outside maintenance man. He would want her six times a day still not enough. When they would go out together, he would make suggestive remarks even in front of her

to attractive women. Even Luciferina thinks it's dude way too horny. Clearly addicted to sex and possible to satisfy. She told Albert to tell the police everything and he did. I wonder if she also felt relieved that he was arrested. So happy to be rid of him, tired of that horn dog, trying to fuck her constantly. It's like a fucking dog or something.

The following police interrogation Albert admits to breaking into 400 apartments, committing almost as many rapes. Tells the police he disalted some 300 women in a four-state area. If you knew the whole story, you wouldn't believe it. He told them, it'll all come out. You'll find out. Does Salva will earn the reputation later being a huge exaggerator? So did he really attack that many women? Maybe, maybe not. There definitely hadn't been that many reports of a rapist

fitting his description and committing all those crimes, but that doesn't mean he didn't do that. Most instances of rape do go unreported according to Washington, DC based nonprofit rape abuse and incest national network reign. Only 23% of rapes are reported. And that's based on a Bureau of Justice Statistics National Crime Victimization Survey conducted in 2017, which analyzed numbers from 2010 to 2016. Back in 1964, you know, I think you can make the argument that probably a lot more rapes went unreported since there was even more social stigma associated with it.

The first rape crisis centers in America wouldn't even be established until the 1970s. The Salvo Actors confession was sent to Bridgewater State Hospital 30 miles out of Boston for observation. The police still didn't think they had the strangler since his confession didn't include murder, but they wanted a psychiatrist to examine him to see if any other crimes came up. Shortly after the salvo arrived at Bridgewater, another dirt bag named George Nasr became an inmate. He'll play an interesting role in the Boston Strangler story. Nasr has been charged with a vicious execution-style murder of a gas station attendant and was

serving a life sentence, but with a possibility of parole. Nasr, no ordinary thug, his IQ approach genius level, his ability to manipulate people remarkable and noted by authorities, while in prison for an earlier murder, he'd studied Russian and other subjects. Nasser had gone to prison for the first time for shooting a shop owner to death during a robbery

when he was a sophomore in high school back in 1948. He then became a model prisoner, claimed to have found God as inmates often do through his friendship with the Chaplain, Unitarian Minister William Moore's, and through the efforts of Moore's, he was paroled in 13 years into a sense in early 1961 and the Boston Strangler stains began the following year. A Nasser put in the same ward as the Salvo soon became his confidant and Nasser later

claimed that the Salvo told him that he was the Boston Strangler. However, he also said that in the solvo desperately wanted to be famous. So was he the Strangler or did he just want to know the variety that went along with that? Nasser will play a huge role again in the rest of the story as will his attorney, F. Lee Bailey, Frances Lee Bailey born 1933

in Walton, Massachusetts will become one of America's most famous criminal defenders. He got his start defending George elderly. A doctor charged with murdering his wife, a doctor who was acquitted soon thereafter. Bailey won a reversal of the conviction of another doctor, Sam Sheppard also accused of murdering his wife. Bailey would go on to become involved in a number of high profile cases. This is actually the third of his cases that have showed up in the suckverse. He was part of O.J. Simpsons defense team. He defended Patty Hearst. And in March 1965, the Savile's wife, Irmgaard, who had already

left town, was already staying with her sister in Denver, gets a call from Eiffelee Bailey, who says he's now Albert's attorney. He tells her to assume a different name, leave the area with her kids, go into hiding. He says something big is going to blow up about Albert. It'll be on the front pages of every newspaper in 24 hours. I'm flying out to see you tomorrow so I can help you myself. The next day, Irmgard is told by authorities that Albert had confessed to being the strangler.

Disbelieving she hangs up the phone, she's not surprised that her husband's a rapist, but she didn't think he could be the strangler. He had a voracious appetite for sex, but she didn't think he was capable of murder. Had she not met, fun, Frank? This family, she thought his confession was another one of Albert's attempts to make himself seem important. She wanted to have some newspaper was offering him money and she may have been right.

Albert DeSalvo had been thinking about money for a while, some months earlier, just before Albert was sent to Bridgewater, following his rapes arrest, he met with his former lawyer, John as Jerson, and Albert had asked him, what would you do if someone gave you the biggest story of the century? And the guy said, do you mean this Boston Strangler? And Albert said, yeah. And as the lawyer said, are you mixed up in all of them, Albert? Did you do some of them? All of them. Albert admitted.

As Jerson wasn't quite sure to do that information and seriously considered the possibility that Albert was insane. But he did begin a quiet inquiry. Meanwhile Albert became more and more sure that the story of him being the strangler would bring in a lot of money. At Bridgewater, Albert and George Nasser discussed the reward money for information leading to the conviction of the Boston Strangler. For some reason, these two mistakenly assumed that $10,000 would be paid for each victim

of the Strangler, or, you know, which would give them a total of $110,000 for information about 11 official victims And that was not true the reward for 10 grand For information that would lead to the arrest of the guy who'd raped and killed any of those women But you didn't get to fucking name the same guy 11 times and have it add up to 110,000 Maybe Nasser was not almost a genius Maybe cheated on that IQ test or something. They thought if Nasser turned him in and his salvo confessed They could work out a deal to split the money the salvo thought there was a good chance He could convince the shrinks that he was insane, spend the rest of his life in a mental hospital instead of prison.

Right now, life in a cushy mental hospital while simultaneously providing his family a good deal of money seemed like a nice deal for him. He assumed that you know, even if he didn't confess to any murders, he was probably gonna spend the rest of his life in prison anyway due to the sheer volume of rapes he confessed to. in prison anyway due to the sheer volume of rapes he confessed to. On March 6, 1965, F. Lee Bailey goes to visit Albert's, not only does Albert confess to the murders of the 11 official Strangler victims, he also admits to killing two additional women, Mary Brown and Mary Mullin, which is how the Strangler body count grew to 13 if you're confused for a moment there. Bailey asked Isalva what he wanted Bailey to do and Isalva replied, I know I'm going to spend the rest of my life locked up somewhere. I just hope it's a hospital and I'm a whole like this. But if I could tell my story to somebody who could write it,

maybe I could make some money for my family. Bailey thought that there must be some way to allow him to confess without setting him up for execution. But before that, Bailey wanted to determine if his client really was guilty without putting to Salvo in legal jeopardy. Bailey called Lieutenant John Donovan, Boston's chief

of homicide suggested that he might have a suspect for him. But first he wanted Donovan to provide him with some questions to ask the suspect that it would help determine if he was real or not. Bailey then went to visit DeSalvo a second time with these questions. And DeSalvo mentioned that the detective, that Natalie, from the Attorney General's

Stranger Bureau, had taken a sudden interest in him. Had come to take his palm print the day before. So now Bailey thinks I gotta work fast if I'm gonna protect my client. At the interview, Bailey becomes certain that Albert de Salvo is the Boston Stranger. Why? Because de Salvo remembered extraordinary details regarding numerous Stranger cases when he asked him these questions. Bailey called Lieutenant Donovan and his colleague, Lieutenant Sherry, to his office, had them listen to a recording of Bailey's interview with the salvo with with Bailey changing the recording speed to disguise the salvo's voice.

When the salvo describes the murder of Sophie Clark, he names a brand of cigarettes that he knocked to the floor when he went through Sophie's drawers hearing this detective Sherry grabbed his briefcase, pulled out a photo that showed those cigarettes exactly as the salvo had described them. Boston Strenger Bureau suddenly very hopeful. Had they just finally found their man. Detectives began to interview the Savo and take his confessions. Months later, on September 29, 1965, the Savo's interrogation is completed.

More than 50 hours of tapes, or than 2,000 pages of transcription later, detectives are positive that Albert DeSalvo is the Boston Strangler. Details piled upon, piled upon details. As DeSalvo recalled the career of the Strangler murder by murder, he knew there was a notebook under the bed of victim number eight Beverly Samons. He knew that Christmas bells were attached to Patricia Bassett's door. He drew accurate floor plans of various victims' apartments. He said he'd taken a raincoat from Anna Slesr's apartment to wear over his t-shirt because he'd taken off his bloodstained shirt and jacket.

The tech just found that Mrs Slesr's had bought two identical coats and given one to a relative. They showed the duplicate to DeSalvo, along with 14 other raincoats tailored in different styles and DeSalvo quickly and correctly picked the right one. He even described additional attacks that had not resulted in murders. He talked his way into a Danish girls apartment, had his arm around her neck when he suddenly looked in a large wall mirror. He was about to kill her and then seen himself about to kill. He was horrified his reflection.

He relaxed the pressure. He had on her neck, started crying, said he was sorry, begged her not to call the police, said if his mom found out she'd cut off his allowance. It was like a weird thing. He wouldn't be able to finish college. And the young woman never reported the incident. But then after this confession, detectives tracked her down. And she remembered the incident vividly and confirmed the Salvo story. Everything he'd said was true. There was no doubt now in the minds of homicide investigators. Albert, the Salvo was the Boston Strangler, and yet he would never be charged with any of the murders. He would instead go to trial for the green manned, the green man armed robbery and sexual assaults

why lack of evidence outside of his confessions. There actually wasn't one shred of physical evidence that connected DeSalvo to any of the Str strangler crime scenes, at least not any evidence, you know, useful to time before DNA analyzing became a thing. Plus there was evidence left to the crime scenes that did not match what investigators knew about to Salvo, like the Salem brand cigarette butts that were found on astrate near Mary Sullivan's bed and in a Sophie, Sophie Clark's toilet bowl. Those cigarettes weren't believed to belong to the victims and Albert didn't smoke and they were thought for a little while to belong to the real killer. To add even more down, no eyewitnesses could place him at or near the crime scenes. Albert had a

relatively memorable face, particularly because of his prominent described as a beak-like nose, and the stranglers were seen by a number of eyewitnesses. One of the eyewitnesses was Kenneth Rowe, that Northwestern University engineering student who lived on the floor above Joanne Graff's apartment. He spoke to the stranger, and I was looking for her apartment just before she was killed. When Rowe was shown a photo of Albert, he did not recognize him as the man looking for Joanne. Also, Jules Vens, who ran Martin's Tavern, near Joanne Graff's apartment, Lawrence did not identify to Savo as a man who dressed identically to the man Rohit scene had come into the tavern nervous and agitated as a someone were following him. I lean on Neal saw man standing in victim Mary Sullivan's bathroom window around the

time of her death and that man was not Albert Marcelo Luka. We talked about her. She lived in the same apartment building to Sophie Clark, the woman who had an encounter with a man called himself Mr. Thompson said he was working for the modeling agency who lied. You know, Erdogan actually didn't say he's working for the modeling agency. Said he was coming to her apartment to paint and commented on her figure. When she sketched a portrait for the police, it showed it delicately featured young man with a long narrow face. Then knows pointed chin, large, almond-shaped eyes looked nothing like the salvo.

When Albert began confessing to the stranglings, assistant attorney general John Bodomley rounded up Mrs. Lucca and Gertrude Gruen, a woman who'd survived an encounter with the strangler so that they could secretly view Albert in prison or at least I guess a woman who survived an encounter with who they thought was a strangler. And neither of those women identified Albert to salvo, but they did, both of them identify George Nasser. Local was convinced Nasser was Mr. Thompson. He resembled a man in every way but won the color of his hair. Mr. Thompson had honey colored hair. As she previously told detectives,

Nasser's hair was black. Maybe he died it. He didn't admit to that, but why would he? He had a chance of getting out of prison someday on parole. The big question investigators now faced was, if witnesses didn't think Albert was a stranger, how did the salvo, a man of average, or less than average intelligence, convincingly absorb so many details about

the victims and their apartments? Maybe because he had an exceptional memory. Dr. Ames Robie of Stonum, a forensic psychiatrist, would testify that Albert had absolute complete 100% total photographic recall. Robie ran several tests on Albert's memory. For one test, he invited him into a staff meeting of eight people at Bridgewater. Albert walked in, looked around, walked out. The next day, Robby brought him back in, and the eight staffers were wearing different clothes and now sitting

in different positions. Robby asked Albert to describe how the group appeared the day before, and he did so perfectly. Very impressive. On a lot of days, I couldn't actually tell you what I had for lunch the day before. But a good memory doesn't answer the question of how did Albert find out about the crime details in the first fucking place if he wasn't a strangler? Where did he get those details? Well, possibly from newspaper reports.

The newspaper accounts were extraordinarily detailed. The record American, for example, had printed a chart, along with the victim's photos, called the Faxx on reporter's strangle worksheet. The chart was a chart along with the victim's photos called the facts on reporter's strangle worksheet. The chart was a summary of all the important details of each crime, what the victims were wearing, their hobbies, affiliations, more, in this confession to Savo mentioned the few bits of inaccurate information that the chart had contained, that the police had intentionally fed journalists as well as accurate information. So a little

fishy makes it look like he did, just read those papers and absorb those details. Also, there were a couple of leaks that could have made their way to Albert. Leaks by law enforcement agencies, particularly the Strangler Bureau, which is criticized for being laxed with accumulated material and the Suffolk County Medical

Examiner, who allegedly held a number of unauthorized press conferences in which he freely distributed information about the victim autopsies circulated through Boston, making the story more tantalizing, providing more details someone like to Savo could have read and memorized. And Albert, for sure, was a burglar. He broke into many of the apartment buildings in which strangler victims were murdered. Possibly he could have visited some of the units where women were killed after their murders. And it appears due to police being so eager to wrap up the investigation and call the success, the disavow had been frequently fed information, both deliberately and accidentally to help

make his confessions much more convincing. And finally, George Nasr. He could have been another source of information. Some still think Nasr committed some of the Boston Strangler murders. Nasr apparently is still alive at the age of 88 despite suffering from terminal cancer for at least two years. And he's incarcerated at the Massachusetts correctional institution and surely a medium security prison right now. And something he fed to Salvo crime details, the Salvo then memorized.

Most experts never saw the strengthens as the work of one individual. The motor's operandi, who's not identical, right? The victims as a group dissimilar. Anyone who looked at the victims could see the difference between the relatively delicate killing of Patricia Bassett, whose murderer, Tucker and DeBed, and the ghastly homicidal violation inflicted on Mary Sullivan, whose killer's intent was not just to degrade his victim by shoving a broom handle into her vagina, but to taunt the discover of her corpse by placing a fucking greeting card against her foot. Some were stabbed, some were sexually assaulted, some were posed, some were not.

Serial killers, as we've learned, covering many of, covering many of them here on TimeSuck, usually tend to stick to a particular kind of victim and MO. On January 10th, 1967, Albert DeSalvo is tried in court on the Green Man charges. Not the murder. His trial will only last a little over a week. His attorney, Bailey, tries to use the Stranger Killings to get him off. He tries to use the Salvo's confession to the Boston and Stranger murders to show that the Salvo wasn't saying. But it wouldn't work.

There was just too many green man victims who'd identified the Salvo as the rapist in addition to his confession. And so I got hung up for a second there. Every time I see green man, I had to like recheck it when I was putting the notes together and make sure that I was like, what's he called that?

Because I kept thinking of the fucking blue man group for some reason. And I pictured like this lineup where the salvo is like completely painted in green, like one of the blue man members. It's like, that's a guy, the green guy. For sure, I remember that green guy anywhere. Anyway, if you notice, like,

why does he keep kind of pausing around green man? Well, that's why. But yeah, so it wouldn't work. You know, there's too many green man victims who could identify a disavow as their rapist in addition to his confession. So on January 18th, 1967, 35-year-old Albert disavow found sane, found guilty by an all-male jury

on 10 counts of sexual assault and burglary sensed to life imprisonment. Less than a month later, this is ridiculous. Right when most in Boston thought they could finally rest easy, regarding the Stranger killings, whether or not a salvo, the salvo was officially charged with them.

Killings had stopped since his arrest. On February 25th, you know, 1964, Albert escapes from bridgewater with two fellow inmates triggering a full-scale manhunt. What a colossal fuckup. This is a fuckup on par with Ted Bundy's 1977 escape in Colorado, or on par with the much more recent Jeffrey Epstein committing suicide while waiting

for his trial. The man thought to be the most notorious Boston serial killer of the 20th century, fucking escapes. Shortly after being incarcerated for life. Man, somebody or some people got a serious ass chewing that day. I'm guessing a job or a few jobs were lost. Time traveling Karen from the Alexander the Great stock of Fusco will be pissed.

Are you serious? Oh my God, fucking what? I am so sick of locking my door and living in fear. I can't even go buy mace or pepper spray because it's 1967. No one's even selling that shit yet stupid assholes. I hate 1967 I want the badge number. Oh, whoever let that rapist out and I want it now. I want to talk to the police chief It's mayor the governor all of them right fucking I want their jobs. I want to talk to the president

Give me the president. Give your hands off me. So I touched me purve Oh, you're gonna measure me. You scared meie fuck. You probably let Albert out on purpose, cause 1967, all you men are, probably a rapist, you massage these, cesspools, ugh. A source of don't say who screwed up. So let this clown escape. And no one's found in DeSalvo's bunk after he escaped,

addressed to the superintendent. In it DeSalvo stated, he had escaped to focus attention on the conditions in the hospital that he didn't care for and his own plate. And then three days after this escape, this stupid son of a bitch calls his lawyer to turn himself in. His lawyer then sent a place to re-arrest him

and Lynn Massachusetts. He escaped a life sentence. Then never even leaves Massachusetts. We have fun, Frank, must have been so disappointed. He thought he'd raised better criminals than that. Following his escape to travel, transferred to the maximum security MCce i wall poll state prison now known as the massachusetts correction institution

uh... cedar junction and there he recances early confession of being the boss and strangler but then after that he writes a creepy poem or he does seem to confess to be in the killer or does he just confess in this poem to knowing who the strangler was i don't look confusing here's that poem

uh... set to some music that i feel gives it the appropriate emotional weight. Here is the story of the Stranger, yet untold. The man who claims he murdered 13 women, young and old. The elusive Stranger, there he goes, where his wanderlust sends him. No one knows. He struck within the light of day, leaving not one clue astray. Young and old, their lips are sealed. Their secret of death never revealed. Even though he is sick in mind, he's much too clever for the police to find. To reveal his secret will bring him fame, but burden his family with unwanted shame.

Today he sits in a prison cell, deep inside only a secret he can tell. People everywhere are still in doubt. Is the strangler in prison or roaming about? Okay, first that music obviously was not the right choice to add the emotional way to that poem. I just wanted to give you a dice to what the fuck is happening moment. I really cracked me up earlier, hopefully it's funny you guys. Also who writes a poem about a series of rapes and murders?

Everyone thinks they've committed. It's just so especially deranged. Just over six years later, on November 25th, 1973, now 42-year-old DeSalvo telephones Dr. Ames Robi asked him to meet with him. It's urgent. Has to come quick. DeSalvo sounds frightened.

Robi promises to meet with him the next morning. About a week before DeSalvo had asked to be placed in the infirmary under special watch. He told Robi, he was gonna tell him finally who the strangler really was and the whole story behind it. But then the following morning, November 26, hours before he said to meet with Robi,

Albert is stabbed to death in his cell. In the infirmary at Walpole State Prison by another inmate, Robert Wilson. Good job, Wilson! Wilson associated with the winner Hill Gang, a structured confederation of Boston area organized crime figures, predominantly of Irish and Italian descent, led by the famous organized crime figure,

Whitey Bulger, portrayed by Johnny Depp and the fantastic movie Black Mask, by the way, tried for DeSalvo's murder. The trial ended in a hung jury. Good. Eiffely Bailey later claimed that DeSalvo was killed, not because he was about to rat on the real strangler, because he'd been selling inphetamines in prison for less than the inmate in force syndicate price.

He'd apparently been warned once before by gang members to stop selling that shit, didn't listen and he died. Prison officials believed it was a drug related murder as well. We'll never know if DeSavo actually had new information about the strangler case to give to Dr. Roby or if he was just trying trying to figure out a key from being killed by some organized crime guys who wanted to get. The salvo died without having ever been charged or found guilty of the strangulation murders of 11 women plus the two additional murders he confessed to.

But then many years later, on July 11, 2013, after over a decade of multiple DNA examinations, Suffolk District Attorney Daniel Connelly says that advances in DNA technology have allowed investigators to link disavvy conclusively to Sullivan's killing. Connelly said that the DNA produced a familial match with disavvy, and he expected an exact match once disavvy remains were re-exhumed. That did happen eight days later in July 19th 2013 Suffolk County DA Daniel Connellley, Attorney General Martha Cokley and Boston Police Commissioner Edward F. Davis announced that the DNA test proved a solvah was the source of seminal fluid recovered at the scene of Sullivan's 1964 murder.

He definitely strangled and killed at least one of those women. What about the rest? It seems as if not enough semen or in some cases no semen was recovered, you know, from the other crime scenes so we'll probably never for sure know how many other victims he was responsible for. And that takes us out of this week's time suck timeline. Good job soldier, you made it back, barely. The period beginning with the death of Anna Sleser is 1962, and with that of Mary Sullivan in 1964, not a great time for- Can you imagine how annoying that would be if I did every fucking episode, just that

constantly in the background? How long would you last? Five minutes? Ten minutes? No matter how much like the topic, if it was just this in the background. By the way, this is gonna be in the background. How long will you last? Five minutes? Ten minutes? No matter how much like the topic, if it was just this in the background. By the way, this is gonna be in your head for forever. You're never gonna get that out.

Well, at the period beginning with the death of Anacelesters 1962 and any without a Mary Sullivan in 1964, not a great time for the Boston Police Department and its brand new commissioner, Edmund McNamara. Despite the best efforts of McNamaran is detectives, not a single one of the nine homicides committed within their jurisdiction could be solved. It would take 11 women killed between June 14, 1962 in July, 1964 to lead investigators to the salvo.

The number would increase to 13 when he confessed to two more. Each of the original, original 11 victims raped and strangled one victim stabbed six of the victims between the ages of 55 and 75 to possible additional victims or 85 and 69 years of age. The remaining five victims considerably younger ranging in age from 19 to 23. Ultimately very likely that there were several killers and only one of them ended up definitely being sent to prison where he himself would be murdered. If the Savile was not the boss and strangler, why did he claim he was?

Well, first, maybe because his famous attorney, Eiffli Bailey, and whom he had complete faith, affirmed the Savo's belief that he wouldn't, he would not get the death penalty. Bailey and the Savo believed that the Savo would be declared insane, allowed to write out life in a mental hospital. That didn't happen, but they thought it would. Second, the Savo was convinced that the sale of his life story and confession would make him a great deal of money,

which could be given to his wife and kids since he could no longer take care of them. Any hatch to poorly thought out plot with George Nasser who may have been one of the other killers to get that reward money and split it. Third and branding himself a serial killer Albert would be come world famous, which was something apparently he desired very much. Fun Frank's son wanted to be famous or infamous for the absolute worst reasons reminds me of a lot of reality TV stars. Actually, this whole thing about the obsession with fame. People who aren't rapists or murderers, I know, but arguably are pretty shitty meat sex,

who gain huge online followings and who shows, score massive ratings, people who are modern celebrities. I think of the entire cast at Jersey Shore, many of the Kardashians, Paris Hilton, Mama June from Honey Boo Boo, so many others. People that are have been famous, but not because they're noble inspirational people. Not because they're people I'd like my kids,

excuse me, to strive to be. Not because they're just willing to be trash as fuck. And preposterously ignorant on camera. Just no shameless, whatever. Awesome, I don't get it. I'm always looking for new podcasts listeners. I'm always looking for new people to find my standup, but not because I give a fuck about fame.

I just want people to enjoy what I do. And can be happy to put smiles on straight interest faces to hear, you know, like we did there. That was good. Fun to try and grow my business. I feel like I have more common with the dude or dude at who runs a pizza shop down the street. Then I do with someone who wants to be famous.

I'm gonna be famous. I'm gonna be a star. Fuck fame. Seems like such a big hassle. And to be famous, I'm gonna be famous, I'm gonna be a star. Fuck fame. Seems like such a big hassle. And to be famous for rapin' murder, how just gross, up pathetic. All right, there's no shame in living a good, decent life and dying in obscurity.

Just because the world doesn't know your story doesn't mean it wasn't a great fucking story. I've met famous people I'd never wanna have a drink with. And a lot of non-famous people I've loved grabin' drinks with. So fuck fame and fuck Albert Salvo. He may not have committed all the Boston Strangler murders, but he did commit at least one and he raped many.

He's a huge piece of shit. I'm glad someone killed him in prison. The Salvo's killer Robert Wilson may have also been a complete piece of shit. I couldn't locate his arrest record, but he did at least one thing right in my book. Now let's take one more look back at the Boston Stranger. Well, actually, that's not true. Let's take four more looks back and one look forward at Albert

DeSalvo. And today's top five takeaways. Time, suck. Top five takeaways. Number one, Albert DeSalvo's confession to be in the Boston Stranger, even if he ultimately only killed one of the victims was light at the end of the tunnel, a long dark tunnel for Boston's law enforcement who had been searching for the killer for years. Now, search for the killer for quite some time, for many months, but he may not have committed all the murders. The Strangler Bureau, as it was known, may have been so desperate to have the public believe the Stranglers behind bars that they let slip accidentally around purpose details about

the case that Albert Cudin would use in this confession. Number two, the strangler murders were gruesome murders that shook many embossed into their cores. The newspaper reporting on the vulgar poses, the women's bodies were found and how they been sexually assaulted, how their own clothing had been used to kill them, they've been killed in their own homes, freaked people across the Boston area out. Wide range of victim ages only caused more terror and left no woman feeling safe.

Number three, the salvo hoped he could make a lot of money off the notoriety that would come with being the Boston Strangler. And he may have been the Strangler. Just like we don't know for sure that he committed the other killings, we don't know for sure he didn't. We do know he never got that money, he died broke,

and in prison convicted of 10 rapes, his wife and kids never got that money. They did broke and in prison convicted of 10 rapes. His wife and kids never got that money. They did escape the scrutiny. Thank God that came with being associated with such a piece of shit by quickly changing their names and leaving the area. Number four, while the salvo may not have been the Boston Strangler, he did for sure earn two other horrible nicknames in terrible ways.

He was the rapist known as the green man and just a weird, creepy purve known as the measuring man before that. A dude who graduated from going door to door door pretended to be a talent scout for some modeling agency that didn't exist, taking women's measurements and went to a guy who broke into women's homes, binding them and raping them. Number five, new info, 1971, Texas politician Tom Moore, Jr. Reference the Boston Stranger in a way that I gotta say is fucking hilarious to me.

Tom was serving as a member of the Texas House of Representatives. junior, reference the Boston Strangler in a way that I got to say is fucking hilarious to me. Thomas serving as a member of the Texas House of Representatives, he decided to put together a practical joke for April Fool's Day. He claimed that most of his fellow representatives didn't bother to even read much of the legislation they were passing or voting on. So he decided to embarrass them by sneaking in legislation, commending the Boston Strangler, asking for Texas to recognize Albert Assavo for his outstanding contributions to society and excerpt reads and excerpt reads this compassionate

gentleman's dedication and devotion to his work has enabled the week and the lonely throughout the nation to achieve and maintaining new degree of concern for their future. He has been officially recognized by the state of Massachusetts for his noted activities and unconventional techniques involving population control and applied psychology. And it passed unanimously. Ah, the Boston Strangler champion of population control. More with Drew this legislation once he'd made his point. He died on April 16, 2017 at the age of 98.

After living what I imagine was a hilarious and long life. Time, suck, tough, five, take away. Now, the Boston Stranger has been sucked. Glad he and I have very little in common. Think even on my worst days, I can still feel like, you know what? I'm way better than Albert Assalvo was.

I hope you can think that too. If you can't, it's unfortunate. That's, you might want to turn yourself in. Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help and making time suck. Queen of Bad Magic Lindsey Cummins, Reverend Dr. Joe Paisley, the script keeper, Zach Flannery, Sophie Fax, source for sevens, Biddelixer, Logan and Kate Keith, the art or lock, and the Bad Magic Baroness running BadMagicMch.com, the Keith and the socials. Thanks to all those who have joined the cult, the curious private Facebook group.

I believe over 22,000 members last time I looked at it, I continue to make time stock more than a podcast to make it a community. Helen Nimrod actually had a great conversation with the friend of mine recently, talking about how he's poking around in there. And he was just, he's like, you know, he don't take this the wrong way, he goes, but I just noticed it's a people in the group there. They're not really all about you.

He's like, they're just all about each other. And I was like, yeah, it's the fucking best. That was the plan, it's perfect. I'm glad it worked out. Well, when I say plan, once it started going, that was the hope, I guess. I'm glad it worked out. I didn't have some master plans, you know.

But yeah, he'll name it right to you. Thank you to Liz Hernandez and our all seen eyes running the Cultic Curious Facebook page. So nice to see everybody having fun on there. Thanks to the wonderful Weirdos, having fun on Discord as well. You can link to the Discord channel from the TimeSoc app. Thanks to you Spacers playing TimeSoc trivia on the app.

See Gallagher 3 currently leading round three with 762 points as of this recording, round three ends in a few hours after this episode comes out and then round four begins. So good luck to those playing the next round and looks like we send out a cowboy pigeon trophy again here soon. Next week on time suck we're going to get fucking super weird and I'm looking forward to it. We're going to unpack a treasure chest of a topic filled with a variety of fringe conspiracies to answer once. And for all, a question most of us already knew the answer to since around kindergarten is the Earth Hollow.

Are we living on the hard candy shell of a mysterious world unaware of the creamy nougat of strange living in the world within? There are multiple versions of the hollow earth theory and holy shit, Biscuits on fire. There are a lot of different ideas as to what or whom made well within. We touched on this topic way back in episode A to present it, mole people in hollow earth theory, but we didn't dig deep enough pun intended. Some hollow earth truthers. Truth or whenever you put truth or on something, I was like, ah, yeah, I use the fucking lunatic.

Some hollow earth truthers believe that there are magical cities and advanced beings with unbelievable technologies, living beneath the earth's crust. Others think there are sassquatches, giants and or hermaphroditic dwarves. It didn't make that up. I'll conspire against it with a species of aliens who want to destroy us.

Almost all the depictions of a hollow earth have interocean, continents, unique flora and fauna. Even a subterranean sun sweet. We got another sun inside the earth in case our sun fizzles out earlier than expected. No big whoops. We just all head inside. Over the years, a lot of people have given credence to the hollow earth hypothesis. They haven't all seen crazy. You know, many years ago, famous scientific thinkers, authors, political leaders,

self-taught lecturers, hardcore explorers, famous military pilots, at least couple snake oil, pedaling grifters, have all touted the importance of looking inside the earth. If all roads lead to the Denver airport, then the Denver airport must be hiding in entrance to the secret catacombs of the hollow earth. Don't miss next week's illuminating new world order episode on the real truth your geology teacher was too fucking scared to teach you and my making my sarcasm clear enough gotta help so uh now let's head on over to this weeks time sucker updates

updates get your time sucker updates our first updates comes from meat sacks supreme west hibbim who shares a little little a name and now a little, well, a name and now a social media connection with a member of last week's Emmanuel David Colt, West Rides High Times Tech team. First off, love the show. I've been listening weekly for about three years or so.

Fuck yeah. Yours is the first podcast ever mentioned when talking about podcast anyone, yes! So thanks for all the hard work, laughs, weird knowledge. It really isn't all that helpful. That's fair. Anyways, my name is Wes Hibbien. I have no relation to the Hibbien family in this week's suck.

This last week's suck. As my name isn't very common a number of years ago, I searched for my name on Facebook and lo and behold, there was another Wes Hibbien living out in Alaska. And this dude was the shit. He's out there making the baddest fucking swords and knives I've ever seen. He's a black belt in karate.

So of course I sent him a friend request. We never really had much interaction. He's a black belt in karate. So of course I sent him a friend request. We never really had much interaction. He's a good 20 or more years older than me, but we sent each other a like here and there. I fully intend to purchase a custom blade from him sometime. Just got to get that sword money first. I also interacted with Gil Hibbim on one occasion who invited me to the ranch in.

I want to say Kansas. I can't remember exactly where. I haven't finished the episode yet. Not sure if it's mentioned. To take a week long class on how to make your own custom knives. I guess you had another one of his sons or something put on or used to a yearly knife-making class. Sad that didn't accept an invitation,

the invitation, but in a better life, perhaps I could have gone and become a member of their cult. Anyways, I was just super excited to have this weird little connection to this week's topic, keep on sucking. Well, thank you, Wes. Yeah, man, you might have missed out with that. You're not going on the invite. Could have gotten some interesting cult tales from

Gill was in the cold or maybe not. I doubt he talks a lot about his days and a manuals cult, about the time he thought that suck love and maniac and false profit Bruce Longo was God. Save up on that sword money and get you played. I've seen their work and yes, very impressive. Good night, good to hear this actually. Now for another connection to last week's Emmanuel David cult suck coming in from Hardass sucker Jared Dixon. Jared sent in a eye catching email subject for sure, writing,

I am the reincarnated Satanic gay son of Emmanuel David. Then he wrote, greetings to suck a lot, the glorious of Nimrod's holiness. I first started listening to scared of death. Then like the gateway drug it is, it led me to time sucking dick for crack. It's fair. Now I'm a full-fledged space as a junkie.

My story is great because it pertains to both podcasts. I live in Salt Lake City, happened to work at the restaurant where Rachel David and six of her seven children came crashing to their death. Yeah! Guess what? It's haunted as fuck. I can already hear Lindsey saying, get the fuck out.

But most of the experiences I've had and have heard from my boss are playful and mischievous, which leads me to believe it's the spirits of the children. The first experience I had, I was working it's a slow night shift, I was taking some dirty dishes back to the dish area when in my right ear clear as the many crystals that are in every corner of my house. I hear a little girl laugh.

I felt a cold chill come over me, yik, and as the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and I got to goosebumps. At that time, there were no children or even a single lady weem nice in the restaurant. The next time was a little more frightening. Everyone had left at night or everyone had left for the night, except for me. On my way to the office, I walked past some shelves, it had some empty cardboard boxes on them. I was about three or four feet away from them

when I was struck in the back by one of them, almost shit myself. But being the brave meat sack I am, I locked myself in the office, turned my headphones on full blast, texted my husband who was coming to get me to hurry, the fuck up. Ha, ha, ha fuck up. I bet my boss who also loves some STD has come in the morning after locking up tonight before to find all of the TVs, which she herself had turned off playing cartoons.

Another time a large ice scoop flew off the ice machine, hit the ground, spun like a top for about a minute. Yeah, all the time things I know I've turned off or locked up the night before will be unlocked the next day or on. I actually take a video of myself when I do a walk to before I lock up because I've been blamed in the past. So that's my story. I almost forgot.

Why do I think I'm the reincarnated satanic gay son of a man, David? Well, I was born August 3rd, 1982. The same day they died four years later, but I don't know how reincarnation works. I'm terribly afraid of heights and growing up, I watch every single Steven Segal movie, you do the math. Well, Django's dirty little secret, Jared Dick Sucker Dixon. Jared, you seem like a nut. And from this nut, that is a compliment.

Oh my God, you seem like 10 pounds of fun, putting a five pound bag, my friend. That haunting story is crazy. That would creep me out. Like you said, I guess if you never feel threatened or anything, oh man, though, that box hit me in the back, the little girl laugh. No, thank you.

And how strange for you to hear that episode work and where you work. I mean, not that you probably didn't already know a lot of the details. Man, thanks for the message. And hey, Luciferina, you Steven Segal 11, Satanic sucker. Your message cracked me down. Now sweet sack, Brian Williams has been Cummins Lod. Let's hear about it.

Brian writes, I've been Cummins Lod so hard. So I'm listening to Time Suck in the car. I'm on suck 127 127 Petafile Island. You were in the middle of saying how it's funny. Your sponsors don't know the content or subject of each suck ahead of time. And this episode sponsor happens to be a mattress company and an ED pill.

That's what my wife calls me. I'm walking into Walmart talking to her about the list of things to get just the usual milk, eggs, whips, chains, ball gag, Oreos bread, what not. Then we get up to phone, Oreos bread, whatnot. Then we get up to phone, put it in my pocket. That moment I hear full volume, quote, pedophiles need directions too, guys. There are people around me. They are horrified.

I'm frozen as you're laughing at yourself in the background. Dan, I live in the Bible belt of America. They're old ladies staring at me. And when they're staring at me, I realize I'm still wearing my work shirt that says information redacted. Auto company of nowhere, Oklahoma. Thank you for the laughs and embarrassment. I will thank you for the kind words and the message is pride.

I hope none of those ladies went down to the auto company. You worked at, told your boss, they might be employing a horny pedophile and enjoyed those Oreos and the ballgags and everything. I love Oreos. So addictively delicious. I can resist a lot of things that Lindsey has in the house because Lindsey, like my joke many years ago, our house is fucking loaded with treats always.

They're supposed to be for the kids, but we end up eating them and I can usually resist, but not Oreos. Next up, super sucker, Joseph Morris, who answered my call to share more resources for figuring out what US presidential candidate you'd line up with, wrote, political website for all the meat sex. Hey, MasterSucker of many podcasts. Not going to apologize to the length of this email because I wrote it slowly for your mush mouth.

Thank you. So you're welcome. Okay. Anyway, you mentioned political websites. I have one I use a lot, iSideWith.com. You. You fill out a quiz on all the political issues and using answers submitted by candidates or other users or even your own. If you don't know how you feel about the question, you could skip it, read history on it, read the argument in it, read what it's about.

Once you're finished, it aligns you with all the candidates. It tells you how much or little you agree with them based on their voting records, answers to the same questions. It doesn't seem biased to me and has a lot of interesting information on the site. you how much or little you agree with them based on their voting records answers to the same questions. It doesn't seem biased to me and has a lot of interesting information on the site. You can also set up a username and save your quiz answers, change answers, get more questions, hail Nimrot. Well, thank you so much, Joseph.

The queen of the second I both took it. I had never heard of it. And I really like how it gives you a percentage on how well you match up with not just one candidate, but with all of them. I'm embarrassed to admit, I didn't even, I didn't fucking know there was five candidates. Not four. So sorry, Brian Carroll, not only did I not know you were running for president, I didn't know you existed. I didn't know the American Solidarity Party existed. Whoops. Now I do, I learned something and it was very interesting

to see how i lined up uh... with or how i didn't line up with the various candidates uh... very cool website uh... there was by i stress been i did notice uh... another question seem to be framed in some way that felt conservative or liberal to me uh... so you know knowledge you know that for making things way fucking easier uh... to find out you know about these political things

uh... you know you don't have to read the paper every day for months or watch hours, the night the news to figure this stuff out anymore, which I don't have time for. So hail Nimrod. And finally, we'll end today's updates with a sweet message about siblings bonded by dark comedy. Kick ass sack, Amanda Kraft writes another funny subject line. She writes, if you don't shout this out, I will slap you with chikotillas limp shamecock like the fuckhead you are Aggress coming in hot. I like it. Then she writes

Dear suck master on high master of the space lizard's glory B.T.U. and your suckery of the most intense Of the most intense this praiseable jangles and praises of fena however Michael mother fuck and McDonald can go to hell Okay, all right agree to disagree I have to write you and ask you to give a shout out to my little brother Tommy. He introduced me to scared of death at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic and all the fuckery that went along with it. We're total creeps. I love listening to you in Queen Lindsey every week. I listen with my fellow creeper, my 13-year-old son, Miles. Awesome. We found the suck through scared of death, but this email is not about scared

of death. Insert semi-colon, a nod to out of here devil. Uh, it's about the fucking awesome suck and you beautiful bastard. Recently Tommy and I were together with our families for a game night. I love that. My husband and Tommy's wife are not and they would be appalled at the content and they just couldn't handle the suckiness. They're not time suckers. I'm pretty sure if they read this email, they would be horrified and my husband would consider divorce.

Ha ha. Tommy and I have the most dark sense humor anybody could have. They read this email that it would be horrified and my husband would consider divorce. Tommy and I however have the most dark sense of humor anybody could have. Anyway, as game night was filled with inside jokes, the only members of the Colton Curious would get. The funniest of all was when my two-year-old nephew asked for peanut butter, a peanut butter sandwich, and my brother and I both looked up and said, in unison, peanut butter, showbiz! Our spouses quickly glance each other with the what the fuck look in their faces. I believe that is the bond that will always tie us together. How fucked up is that?

I would seriously, my brother is the most incredible person I know and I'm so proud of him. Seriously, if I could like, if I could be like anyone, I would aspire to be like him. That is so sweet. A successful military career as a military police officer in the army, doing two tours in the Middle East. Now has a cushy job at the Chamber of Commerce where he rubs elbows with the mayor of our town. Is the most amazing dad to his two boys has a girl in the way. He's a dad that I wish our dad would have been. He's in all around the best meat sack I know and proud to be a sister. Guy, but make me tear up here. Love the suck three out of five stars. You better keep sucking or I'll hunt you down and slap you with chickenikotilous limp shit, limp shame cock like the fuck had you are. I really like saying that. That was not me. That was Amanda.

Hill Nimrod, Amanda Kraft. Well, thank you, Amanda. Thank you, Tommy, for your service, for being an awesome brother and credible dad. Husband, just a damn fine meat sack. You think it's even probably like your funny shit. Amanda definitely is. Sounds like you two share a whole lot of laughs. How beautiful is that? Love how much fun the two of you seem to have and that you both seem to be terrific people with a darkest fuck sense of humor. Those are my favorite meat sex. Hail Nimrod T. Both. That's how I do it in Hollywood. Pain of a butter. Show this. And Thank you all for continuing to rate and review time suck. The barrage of three out of five stars reviews fucking kills me. I love how that spread to all the stuff I'm part of.

And if you look at various review threads, you just see people post every once in a while just so confused and cracks me up. More scared of death Tuesday night more is we dumb dumb, with Reverend Doctrine on Wednesday, more incredible feats Monday through Friday. Be a better dad than Fun Frank this week. Don't knock at any stranger's doors, hoping to measure anyone or worse. And most importantly, of course,

I want you to keep on sucking. I'm not as fun. It's a Kusu. Got a good beat. Oh! Come on, that was fun! It's a Kisu! That could be... It's kind of bouncy. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz You'll never get out of your head now!