Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 216 - John Haigh "The Acid Bath Murderer"

Episode Date: November 2, 2020

Knock, knock, Meatsacks. Who's there? John Haigh. The Acid Bath Murderer. Between 1944 and 1949, John “the Acid Bath Murderer” Haigh killed between six and nine people. Several of them were his friends. And that fact didn’t cause him to hesitate shooting them, or beating them to death. The gruesome way he disposed of his victim’s bodies after he killed them shocked 1940s England and led to his nickname. After his murders, Haigh would dump victims' bodies into a tub of sulfuric acid and transform their remains into a human sludge he would then proceed to literally dump down the drain... or toss out in the yard. Another detail of his crimes that disturbed the Londoners reading about his crimes in the tabloids was an alleged post-kill vampiric ritual he may have engaged in. After his arrest, Haigh claimed to have drunk the blood of his victims immediately after murdering them. Why did he do it? It was all for money. Living in expensive hotels, driving fancy cars, and eating gourmet meals was more important to him than letting those around them continue to keep breathing. Excited to hop across the pond today for a bloody, bangers-and-mash, “maybe don’t eat while you’re listening to this one”, British true crime edition of Timesuck. Now through November 23rd, we are accepting Giving Tree applications to help give numerous Cult of the Curious families a holiday Bojangles would be proud of. If you have children, and due to financial hardships, are worried there will no gifts to open this holiday season, we want to help! Please - copy and paste the following email: [e-mail] you can remain anonymous if you wish. Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/QzY8G8nLwYIMerch - 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.

You don't get a nickname like the acid bath murderer for being a nice guy. Between 1944 and 1949, John the acid bath murderer, hey, definite bad guy, killed between six and nine people and several of them were good friends of his. And that fact didn't cause him to hesitate, shooting them or beating them to death in order to put their money into his pockets. The gruesome way he disposed of his victims' bodies after he killed him, shocked 1940s England and led to his nickname.

After his murders, he would dump bodies into a tub of sulfuric acid that turned the remains into human sludge, which he then proceeded to literally dump down the drain or toss out in the yard. His acid bath took place in what he called his workshops, where he claimed the outside world to be working on various inventions, but he didn't invent anything. Not even a new way to dispose of bodies, a French murderer before him actually inspired him to dabble in the acid. Another detail of his crimes that disturbed the Londoners, reading about all of his horrible,

horrible crimes and the tabloids was an alleged post kill vampiric ritual he may have engaged in after his arrest. Hey claim to have drunk the blood of his victims immediately after murdering them. Vampire of Sacramento, Richard Chase, probably giving him a high five in hell right now. Unlike some of the other killers we've covered, growing up, hey did not seem destined to become a murderer.

It wasn't set in fires, it wasn't torturing small animals, it wasn't harboring murderous fantasies. He seemed like a nice kid actually. But then when he grew up, he quickly grew disillusioned with working for a living. He wanted fancy clothes and expensive cars and he didn't want to wait for any of that. After getting in trouble for stealing at work, he dove into a life of scam-based crimes, a life that led to tossing some folks into some acid in order to, in his mind,

reduce his chances of getting caught and going back to prison. in order to, in his mind, reduce his chances of getting caught and going back to prison. Hey, killed for money, definitely, and maybe also to get his hands on some of those blood cocktails. Living in expensive hotels, driving fancy cars, eating gourmet meals was more important to him than letting those around him continue to keep breathing. Then, in the end, when he was apprehended, he blamed all of his crimes on his strict religious upbringing. That's why I killed. Mum and Dad didn't spare the rod to spoil the child, and that was how he turned out like he did.

He claimed that his parents' fire and brimstone lectures and frequent punishment caused him to have crazy dreams about bleeding trees and other weird shit and that these dreams made him want to drink the blood of his victims. Those dreams led to murder. It was the dreams fault that he killed. Now, it was no one's fault, but John George Hayes. The religious sect he was brought up indefinitely sounds a little bit insane though. Sounds like he was definitely raised in an atmosphere of fear and paranoia and very little fun. We'll explore the sect, the Plymouth Brethren,

and some depths today. Excited to hop across the pond for a bloody bangers and mash, maybe don't eat while you're listening to this one, British True Crime Edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. You will listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday, members of the Colt the Curious. Got an interesting tale to share with you today. John Haye had some unique thoughts about how the British justice system worked. This is gonna be an odd story. I'm happy to tell it. Hail Nimmer out, Hail Luciferina, Praise

Bojangles, and get back in the recording studio, Michael Mothafucka, McDowell. What else do you have going on right now? Dan Cum Dan Cummins, suck King, suck nasty, sir, suck master, mush mouth, Lord sucking to the third junior, Esquire. And you are listening to time suck. I hope you like it weird and dark because that's mostly what we do here. And that's definitely what we're doing here today.

Everyone has knock on wood, seemed to recover from COVID around the office. Thanks for all the checking in, get well messages. Hope you all are safe and healthy. Also hope you voted. I dropped my mail in ballot at the local county voting station this past week. Today, as I'm recording, there was a long line

in front with early voters, good to see them. I'm guessing it's gonna be a record turn out this election. Like a silly goose, I didn't always vote when I was in my 20s or even when I was in my 30s. Didn't see the point. I do now, I don't know, maybe I'm getting soft, but I don't think so. It just feels good to participate.

Let your voice be heard. No merch announcement today, no charity announcement. We have a charity picked out, but I wanna wait until I know how much we can give them to announce it. I'll only say right now that it's a military-based charity. Feels right as we approach Veterans Day to honor those sacrifices. I do have another feel good announcement regarding December's donation.

So skipping ahead to December, this year has been rough on a lot of us in a variety of ways. We all know how hard it's been. Some of us have had it much worse than others. Some of us have lost jobs. Some of us have gotten sick. You know, some of us know people who have died, people close to us, and we want to help. Here at Bad Magic Productions, we want you to know that we are so grateful that we've

been able to keep putting out content to help you get through, especially tough times, to keep ourselves employed. Some of you, OJ OG, meat sacks might recall that last year instead of donating to a charity in December, we decided to give back to the cult, do our own version of a giving tree. My wife Lindsey, Queen of Bad Magic, did all the shopping and the shipping, giving trees mean a lot to her as she was once the recipient of a giving tree donation as a kid. And if she wouldn't have been, she wouldn't have had any Christmas presents that year. Santa would have skipped her, but he didn't.

And now we want to bring the magic of Santa to some of your homes. This year, we want to get an earlier jump on the cult of the curious, giving tree, you know, situation we're doing here. It's a bit trickier to navigate with COVID. We learned a lot about how time consuming, the shopping, and the shipping was last year. So starting today, we're going to go November 2nd through November 23rd. We are accepting giving tree applications. And it's looking like we're going to be able to spend around 10 grand total on our awesome community. We're gonna go November 2nd to November 23rd. We are accepting giving tree applications.

And it's looking like we're gonna be able to spend around 10 grand total on our awesome community. The requirements to receive the gifts pretty simple. We just ask you to be honest. Don't apply if you don't have kids and if you aren't in need. The giving tree is mostly about giving kids at Christmas that the otherwise wouldn't be able to receive

because their parents are going through some tougher times, some leaner times. We're happy to keep your names anonymous from the community. If that is your choice, you don't have to remain anonymous. You can post about your gifts. You can have us post. And of course, we cannot accommodate everyone, but we'll do our best to help as many people as we can.

No 10 ground sounds like a lot of money, and it is, but it goes quickly when you're talking about a family of four or five. We cannot pay your cell phone bill, your utility bill, but we can send things you might need for your family like diapers, socks, some things your kiddos might want, mostly toys, kids love toys, obviously. If you and your family are in need of help this Christmas, please email us quickly, giving tree at badmagicproductions.com. That's giving tree at badmagicproductions.com. We will GivingTree at BadMagicProductions.com.

We will gather all the names, literally put them in a hat, pick them at random. We don't think it's fair for us to choose who should be on the receiving end of this gift. And again, that's GivingTree at BadMagicProductions.com. The email will be in the episode description. Only use that email for this, please. It makes our hearts feel so good

to put some Christmas smiles on a bunch of mini meat sack little fucking faces. Okay, enough heartwarming, good feels, mother fuckers, I just checked my watch. And now it's murder of clock. It's true crime time. Come hop in the steel acid tub and set up with the acid bath murderer. the acid bath murderer. England has had more than its fair share of bizarre and disturbing murder cases over the years. We've covered a few of them here before.

Jack the Ripper, Dr. Death, Harold Shipman, and our killer kid, suck, was loaded with a lot of young murderous British killers, since over 80% of British kids, if you don't know, under the age of 18, do murder an average of 1.4 people, based on some stats that I may have just made up in my head. England, like any nation with the large population and a long recorded history has, of course, a long history with murder. We're a fairly murderous species.

And England's murderers have gotten more press than most over the past century or two due to the UK's thriving tabloid newspaper industry. In today's Englishman got a lot of press after he was apprehended and London in 1949. London was fascinated with his dirt bag and he wasn't especially deranged and fascinating British killer. John Haye stereotypically British in some ways, charming, well-dressed, handsome, seemingly, seemingly respectable dude with great, well-coffed hair, capable of speaking in a posh accent and presenting

impeccable manners. He looked like, had he lived just a little bit longer, like he could have been a consider for the role of James Bond. He came across as a man of high tastes, a man of culture. Maybe a guy you'd want to party with at Royal Albert Hall or enjoy a pint with at your local pub. Underneath that carefully constructed and contrived the sod, he was a cold-hearted murderer and psychopath who had no qualms about turning people into chemical stew. In addition to being labeled the acid bath murderer, he would also be called a vampire by the British tabloids. Perhaps rightfully so. Another vampire. Will he be as vampire because Richard Chase, the vampire of Sacramento, will you will soon find out? What motivated, hey, to not only kill people, but maybe also drink

their blood and dissolve their remains in a vat of acid. He would claim to authorities that the upbringing he received from his strict religious parents really fucked him up. And after hearing about it, I think he might be right. I don't think it's fair to blame murder on his childhood, but I do think it fucked him up. And I think had he been raised differently, he probably would have never turned out the way he did and maybe not became a or have become a killer. Plenty of people lived through shitty childhoods and turned out just fine or at least don't

become serial killers. But hey, childhood certainly seemed to have at least pushed him towards making some terrible choices. He also blamed his parents and the way they raised him for giving him a specific recurring nightmare that he'd have for most of his life. He said, I saw before me a forest of crucifixes which gradually turned into trees.

At first, there appeared to be dew or rain dripping from the branches, but as I approached, I realized it was blood. A man went to each tree catching the blood when the cup was full. He approached me, drink, he said, but I was unable to move. Weird. It was this dream, Heywood later confessed to a police

that made him believe he needed blood in order to live. Others blood. And to get that blood, he said he needed to kill. I don't know. Did a dream push him to murder? I have a hard time buying that premise. Maybe then I guess, or maybe he just felt like blaming a dream. A dream he may not have even had.

This guy was a huge liar instead of taking responsibility for his heinous actions. While the dream may have had some effect, if he had it on Hayes Actions, the fact that he was most definitely a sociopath for sure had an effect on his actions. Hayes was able to do what he did in a large part because like so many other killers we've covered,

like almost all of them, he just seemed to have zero empathy. To tell Hayes tale, we're gonna first lay down a little bit of context regarding the atmosphere of London in general in the 1940s, backdrop for Hayes' killings. The vibe of London in the early and mid-40s was for several years, one of confusion in chaos due to Germany's massive London World War II bombing campaign and the destruction it left behind. And then, after exploring the scope of the damage caused by Germany's bombing rates, we'll

dig into Hayes, Odd Religious Background before jumping into today's horrific crime-loaded time-stuck timeline. So let us begin. Soon after World War II broke out, the British government knew that Germany would be targeting London in their bombing rates. They knew the Nazis would want to blast their capital out of action. How badly that would hinder the Allied war effort. The Nazis knew how, you know,

months of bombing could devastate England's national morale. And on September 7th, 1940, the bombings began. And it was every bit as terrible as the British government expected, maybe more so. 300 German bombers blanketed the skies above London in the first of 57 consecutive nights of bombing holy shit 57 consecutive nights fire in the fucking sky This bombing blitzkrieg or lightning war would continue all the way until May of 1941 and then later V1 flying bombs

V2 rocket attacks in 1944 would cause further damage over four years of intermittent bombing it is estimated that more than 12,000 metric tons of bombs were dropped on London. Nearly 30,000 civilians killed by enemy action. The worst hit places tended to be the poorer districts, like the East End, but all Londoners were affected by German air raids to varying degrees. No one felt safe.

For several years, no one felt safe. Londoners never knew when the bombs were coming back if they might be coming for them the next time. A modern bomb census recently attempted to pinpoint the location of each and every bomb dropped on London during the blitz. And the visualization of the data makes it clear how thoroughly the Luftwaffe, the Nazi Air Force,

saturated the city with crippling explosions. The air raid damage was widespread in immense hospitals, clubs, churches, museums, residential and shopping streets, hotels, public houses, theaters, schools, monuments, newspaper offices, embassies, nothing was safe or sacred. Even the London Zoo was bombed. The zoo! Those assholes bombed a fucking zoo. Incredibly no animals died in the explosions, but a zebra did apparently

escape for a while and make it all the way to canton town. The Nazi blitzkrieg changed the landscape of this city. Many famous landmarks were hit like Buckingham Palace, the house is a parliament, the tower of London, the imperial war museum. Some areas so badly damaged they had to be almost entirely rebuilt after the war. So insane. The COVID pandemic has been weird for sure to live through, but it has nothing on this. Imagine if your city or town was being bombed

for six straight months, then bombed again later. Imagine living under the that level of stress day after day, constant conversations of, so did you hear that Lenny's pub got bombed last night? Did you hear that bomb drought this morning? Yeah, the southern half of our block is totally gone. Day after day, week after week, month after month, never knowing if the next set of bombs will be coming for you and your family or maybe your neighbors. It's crazy. A lot of Western front allied military staging went on in London as well, beginning in 1942, American servicemen flooded the city. We'll never properly invaded by the Nazis. London was very much a part of this second

world war. It was a busy transport hub, a popular destination for troops on leave. When the war ended, at least for Europe and the spring of 1945, London was the focus of celebrations or four celebrations. Thousands of people waited to see the royal family on the balcony of Buckingham Palace and for Prime Minister Winston Churchill to appear at Whitehall. On VE or victory in Europe Day, May 8, 1945, St. Paul's Cathedral and the National Gallery were flood lit. There were celebratory bond fires in the city's parks. The Nazis have been defeated. The war in London was over and now the city was in desperate need of large-scale rebuilding.

As always, after a period of great destruction, architects and planners see the opportunity to remodel the city, make it better, more modern. Planners such as Patrick Abercrombie came up with proposals to reconstruct the capital with a balance between housing, industrial development and open spaces. Abercrombie's county of London plan included a refining of the Green Belt, a strip of land in Circling London that is made up of parks, farmland and recreation grounds, and subject to strict regulations concerning building and development. Further out, Abercrombie proposed a construction of satellite towns around the outer country ring. In fact, many Londoners moved out to the

eight new towns such as Steven Edge and Harlow after the war. Towns that are doing very well right now. And if Patrick is related to the David Abercrombie who founded Abercrombie in Fitchin, New York City in 1892, a clothing company headquartered in Albany, Ohio. The relation is distant. Not sure if anyone else cares about that. I had to clear it up for myself. I was like, is that the fucking Abercrombie Fitch guy? No.

Second I heard that name, I thought. Is he connected to the clothing store? It was so popular when I graduated college, the store whose employees all seem to be models. No, he's not. While Patrick was rebuilding London, John Hay was melting people in fucking acid tubs. Things were crazy and London in the 40s. Before we get into Hayes timeline, let's take a few minutes now to learn about the religious act he was raised in. Hayes parents belong to a seemingly joyless group of

faith-minded people known as the Plymouth brethren. They were purist, anti-clarical, still are, still very much around. I'm guessing there were some members handing out pamphlets on London Street corners at this very moment. The Plymouth brethren, when Haye was a young lad, considered all, almost all forms of casual entertainment, music, carnivals, magazines, newspapers, etc. to be sinful and of the devil.

Only stories from the Bible were considered worth reading. You want a book to read? There's your book, the only book. You can use all of the books for Kindland. Throw those devil words in the fire. John George had a strict, anti-fun, guilt-based childhood. So weird, right? That that would lead to a serial killer.

Who would have guessed? It's almost like the needless and massive repression of joy is a bad thing. Almost like forbidding people to be human, to participate in the culture that surrounds that might be, I don't know, psychologically damaging or something. The origins of the brethren trace back to Dublin, Ireland, where several groups of Christians met informally to celebrate the Lord's supper together in 1827 and 1828. Early members were like, outside of worshipping the Lord, do you hate everything as I do? Yes. Do you see Satan in every activity that doesn't directly involve active, godly worship?

Me too. You also want women to be barefoot and pregnant and to stay inside the house and not think for themselves and only just barely be literate enough to read the good book? Me too! Gosh dang, oh my heck! I would hug you if I didn't think physical affection was also of the devil. It starts a new church and brings more people into our small-minded paranoid, misogynistic modern world fear and fold. Believers in this new movement felt that the established church of England had abandoned or distorted many of the ancient traditions of Christian dumb. They wanted to get back to the basics.

Less fun, more rules. Central figures to the founding of this movement were Anthony Norris Groves, a dentist studying theology at Trinity College in Dublin, Edward Cronin, a man studying medicine, John Nelson Darby, a curate, or a member of the clergy, and nearby county Wicklow, Ireland, and John Gifford Belitt, a lawyer who brought them all together. Following their first official meeting in Plymouth, England in December of 1831, the movement spread throughout the United Kingdom and soon the assembly in just Plymouth alone had more than 1,000 people in fellowship. And all

these new believers became known as the brethren from Plymouth, and then the Plymouth Brethren. This group has fractured quite a bit over the years as Protestant Christian groups tend to do. Terminology gets a little confusing, trying to differentiate between all the different brethren now. There's the exclusive brethren and the open brethren and the closed brethren and more. And none of the British brethren are to be confused with a U.S. cult founded in the early 70s by Jim Roberts also called the brethren. So many flipping brethren, gusting. The biggest branch still seems to be the Plymouth Brethren.

As group seems to continue to emphasize, as they've been doing since 1831, Solascriptura, a term for the belief that the Bible is the supreme authority for church doctrine and practice over and above any other source of authority. According to them, the Bible is above the quote, mere tradition of men, which means brethren don't believe they need some pastor or, you know, reverend priest telling them what God's word is when they can read it for themselves, a policy that has made their leadership hierarchy confusing. And it means that biblical interpretation can get a little wonky from one group of brethren to the next, not a lot of consistency. Somehow this poorly structured group of believers have managed to build an awesome website and stay around for a long time and print up pamphlets, they still hand out, et cetera,

even though they have no real church leader. The structure is so loose, brethren generally see themselves not as a denomination, but as a network of like-minded, independent churches. They believe that all Christians are ordained by God to serve and therefore all are ministers and by all, ha- ha, dudes, easy ladies. Basically, everyone is a Pope. Every guy is a Pope. It's a Pope gang, which would be super sweet if they all wore cool Pope hats and pulled

up to the church and Pope mobiles. So much Pope. Brethren and assemblies are led by local church elders within any given fellowship led by committee essentially and theory, but of course leaders you know continue to emerge in various brethren communities. And early in the group's history, the study of prophecy was a major focal point, so that's fun. Whatever Christian sect continues or you know, folks, excuse me on prophecy, it seems

like they do it mostly for one reason. Predicting Armageddon. When will God return and destroy this wicked shitty world, rebuild it in a way that doesn't allow for a carnal pleasure or other kinds of fun? We're sick of fun, God. Please get rid of the fun. So young hay grew up around a bunch of odd people who are waiting, hoping for the world to end people who hated fun. And since I keep harping on this thing about the hatred of fun and I haven't provided a lot of evidence, I should probably do that now.

Go through some of their teachings to show why I keep saying that. According to their website, and this is their beliefs now, there's about 50,000 current members across Australia, New Zealand, Europe, and America's in the UK. And until 2005, these members were forbidden from owning or using cell phones, computers, or even fax machines. Can't risk Satan taking over your fax machine. Faxing you some evil pictures of his red devil wean or something. They relaxed a bit on these rules after 2005.

I'm guessing because they realized their entire movement would probably soon end if they kept up that kind of tech band. Hard to find new people will, in to say no to cell phones. Not a great recruitment policy. The brethren do continue to be pretty strict about technology. They do continue to be cautious in embracing technologies brought about through the electronic age, concerned about how these technologies can harm their believers. I'm guessing believers are strictly forbidden from purchasing or probably even borrowing

sex spots, you know, guessing. TV and radio still not permitted to this day, except when used in an educational setting at a school, uh, due to the fact that it's very difficult to filter out devil content, sinful devilish content like, uh, mash, gun smoke and sign filled reruns. Uh, bizarrely, members are only permitted to marry on Tuesdays. Okay. Uh, why have some big fun weekend celebration to kick off, starting a new life together with the person you adore most in the world dancing and drinking when you can have a very subdued and solemn and sober Tuesday wedding instead. One where you can stand around and worry about salvation instead of listening to good music

and enjoying yourself and trying to get late. Brethren members are expected to attend church literally every day and on Sunday many members attend church three times. Cult, cult, cult, don't do anything. It's outside of us. Don't do anything. So much fun. When it comes to family life, brethren men

expected to work while married women expected to stay at home. Andra's eye made the Lord open. Blessed be the fruit. Sorry. Sorry. I do start hearing about mandated traditional generals like this. I immediately think of the handmaids too.

Women marry early, then don't work outside the home. Although exceptions can be made if they're working in their husbands business If he has one yes of Glenn You can work the cash register But only your husband's store and only if you wear a formless dress that doesn't showcase any of your sinful devil curves Specialist big ass devil titties. I hate the way they make me feel in my groin area. Also, you can only work a man job if you don't wear makeup, aka sex paint. And you can never be alone in the store with a man who isn't your husband for even the

briefest of moments. Also, this is important. If anyone walks into the store wearing a graphic t-shirt or hoodie or backpack etc. that has sexual imagery or profanity on it. Run home immediately, lock the door. You know, just put a pro's by one of Satan's puppets and he will eat your eternal soul. Brethren also encouraged to set up their own businesses. It's the only way you can guarantee you don't end up in the sinful, head-in straight to

hell employee of a non-Breather in like, I don't know, me. And brethren children are strongly encouraged to attend brethren only schools called focus schools. Focusing focus. Devils off to your left, devils off to your right, got a fucking focus. And it's hard to attend these schools because there's not many of them because there's not that many members in this shit show. Critics of Plymouth, brethren accuse them of being cults, you know, which I think is fair because they use all these controlling

aspects to control their members' lives. They seem very cult-like. Like check out the two very cult-y primary forms of discipline in this religion, shutting up and withdrawing from. Shutting up is a temporary measure where the offending brethren member is punished for sinning by being ostracized from their community. They're putting a big boy or a big girl time out.

They're not allowed to have contact with any other members except for occasional visits from designated elders who will show up to quiz them about their sin, tell them what they need to do to get right and then assess whether they have repented sufficiently and should be allowed to return to the fold or not. So while they don't have a leader, they do have some sort of committee system. Like I said before, in this committee can wreak havoc on your life if you choose to be part of all this silly bullshit. So set that some people feel like they need to put up with this kind of shit, not to be punished by an angry sky daddy. I would love one of these designated elders trying to come into my house and quiz me about sin. Like how great is it is showed up at the wrong house and they assumed I was

a member, which I know is absurd, it would never happen, but please allow me to have this fantasy. I just like to think about how much fun I would have, grabbing some pretentious old, holy roller shit and then just like fucking punch him in the stomach, throw him over my knee and then I'd give him a good old, old school spanking, right? Just spacking him on the ass. You do not get to tell me shit. I will beat your pump best ass with the fucking belt next time.

And then I would just give him an atomic wedgie. And I'd fucking rip his underwear until the elastic ripped off. And then I'd have Lindsey or one of the kids who would be watching and share me on open the front door. And then literally just throw that sack of shit on the front porch. Just just go with God. Get off my lawn, dick wipe. I'll spank your ass again if I need to. That fantasy is tremendously satisfying to do. You're about, God, I love me a righteous vengeance fantasy. Anyway,

now for the other more severe punishment, a person who is withdrawn from is cut off from all family contact and regarded as a pariah. They are exiled. It's like the Scientology suppressor person. I came from the terminology from last week's next year, I'm cold, similar, but they're exiled from the brethren faith, totally abandoned, you know, you know, just like Jesus wanted. Haha, cold, cold, cold. So that's what the brethren are.

And according to John Hayes telling of his childhood experience, and that's how they are recently. So you can imagine how much worse it would have been, you know, a century ago. And according to John Hayes telling of his childhood experiences, you know, you didn't have the best time growing up in that environment. Ha, weird. Sounds like a John problem. Let me give this straight, buddy.

You're saying it wasn't fun? Not being allowed to do anything your friends were doing instead have a group of lunatics talking about hell all the time. Hmm. John privately departed from the teachings of the brethren early on. Everyone instead have a group of lunatics talking about hell all the time. John privately departed from the teachings of the brethren early on. He decided that a lot of their teachings were bullshit. And on that front, I agree. They're always telling them that God was always watching that the church would know when

John had sinned. And then he figured out when he started doing some bad shit, not getting caught, that they didn't know what he was up to. He suffered no consequences. And he interpreted this as either God not paying attention to him or God not existing at all. And then he went to this place in his head where if the main reason to be a good person

and not be a sinner is to avoid God's wrath, but then you find out that God either doesn't exist or dish out this wrath or just give a shit, then there's no reason to be a good person. Terrible way to look at it all in my opinion, but I do get on some level where he was coming from and how he got there. Like from his perspective, the church early on taught him to externalize, to outsource

his morality, to a big and visible guy in the sky instead of internalizing it. And when the sky guy no longer felt real, when sky daddy disappeared, John's moral compass disappeared with him. And now John Hay felt morally unbound, free from guilt and fear, free to do whatever horrible monstrous shit he wanted to do. And while he wasn't doing any real horrible shit yet, I have to imagine at some point in his upbringing, he was thinking about it. Okay, now that we've laid a nice foundational code of background information paint on London and the Plymouth brethren, let's jump into the real reason

we're here today. Let's, uh, let's examine John's fucked up life in this week's Time Suck timeline. Right after some awesome sponsor deals. Thank you for listening Meet Sacks and now it's timeline time for Reelses. Shrap on those boots soldier, we're marching down a time, some time line. On July 24th, 1909, John George Hay, born to John Robert Hay in Emily, made name of Hudson, in Stanford, Lincolnshire, in England, 92, excuse me, Miles North of London. He would be their only child, which is great because these two don't come across as fantastic parents or people. The family moved about a hundred miles north to Outwood West Yorkshire when Hay spent, where Hay would spend the next 24 years of his life.

24 years of his life, my god, shortly after his birth. Outwood is a village to the north of Wakefield, which is a city in West Yorkshire, England, small, just under 8,000 residents. Outwood began as a pit village or a mining village, was only a small settlement until the 1970s when construction of new houses caused it to grow and merge with neighboring settlements such as Renthorpe and Stanley. It is possibly the settlement of Outward or it is possible that the settlement of Outward gets its earliest literary mention way back in 1400 CE and the the Lacta, just of Robin Hood, transcribed from at least a century of oral renditions telling

the stories of Robin Hood and published in print form, century later in 1500, the prominent work features a mention of the name or phrase, Outwood. John Sr., possibly a mechanical engineer, maybe a mining engineer, some sources say he was an electrician, something in the minds. As I mentioned earlier, both the John George's parents, members of the Plymouth Brethren, called the peculiar people by some. John Sr., especially was a religious fanatic.

Sources don't say it, but I feel like he was probably one of the elders who came to Center's Homes to see if they were beggin' God for forgiveness with the proper amount of enthusiasm. One of the guys I would have wanted to give a good spanking wedgie to before sending them out onto the lawn. Still loving that fantasy. The family was so deeply entrenched in their faith that John senior built a seven to ten foot wall around his property to keep out sinful heathens that were his neighbors. He believed the entire world was filled with evil and the only way to protect himself and his family was through isolation.

I didn't work out too well for him. He sounds awesome. He sounds like a really cool dad. John senior sounds like he really made the most of his trips around the sun. In actuality, I actually don't mind the big fence move. I don't want to look at my neighbors either when I'm out in the yard.

I do like my privacy. I just don't like why he did it. I don't like the motivation. You want to put up a big ass fence because your private person may be an introvert and you just want to turn your backyard into your own little oasis we can hide from the world. Fine. I get it. Good for you. You want to put a big fence up because your neighbors aren't fellow Plymouth brethren and therefore you think they're evil sinners. And you worry about them corrupting your family and dragging your souls into hell. Well, then you're fucking crazy. References to the Lord were used frequently to remind the young Hay that he was always watching. He was always watching you and he was always disapproving.

He's an angry Santa and he has his eye on you at all times. Young Johns only friends were his few pets since kids weren't allowed to come over. Sometimes he cared for the neighbor's dog. Dad probably kept a close eye on that dog. Make sure it's not one of Satan's hellhounds. John's parent for such fanatics that all forms of entertainment that normal people enjoyed were strictly off limits. That meant no sports. God hates football and rugby and cricket.

No bats shall touch a thine balls for funsy. So say it the the Lord, God, no carnivals, God hates trying to pop a balloon with the dots. No social clubs, God hates a friendship. No having friends to hang out with or visit the house, God hates visitors. Little Johnny, George, he wasn't even allowed to read magazines or newspapers because God despises the journalism as expected uh John's child who was extremely lonely. Which is what God wants he wants kids to be lonely and unfamiliar with the world God made for them makes so much sense and joy on my flat earth. Uh the only entertainment he was allowed were things he could do at home like listening to stories from the Bible. It's poor fucking kid.

Also played the piano. He was allowed to do that. And he got pretty good at the piano. You know, you can play your songs, little Johnny Georgie, but nothing secular, okay? Or nothing? Okay, a few secular songs, but nothing, you know, edgy. No love nest or anything else by that wicked John Steel. Many people don't know that a half of these things are worth being done.

Ugh. Satanic. Say, Tannic. Say, half of these things are worth being done. Can't you just hear the sin coming off that hot 1920 track? It's so big. Yeah, that's just the tip. DJ iceberg.

Playing John Steeling all the best new 1920 sinful sounds. Okay back. John parents, John's parents tried to terrify, hey, the stories about God's Onision's and punishment when he was a young boy, keeping him scared to deviate from the straight and narrow, to really scare their son, John Sr. had a blue blemish that was running down the center of his forehead, which he'd most likely gotten from some type of electrical accident,

but he told little John that it was the mark of a sinner, and he got it due to him misbehaving as he was, like he made his kid believe this. And now everyone would know he was a once a wicked man. John Sr. once told his son, I have sinned and Satan has punished me. If you ever sin, Satan will mark you with a blue pencil likewise.

What's the weird quote? Blue pencil. Fuck, be afraid of Satan's pencil, little Johnny. As one might expect, this blue mark, shit, did scare little Johnny. He didn't want to be given the same mark, who would? John would later say it gave him a great deal of anxiety as a kid.

And thinking about his dad's words, led him to being plagued by terrifying nightmares, featuring trees that bled, things like that. Man, how many serial killers have been created, at least partially created, largely by an overly religious childhood full of fear-based messages of an angry God? What do you think? 50%? 70?

I'm guessing at least half. John said his dad, John senior, also made him believe that his mom, Emily, was a literal angel. That's why she didn't have the mark, because she was perfect. That to me is almost a crazier message than the blue mark. Trying to convince your kids that their mom

is an actual angel. Good way to have them end up thinking that religion is just nonsense. I just picked her little Johnny here in like a trumpet like blast coming out of the kitchen. And he runs in, smells something rotten. What? Did angel mom just let one rip?

That doesn't seem like something an angel would do. Angels aren't supposed to smell like rotten eggs in vinegar. As I mentioned earlier, Hayes only company aside from his acquaintances at school and his parents were his pets. I'll just talk about what young Hay did to these creatures. He gave him lots of pets and he showered them with love. Not kidding. He seems to have treated his pets very well.

Contrary to the common serial killer narrative, Hayes was never cruel to animals, at least not until he spent time in prison. Later, he wasn't so nice to some mice. We'll talk about that in a bit. But not as a kid. Wasn't tying cats together by their tails, wasn't lighting them on fire,

wasn't holding dogs under water or anything. It wasn't putting jirbles and socks, and swinging them around like a helicopter blade. You know, I'm slamming them to a wall or something. Zero signs. The act that out of cruelty or demonstrated the aggression he would use on his fellow man later in life.

And I've never heard of anyone doing that jirble helicopter thing, by the way. I bet it's happened, you know it has. Why do I think thoughts like that? But seriously, those who knew John George and his youth, little Johnny G, remember that he was a sensitive kid, he was kind of animals, he was kind of people as a kid, makes me again wonder

how differently his life could have turned out, had he been raised differently. Overall, John George Hay was lonely, but well behaved as a kid, fearful that Satan would mark him as a sinner. And then when young John did get into trouble, which was rare, his mom Emily would spank him with the hairbrush. As angels are want to do, angels fucking love to beat kids with hairbrushes.

Anyone who's ever met an angel knows that. They play harps, and they dish out hairbrush ass whoopens. John claimed that the bristles of the brush would cause him to bleed and then he would somehow lick himself clean. So he must have been, must have been pretty flexible. Hey, claim these experiences with a trigger for his desire to drink blood in later years

and school, John was considered a bright student by his teachers after school. He would allegedly, I don't know why this is so funny to me, it's terrible, it's sad, but also funny. He would allegedly, I don't know why this is so funny to me, it's terrible, sad, but also funny. He would literally run home as soon as the final bell rang, per the instructions of his parents in order to quote, keep the evil of his classmates from destroying him. Wow.

Imagine that as your childhood. Imagine having parents who are telling you to literally run home from school to keep your evil Godless classmates from destroying your soul and sending you into Satan's fucking butthole We're terrible thing to do to kids brains Little John George was also a real intelligent kid makes a childhood even sadder to me You must have known from an early age that his parents were a couple of nutters He also threw his piano playing developed quite the fondest for classical music. Probably the only shit he was allowed to listen to. You know, outside of church music, he was allowed to listen to stuff by like, you know, Sebastian

Bach and Tony O'Vauldy, Chikoski, as a teenager on the slide. Hey, finally began to get a little bit of a social life. He let his wicked devil classmates corrupt him and he started indulging it. Eh, indulging in activities. He knew his parents and God would not be cool with, like lying to his parents about what he was up to, like sometimes sneaking out to me with friends who were not always members of the same sex. His point is soul and great peril.

Be gone, Luciferina. Take your gorgeous body that feels so good to touch and to be touched, a carnal body built with pleasurable nerve centers designed for ecstasy and throw a garbage bag over yourself. Go pray in a corner. And again, when John went out and behaved like a normal teenager, nothing happened, you know, God punishment wise. God didn't give him a mark. Satan didn't take his magic blue pencil, drawn his forehead.

He didn't even get smited like a tiny bit. His parents almost never caught him doing anything, not even angel mom. She didn't beat him with her heaven hair brush. It's almost like his childhood was a web of needless lies. And again, knowing you could get away with things was an important turning point in his behavior or so he would say later. Despite the childhood isolation, despite the strict fear-based religious ideals, John did become a good communicator with his fellow man, somehow through his childhood. He became a real smooth talker, actually.

He figured out how to always seem to say the right things, he became a real smooth talker, actually. He figured out how to always seem to say the right things, say to get himself out of trouble. Probably had to learn that, I guess as a kid, like, it was so strict to save himself some hairbrush beatings. I'd learn how to manipulate others. And he did learn that. He was real good at manipulating others into doing what he wanted them to do, and that ability would soon lead to a con artist career.

His intelligence would also help him pull off his cons during his late teen years. He won several scholarships on one to Queen Elizabeth Wakefield grammar school, one another to Wakefield Cathedral, where it became a choir boy. At the time he made it to Wakefield, he was also an accomplished penis and organist. He was a student who consistently received high marks. When John left school at age 17, he was apprenticed to a motor engineer, where he could follow an interest he had at the time in fast cars. However, while he did love fast cars, he soon realized he hated getting his hands dirty.

So after about a year, he left the garage and looked for a job where he could dress sharp and stay clean. And he ended up working at the Wakefield Education community as a clerk. Then he decided that job wasn't really well suited for his taste either, and before long, he was on to the next thing. On July 24th, 1929, John turned 20. He got his third job working as an underwriter for an insurance and advertising firm.

He was briefly successful and fascinated by the money that could be made. He liked the wealth that was attached, the insurance and advertising industries, and he did well enough to buy himself a bright red alpha Romeo. And then six months later in early 1930, at the age of only 20, he was dismissed from the firm after being suspected of stealing from a cash box. Whoops! Got a little impatient with his wealth building,

goals, but are sell that alpharomail. And I'm not a huge anti-car guy, but the 1929 6C-1750 super-sport alpharomail pretty smooth looking old car. Never looked it up before. I just got inspired by this episode. I didn't know out for a male is even around that far back. They've been making cars in Italy since 1910. And anyway, okay, I know that has nothing to do with our narrative. Four years later, 1934, John Sly, fairly begins to change. He stops going to his parents' church. He marries Beatrice Betty Hammer, 21-year-old woman. He barely knew. Despite having been impressed by Hayes Manners and Charms, she would later say she was uncertain from the start about his character,

but still went ahead with the marriage. The two were wed on July 6, 1934. Some sources describe Betty's being high-spirited and an independent young woman. Doesn't sound like a lady, the Plymouth Brethren would approve of. I bet she got some serious glare as mold John, senior, nemily.

But John, senior Satan, blemish, slash slash electrical scar slash maybe just a barricost vein or big normal vein or something on his forehead was bullsion. I thought the john junior, a charming and gifted liar snappy dresser may have tricked Betty into thinking he was wealthy. He wasn't. Truth was, he didn't even have enough money to pay apartment rent. So the young couple moved into john's parents' home, which I'm guessing was a huge bummer for everyone involved. Shortly after moving back in with his folks,

John decided he didn't want to work for another boss again. So we started up his own business. For some, this may have been a great idea, but for John, this was a terrible idea. His new business conceptualized while living under the roof of two Plymouth brethren was focused around forging documents for vehicles. So less of a business, more of a criminal record.

In October of 1934, now 25-year-old John gets caught by the authorities for the first and far from the last time, ends up getting sent to prison for fraud. It was been 15 months behind bars after being sentenced by leads Azazis, the local court of the time. The very next month, only about four months after the couple had gotten married, Betty does not stand by her man and smartly files for divorce. Sadly, while John was incarcerated

before Betty left him, he'd gotten Betty pregnant and then Betty gave birth to a baby daughter, who she put up for adoption. I wish John may have been okay with. He actually may have been the one to push Betty away. He would say later that he saw her once after he was imprisoned. And when he asked, when he asked for to visit him and during their brief visit, he lied to her claiming they were never officially wed because he already had a wife at the time.

So she was free to go. Good rinse, but there's no evidence he did have another wife. So maybe he, that was just his way of just, you know, having her go away. Whether it was mostly his choice or mostly her, Betty did move away in hopes she would never see John again. In January of 1936, John returns to his parents' home. I've forgotten out of prison. I'm sure they weren't embarrassed at all. I'm sure their brethren friends weren't talking crazy shit

about them behind their backs. 26-year-old John now partners up with someone upon returning home sources don't give a name and starts a dry cleaning business Much better plan than forging documents and for a while it does well. He likes it the business is it successful He's making real money in a legal way. He's wearing dry cleaned fancy clothes things are looking good He's looking good, but then a tragic motorcycle accident takes a life of his business partner and the business collapses And this is obviously very disappointing for him and the experience leaves him extremely

better. Just when it seemed like he was getting ahead, everything falls apart. And this is one of those major pivotal moments you often come across in the biography of some dirt bag where had things gone another way, you wonder if their life would have a bent away from the direction of murder and mayhem permanently. Like had John George's business partner lived, or if the business could have been saved after his partner's death, would John George, Johnny G, Johnny, George, you put him pie, would he have still gone down the path to murder for money years later?

And John's mind, this was apparently the last straw. In his mind, he had tried to make it as a legit businessman and failed. So obviously, the good God amway maker of quality extreme men's hair putty and affordable unisex anti-dandruff shampoo and decreed that he turned to a life of crime. Hail the good God amway. He just hopped on this crazy suck train for the first time today and you're thoroughly confused. The amway God silliness has to us last week. The age 26 John has to has now done, excuse me, a stint in prison.

He's been divorced. He's had a baby. He's never met, put up for adoption. He's had his business die along with his business partner. And his parents think he is on the path to eternal damnation. So things are going pretty well. And then things get better. John's parents aren't actually convinced

that he is going to hell and just he. They think he's so bad that he's going to bring their souls down to hell with him. Young Hay has raised too many eyebrows in the brethren community for too long. So his parents do what all good, godly ethical parents do. And they cut their son out of their lives forever.

They banish him. He is withdrawn from. He's a pariah. The elder brethren have decreed it and God just name. Thank you God for giving me the strength to throw away my relationship with my only child, with my only son. Yay! Plymouth Brethren, glory be to your omnipotent cruel family hating fuckhead of a God.

Later in 1936, yay, the pariah moves to London. There's no income, no connections, no family to lean on. There's not a desperate hunt for employment, which is super fun during the global economic depression in the 1930s. He quickly comes across an ad to be a chauffeur at a local amusement park. You read that. You're, excuse me, you heard that right. You didn't read it. I read it. A amusement park chauffeur, somehow that was a thing. Weird, weird job title, so fun for me to try and picture. Gotta pick up those high rollers at the train depot and get them to the tilt world, VIP style.

I actually picture him being a bumper car chauffeur. Driver, be bricky and batty fang these cat lapas that start some collie shangles. At old time, a UK slang was legit, by the way. John applied for this weird job and thanks to his gift to bullshittery, he's hired on the spot by the owner of the park, a man named William McSwan. John probably does not disclose his lengthy criminal record during the interview process. And back then, it's not like anyone could just go run a quick digital background check. The job would go beyond that of a simple show first. And John had a bit of a mechanical background. He's tasked with repairs and maintenance of the park's machinery and equipment.

Despite the boss employee relationship to two men become good friends. They have similar interests. They both like wearing fancy clothes, driving sports cars. William likes John so much. He soon introduces him to his parents, Donald and Amy McSwann. And this would years later prove to be a fatal mistake for all three of them. Uh, Donald and Amy also take a liking to John. I think he's a good worker. They're happy. Their son has such a good employee. And early on, John was a good employee.

He was great. And he'd soon be promoted to the role of manager. But because John was unreasonably ambitious and impatient, this promotion, not enough. He didn't want to be the manager. He wanted to be the owner. But that was obviously for any rational and impatient. This promotion, not enough. He didn't want to be the manager. He wanted to be the owner. That was obviously for any rational person, not a promotion William was going to give, since that would mean he would have to leave the company.

He had no interest in selling. So after just a year of working for McSwan, he decides to leave, moves towards what he thought were bigger and better opportunities. He decides to return to a life of crime. McSwans are sorry to see him go. If only he would stay gone forever. His next idea to make some cash is to set up an office and present himself as a solicitor,

a type of British lawyer. A lawyer who can deal with more minor legal dealings, not the lawyer who represents her clients in court, so I have to wear a wig and a gown. That's a barrister. Did Hay somehow sneak off and get some type of legal training real quick? No, of course not.

This is all a scam. He uses the name of another well-regarded company, steals some of their clients. Can't believe you actually pulled this off. He receives a bunch of payments from these new clients, cashes their checks, and then instead of providing any of the legal services they just paid for, he just fucking bounces.

And to try and avoid getting caught, he just moves to a different part of London and then sets up another similar shop under a different name and does the whole thing all over again. And then he just keeps repeating this, the balls on this guy. I guess he just crossed his fingers. Hope he would never come across a growing number of people he was stealing from. Oh, hey, Thomas, so happy to see you. No, no no I did not just take your money and run. What? That's absurd. Did you not give my letter? Then when I sent

you, then when I sent you, letting you know that I was still of course handling your case, yes of course. But I had moved to a new office, changed the name of my firm, drastically changed my appearance, changed my name. And as you can see by the moving boxes around me, well, that's getting ready to change everything once more. A move I of course would soon be notified you about and yet another letter. Now, if you'll excuse me, old chap, I have to turn about and run down the street and hide from you. Reports of Johnny, George, he's fraudulent behavior started to pile up and

the police tracked him down pretty quickly. And less than a year, he was arrested in 1937. Crazy. That scam didn't work out. And this time after being found guilty of being a fake ass lawyer and taking a lot of people's money, he's sent to prison for four years by the Surrey Azizist Court, and he will serve the full term.

Upon his release from prison in August of 1941, the now 32 year old, hey, focuses on being locked up again as soon as humanly possible. I don't know if that was his actual focus per se, but that's what happened. Within a year, he's back inside, now doing 21 months for theft. By the time he's released again in May of 1943,

it's playing to see that the 34 year old former Plymouth Brethren Choirboy is never gonna lead an honest life. You're in his most recent trip to the clink, he come up with a plan that would temporarily change his life for the better and change the lives of at least half a dozen others For the worse like as in the most worse as in their lives would be changed the most you can change your life which is to end it

John came up with what he thought was the perfect crime He convinced himself that if no one could find a corpse to bury Then no one can prove a murder or any other crime had taken place Which is actually not how that works This misconception is my favorite part of this story. The English legal system didn't quite see it the same way. No country's legal code to my knowledge sees it that way. No one has a, if you can thoroughly dispose of a body,

then you don't get to be arrested. You can never be arrested. If the body's gone, then no crime. You can't be caught. No one has that kind of loophole. If so, a sophisticated serial killer with an incinerator in their home would be very hard to arrest. It would be very hard to keep from continually killing.

Weird officer. That is crazy. You're telling me, the last time over 200 people were seen was when they walked into my house over the past five years. Huh, extra weird that my neighbors keep reporting, seeing that my incinerator smokestack is kicking out burnt flesh, milling fumes all night every night. Kooky. Hey, come on in.

You're welcome to inspect incinerator. I just had it thoroughly cleaned and bleached again as I do every day. It's pretty cool actually. It's huge. Step inside. I can show you how the whole thing works. John's new million dollar crime plan is simple. Go after rich older women gain access to their money,

kill them, make their bodies disappear. He's built for this. He knew he could be a charming dude. He knew how to dress sharp and sail the right things. His fake lawyer scam, Todd, he had to talk to people with money. He felt like older women, widows, unmarried women who were desperate and lonely could be easily manipulated by a younger,

dapper man like himself. And he had to kill him. It was the cleanest way to make the most money. He thought about how if he married them, once he'd drain their accounts, they'd be furious and they'd be hard to get rid of. No bueno. They could complicate his attempts at moving on

to the next scam victim. There could be angry family members to deal with. A divorce could be messy. Lawyers want some of the money. It could all be such a big hassle. But if he could quickly kill them and make their bodies disappear then he would never get in trouble

since there's no evidence and he can just you know just make all this money virtually risk free this actually is a basic summary of what his crazy ass thought about all this uh... the prison he just been released from had a metal shop and it was where he and his fellow prisoners could learn skills towards the trade uh... to make themselves more economically viable upon their release. And this is where John developed his body disposal skills. This is where he learned about sulfuric acid, one of the chemicals he and the other workers

regularly would use in this metal shop. And John thought that his acid would absolutely completely disintegrate a human body. And it does not. Very close, it almost does, but not quite. So, sulfuric acid highly corrosive used to be known as the oil of vitriol, light yellow or clear in color, sometimes dark brown dye added so that it's recognized easily as the hazard. So, furic acid, soluble in water, regardless of the strength of its concentration, the higher the concentration, the more destructive it is.

One of the most common uses of sofuric acid is and drain cleaning agents. Also used extensively in a variety of industries, including fertilizer production, oil refinery, mineral processing, waste water processing. This acid decomposes lipids and proteins. When it comes into contact with flesh and skin, the water from the acid solution causes reaction with the fats and proteins of the body. These are broken down into a sludge of fatty and amino acids. The acid also causes the catalyst with the high-drocks appetite found in bones, reducing them to a solution of phosphate and calcium. But although sulfuric acid can be successful in breaking down most human tissue and most of our bones, it never seems to completely destroy the entire body, not quite.

There always seems to be some parts left behind, even if only on a microscopic level. Bone fragments, gallstones, dentures, other hard parts of the body, also harder to break down as easily as skin, in fact, will require a much higher concentration of sulfuric acid. Well, hey, it was inspired to try and use this acid to dissolve further murder victims or excuse me, future isn't killed anybody yet. Future murder victims by another killer he'd recently heard about. George or George, uh, Syrette couldn't find his name actually. But anyway, this was an Italian born French criminal who was guillotine for a double murder in April of 1934. He killed at least two people then use acid to dissolve their bodies. And when John heard about these murders

He thought that's a great idea. He's inspired and he begins to practice dissolving flesh in the prison metal shop He ignored apparently the part of Serhat's story that ends with him literally getting his head fucking chopped off He begins working on trying to figure out the right ratios the right measurements to do the job correctly with the help of fellow prisoners Prisoners who bring him mice to experiment on. He literally practices disposing, dissolving flesh and acid. Using glass jars from the kitchen, he would study the effects of the acid on mice, figuring out the length of time it would take for each mouse to dissolve without a trace. Later, he said it only took about 30 minutes to completely dissolve a mouse once he had the recipe figured out. And then John then calculated what he thought was the right amount of acid needed for humans.

He read books on acids in the prison library. He listened to other criminals talk about their crimes. He literally studied on how to commit what he thought would be the perfect murder. He studied up on British law, which would have worked out better for him if you'd have actually been a real solicitor and not a fake one before because he misunderstood a very simple legal term in his studies that inspired all of this. As their reference earlier, Haybel leave that if there was no evidence of a corpse, there was no crime to be charged with. And he thought this due to a gross misunderstanding

of the Latin legal expression, a corpus delicti, which actually refers to the body of crime, not an actual body, not an actual corpse. What Corpus Delicte means is that a crime must be proved to have occurred before a person can be convicted of committing said crime. For example, a person can't be tried for larceny unless it can be proven that property has been stolen. But you can prove that property has been stolen without finding the stolen goods. This is the part of this he misses.

It's harder, but it can be done. And another example, in order for a person to be tried for Arson, you know, has to be proven that a criminal act resulted in the burning of property has occurred. Black's law dictionary, six addition defines corpus delicti as the fact of a crime having been actually committed. Makes sense. Can't charge one, you know, someone with a crime

if there is no evidence that a crime is being committed. But with murder, just because you can't find a body, that doesn't mean that other evidence can't put you in prison for murder. That doesn't prove that, you know, if someone hasn't been murdered, and as we'll later see, all of this will actually end up being moot anyway,

because John will get lazy and leave enough evidence of crimes being committed to be charged with those crimes. But in his mind, his plan is foolproof. No body, no prison. It's that simple. He just needs to be released back into society to put his stupid plan into action back to May of 1943 now.

So he gets released. He's 33 years old. And he doesn't get right to killing. He needs time to hone in on his first victim. He needs to find some with money who he can get close enough to to access their money, access their assets. He gets a job as an accountant for an engineering business, which I'm guessing he got because he managed to bullshit his way and to have them think he had an accounting background, which he didn't. He's smart enough to pull this off for a little while, manages to stay at a trouble

for a little bit. Then he takes a new job as a salesman, probably easier for him to fake. I guess it doesn't have to fake, he can be a salesman without having some kind of business background. I also lands a girlfriend, meets a young woman named Barbara Stevens, who despite their 20 year age gap, she's only 15, he's 34 coming up on 35. She falls in love with John back in the days when 34 year olds having sex with 15 year olds didn't result in immediately going to prison.

If you're caught, he even lives with Barbara staying with Stephen's family. I'm sure they were pumped. And she will remain with him until his next and final arrest. And even afterwards, she'll visit him in jail. In mid 1944, still 34 year old, hey, involved in a car accident, suffers a wound to his head that causes him to bleed into his mouth. He later refers to this event as the reason for a recurrence of his blood-soaked, weird nightmares from childhood.

Shortly afterwards, Hayrend's basement apartment at 79 Gloucester Road, where he sets up his first body disposal workshop. Hard to set that up in your girlfriend's parents' place. Hey, Mr. and Mr. Stevens, how would you feel about me setting up some giant containers in the basement and filling them with sulfuric acid? Absolutely not. That's fair. That's quite fair.

In this workshop, Hay claim to be working on inventions, but the room was actually a death trap where he learned unsuspecting victims in late summer of 1944, while at a public house, aka a bar in Kensington, an absolute district of West Central London, he runs in to an old friend and former employer, amusement park owner, William McSwan, it's poor bastard. They catch up with the drink too in the local pub, and I highly doubt John tells Will

that he's spent most of the time since they lost last saw each other in prison, or that he's been working on a body disposal workshop. William, how have you been old chap? Bloody good to see you. How's the old amusement park? How are your mom and dad? Oh, brilliant.

What have I been up to? Prison mostly, not as easy as I once thought, to be a fake solicitor and hide from people who I've stolen money from. Well, live and learn. Won't be making that mistake again. I have a new scam. I've set up an acid-based body disposal laboratory,

the basement of my new flats, and I'm very excited to get to some risk-free killing. Say, what are we drinking tonight? Let's play some snooker. William happy to see his little pal, even insisted that, hey, go and visit his parents, who has turned out, we're also happy to see, hey, sucks for all of them.

During the encounter, the McSwan's tell John about a handful of recent investments. They've made on some properties and bingo, bingo. John has his first victims picked out. He puts his plan into motion. This family isn't the elderly widow. He'd initially planned on targeting, but you think still do just fine.

William and John now socialize for the summer and the whole time. Hey, just waiting for the right time to strike. How utterly heartless. Dude is hanging out having drinks, laugh, creating memories with people he plans on murdering in the near future. People who have been nothing but kind and helpful to him. He's hanging out with the man who gave him a job, gave him a promotion, who was still a big fan after John Quitt and took off.

Pretty sure the plymith brethren would not be pleased with any of this. On September 9th, 1944, John meets up with William at a local pub called the goat on Kensington high street. This pub says the top is his flat at the time. This pub is still there, but a pub there since 1695 actually, sadly, though, according to some recent TripAdvisor reviews, it appears that COVID has just shut it down just as a few weeks ago after three centuries of continual operation. Fucking 2020. I hope a new pub comes back to life there real soon.

Back to 1944, with London still dealing with bombs being dropped. John, George, you poor G. Hay invites William to come down to his murder workshop to check out the space. I bet you can guess what happens next. When the two make it to the bottom of the stairs and William isn't paying attention to John for a moment, John picks up one of the many blunt objects

about the room and bashes his friend in the fucking head and kills him. In his diary, John would later write that he had a sudden hunger for blood. So he slit his buddy and former employer's throat, filled him mug with the man's blood as it drained out of his neck, then drank it while it was still warm and somehow did not immediately throw it up. So disgusting. What do you do after you just knock back a pint at your buddy's blood? Do you let out a satisfied belch? Do you say something like mmm delicious brilliant bloody good blood. John then places Williams corpse into a 40 gallon drum fills it with concentrated sulfuric acid. The toxic fumes almost immediately knock

him out. He feels sick. They force him out of the room. After the fumes clear, John goes back in, puts the lid on top of the drum and then goes to sleep. And that night again, according to his diary, he supposedly suffers from more blood-filled nightmares. Next day, he returns to see what sort of progress the acid is made and he is fucking pumped. It's worked. All that is left of William is a lumpy liquid sludge, so gross that he simply then pours down the drain. He would later say that the success of this first perfect murder filled him with euphoria. He picks this human gremlin doing a fucked up little victory dance. Maybe let him out a happy little squeal.

He had gotten away with murder for the time being. What about getting rich? Well, that's in motion, that's coming. William's death only stepped one of that plan. William's parents are his next targets, and while he waits to kill them for their money, he begins to liquidate their son's assets. He quickly visits William's parents

to tell them that William has gone into hiding. He's gone into hiding, so he won't be called up for military duty. And he then spends a full year sending items and writing letters that were supposedly written by William, who was supposedly in Scotland to William's parents. And during this year by forging various documents that old fake law degree coming in handy, John is able to obtain all of William's assets, including 4,000 pounds in cash,

properties and reigns park, Wimbledon park, Beckinham park. Now he is the amusement park owner. He was hoping to become years earlier. Got that promotion after all. Just had to kill for it. According to a police report during this time, just before his plan moved on the surviving mixed swans, Hay may have also murdered a middle-aged woman from Hammersmith. We'll never know for sure how many bodies ended up in his workshop acid baths. In early 1945, he upgrades his murder shop,

gets new equipment, including stirrup pump, a tin face mask to protect him from fumes, even a bathtub made of steel. He paints it to make it more resistant to corrosion. Now he's got an actual bath, kind of a tub situation to put bodies in and dissolve them. On July 2nd, 1945, Hay visits his dead friends elderly parents

for the last time. Soon after stepping inside their home without any warning or hesitation, he beats both of them to death. He incapacitates them with blunt, forced trauma to the head, slits their throats. Later he'd say that he again filled a mug with their combined blood and drank it. This is apparently his killer ritual now. Then transports their bodies back to his body, melting garage, where a 40 gallon drum filled with acid awaits them both, like before they melt into sludge, and he pours

them down the drain. And it's again, it's just so crazy to me that he's literally pouring people down the drain. Once again, he feels like he's committed the perfect crime and he gets back to work, taking over their assets now. He goes to the mixwans, land lady tells her that the couple has gone on a trip to America, farms her that he will be taking care of their mail, and it should be all forwarded to him. And because he's a handsome charming fella, she agrees. She doesn't bump on any of this. John now seeks and gets power of attorney over the mixwans money and property by presenting himself to the court as they're missing and murdered son William. He's been perfecting William's signature.

His documents that only William should have. He's already been collecting William's pension checks. All this works. He's able to forge a property deed that had been owned by Mrs. McSwan and by filing under his new false identity, he's able to make another 2,000 pounds selling it. Then he sells the family securities,

possessions, and properties. Investigators later estimate that Hay made another 6,000 pounds off of William's parents. It might not sound like much, but that translates to around 261,000 pounds today or about $341,000. Maybe not the biggest payday he had dreamed of back in prison, but not exactly chump change. Now John has a bunch of cash, and the pleasure of knowing he's beaten the system. Three times. His plan has worked, but his taste for luxury and in a new gambling habit mean that he will soon

need more money and to get it more people will have to die. He moves his murder operations to a different workshop at two Leopold Road in the town of Crawley and Sussex to ensure he won't get caught. He also while he waits for his next victim runs an old scam similar to his previous fake lawyer racket. He now presents himself as a liaison officer that deals with patents. He sets up fake branches of this fake business in several towns, rips people off then, closes shop and moves locations.

According to a confession he made later, it was somewhere around this time that he kills and disposes of a young man named Max from Kensington. There aren't many details regarding this murder, but it's assumed if he did commit this murder that he pulled the same routine blow to the head, slit to the throat, guzzling some blood, desecrates and dissolves the remains and acid and then dumps the human sludge down a drain. He didn't get near the amount of money he wanted from Max. That's what he claimed. He decides to now scout for wealthy victims at the George Hotel, an expensive local establishment where the wealthy often gathered. And while he scouts out possible murder victims in June of 1947, he likely commits a different kind of murder.

Hey, claim that his car, Lungada, or a la Gonda, La Gonda, my God, a kind of British luxury car was stolen. But soon after he made this claim, the car is found smashed at the bottom of a cliff, and then an unidentified body is found near the wreckage. The police decided the two incidents were unrelated, but were they, were they really? Hey, would you not have anything to do with this body even after his arrest? I guess it could be coincidence that a random dead body is found near the wreckage of the car, of a serial killer, but it sure seems suspicious.

Hey, told his girlfriend Barbara that he wrecked the car on purpose, hoping to collect insurance money, even took her to the spot where LaGonda had plunged off the cliff. He didn't say anything to her about the body, but why would he? In August of 1947, Haymate meets his next victims. Dr. Archibald Henderson, 52 years old, and Henderson's wife, Rose, who was 41. Hay met the well-traveled couple when they were selling their home. He approached them, asked them about their financial situation,

promised them he could offer them more than the house was worth. Yeah, I could like a prospective buyer, like the McSwan's, the couple are impressed and charmed by Hay. The new friends bond over a mutual interest in classical music and eventually the couple tells Hay about where they sat financially. Hay has disappointed that the Henderson's didn't have as much money as he thought, not as much as the McSwan's, but he still felt like they were worth killing. And he spent the next several months developing a plan to liquidate them in both a literal

and figurative sense. At one point, as he's planning their murders, he steals a revolver from the Henderson's house so that when he goes to kill them, he steals a revolver from the Henderson's house so that when he goes to kill them, they're not going to be able to shoot them or shoot him, you know, if that's how it works out. Or he, I don't know, wanted some poetic way to kill them later. He also wrote in his diary about how he wanted to separate the two in order to make the task of bludgeoning them easier. If that's the murder method he chose, he decides to go after Archibald first. the murder method he chose. He decides to go after Archibald first.

On February 12th, 1948, John invites Dr. Henderson to his workshop under the pretense of checking out one of his inventions. Archibald, what are you doing this evening, old chap? I'd love you to swing by my workshop and take a gander at my latest invention. You can make it, splendid. I couldn't be more excited to put on a private demonstration.

What is my invention? Well, it's a bit of a surprise, but let me just say that it's definitely not a steel tub. I will fill with sulfuric acid to then dump your body into a toe bashing your head and slitting your throat and drinking your warm blood. It's not, it's not that. No sir. I assure you, it is most definitely not a way for me to dissolve your remains into an unpleasant

sludge. I will then pour into the drain thus removing you from the planet before pursuing your wife, to then treat to the same dog fate. Not that. That would be bloody terrible, wouldn't it? So don't worry about any of that unpleasant, salted business. I'll see you tomorrow, man. On the 12th, John and Archibald Drive from in the Metro Pole Hotel, in Brighton, Metro Pole Hotel in Brighton, where the Henderson's lived to Hayes, Murder Cave. As soon as they arrive at the workshop, Hay takes out Dr. Henderson's own gun and shoots him with it.

Ha! Guess he said a few words before he pulled the trigger. I mean, I don't think you steal a man's gun, hide it, then invite him over and kill him with it and not share some dramatic words. Do you? I mean, it just feels so planned. If it's so dramatic. Like if you're just going to coldly and quietly bludgeon the guy, you know, you don't bother stealing his gun and then using it on him at your own place.

Knock knock Archibald. All right, what's that John? It's a knock knock joke. Play long. All right, John. Who's there? Your gun. What? My gun. Yes, Archibald. Your gun. Now, play along. Say your gun who? Fine, John, but this feels like a terrible joke. Your gun who? Your gun just shot you. John, that makes no sense. I don't like this. It's not funny. No, I'm not finished with the punchline. Bang! And now I'm laughing all the way to your bank, Archibald.

Do you get it now? I don't know. Maybe he did something like that. It's just what I'm laughing all the way to your bank, Archibald. Do you get it now? I don't know. Maybe he did something like that. It's just what I'm trying to say. It's unclear whether or not, hey, drank Dr. Henderson's blood, but Dr. Henderson's body does for sure end up dumped into the acid drum. And now, hey, prepares to kill Archibald's wife, Rose. He drives back to the metro pole hotel, tells Rose that Dr. Henderson has gotten sick.

Oh, he's knock knock joke. And that she needs to come back with Hay to his place immediately. And all that is true, except for the knock knock part. Rose accepts his offer of a ride. They go back to the workshop where she meets of course the same fate as her husband. Knock knock Rose. What's this about? He's there. The man who you think is your friend, but really is the man who will drink your blood after shooting you with your husband's gun and slitting your throat.

The man who just killed your husband and drank his blood. The man who dumped his body into a tub of acid, turning him into a sludge. The man who will do the same to you before dumping you down the drain and taking your money. Oh, what a pity, dear. I believe I've heard this joke before. But what's that, dear. I believe I've heard this joke before. But what's

that's impossible? It's so specific to this highly unusual situation. Yes, where I've heard it. My nephew told it to me, I think. So let me get this way. I repeat all that and then say, who? And then you say something stupid and should be, right? Really? What are the odds that you did hear that? It's so dreadfully disappointing. Go home, Rose, you've ruined my evening. I don't want to shoot you now. I don't want to drink your blood. You've spoiled everything and I'm quite sad. Okay, I'm back now.

I know that was ridiculous. Of course he kills her. As soon as she enters the building, hey, shoots her in the head, drains enough of her blood to fill a mug, drinks it, dumps her body into an acid vat. But this time, the remains don't dissolve entirely. It's already getting a little bit sloppy. He doesn't completely destroy the remains of Rose Henderson, and when he comes back later

to pour her down the drain, her foot, one of her feet, is still mostly intact. And hey, for some reason, it doesn't feel like putting some more acid on it. It doesn't feel like giving the foot the acid treatment. Instead, he dumps the sludge that was once the Henderson's and the intact foot in the corner of the yard, where foot just you know sets there. Uh, he strangely makes no attempt to conceal the evidence. It's almost like a guy who drinks cups of his murder's victims blood doesn't have all a shit together with the sights now set on their assets.

He goes back to the Henderson's hotel pays their bill to make it seem like they'd moved out and then steals literally everything they'd owned and sells it all. Well, almost all of it. He gets a total of 8,000 pounds, over 290,000 pounds or 382,000 dollars in today's money. And then in a weird flex, decides to keep their car and their dog. And then he treats the dog very well. Man, meat sacks. How does some of us end up like this? We're such a weird species. Like you had with William, hey, gives off the impression that the Henderson's are still

alive by writing letters to Rose's brother, Berlin. In these letters, he writes that Dr. Henderson had performed an abortion illegally. The authorities were looking for him. In an effort to skirt the law, the two had moved to South Africa and he keeps this lie up for weeks. At one point, Berlin is ready to go to the police, but the abortion story keeps him from doing so. If it's true, he doesn't want to rat out his sister and brother-in-law.

Little does he know, you know, both of them are dead. He also gives his girlfriend Barbara some of Mrs. Henderson's clothes to wear, some fur coats, some jewelry. It's speculated that he told her that he bought them, making it seem like, you know, he's a fucking kickin' ass, making it seem to his young girlfriend like he's crushing it. Let's pause here on Hayes' murder timeline and discuss the pathology of serial killers and gift giving. Well known to anyone who's in a true crime that serial killers like to keep trophies

from their victims. According to John Douglas, one of the FBI profilers, one of the original profilers, we covered him in the FBI, BSU suck, keeping some memento, a lock of hair, jewelry, newspaper clips of the crime, helps prolong even nourish the fantasy of the crime. When Ted Bundy was asked why he took Polaroid photos of his victims, he said, he's a soda-sterbine. He said, when you work hard to do something right, you don't wanna forget it.

That is some unbelievably cold shit to say. And it says so much about the mind of a serial killer killing people is nothing more than a game Nothing more than a sport and when you play a good game when you play a sport when you do well You you want that trophy? Dennis Raider the BTK killer we once sucked kept a locked treasure chest of trophies in the basement of his home Which helped him to prolong and heighten his auto erotic fantasy life as he recalled each of the victims Special agent Douglas also had this to say about all this. What's interesting is that they often give the souvenir, particularly jewelry, to a family member or significant other.

The recipient could be the wife or a girlfriend who was causing the subject grief at the time of the crime or was involved in a confrontation with him. Well, the subject goes out, commits the crime, and like the cat who catches the mouse, brings it back and drops it on the doorstep, who present his wife or mother with a piece of jewelry and say, look, I found it on the street, I want to give it to you. When he sees this person who is part of his life

wearing the item, it becomes part of the game. He looks at it and fantasizes about the victim he raped or murdered, and it's like his own little secret. If only she knew what she's wearing right now came from one of my victims. Both Bundy and Gary Clean-Win Ridgeway, the Green River Killer, gave their trophies, usually jewelry to family members and intimate partners.

Ridgeway also liked to return to mass burial sites he had for victims, he buried them in a few places, and their corpses became his trophies too. He once said after his arrest, they're my possessions. So I have feelings of only I know where they're at. It's my property, I miss them. I felt like they were taking something of mine that I put there. He said that when the bodies were covered. How weird for the wives and girlfriends

and mothers, et cetera, of these dudes when they find out where these gifts came from. Right, flashing back and all the people you showed that ring to, flashing back to moments of you admiring the jewelry, thinking about how good it made you feel to have it. And now you can't think about that with also thinking about, or without also thinking about, you know, people getting murdered. Ugh. Okay, back to John Hay.

Through February of 1949, Hay continues to gamble, burn through his murder money on luxury pastimes like gourmet food, great clothes, fast cars, fancy hotels. He's spending money like it's not his, probably because it isn't, and he gets into some financial trouble. He's quickly burned through all of his acid baths dough and he takes out some loans,

and then he doesn't make his loan payments. So now he's overdrawn at the bank, and then the manager of the onslaught court hotel where he's still staying, presses him for rent, rent money videos, he needs more money now to pay his hotel bills, to pay all these loans, he needs it fast, so in his devious mind, of course,

more people have to die. And because he truly has no fucks to give about almost anyone other than himself, he starts heartlessly planning on murdering the mother of a former school friend, a school friend that had recently died, whom Hay had spotted in the obituary's section of a local newspaper.

Hay plans to kill her, dispose of the grieving mother's remains by dumping her in the yard or down the drain and obtaining and selling her possessions. But then she ruins this plan by dying before he can kill her, the nerve of this lady. So he quickly has to move on set his sights elsewhere. He'd been living at the onslaught court hotel in South Kensington for a few years now, and he'd met several other long-term residents, including Mrs. Olive Durand Deacon. It was 69 years old, the widow of a solicitor, the late John Durand Deacon. And you know, John Hay, of course, knew how to talk to a solicitor game, because he'd

once benefit solicitor who took people's money and then moved to Cross Town, Mrs. Durand Deacon had lived in the hotel for six years and she and Hay had had had many brief polite conversations as her paths crossed during meal times around the halls. Hay had always noted that she seemed to have no shortage of fur coats and expensive jewelry. I joked about Hay telling Olive he was a solicitor like her deceased. Husband not sure he actually told that lie. He did lie until he was an engineer and an inventor and that lie would lead her right into his trap Because one day all of brought an idea to hey the inventor Said she wanted to create an art create artificial fingernails something incredibly popular today

Smart lady she hoped that hey could help her develop this idea and get it to the market and he told her of course that he could Absolutely do that splendid Splendid. That's no problem whatsoever, Olive. Meet me at my workshop tonight at midnight. Tell no one you're coming. We can't be too careful. London is absolutely loaded with industrial spies, right? Now, who will stop at nothing

to steal your intellectual property and any and all riches that come from it. Meet me at my workshop, come alone. We'll get right to putting a lucrative plan and motion. I'll draw you a nice hot bath. Do soften your cuticles before I use your nails to make a proper mold and after you've soaked for a bit, I'll wash you down the fucking drain because you're nothing but sludge." Of course you didn't say that. He did tell her he could help her though. On February 18th, 1949, 39-year-old Hay does invite a man to do his job. He's a man every time I yell like that, I just imagine other people in this building just thinking like, what the fuck?

February 18th, 1949, 39-year-old Hay does invite all of his workshop. She does come alone to her detriment. He tells her he's been working on her fake nails idea and she's excited to come check out the progress as she enters the workshop. He hands her some paper to look at. Paper he said that he could use to make the fake nails.

Then while she's looking at the paper, he obviously tells her a knock, joke, knock knock all of what? Fine, who's there? I've drawn an acid bath for you and I'm about to turn you into old lady sludge and then I will dump you into a giant metal drum and sell all your jewelry. All right, I'll play along. I've drawn an acid bath for you. I'm about to turn you into a lady's sludge. Sorry, dear, what was the rest of it? Can I just say who? And let you finish the joke, it's terribly confusing.

No olive, you have to say the whole thing. It's no matter now though, you've ruined it. You've ruined what I was, it was going to be a very fun moment for me, and I'll never get it back. I'm sorry, my dear. I got a little distracted in the beginning because I know this one. I've heard it I've heard it before. I just can't remember all the right you've never heard this how Unbelievable what are the odds it's not a real joke. It's just some nonsense

I forget it just hold still. I shoot you John of course doesn't do that knock-knock joke bullshit, but he does shoot her shoot her in the back of the head She dies instantly then he goes to his car gets a glass and a pen knife. He starts to use the pen knife to cut her, fills the glass with blood, drinks it down. Hayden takes her valuable jewelry, strips off her Persian lamb coats, submerges her corpse into a steel bathtub filled with acid. Hayden sells her jewelry in the coats, but he doesn't make much of a profit. The money covers his hotel bill and some expenses, but he's already looking for his next victim. He misjudged how valuable what she was wearing was. He didn't take his time with her murder. He was rushed. Didn't figure out, you know, how to get her to sign

all of her possessions over to him or anything. It's a bit sloppy. Unbeknownst to Hay, two days after all of his disappearance, her friend Constance Lane report her is missing. All of was apparently quite popular at Oneslow Court, many wondered where she had gone. Hey, then, approach his constant. Ask her if she knows anything about all of his whereabouts, trying to make it seem like he has no idea where she could be. He says, do you know what he's about Mr. Randi? Can he? She ill? Do you know what she is?

And Constance's response shocks him. She replies, don't you know what he is? Or sorry, where she is, I understood it from her that you wanted to take her to your factory. So whoops, awkward, he quickly decides to distract Constance from this line of questioning by launching into a knock-knock joke. Come on, play along. Knock-knock Constance, who's there? Someone who must kill and dissolve your remains quickly for you know too much. Well, that's an absolutely dreadful knock-knock joke, Jonathan. I've heard it before. God damn it! How many knock-knock joke tellers are running around London these days? That of course never happened.

What he did do was quickly try and recover Hey, telling Constance that he had not met with all of it the workshop because he wasn't ready to show her the invention. She must have been mistaken when she talked about it. It was suspicious, but it was the best you could come up with on the fly. The next day, Hey, ask Constance if anything has turned up.

She says nothing has, and that she plans on going to the police to make a report. Hey, at this point, has to know he's going to be included in that report. So seen an opportunity to prevent her from pointing the police in his direction, hey, volunteers to drive Constance to the police station and help her make that report. He thinks if he's there, that he and Constance together will now be the least likely suspects and this will backfire horribly. At the police station, an officer named Sergeant Lamborn is immediately skeptical of, hey, she and her colleagues start looking into Hayes' background later that same day.

Meanwhile Rose Henderson's brother also causing problems for Hay. A death in their family has occurred another death, and after trying to inform Rose and receiving no reply, Berlin insists that the police must locate his missing sister. On February 21st, police contacts Scotland Yard as part of the investigation into Olive's death and request information on hay. Hay, meanwhile, busy dumping Olive's remains into the same place as the Henderson's out in the yard as one does. He's also selling more for belongings, including undertaking a trip to nearby Horsham, where he has appraisals done on some of all of his nicest jewelry. He signs a transaction

for these, regarding these appraisals as Jay McLean. Much to his surprise when he returns to the hotel, the police are waiting for him. When they question him, Haytels in the same story he told Constance, that he had an appointment with Olive, but that she missed it. The cops seem satisfied for the time being, or at least pretend to. They realize they have to work a little harder to bust him. They return a few days later for another round of questioning. During this second interrogation, Hey tells the same basic story, but adds some more new details, which creates, you know, more John Hayes skeptics within law enforcement, a changing story never speaks to innocence.

On February 26th, police show up at Johns Workshop and smash down his door. Inside, they find empty and half full car boys, which are 10 gallon glass bottles with narrow necks used to contain sulfuric acid. They find a rubber apron, a gas mask. If all of this is not incriminating enough, they find a 38 N field revolver that appears to have been fired recently. Then in John's attach a case, they find a dry cleaning receipt for a black Persian coat made of lambskin. The very same coat they knew all of it owned. Thanks to a report in the press about Olives' appearance, the owner of that jewelry store,

John visited in Horsham, Mr. Bull, becomes suspicious of his client, Jay McLean, and Files of Report with the police. Investigators take jewelry from the shop, bring it to a relative of olives who identifies it as definitely being hers. Then the jeweler shop assistant identifies John Hay as the man who had brought those jewels in, the man who had signed his name as Jay McLean. Things not looking good for Mr. Hay. Two days later, on February 28th, Detective Inspector Albert Webb goes to find, hey, it

on so court, a detective Webb invites, hey, back to the police station to help them with their investigation. Once again, hey, denies any involvement with all of these appearance. But this time, the police keep him in custody while they take a look at his hotel room and workshop three days later on March 1st, Dr. Keith Simpson, it's put on the case. Dr. Simpson is a pathologist with the home office, which is the UK's lead government department for immigration and passport, drug policy, crime, fire, counterterrorism, and police.

And he conducts a thorough investigation of Hayes' workshop. Dr. Simpson notices blood stains on the walls. He was a sloppy boy. He inspects the drums, finds a hat pin at the bottom of one of them. Then while inspecting the yard, he finds the gross liquid. He finds the dissolved remains of several meat sacks. In the sludge, he sees what he thinks is a human gallstone. This confirms the suspicion he had that the sludge might be partially dissolved human

flesh. He has the sludge taken to a police lab to be analyzed. In the sludge, lab techs find the most damning and most disgusting evidence against John Hay. Investigators find three gallstones, 28 pounds of human fat, 18 pieces of human bone, a decent portion of Mrs. Henderson's foot, a pair of upper and lower dentures, a lipstick container, a red plastic bag handle, and they also recover two vertebral discs, a handbag and a notebook, as well as the hat pin from before.

So random to me, how all of them but two were dissolved. Why were those two discs still there? I guess you must not have used enough acid. Also impressive, the lab was able to pull all this kind of analysis off back in 1949. The dentures are examined by all of dentists who determines that they did indeed belong to all of the bone fragments from a foot are put back together and they match one of Rose Henderson shoes perfectly, most disgusting recreation of Cinderella ever. And Hayes Hotel Room investigators find paperwork for property belonging to the McSwan's and

the Henderson's all varying criminating. Police now of course to assume that john hay has not just murdered olive but also others detective inspector web tries to interrogate hay and hay responds by immediately asking if anyone ever gets released from broadmore a high security psychiatric hospital not exactly subtle here clearly scheming about some sort of insanity plea if he needs to use it. This comment will come back to haunt him immensely at his later murder trial Detective web says he can't speak to that. Hey replies that if hey told the detective the truth

He wouldn't believe him and then hey does telling the truth. He confesses to killing all of them confesses to killing William McSwann uh, McSwann you know Williams parents and the Henderson's six murders Hey, also confesses to three additional murders that the police don't know anything about. One was that young man named Max, I briefly mentioned earlier. One was a woman from Hammer Smith

and the third was a young girl named Mary from Eastbourne. Seems odd, right? That John would be so forthcoming about all these murders when he had previously put so much effort into getting away with everything. We'll check this out. The only reason John tells it detective all this is because he still thinks that the police don't have an actual body. He can't be charged. He actually still thinks at this point he's going to walk out of the

police station possibly despite overwhelming evidence present in his workshop. Despite the murder confessions, he is convinced that investigators still can't legally tie him with the crimes. Yeah, sure, it might go to court, maybe, but then he'll be let off. Okay, John, I guess you're free to go. It's official. I've been working Scott on the odd for 30 years, and you are the smartest criminal I've come across ever. You did it, old chap.

You found the loophole. I begged the prime minister to push for legislation to close that loophole, but he assured me that no criminal could possibly ever be so sophisticated to figure out how to so thoroughly dispose of a body. It'll be watching you, hey. See you again soon, I'm sure. Very well then, Inspector, but before I go, careful little joke. Sure, well not, hey, hopefully you'll game.

Knock, knock Inspector. Who's there? The smartest criminal in all of London, a man who will continue to kill and take and kill and take and get away with it time and time again Thanks to my magnificent laboratory, my evil genius layer, my, hey, I'm going to have to stop you right there Right, why is that? I was just really getting going, I really felt like I was falling to a nice flow there Yeah, sorry, it's just that I'm afraid I've heard this one before Bloody hell! How has everyone heard these absurd stream of conscious,

dry, diatransbaffling? It's very frustrating. Back to reality. The investigator made it clear to John, he can for sure go to jail for murder. If he, if a body is never found, and he's like, oh, oh shit, I'm sure I've known that before. All the murders. Hey, now switches his strategy back towards convincing authority. He's insane. And therefore not criminally responsible for his misdeeds. John tells it detective, he has an insatiable desire to drink human blood. When talking about the elder Mixwans,

he says that the only reason he even killed Mrs. Mixwans was because her husband's body hadn't provided enough blood to satisfy him. If his shitty old man blood would have just been a little thicker, you know, would have had a little more in his veins, he wouldn't have to kill the lady. It's ridiculous. As far as he's three unknown murders, hey, can't provide the same level of detail as he can the other killings and his involvement in these murders is never proven and something

they never happened. So why would he confess to murders he didn't commit? Perhaps he thought that the more murders would make for a stronger insanity plea. Some investigators speculated that, hey, wanted to prove he did not kill for personal financial gain and that adding other made-up murders would help him in that regard. Again, maybe beefing up his insanity defense, hey, continues to make long statements about his fondness for blood. In each case, he says, I had my glass of blood after I killed him, and the press has a field day with these type of quotes. No newspaper gives a story more sensational

coverage than the London Daily Mirror, shocking Londoners who thought they'd already read about all the carnage they could handle during World War II. The next day on March 2, John Hay charged with the murder of Mrs. Durand Deacon, and then he is removed to Lewis Prison and the court will soon add five additional murder charges. On March 3rd, London's daily mirror starts running a series of macabre stories about all of his murder that begin with the headline hunt for the vampire. At first, they don't mention hay by name. They want to milk this, draw it out. The next day, March 4th, the daily mirror publishes this line to its 15 million readers. The vampire killer will never strike again. He is safely behind bars, powerless,

to lure his victims to a hideous death. The story is emblazoned with the headline, another one, vampire man held. The British legal system is appalled by this irresponsible coverage, so much so that the daily mirror is fine 10,000 pounds and its editor, Sylvester Bolum, is given a three month jail term for content of court. He is found in contempt because he had previously been warned by Scotland Yard not to publish details of this case before Hayes trial. And then ironically, Bolum is sent to the very same prison that held Hay, one of the shared a meal. Beside Hayes parents, the person who is most profoundly affected by the uncovering of

Hayes double life is Barbara Stevens, his girlfriend who some sources now refer to as a fiance. Barbara visits him regularly in prison, asked him questions about his crimes, trying to figure out what motivated the man she loved to kill. She wanted to know if he ever intended to kill her. He said he never once thought of it. He seemed so genuine that Barbara wanted to believe him, stayed with him.

Later, after he has killed, she would say that she knew that had he not been arrested, there may have come a day when Hay saw her as an inconvenience and that he would have gotten rid of her. On Saturday, March 19th, a handbag is found outside the crawly workshop that matches the handle pulled intact from the acid sludge. It is the bag. Others saw all of Dr. Andeec and Karen on February 18th inside her items identified as items belonging to all of more evidence againsteecane carrying on February 18th, insider items identified as items belonging to all of more evidence against, hey, if that's even necessary now. On July 18th, 1949, 4,000 people crowd into the small town of Louis, hoping to get a seat at the court for

Hayes trial. It's big news, high drama, justice, Humphreys presides over the case, the prosecution consists of Eric Nevy, Gerald Howard and the attorney general Sir Hartley Shawcross. That is a very British name. Sir Hartley Shawcross, I will send this bloodthirsty madman to the gallows for the glory of the crown on his defense is Maxwell or the team his defense team is Maxwell five, GRF Morris and David Nevy Eric Nevy son it's got to be awkward daddy please don't find John guilty if it would be to the great detriment to my burden in legal career. Hey ends up paying for his attorneys in the most

unusual way he has no money to pay for his defense so he makes a deal with journalist Stafford Summerfield the news of the world will pay for his council in exchange for him providing them with exclusive rights to his life story. As obsessed as we are with true crime here in the States right now, not sure that would play out well in the court of public opinion. Like at the Los Angeles Times or the Chicago Tribune or some other major publication paid for the defense of some ghoulish murderer in exchange for the rights to their story. Ted Bundy is be why am I doing British? Sorry. We're America now. Ted Bundy is being represented by an excellent defense team, paid for by the Tallahassee Democrat.

Throughout the trial, Hay comes off as confident, making light banter as the court moves through its proceedings. It's unclear if this is part of his attempt to seem insane or if he thought his insanity defense was so foolproof that he didn't need to bother being on his best behavior. If you do a Google image search this guy guy and almost every picture related to his trial, he has this big shit eating grin. Based on the photos alone, it seemed like he was loving this, like he loved the attention. Look at me now, mom.

Tell the planet brethren, hello. Hays Trial does not take long. He pleads not guilty to the murders. The prosecution calls 33 witnesses with the intention of proving that the killings were premeditated and for financial gain. The prosecution takes the court on a timeline of six different murders, showing how Hayes rational decisions are not the actions of someone with diminished mental capacities. In total, four psychiatrists examine Hay on behalf of the prosecution who set out to shoot

down his planned insanity defense. The doctors and psychologists speak to the defendant's claims of having a need to drink blood. Such a compulsion in his true form they argue would be part of a sexual deviation that would mean hay got stimulation from violence and drinking blood. However, these doctors and psychologists state that hay seems to have little interest in sex in general and suffers from no such disorder.

They speculate he may have made up the stories about blood drinking. The psychologist agree that although hey might suffer from some type of mental health issues, he is not criminally insane. He had been perfectly aware that murdering people was wrong but went through with their murders anyway because he wanted the money that came from their deaths and he took meticulous steps to plan these killings so we could get away with them. Hayes Defense Council strategy folks is entirely unproving that Hay is in fact insane. They described for the court how his mental illness would have affected his ability to understand

morality or the lack of, uh, thereof of morality of his acts. Psychiatrists they used just one, Dr Henry Yellowlees comes up with a different result than his colleagues who testified on behalf of the prosecution. Dr. Yellowlees believes that hay is mentally ill. He thinks he is clinically paranoid. However, not even he would conclusively diagnose hay with a mental illness that would prevent him from understanding the nature of his actions, thereby absolving him of criminal liability. Yellowlees interviews hay three times. The examines hay's two confessions thoroughly

as well as looking over other documents related to the case. To yellowlees, it is obvious that hay at the very least has a paranoid constitution. According to mental health descriptions from the 1940s, when psychiatric medicine's not a long way to go to get to its present form, it was thought that such a condition resulted partly from genetics, partly from environment,

in particular, their early upbringing, in other words, both nature and nurture, played a role, and it was thought that having a paranoid constitution was a step towards a more serious mental illness, which they called the paranoid insanity. Based in part on what he had said about his childhood and upbringing, Yeloliz explained how his childhood had warped his mind. Yeh had been sheltered in a fanatical and paranoid religion raised by a mom who gave a lot of credibility to dreams as tools of divination. Yelolli's mentioned, hey, it told how his parents did weird shit to him, like make him think

he had been divinely guided by an interpretation of a verse in the Old Testament to drink his own urine. And he claimed to have followed that instruction quite regularly saying he basically drank his piss all the time as a kid because that's what God wanted. I don't remember P drinking from Sunday school. And they didn't go long enough. This belief, it's not isolated. In this case, it comes from Proverbs, Proverbs 515, which says drink water from your own sister and running water from your own well.

And this verse gets interpreted in lots of different ways. It seems based on a variety of Christian, scriptural, interpretation websites that most pastors think the focus of this passage is on sexual purity and integrity and marriage. Don't stray from the path of chased virtue or flirt with the eluring lust of the roving eye or the beckoning appetites of our fallen fleshly nature. It's a verse about King Solomon comparing monogamy to a well of flow and water or instructions to drink your own piss or that. That's what a much smaller group of pastors seem to think.

Go false and drink thine own piss. Well, it's the purest piss in all of Dynland, yet more evidence that the Plymouth Brethren are insane. Hey, Yelolese believes has most likely developed a paranoid personality to escape his parents suffocating universe. Yeloliz also mentions that their current dream has been having since he was a teenager about the bloody Christ saying all along it was the question of blood that was troubling him.

He then goes on to say that a person forming a paranoid personality develops a certain amount of secrecy which hey assurally did. They develop a private mystic life, which they treasure because it is apart from the cruel outside world. The result was that hey had an acute sense of omnipotence and believed he was above the law, or in yellowleaze words that he suffered from the most rare and terrible type of paranoid personalities. The one of the egocentric paranoia, sometimes referred to as ambitious or mystical paranoia. And that although, hey, was aware that killing people was against the law, he thought he was fulfilling part of his destiny.

I think said the doctor that the absolute callous, cheerful, bland, and the almost friendly indifference of the accused to the crimes which he freely admits having committed is unique in my experience. That being said, even Yehli didn't think that, hey, it was always telling the truth. He also believed that Hay suffered from, you know, basically being like a pathological liar. And then he may have made up the dreams. And he thought that while Hay had tasted blood, doubtful that he drank blood as he claimed to do so this half-diagnosis this you know paranoid constitution it was it was the best haze defense you know team came up with as far as an insanity defense and it wasn't good

the only doctor they could find who thought he was a little bit insane still didn't think he was insane enough to avoid legal punishment he was a liar he was a manipulator manipulator he had a shitty childhood but he was not out of his mind and hey, it really doesn't seem like he was crazy, just very manipulative. What none of the lawyers or investigators on the prosecution or the defense, or any of the doctors knew was that this would come out after the trial, hey had years earlier developed a friendship

with an employee of Sussex Psychiatric Hospital, and he'd shown a great deal of interest in mental illness. He learned all about behavioral patterns, traits, and habits of various disorders. This is a guy who'd posed as a lawyer, as an engineer, and now because of what he'd learned, he was posing as someone suffering from mental illness. With some serious effort into making people think he was crazy, before the trial, he drank his own urine and made sure guards were watching him. That is dedication to an insanity fucking play.

A for effort, but the efforts, you know, weren't enough. Because the efforts couldn't rewrite that huge initial mistake he made when it came to his insanity defense. When immediately after he'd been apprehended, he asked that detective about Broadmoor. When he asked if anyone ever got released from that high security psychiatric hospital and the prosecution presented that

information to the court and it fucked him. The jury was asked to decide whether mere paranoia could be considered a mental disease or defect. It took them only 15 minutes to come to a conclusion. No. Hey, knew what he was doing. He was guilty of murder. The judge asked, hey, then, if he had anything to save for himself, hey,ed his head and said nothing at all. Gigs up. The judge sent him to be hanged until dead at the ominous and infamous Wandsworth prison. Let's talk about this place for just a moment. Between the years of 1878 and 1961, Wandsworth prison was the site of 135 London executions. Opened in 1851, located in the Wandsworth area of London, the prison is still around. Has the capacity to hold 1,877 inmates making it one of the largest prisons in the UK.

One famous ex-inmate is Charles Bronson. Charles Bronson, not the actor, born Michael Gordon Peterson, is a man still in prison, the UK at the age of 67, and he's been referred to by British tabloids as the most violent prisoner in Britain and Britain's most notorious prisoner. Tom Hardy portrayed him in the 2008 film Bronson great movie and we may have to suck Bronson someday. Very interesting character. Anyway, Wandsworth prison built in 1849 as a Surrey House of Correction and was intended for those serving shorter sentences initially and then it became, you know, basically their prison for the worst prisoners. It was designed by DR Hill of Birmingham to hold a thousand prisoners and the first male

prisoners were admitted in 1851, first female prisoners a year later. When Wandsworth prison took over executions, they had to build an execution chamber and that would become known as the cold meat shed. And that is a scary ass name. build an execution chamber and that would become known as the cold meat shed. And that is a scary ass name. Wanting to be in the cold meat shed, dee boy. No, sigh, I don't know. Peace side, not the cold meat shed. This original chamber in Gallowas consisted of beams that were positioned 11 feet above trapdoors. Beneath the trap doors was a pit, 12 feet deep, lined with bricks, and into this pit, hay would drop.

In the days leading up to his execution, hey, gave his life story to the newspaper that had paid for his trial. So I guess he followed through on that deal. He also wrote letters to his girlfriend, Barbara Stevens, and to his parents who never did see him before he died. Not surprised. Hey, told Barbara, he believed in reincarnation and that he would come back later to complete his mission.

That's creepy and weird. Not sure what he thought of his mission was to kill more people for money, drink more blood, drink more piss. I don't know. Hayes last few days were spent making sure he wouldn't soon be forgotten and his barber come to the prison to cut his hair just a little bit before his execution. Make him look nice and sharp. He welcomed the representative of Madame Two Soads or Madame Two Soads, the famous wax museum in London into his cell

on the afternoon before his execution. They took three hours making a life mask for the wax model. They would put up the day after his death, a model even wearing clothes specially chosen and donated by Hay himself. Meticulous in his eye for detail to the end, he asked the prison governor if he might meet the hangman, the check and make sure that he got in his weight right, explained that his sprightly walk suggested a man of less weight than he was. And that should be taken into account when calculating the drop on the gallows. This fucking guy is trying to control the people around him right up until the end. The governor showed him that Mr. Perry Point, a very experienced executioner, would provision

for this without having to meet him. Hey, may have even put more preparation into his own execution than he did into his murders. On August 10th, 1949, Hey is hanged at one's worth prison by chief executioner, the Albert Pierre Pond, or Pia Point. The executioner got the weight right after all. John dropped hard enough on the gallows to die, shitting himself. Seems fitting. Hey, did accomplishes gold of not being soon forgotten.

Obviously, I'm talking about him, you're listing. And also, if you live in London, or you find yourself in London, and want to take a further look into the deeds of the acid bath murder, there's a special John Hay exhibition at the Museum of London, where a collection of grizzly relics

are open to public view, on loan from new scotland yards infamous black museum the gloves and apron hay used to protect himself from burns from the acid or on show along with uh... missus d'oran deacon's gallstones so weird and dentures also so weird uh... and the revolver and uh... a book of uh... knock knock jokes he wrote you know he never did that. Let's hop on out of this blood-soaked time-sub timeline. Good job, soldier. You've made it back. Barely.

Well, now you know the story of the acid bath murder, aka John George Hay. He committed between six and nine murders, all of them for profit. Many of them were his friends, people he met with for months and months as he planned their murders. After killing them with either a blunt object or a gun, he said he would slit their throats and drink their blood and then he tossed their bodies into a vat of acid. He learned about sulfuric acid in prison during one of the many jail terms he had for running

fraudulent businesses. He claimed to have been fucked up by a strict religious childhood. acid imprisoned during one of the, one of the many jail terms he had for running fraudulent businesses. He claimed to have been fucked up by a strict religious childhood. Climbed his terrifying nightmares were a result of that, of that upbringing and that they drove him to insanity and bloodlust. His childhood, you know, it, it does sound horrifying ultra religious parents, a wall around the house. No one to talk to except his crazy ass parents and some pets, no entertainment, dad constantly

saying that he had the mark of the devil on his forehead. If John wasn't careful, he'd get it too. But did that upbringing push John Hay towards murder? Some of the doctors did believe he had likely developed some type of paranoid personality to develop or to escape, excuse me, as parents suffocating universe in order to relieve himself from emotional pain, but also clear to all the doctors who examined him and to the judge and

To the world at large that John Haye had planned his murders meticulously and methodically He wasn't saying he was not criminally insane. He knew what he was doing Once he left his parents suffocating church once he turned his back on his religion He seemed to turn his back on morality in general He got the crazy idea in his head that he couldn't be charged for murder if there was no body Thought he come up with a perfect way to murder a never-get-cop but he didn't. And one last strange twist to the story, just as Humphreys, the judge who presided over Hayes Trial, took up residence in the very same hotel that Hay and all of Durandikin had lived in years earlier. What a weird story. Now let's look at some of the highlights and learn something new.

Knock knock. Who's there? Today's top five takeaways. Time, suck. Top five takeaways. Number one, John Haye killed between six and nine people between 1944 and 1949, beginning with William McSwan, his friend and former employer, and then maybe he drank his blood, and then he certainly dumped his body in a vat of acid. And after the acid that it's thing, he dumped his human sludge down the drain. And if he would have dumped all nine of his, you know, six to nine of his victims down the drain, he likely would have kept killing for much longer than he did.

Number two, John Haye believed he had discovered the perfect murder for money setup. There was no body, there was no crime, a dumb misinterpretation of the Latin legal expression corpus de lecdi, which actually refers to the body of crime. There's no punishment if there is no crime, but you can prove a murder occurred without a body. Number three, John Hay blamed his religious upbringing for messing him up to the point of murder, the Plymouth, brethren. And John's parents did ban interactions with anyone outside the church.

They did build a wall outside their house. They did tell John that God knew about all his sinful behaviors and was ready to punish him at any moment. And I don't think they created a murderer necessarily, but they weren't good parents. Maybe we shouldn't tell kids shit like that. Number four, perhaps one of the saddest casualties in all of this is a young, you know, Hayes young girlfriend, Barbara Stevens. She stuck by him for five years,

fully intending to eventually marry this guy. Like many other serial killers, Haye managed to compartmentalize his life to such an extent that she had no idea she was with a murderer. This double life was probably thrilling for Haye, but it ended up being so sad for Barbara when she realized that basically,

you know, their entire relationship was a lie. She admitted later in life that had she ever found out he was killing people, he probably would have just killed her too. Number five, something new. John was not the only infamous Englishman to rebel strongly against the strict teachings of the Plymouth Brethren.

Alistair Crowley, the black magician, known as the Great Beast, subject of an older episode of Time Suck, was brought up by wealthy parents who belonged to this same sect. And similar to John Haye, he spent his adult life deliberately breaking social rules, seeking hedonistic pleasures,

strongly forbidden by his former faith. Crowley just focused more on literally fucking people than killing and fucking people than killing and fucking people over. Time, suck, tough, five takeaways. Knock, knock. Who's there? John Hay. John Hay Who. John Hay, the acid bath muder, and he has been sucked. I hope you found that story. Has anyone seen this? I did. I doubt you enjoyed the knock-knock gag as much as I did. I don't know. I'll put it that story. Has anyone seen this I did? I doubt you enjoyed the Noctum gag as much as I did.

I don't know, I hope it'll work out. Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help in making Time Suck, Queen of Bad Magic. I cannot fucking speak today. So annoying, it feels like every four or five episodes has happened. I get my allergies are like, no, we're good.

We're totally good. Oh, you sprayed your flow nays in the morning, you took your clarity and de-conjusted it, great. Everything's fine. And then in the middle of like the episode, my sign is like, now we're gonna drain mother fucker. Get ready. Ha ha ha.

Get ready for so much sinus drainage. Thank you to the bad magic production team now for all the help making time. So Queen of Bad Magic, Lindsay Cummins, Reverend Dr. Joe Paisley, the script keeper, Zach Flannery, a Sophie Fax source for his Evans, Biddelix, her Logan and Kate Keith, the art warlock and the bad magic Baroness running badmagicmerge.com and the socials.

And thanks to all of you who have joined the Colt the Curious Private Facebook group now over 23,000 members. We got a small city now, continuing to build a fun community, hail Nimrod to all of you. And thank you to Liz Hernandez and the all seen eyes running the code to the curious Facebook page and thanks to beef steak and the over 8000 wonderful weirdos having fun on discord. And thanks to all of you spaces playing the time suck trivia game on the time stock app. Excuse me, Bayley 96 Hannah currently in the lead with 6128 points looks like she may win round four. New round round five starts the day this episode drops at 3pm Pacific time. Next week on time suck in time for veterans day, very different kind of topic. We're traveling back in time to investigate some of the best code breaking Nazi slain

math nerds of World War two. It's a historical suck centered around a ground-break, ground-breaking. I swear to God, I just, I can't fucking help it today. My scientist is like, nah, man, fuck all your words. It's centered around a ground-breaking, nah! Nazi device called the Enigma machine and the efforts that went into keeping it from helping the Nazis take over the world. The Enigma machines highly advanced codes baffled the linguistics-based code breakers of the era, and the codes that generated were deemed unbreakable by all the experts. Considering the Nazis' aggressive intentions, something had to be done. So the Allied forces

assembled in a lead Avengers-like team of some of the world's best mathematicians and crossword puzzlers with a task of accomplishing the impossible. Break the unbreakable codes or everyone has to learn German. The team was called the Cypher Bureau, and they were some seriously impressive people. It's interesting to note that there's a surprising amount of Polish people on that team. May I have to accept that Polish monsters might be human? We'll see. The story of the Enigma Machine is a fast-standing timeline featuring a technological race that will inspire the modern computer, be a decisive factor in the whole of the war that would eventually end in tragedy for the most famous hero of the code breaking all

stars, Alan Turin, many spies and soldiers with sacrificed their lives and daring efforts to help fit the enigma puzzle pieces together. It's a crazy tale. So tune in next Monday as we suck an unsung, but crucial aspect of how the Allied forces one World War Two, the code breaking wars of the enigma machine. And now let's yippee-yipp, y'all, our way into this week kitchen time sucker updates

All right our first update comes from too many people to list So what is all this give it here Keith Greenery head of the next year and cult sends to 120 years in prison last Tuesday Hey on them rotting good luck start another sex cult in prison where you will die humanipular pieces shit May the good God am way maker of economical scrub butt scouring pads show you no mercy. Speak of amway now for an amway update from Super Sucker Katie Daniel. Katie writes the subject line of say, say as but holes too good for amway heaven. And then she writes, good morning, Bojangles fourth lake. I wasn't going to bother you this week because I write it enough as it is, but here I am. I know you meant well when you said

your sure Amway is one of the better MLMs and bless you for trying to be kind. I've never been directly involved in Amway and they still have hurt my friends and family and therefore me since I'm a gigantic sensitive baby. Amway literally destroyed my husband's parents' marriage. His dad was already super lazy and dogmatic, and wow did he get sucked in fast. He tried for years to guilt my mother-in-law and to

get in on board, but she was too smart for that bullshit. She was also far too busy working two jobs for real money, going to school to get a better job and raising my husband and his sister while my father-in-law was off at meetings. My mother-in-law is tough as fuck and still so kind to us and our children, and I am just stupidly lucky to have her. Amway frequently goes to college campuses to pray on poor college students, and one of those times they got my sister to sign up. It's one of the few times my mom put her foot down and said absolutely fucking not.

My mom has always been kind and almost always too trusting of other's intentions. Thankfully, that's all my sister needed to get out. Finally, Amway nearly tore apart the family of my dear friend a couple years ago, but it fizzled out almost entirely because my friends little sister and brother-in-law couldn't pay their bills. My friends little sister is kind, but dogmatic and naive, and any salesperson can smell it a mile away. In a hilarious twist, her sister went overboard in the beginning with networking on Facebook, which included sending a private message to my mother-in-law, because they had one mutual friend, my friend, talk about

barking up the wrong tree. It doesn't shock me a bit to hear that cult deprogrammers are seeing more MLM victims at the risk of virtue signaling I find MLMs, especially disgusting during this dumpster fire of 2020. I keep forgetting to thank whoever responded to one of my very first messages when I was new to the podcast and straight up panicking about the state of the world. The responder very kindly told me

to have a good evening and stay calm and honestly the longer I listen to the calm where I feel. Well, that's very nice. I appreciate any time your team responds to my rambles, but I especially appreciate that response because I was especially obnoxious in that one. Keep on sucking. Hope everyone in your family makes a speedy recovery, Katie.

Well, thank you, Katie. We're doing well. Yeah, as I said earlier, I'm 100% back. I think I'm mostly 100% back because I'm genetically superior to the Reverend Dr. Joe Paynesley. Jackie, gosh dang, I just got lucky. Truly.

Lindsay is 80% back, which is surprising because she's published. I didn't even think she could get a human disease. No, but she's still worn out. She still has a brain fog, but that's hard to say what's the disease and what's her being published. You get, no, but the kids are good, Kate and Logan are on the mend. We do feel very fortunate to have escape.

We could have been much, much worse. So anyone affected more by COVID than us. Yeah, my heart goes out to you. And I think you're right, 2020 is an especially shitty time for MLMs to prey on people in this currently economically fragile landscape. So thank you for your story. Always good to hear how these subjects affect

time suckers lives. Glad you're calm. Hope you continue to be Hiluxifina. Now Spaceless or Chase, TopSelfSack has another AMway experience to share. He writes, my experience with AMway. I learned a lesson a few years ago.

Don't accept friend requests from strangers on the internet, or they were trying to get you into their MLM slash cult. To preface this, I usually will accept strangers if we have at least a few mutual friends or school slash workplace stuff in common. With Gabe, I had no idea who he was, but he lived just a few hours away and by all accounts appeared not to be a fake slash bot account on Facebook a few months past, and this guy calls me via Facebook,

talking about a business opportunity. Jesus, having just had my first space nude, I say, okay, fine, tell me more. He gives me some details, but leaves out the endway name, although I didn't know anything about him at the time, and the actual business model. A few days later, he calls again, asked if I'd like to attend a business meeting in the Des Moines area. Still not knowing important details about the company,

I say, sure. I find out that you're supposed to pay to get into the conference, but Gabe, nice guy has paid my fee. And he had a great amway energy drink from me to drink. Holy shit. This was a fairly small conference room, but the people put on the show wanted to feel like you were attending a rock show After the intro the mid-level cult boss comes out and starts talking about 90% of the stuff you mentioned in the next Next-yam suck pretending to MLMs We were going to make so much money, you know, we had to put our heart and soul into our businesses The funny thing is he mentions the amway name and mentions people will tell you it's a scam But I'm here to tell you they just don't want you to succeed

You can just stay away from people like that. People who want to hold you back, limit your potential, et cetera, et cetera, basically all the culty shit that says don't listen to the people that love you and care about you. At one point I get called on because I raised my hand when they asked who was a first timer, and I'm asked what my financial dream is.

I'm a fairly humble person, so I say something like, I just want to make sure my kids always have everything they need and some of the things that they want. And the guy looks me dead in the eye and says, you're dreaming too small, son. You can get that from a nine to five. If you aren't willing to fight to the nail to reach the sky, then you probably won't make it in this business. He was right. I forgot home. I did my research. I knew it was not for me. It made me sick after the research, how they build people up and convince them to dump every penny into their business. And then when nothing pans out, they blame them for

not doing enough, not trying hard enough, et cetera, to meet their goal. One guy I read about in Greece, I think, blew his savings. And when his parents and siblings stopped buying, slash supporting him because he, he would just throw it away on his Amway business. He destroyed his grandma's life savings as well. I doubt this will make it to the air, but I just wanted to share my personal experience with MLM slash Amway because they are one of the most vile and disgusting practices you've mentioned on TimeSuck.

And I say that after listing the Chiquitilo and the toybox killer sucks. When you think about how many people have lost everything to these scumbags, how many lives they've destroyed, selling lies, it is gut wrenching. Anyways, I love all the time sucks stands for and I hope that we can grow our cult of critical thinking large enough to wipe these shitty businesses out.

Knowledge in Imrod, thank you, space is our chase. I fucking love you, Chase. You seem like a very sweet, sweet man. Thank you for sharing that story with us. You seem like an awesome dad by the way too. Yeah, I didn't really touch on how many people sometimes wipe out their life savings by putting money into like marketing,

creating websites, et cetera, for MLMs like AMway, because you can think like, oh, what's the harm? You know, it's just like, you know, you just direct people to their website. Yeah, but they're gonna encourage you to set up your website, they're gonna encourage you to spend money in promotional materials, et cetera, et cetera. And it can be devastating.

Hope your non-AMway work life is working out great. I love that you put an emphasis in this message on critical thinking. Yes, we definitely try and do that on the show. You know, hopefully weed out some bullshit artists, these fucking clowns. Fuck that Glen Gary Glen Ross character. You met at that conference and keep on sucking. Now for a non-amway message from Speak Good or Sucker, Stephen Roggensack,

who writes, you have to be fucking with us that's a great subject line Dan O'King of the suck please pardon my trans transgression but you have to be fucking kidding or fucking with us you know it's not myzled it's misled if you are fucking with this bravo if you are not however how the how the fucking fuck is nobody ever correct at that? Love you man, glad to hear you beat the COVID. Hope everyone on your end gets through it ASAP.

Well, this is awkward, Steven, but I can only say that I wish I was joking. I always thought that word was myzled. I thought misled was myzled. And literally until you sent in that message. So I'm gonna show myself out. And all seriousness, thank you for sending in that message so I don't continue to bring shame upon myself

and my family, a hill in the run. I'll bring shame in other ways. Next up, marvelous meat sack, Genety Mundi. I haven't seen, you're in the message, you did say Genety. I've never seen that. I hope that's not Jennifer in a typo. I like Genety, if it's Genety.

Anyway, Gen writes or Genity, hey there, I was listening to the Hollow Earth theory episode and I thought you might get a laugh out of this story. You mentioned the unfortunate name of Richard Johnson, aka Dick Johnson. Well, my ex's dad and granddad were both named Richard Johnson and his granddad, in fact, did go by Dick, Dick Johnson. I had a feeling my relationship with my ex

wasn't meant to last upon realizing that if we indeed had a baby like we had talked about early in the relationship and named that baby after our grandads, that poor son of a gun would be named, wait for it, Harry Dick Johnson. Jesus Christ. Fortunately, we didn't want to happen any kids before splitting up. Love the show. Thanks for everything you do. Oh my God.

So your grandpa's name is Harry. His grandpa name is Dick. And you almost went through having a baby who could have been named Harry Dick Johnson. Selfishly, I wish you would have. That kid would have ended up on every shitty name list on the web. That made me last so hard, praise my jangles. Okay, another AMway message now related to the next-yam cult suck coming from super sucker Kent hinterman Kent writes, Hey, cock sucker, Bok Bok. And I mean cock sucker as a term of endearmate not out of hatred. I just wanted to let you know why the jokes

about amway don't land in Grand Rapids. GR has been basically funded by J Van Andle and Rich DeVos. These two men, amway, have poured millions into the area, funding construction of hospitals, research centers, arenas, bringing in minor league hockey and major concerts, theaters for arts and more. There's a lot of love for those families in the area, and while all of Michigan was struggling during the Great Recession, Grand Rapids did okay. Not amazing, but compared to the rest of the state, the best. Just wanted to give you some context as to why the audience might not respond. I doubt

they're all M.A. distributors, but maybe. Also besides the products that M.A. makes for themselves, and I didn't know this, they also happen to make swath products that employ a ton of manufacturing jobs as well. Sorry for the perfect length email. Kent. Thank you, Kent. That makes sense. I mean, I will say when I first went to Grand Rapids, I was like, holy shit, this place is not on fire. This place is kicking ass. Like so many nice new big buildings. And then shortly after I first went there, not long after the 2008 recession,

I had some shows at colleges and places like Flint and other places that were not doing nearly as well. Like places like Round Detroit. And I was like, why is Grand Rapids kicking ass in the midst of all these places that are not kicking ass and this makes, you know, this makes a lot of sense. The good God, Amway, maker of quality cookware featuring multi-ply construction without a layers of stainless steel and a carbon steel aluminum core for even heat distribution.

Sometimes take it and sometimes give it. Hey, Amway. I'm never gonna get tired of that. Now for a COVID update, from Brandy Sucker, Amy Larrow, Amy writes, hello master sucker, Spacers are at Amy here. I work in the healthcare industry and part of my job is to keep tabs

on the latest research on COVID. I'm just writing in to let you guys know that the blood clot issue with COVID is actually true. Kind of, it's not a blood clot disease per se, but while it was initially labeled a respiratory disease, yeah, back when I did the initial episode, we now know that COVID can affect numerous other body systems such as the neurological, gastrointestinal, and cardiovascular systems. Probably the most prevalent non-respiratory symptoms that people experience or affect in the cardiovascular system,

their regular heart rates, blood clots, yikes, myo, myocarditis, myocarditis, myocarditis, myocarditis, myocarditis, myocarditis, okay, I need a degree for that one. A condition that disrupts how the heart pumps blood and that was with, I know you put your pronunciation guide in there, but it's still my, what the fuck and what is that word?

I need to practice for that one. Anyway, the condition of how the heart pumps blood have been observed in a significant number of patients. Some of these heart conditions can last after the person has recovered. I've listed my sources below as we say in the science biz citations or it didn't happen. I love that. Thanks for all you guys for doing, glad to hear you

and Joe, we're doing better, Hill Nimrod and of course, keep on sucking. Well, thank you for sending in that message, Amy. So curious. What we're gonna know about this strange virus like five, ten years from now. The lingering symptoms are so unsettling. It seems so different from like the normal flu, such an odd pathogen. Can't wait for you health care professionals to figure all this shit out and kick the shit out of it. Hale Nimrod. And now last message from creative sucker Josh Follin who

writes, Hey man, your KKK suck in the question of what kind of fucking psychopath calls himself a wizard if they can't cast any spells sparked me making a film that is one a comedy award and played a bunch of festivals. Thought you in the space that just might enjoy it and then there's the link Josh well, Josh congrats. I watched two wizards, one staff great great title, and so good. So clever, so funny. And I got to say very poignant in touching the moments. You accomplished a lot of a very small amount of time. There's a link in the show notes. If any of you listeners want to

listen to this, you can download the Time Suck app. If you don't already have it where you can just click over for it or you can go to the Time suck website and click on our show notes to check that out. Love when I can spark a bit of creativity. You know, we're all influenced by the work of others, love being part of the big circle of artistic creation. And love all you guys listen to the show and send in your messages. Hail, Nimrod. Have a great week.

All you beautiful, curious and critically thinking mother fuckers. Next time suckers. I need a net. We all did. That's all for this week, MeatSex. More bad magic production content coming out the rest of the week. Thanks for the ratings and reviews across all of our shows. New Spooks with Queen of Bad Magic on Scared of Death Tuesday nights.

More silly goose-edness with the Reverend Dr. Horsecock. Wednesdays with Is We Done Wednesdays at New Pacific Time. Please don't think you can get away with murder by melting any people in acid this week and please do keep on sucking. Knock knock. Who's there? Guy who's tired of hearing knock knock jokes? All the time suckers? Really?

You didn't love my running gag? Well, okay, that's fair, actually. Splendid.