Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 317 - The Casanova Killer: Paul John Knowles

Episode Date: October 10, 2022

For four months in 1974, 28 year old Paul John Knowles went on a reckless murder spree across the United States that claimed the lives of at least 18 people. He killed men, women, seniors, and small children. He strangled some, shot others, and stabbed still others. Some crimes were sexual, and some weren't.  The man who had spent more than half his life incarcerated in some form for a variety of petty, generally theft-related crimes suddenly became very, VERY violent. Why? That's what we explore in today's real-life monster, fit-for-October, true crime edition of Timesuck. Bad Magic Productions Monthly Patreon Donation: This month we donated $15,029 to Guide Dogs for the Blind, with an additional $1,669 added to our Scholarship Fund! Guide Dogs for the Blind believes in connecting people, dogs, and communities to transform the lives of individuals with visual impairments.For more info - or to donate more yourself - please go to guidedogs.comGet tour tickets at dancummins.tv Get Scared to Death LIVE tickets at badmagicmerch.com  October  27th, 6P PST/9PM EST. True Tales of Hallow's Eve Horror TWO! Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/HR_SMK3EYTsMerch: https://www.badmagicmerch.comDiscord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89vWant 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 happens to be our most current page :)For all merch related questions/problems: [e-mail] (copy and paste)Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcastWanna become a Space Lizard?  Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcastSign 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.

From July to November in 1974 20 people turned up dead murdered their bodies scattered across the handful of states 14 women and girls six men and boys their ages ranging from 65 down to only seven Some had been shot some have been strangled wanted been savagely stabbed with the pair of scissors Some seem to have been killed as an afterthought during a burglary. Others murdered while camping or after being picked up at a bar. Some of their bodies were found with an hours of their deaths. Other bodies have never been found. Some of the corpses that were found had been sexually assaulted. Some of the victims had been raped while alive,

at least one sexually desecrated after death. Police in various states were stumped. The murders would never be connected until the capture of the killer, until after some confession tapes the killer made before his arrest were finally handed over to authorities. Before his capture of various investigators, if they were even familiar with more than one of this killer's murderous crimes, were left to wonder, was this the work of one man? Two men working together, possibly more. Or were the various murders not connected at all, just a series of random killings?

Was the person or people they were looking for a sexually motivated rapist or a burglar who didn't like to leave witnesses behind or a psychopath who just killed for the joy of killing or all of the above? The victims were killed in several different states from Florida all the way back to the West Coast, more murders back east, finally by November 1974, the police had a lead for at least some of these murders. A reporter named Sandy Foxx had spent a week with a man who told her his name was Darryl Golden.

He'd picked her up in a hotel bar and they'd spent a week together during which time Sandy noticed that the young man drove a swanky white car and had a lot of credit cards. But never had any cash. And he wanted Sandy to write a book about him saying that he would shortly be dead for something terrible he'd already done. According to Fox, this guy was a dreamboat, sexy young dude who seemed to have everything going for him, but he was not a dreamboat. He was a nightmare who tried to rape one of Fox's acquaintances shortly after she and he parted ways. And then the police question her, soon thinking that she might be in a complice to this nightmare, a nightmare she now found out was

an active serial killer. Paul John Knowles, the Casanova killer, a native of Jacksonville, Florida. Knowles had his first of many, many run-ins with the law as a young child. And for several early instances of juvenile delinquency, his family agreed to let him be sent to the Florida School for Boys. Also known then as the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys, a hellish place. For boys age five to twenty were routinely beaten, sexually assaulted, deprived, of much needed help and guidance, and sometimes it seems they were murdered.

Noil spent much of his teen years there, and then he was first placed in an actual prison shortly after turning 19, following getting caught for kidnapping and cop. None of his offenses up to this point were of an especially violent nature. None of the several following convictions were either, he'd get into trouble generally for some form of theft, then spend approximately six months in jail on average after each conviction. And there were many convictions. By the time his days of being a free man were all over, Paul had spent well over half

his life incarcerated in some form. While most of his early crimes, again, were not violent, revolved primarily around bottle theft, burglary, things like that, crimes he would later mirror by stealing from his murder victims, maybe someone should have still seen his murder spree coming.

Long before he started killing, Noles made it known to many that he wanted to become infamous for being a bad guy. He was impressed by stories, it's some old time outlaws and larger than life criminals, he'd read about as a kid, and he wanted their notoriety. He wanted the fear and respect they once commanded.

He wanted to live on and stories about his terrible deeds, just like the infamous villains he admired. He wanted some kid to be reading about his violent exploits someday. He didn't want to continue on as a common thief, spending most of his life behind bars for a series of largely forgettable acts of petty crime. He wanted to be much worse than that.

He wanted to be the baddest of them all. And then one day, the age of 28, possibly brought on by his fiancee, deciding not to marry him, following yet another return to jail in Florida, and then a jailbreak, or followed by, rather, nobles soon decided to go full fuck it. He decided that murder, lots of murder would be his ticket to Infamy. He actually thought he'd make his mother rich by giving her the rights to his terrible life story, a story that would certainly be reimagined in his mind and numerous best-selling books, hit TV shows, and Blackbuster movies.

But, and I'm guessing you know this already since the name Paul John Knowles is not a commonly covered piece of true crime lore, the infamy he so craved never came. But I am sharing a story today. Glad he'll never know about it or profit off it in any way and neither will his mother who's now long dead. Now his tale is one of thousands covered during a current cultural true crime session. Nothing special about it. But it is darkly interesting so away we go. The terrifying, large-than-life story of Paul John Knowles today on a Fit for October, the Halloween season is the best time to talk about real-life monsters edition of TimeSuck.

This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to TimeSuck. You're listening to TimeSuck. Happy Monday, Midsax! I'm Dan Cumbin's master sucker. SHILL for Bear and Golfing Veracious Intergalactic Leviathan Incorporated, aka Bear Evil Incorporated. evil incorporated. And you are listening to Time Suck, a bad magic production, possible subsidiary of Bear Evil Incorporated. Hell, name Ron Hellosafina, praiseable jangles and glory be to triple M. I also heard that Michael Motherfucka McDonald's entire song catalog recently acquired by Bear Evil Incorporated. B-E-A-R, not to be confused with B-A-Y-E-R. You get it.

If you don't, maybe listen last week's episode. Real quick, if you're watching this one, you notice that I am not in my normal setting. I am in the scared of death studio. We had tech issues this morning and had to record this episode to get it on time before I left town for Boston for some shows. And just not enough time to hop on the phone with tech support to figure out some

lagging issues with our black magic gear, who knows, restarted the computer and all the things. But I'm actually kind of excited because this is not the normal setup. Makes my mind active in a different way. I feel especially engaged right now with this story and I'm so happy that a while back we decided to do both studios with the same kind of gear and part of the reason was well if the gear goes out in one studio or has problems we can at least go to the other studio and record and that is what I'm doing today. Very excited and Logan Keith and

I we troubleshot that stuff as best we could this morning came up with a quick fix getting over here still having all the buttons work and everything. And I'm actually pretty proud of us right now. Also, hope I had fun in Boston last week at Laf's Boston getting ready to go on a red eye as I record this episode or head to the airport for that. Well to Seattle and then a red eye. No, no red eyes coming out of the Spokane airport. Thanks to get, well maybe one.

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et cetera, and you can go to badmagicmerch.com for tickets. Also this month, don't eat into a very sweet, uplifting nonprofit that both jangles are three-legged. One-eyed fearless pit bull mascot slash times like demigod approves of very much. He may have even insisted upon this charity. Guide dogs for the blind. Donating $15,000, $29 with an additional $1,669 added to the scholarship fund. Guide dogs for the blind believes in connecting people, dogs, and communities to transform the lives of individuals with visual impairments. For more info or to donate yourself, go to guide dogs.com. And this charity was earmarked before the recent damage caused by Hurricane

Ian, deadliest hurricane hit Florida since 1935. The Florida death toll at over 100, I know others have also passed away in at least a South Carolina, perhaps an additional state, and so sorry to anyone listening affected by this hurricane in any way. Finally, are you a fan of posters? End of this podcast. If so, this next bit of information is for you. We've added a poster section to the merch store,

Logan just dropped a bunch of designs, and we'll keep this section updated as he continues to release more and more posters in the weeks ahead. You can head on over to badmagicmerge.com, check out a lot of cool shit over there. New posters banner on the homepage to find it, monster version of Nikola Tesla, Richard Ramirez, Albert Fish, more mashups in there right now. The art warlock continues to impress, so hail the art warlock. And now for a topic that brings us back to crime.

With one of the most little known yet one of the more horrifying serial killers to come out of a decade filled with horrifying serial killers in the 1970s. The so-called Casanova killer, Paul John Knowles, aka PJK. And PJK was scary for everyone, because there was no demographic he was after. There was no age or gender, he wasn't willing to kill. Paul would be nicknamed the Casanova killer for what many perceived to be his great looks, his charm and away with ladies.

There's an image of him that shows up first online when you search for him, seems to fit the Casanova title. It's a photo of Paul wearing some kind of dark looking turtle neck or high necked shirt under an overcoat. Looking down into the right cigarette hanging off his lip, his mouth, or his hair. Excuse me. Flopping over his forehead like he's fucking James Dean. Has he's intense eyebrows, high cheekbones, hair is all wind swept just so. And short, he, uh, he did look like the kind of guy that

just based on physical appearance. I can see women easily going for it. He had a look of a sensitive bad boy, leather jacket wearing rebel with a soft heart underneath that cynicism. Paul was able to charm people from both sexes. He able to pick up women, even from prison, able to pick up guys from bars.

In the middle of his crime spree, he would even find time to spend a romantic week with the journalist named Sandy Fox, whom he picked up in a hotel bar. Sandy was intrigued by the mysterious and handsome stranger. Why do you have lots of credit cards, but no cash? Why did he keep saying things like he had less than a year to live because of something bad he'd done? She had no idea at the time that the man she was jumping into bed with was a serial killer who had already killed multiple men, women, and children, and killed him very shortly before she'd met him.

Despite his good looks as label of Casanova, maybe something of a misnomer, though we certainly could be charming, or at least charming enough, I felt the name of Casanova killer implies someone who was maybe a bit more successful than Nolts was in some ways. Type a guy who could pick up women and take him back to his, you know, fancy-ass bachelor pad, the kind of man like they, like he walked out of a romance novel, you know, gives these women rolling orgasms, he just won hell of a lover the best sex of their lives. Strong when he needs to be sensitive when he does not a leader in the business world and a leader in the bedroom. Paul was neither. He often wore the clothes of his murder victims,

didn't seem like he ever had much success at all in business, not sure he literally ever had a straight job. Wasn't even that good a theft. Never so enough to keep him going for more than a few weeks or so to time, no big bank robberies or impressive diamond heists under his belt, that's for sure. Not a stallion in the bedroom, he actually struggled mightily and constantly with

impotence at least when he was with women at least when he was with women uh... who he was not raping and killing puljone knows was not really casted over he was a deeply troubled child and young man who spent most of his life passing in and out of juvenile detention centers in prison he was a fucking loser who thought a murder spree could be his short cut to fame and fortune.

He was no Ted Bundy who could actually charm women who did have success, you know, had success, excuse me, in the non-criminal world, but then through way, the possibility of being an actual Casanova, unable or unwilling to free himself from his incredibly sexually violent impulses. The scary as Bundy was, Paul John Knowles in a way, maybe was scarier, you know, just to the overall population. He didn't seem to hurt and kill due to some kind of compulsion, some kind of sickness, didn't seem to be trapped in some kind of psychotic sexual loop, reliving some moment over and over, raping, killing different representations, perhaps, of some woman who had hurt him.

PJK didn't seem to have been led by any type of inner beast. No bloodthirsty, sadistically sexual inner killer that longed for chaos for Paul. It was all ego. Human life simply meant nothing to him. You know, you stood in the way of cash, credit cards, get away cars, some clothes, you were disposable, whether you were young or old, man or woman, no one was safe and you added to the body count that you really cared about. You might just kill you to increase that body count. So he could feel like he was one step closer to being the baddest of them all,

the worst serial killer of the world had ever seen. A longing for fame seemed to be his primary motivation to kill. And somehow that does make him more dangerous to me, at least with most of these killers, you can kind of understand why they're killing, who they're killing, and if you can understand that, you can at least fool yourself into thinking killers you can kind of understand. Why they're killing who they're killing and if you can understand that you can at least fool yourself into thinking you could protect yourself from them. Stay away from certain scenarios.

Don't perform sex work in such an such an area. Don't get into a car alone if you're a woman who can be ages of blank and blank. Don't go out drinking at the bar alone if you're a man between the ages of blank and blank in this area. Don't hitchhike. Be extra vigilant when you're walking to your car. The killer always strikes it night and prefers dark parking lots.

That sort of thing. PJK had no real MO. He wasn't scratching some sadistic itch. He might kill you during the day, might kill you at night, might break into your house and let you live for some reason, might just shoot you when he walks in the door, just on site. You know, might knock on your door, might sneak through a window, might approach you in a bar, might approach you in a rest area.

Didn't matter, you know, what you look like, who you were, did it all to become famous. At least get a book written about him. Sandy Fox, that journalist he hooked up with for a week would end up writing a book about him, killing time, later, republished as the secret, actually. No, as a natural born killer. But it never sold that well.

And then none of the proceeds went to his mom like he hoped. Paul's plan for infamy failed miserably. But his story did peak my morbid curiosity. When I came across him on a long list of serial killers online, what kind of person ends up going on the kind of quest he did during the last few months of his free life? Well, let's find out after settling into the place and time of our story today. Headed back to the 1970s.

Seems like a lot of our darker episodes have taken place in the 70s. Which isn't really fair to the decade because the 70s wasn't actually all that dark. I mean, if anything, it was an era marked by exuberance, creativity, major scientific breakthroughs, adults, disco dance, and it's sweaty nightclubs to BG songs, kids keeping pet rocks, kids and adults watching beautiful lady cops

take down baddies on Charlie's Angels. Hello, 1970s fair faucet. Hey, I'm just a phoenix. My God, so sexy, holy shit. Watching beautiful lady cops take down baddies on Charlie's angels. Hello 1970s fair faucet. Hey, I lose to feed them. My god, so sexy. Holy shit. Just prior to the AIDS epidemic, America's newfound sexual freedom discovered in the 60s was still going real strong in the 70s. For many people the decade of the 70s was full of the best times of their lives. It's easy to find great weed. Coke was hitting the scene and it wasn't laced yet with shitty big pharma opioids yet. Bad ass muscle cars were pretty affordable still made in America. Blue collar jobs paid middle class workers enough to buy themselves a nice house, a big boat and one of those muscle cars. We were doing some cool shit in space as a nation. On May 14th 1973, NASA

launch Skylap. The first American space station, take a man-one clip, step closer to an intergalactic future. Five years later, on July 25th, 1978, another scientific breakthrough would occur when Luis Brown, the first test tube baby, was born, opening up the miracle of artificial insemination to happy parents across the world ever since. More and more people are gaining access to the things they've been denied under. Old systems of prejudice, getting out from under the yoke of cold war,

era conservatism and seeing a world unlike one they'd ever seen before. A more connected, more liberated world with more options for how you wanted to live your life. Well, based on the dirt bags, we've covered so many times here, there was also a dark side to the 70s. A lot of serial killing went down. January of 1974,

the year Paul John knows brief but bloody murder spree took place. John Wayne Gacy killed a second victim and stashed the corpse in his closet. When blood leaked from the young man's nose and mouth and stained the carpet, Gacy developed his signature of plugging future kills using cloth rags or the victim's own underwear. On January 15th, Dennis Raider, aka BTK, kicked off his decades-long murder spree by annihilating four members of the Otero family in which Doc Kansas. Just two weeks later, Ted Bundy, who had raped murder several women across multiple state lines before being executed, claimed his first documented victim on January 31st. You're broken to the bedroom of 21 year old Linda and Healy,

senior at the University of Washington, beater until she was unconscious and abducted her. Her decapitated and dismembered remains wouldn't be found until a year later. There was a notable uptick in serial killers in the 1970s, according to a homicide database at Radford University. There were 605 active serial killers in the US in the 1970s, compared to 217 in the 1960s.

So just almost three times as many. The following decade, the 80s would actually see the most thus far 768 known serial killers were active. Many of the new serial killers in the 70s capitalized on a new pool of liberated young women who weren't afraid to hitchhike or hook up with strangers. They took advantage of access to highways to make quicker getaways across state lines. What's really scary to me when I think about this is, was this new opportunity the only real roadblock for hundreds of people to not have become serial killers the decade before?

Like, if it was way easier to get away with it, how many serial killers would we have right now? Last decade saw 117 serial killers in the US. Huge drop from the 70s and 80s, because it's a lot easier to get caught now, I think. Have hundreds of people in recent years just thought some version of, I mean, yeah, I fucking loved the serial killer.

Holy shit, well, I love it. But with modern investigation methods, well, get out of here, forget about it. Guess I'll just go and see what kind of horrific porn is out there on the dark web today instead of getting my hands dirty, raping, torturing, and killing myself. No thanks. I mean, flaunt enforcement didn't exist at all.

And we lived in a truly anarchist society. How many serial killers would be active in the US alone right now? Thousands, I think. Tens of thousands. How much does fear of being caught or tougher access to potential victims go towards keeping some people from just not going on a fucking, you know, torture and murder spree pretty creepy to think about. That only fear of punishment keeps some of us from going full evil. Okay, enough speculation. Let's get into the known details now. I did find this highly entertaining, I hope you do too.

Let's get into the life and crimes of Paul John Knowles, PJK, the Casanova killer, in today's Time Suck timeline. Shrap on those boots, soldier. We're marching down a time, time, time line. Pauldjohn Knowles was born April 17, 1946. In Orlando, Florida, two parents Thomas and Bonnie Knowles. He grew up a two hours drive north of Orlando in Jacksonville. When he was a small child, Jacksonville was only two decades past the great Florida land

boom. Period in the 1920s of significant real estate development during which horror to train passengers passed through Jacksonville on their way south to the new tourist destinations of southern Florida. 1920 Florida had a population of 962,000 people, roughly five years later the population had grown to a route, 1,264,000. Pretty huge increase. What caused that land boom.

Well, the big accelerator in Florida's population explosion was the well publicized extensions of the Florida East Coast Railway. First to West Palm Beach in 1894, then further down to Miami in 1896, then finally all the way down to Key West, 1912. Portions of the Everglades were now being drained, creating new dry land to build on.

Also, World War One had cut off rich East Coast Americans from their bougie winters along the French Riviera increasing the appeal of parts of the U.S. that had a Mediterranean or tropical climate. The following are then following World War One large numbers of Americans, Americans finally had the time and money to travel to Florida and to invest in real estate. Educated and skilled workers were receiving paid vacations, pensions and fringe benefits, which made it easier for them to travel and to purchase real estate. Automobile was also becoming a more common way for families to travel in Florida, felt

like the perfect destination to many. Many of the people who migrated into Florida were middle-class Americans with families, and unlike typical visitors of the past, these newer arrivals wanted homes and land rather than resorts and hotels. Finally, culture-wise, the roaring 20s was a time when a person's wealth and success was measured by what they owned. The economy was prospering, credit was easy to acquire if one had a decent job, and a lot of people who recognized the economic change wanted to make money by selling land and pouring into Florida.

All of this in more led to Jacksonville to billion itself is the gateway to Florida. A lot of people chose to settle at the gateways well. Also having nothing to do with the Florida land boom, a lot of Jacksonville's early settlers will be military members and their families. In the 1940s, Jacksonville would be known mainly for the US Navy, the significant part of Jacksonville's growth,

and the 20th century came from the presence of the Navy. On October 15th, 1940, Naval Air of Jacksonville's growth in the 20th century came from the presence of the Navy. On October 15th 1940, naval air station Jacksonville, NAS Jacksonville or NAS Jax, on the west side became the first Navy installation in the city. This base was a major training center during World War II with over 20,000 pilots and air crewmen being trained there. After the war, the Navy's elite Blue Angels were established at NAS Jax. And today, NAS Jax is the third largest Navy installation in the war, the Navy's elite Blue Angels were established in NASJacks. And today, NASJacks is the third largest Navy installation in the country, employs over 23,000 civilian and active duty personnel.

The naval base continued to be a key training ground in the 1950s and 1960s, and the population of the city rose dramatically. Between 1920 and 1970, the Jacksonville population increased from 91,558 to 528,865 over five fold and 50 years. And by the 1970s more than half the residents in Jacksonville still had some tide of the naval base, whether it be a relative station there or due to employment opportunities. Due to population growth by 1970 an international airport in the area would be opened, flown in there myself a couple times. Along before that Jacksonville was the place Paul John Knowles would call home. He had two older brothers and four sisters. All of the family supported by Thomas's carpentry job, kind of, kind of supported. Clifton

Knowles, one of Paul's brothers, the only one named in sources, the only one I can find who's spoken publicly about his brother, shared some details of Paul's brothers the only one named in sources and the only one I can find who's spoken publicly about his brother Shared some details of Paul's childhood in 2019 with the makers of a 45-minute documentary on a PJK Produced by the local NBC affiliate in Atlanta 11 alive Saying we were so poor. There were seven of us living in three rooms and not three bedrooms No three total rooms. He said a great room, one little bedroom, and a kitchen. Holy shit. For a bathroom, the family had an outhouse with, of course, no indoor plumbing. Probably had a shitload of fun snakes and spiders, though.

Paul's parents slept in the great room, aka the living room, and all seven kids slept in the bedroom at some point. Not sure if all of them were there at one time, but I bet at least four or five were crammed into that little room in the sweltering heat. Fuck that, it sucked. They certainly didn't have AC doubt that even had a fan, right? The average high sets in the 90s,

all summer long in Jacksonville. The humidity sits around 80%. And according to heat index charts, 90 degrees Fahrenheit plus 80% humidity feels like 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Check this out. 95 degrees with 80% humidity, it reaches out all the time in Jacksonville, in summer, feels like 134 degrees. Fuck my life.

Now imagine the temperature feeling like it's between 100 and 134 degrees on a hot night when the temperature just won't drop. And the air is still and you're trying to fall asleep in a tiny bedroom with no AC and four or five other people in it. I feel like this alone could drive someone to kill. Surprise Florida, just based on temperature, isn't full of murder every summer. Maybe too many people dealing with the heat are just too tired to murder, like they'd like to, but they just don't have the energy.

Just, dude. How come you fucking head off right now? murder like they'd like to but they just don't have the energy just dude okay fucking head off right now but feels like my balls have been sitting in a crock bottle of day and my lecture like they're so fucked up and I just I can't do much of anything other than just sweat through three sets of clothes before noon apparently but if I get hydrated and cools off you're dead man. Clips and painted a picture of a hot and humid family home also full of a lot of abuse. Say in today's climate, we would have all been taken out of the home and probably fostered out.

There was a lot of physical abuse, whippings. My father would call them, whippings, I call them beatings myself. When you leave black and blue marks from a belt, that's called a beating. And the old man, he was beaten, Paul with his fists. And he was about to beat him to death. And then when Paul got well enough, he ran away.

Outside of the home, young Paul apparently ran wild and raised hell. He showed some dark leadership qualities early on attracted a group of boys who followed him loyally, impressed by how he talked back to adults without fear. I mean, if he was able to bounce back after taking beaten after beaten from his dad, why fear of some stranger, right? Probably not any worse than his father. Paul seems like the admiration of his little followers, a great deal, maybe even thrived on it.

1953, when Knowles was seven, he started breaking the law by stealing bicycles. His parents would say they tried to control him, which probably meant beating the shit I'd been more often, but Paul wouldn't be stopped. If he was restrained or confronted, he would allegedly explode with rage. I mean, I get it. Paul wouldn't be stopped. If he was restrained or confronted, he would allegedly explode with rage. I mean, I get it. Is that behavior here? I mean, option A, don't steal stuff and be super poor

and sweaty and miserable and have your dad be you. Or option B, steal stuff and be super poor and sweaty and miserable and have your dad be you. But also sometimes gets right a cool bike. Sometimes around the age of eight, or sometime after getting caught numerous times for petty theft already. He ends up beginning a cycle of incarceration followed by a brief age of eight, or some time, after getting caught numerous times for petty theft already, he ends up beginning a cycle of incarceration,

followed by a brief stretch of freedom, followed by more incarceration, a little bit of freedom, more incarceration. Uncycle continues for the rest of his life. Rest of his childhood, he spent bouncing back and forth between foster homes, reformatories, and prison. Wonder if any of the places he went to were worse than his home life.

I mean, the detention center isn't much of a deterrent if it's better than your house. Sandy Fox, that journalist he'd later briefly hook up with said his childhood was grim full of uniforms, discipline, and few possessions. P.J.K. later told a prison psychiatrist after he ran away from home for the last time. He spent three days sleeping in the woods, messing around during the day at local penny arcades, shooting galleries, stuff like that. He said, and then they caught me and they sent me home. And the next day I was in school and they called me across the street to the police station and they started talking to me. And that's when they took me up there.

Up there was the Florida School for the Boys or Four Boys. Also known as the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. A reform school operated by the state of Florida and the Panhandle 600 ish person town of Mariana, or Mariana, 225 miles west of Jacksonville, from January 1st, 1900 to June 30th, 2011. And by the time you was 17, PJK would have been sent to the Florida School for Boys six times on charges ranging from breaking entering to Grand Larceny. Never seemed remorseful for any of these crimes.

Also should have never been sent to this hellhole. No one should have been. This place actually was a lot worse than his childhood home it seems, in all likelihood. The Florida School for Boys would become infamous as a place where very little reform occurred and instead a lot of fucking abuse went down. For most of its history, the school was known for harsh conditions and brutal treatment. For 111 years, the school would be where Florida sent its bad boys. And also where it sent pretty good boys who were just poor or maybe just like to smoke something that simple.

Boys would be sent there for rape, assault, but also for skipping school, smoking cigarettes, or just running from broken homes. Some were tough, some were confused, basically all were afraid, all were, you know, treading through their formative years and the custody of the state. They were as young as five. Some sources actually say as young as three, or as old as 21. Then it seems, in nearly everyone's center, would be tortured in ways that would stay secret for many, many years. A 2013 investigation finally revealed that over 50 boys bodies were secretly buried on the grounds of the school, and that at least 81 students died while in custody there

of suspicious circumstances. And today, over 500 former students have claimed to have received brutal beatings. Real number is probably in the thousands, probably in the tens of thousands possibly. There was a consistent culture of abuse at the school for the entirety of its history it seems. One man, former prisoner there, when he was 16, Jerry Cooper was interviewed a decade ago in 2012. When he was 67 years old and he said, you didn't know when it was coming. These were not spankings. These were beatings, brutal beatings. Cooper said he did his best and there's so many accounts like this. Cooper said he did his best to stay out of trouble, but after several weeks, he learned about the beatings firsthand. School staff got about about a 2 a.m. one day, took him to a building

known as the White House, where most of the beatings went down. When he was there, or when he got there, they threw him on a bed, tied his feet and hands to the bed, and, or like to post like underneath the bed, began to be meeting with a leather strap, and Cooper recalled, the first blow lifted me a foot and a half off that bed. And every time that strap would come down, you could hear the shuffle on the concrete because their shoes would slide, right? There's like putting so much force into it. You could hear the, sh shush bam Shush bam Cooper said he passed out from the pain at some point during the beating and then the lashes kept coming

Boy in the next room later told him he counted a hundred and thirty five hits That's fucking absurd lashing a kid a hundred and thirty five times The kid who's passed out for part or most of it Sometimes I'd like to picture my favorite Marvel superhero or anti-hero or maybe kind of villain by liking the Punisher, showing up in moments like this and just fucking executing every sadistic staff member involved. Cooper was sent to the Florida School for boys in 1961, so he probably would have known nobles who would have been 14 or 15 at that time and also incarcerated in that shithole

Another boy who went there around the time that nobles was there was Willie Haynes In the late 1950s, Willie was a 13-year-old kid who slipped back his long hair like Elvis He even sent to the you know the school after being convicted to steal in a car Willie said years later that not only did he not steal that car. He had no idea how to drive any car What some other kids said that they thought they saw him he not steal that car, he had no idea how to drive any car. But some other kids said that they thought they saw him do it, and that was enough for the judge. And he didn't care. Willie didn't care, not at first.

At first, he was excited to go to the Florida School for Boys. He'd heard it had a band and a football team, maybe even Boy Scout, and it didn't cost the penny to participate in that stuff. It was better than he had at home. He kissed his mom goodbye at the courthouse, left Tampa, and the back of a state cruiser, thinking he was on his way to a better life than the one he was leaving behind. How fucking sad.

Willie wasn't scared as the state car pulled onto the gravel road that led to the state's only boys juvenile reformatory. No fences, manicured lawns, tall pines, and stately buildings. He's not a look like a college. He never thought he'd get to go to college. And he thought, you know, this had to be better than my shitty home life. Inside, he signed a ledger, William Haynes Jr., April 11, 1958. A boy now escorted Willie to Tyler Cottage, which would be his bunkhouse, told him to keep his belongings in locker number 252.

He was given a toothbrush, pajamas, and his own military bunk. And the poor kid from Tampa felt like he was finally living in a good home, but that feeling didn't last long. He was there barely a week when it first happened. Some bullies caught him outside the showers. Next thing he knew, he was in the middle of a tangle of feet and fists. Willie knew how to fight. He fought back hard. He was choking one of the attackers in a headlock when a staff member busted and sought the school's

disciplinarian, R.W. Hatton, soon was asking Willie who he'd been fighting, but he didn't want to be a rat, get beat up for that, so he wouldn't give up any names, and then Hatton told Willie that now he was going down. Some goons on Hatton's command now dragged him across the manicured campus toward the squat concrete building called the White House, dragged him to the door. Just outside the door he said he saw a limp figure, right? Line still, an unconscious boy, perhaps a dead boy, blood on his pajamas, the stench of said he saw a limp figure, right? Lying still, an unconscious boy, perhaps a dead boy, blood on his pajamas, the stench of blood, sweat, and shit.

Hit him as he walked to the door. He tripped and fell and a man grabbed him and slung him on top of the bloody mattress where he was beaten for hours. Over 18 month staff would drag Willie into the White House over and over, each time literally beaten for hours. When he get back to the cottage where he slept, he'd stand in the shower before he went to bed, let the cold water wash bits of his underwear out of lacerations across his ass and back

as blood ran down the drain. For decades, boys, the Florida School for boys were tortured like this and in a variety of other ways. You know, they were stuffed in industrial dryers just to amuse the fucking goon guards, tumbling in the heat, trying not to break their necks. They were smothered in their beds until they were nearly dead or maybe sometimes until they were dead. They were beaten, violently sexually assaulted

in an underground chamber the boys called the rape room for pretty fucking obvious reasons where numerous staff members were repeatedly rape students. And there were the dozens of kids who died. The ones who ended up buried on the grounds of this place in unmarked graves.

Former students remember these kids, like the kid who tried to run away and died from exposure while hiding under a cottage. Another member to story about a boy who was taken to the White House, never seen again, and all the likelihood he was beaten to death. When Troy wore in a former student to herd of the investigation in the cemetery,

his mind went back to his stay at the school many years ago, and he would tell journalists that he and another boy were once ordered to dig three holes behind the chow hole. They were to dig at night. Tid well, and another guard told them to dig the holes four feet deep and quote as long as a boy. Florida School for Boys was fucking hell on earth. Imagine if your child was sent to a place like this, or if you were, how much rage would

you feel, how much would spending years at a place like this, or if you were, how much rage would you feel, how much would spending years at a place like this harden your heart during your developmental years, especially. This place was worse than the Alon school, if you remember that topic, the so-called school-slash torture chamber, the troubled teen industry. We sucked on back in episode 234. This was where Paul John Knowles would spend his most formative years, and this is why Paul's brother Clifton would later state that he felt like the state of Florida had a large hand in turning his brother into a killer.

Each time after he was released from this hellhole, he'd head back to Jacksonville, meet up with old friends, maybe crash a bit with his family again until he got caught again. He resumed his routine of joy writing and burglary until Johnny Law would num He also began to study up on criminality didn't dream of reforming Early on, you know, he realized that like being a criminal was just part of his identity or at least he chose that He just wanted to get better at it He devoured books about John Dillinger Bonnie and Clyde babyface Nelson. We've covered Dillinger and Bonnie Clyde Bonnie and Clyde before Nelson also showed up in a Topper Couture.

He studied up on these outlaws and other outlaws. He took America and his lawmen by storm, by brute force over the top levels of violence. He didn't care for criminals like Al Capone. I thought their ship was too tame. He admired people who were brazenly violent. He was a boy, a young man who truly wanted to set the world on fire and watch it all burned to the ground.

Many years later after his final arrest, the prison psychiatrist asked him what the worst thing that ever happened to him was. He said it was simply being born. That was the worst thing. When asked if he had it to do all over again, what would he do? He met her a faculty said, I wouldn't. When asked what was the best thing that had ever happened to him, he simply said nothing. When asked what was the best thing that had ever happened to him, he simply said nothing. As you'll see, when it comes to his later killings, while some serial killers hate women, maybe killing their mothers over and over again, or an ex who they felt betrayed them, or burned them while some serial killers maybe hate men, perhaps killing their father over and over again, BJK fucking hated everybody.

Everything didn't give a fuck about humanity in general. His crimes wouldn't be primarily sexually motivated. He didn't have a type, no real MO, just an attitude with few exceptions of fuck everyone. As a teen, his actual violence may have begun with women. Kathy Hardy, whose brother was friends with Paul, remembered that it could be terrifying. If you liked girl and she rejected him, it meant that girl was getting blowback. At the very least, yelled at, mocked, and probably hit. He punched a woman without even thinking about it, she said. Even when boyfriends or brothers of these girls

came after him, Paul didn't change his ways. He'd hit those guys too. He never hurt Kathy though. She said she figured out how to stand as good side. Just compliment him, a bunch. Compliment him about how bad he was. She realized he loved being told that he was a bad guy. She said he'd tell her that one day he was gonna be

this big famous bad guy and she asked for his autograph and he fucking loved it. In March 1965, when Paul was 19, a policeman stopped him while he was driving a stolen car. Paul grabbed the officer's gun, tore it away from him and forced that guy into his vehicle. Could have killed him. Maybe even thought about killing him,

but he didn't. He released him two hours later, unharmed, and then might have quickly regretted doing so. Because Paul was apprehended shortly thereafter, charged and convicted of kidnapping and sentenced to one to five years in the state prison. Prison was bad, for people not used to being incarcerated. For Paul, was any worse than the floor to school for boys.

Maybe a little better. The food was terrible, right? The living conditions hot and humid didn't exactly smell like perfume, but there was sex to pass the time. Paul would later relay that with only other men as outlets for sexual frustration, Nolis had sex with men and with them often

during his prison stints. He would later blame his sexual conditioning in prison for finding it difficult to achieve orgasms with female partners later on During his time in the Florida prison system, which would span nearly nine years in total Knowles would be a committed loner You know alone when he wasn't fucking other prisoners or being fucked I guess hard to do that alone But mostly alone

One prison official later described him as anti-social profiting neither from experienced nor punishment He wasn't ever described as stupid. Records showed that he scored 125 on an intelligence test, IQ test, which was above average for the population at large. Also while being anti-social didn't just stare into space and his cell and twiddlestums when he wasn't fucking. He liked to read.

Since he wasn't allowed to read true crime books about his favorite outlaw as in prison, he ended up getting into a lot of a cult literature. He became real interested in astrology. He read his daily horoscope, daily, and took that shit seriously. It affected his mood, positive prediction, made him giddy, apparently, while the negative prediction made him keep to himself. I did not expect to find that in this episode. Too bad he wasn't able to run into former sucks subject Terry Hoffman before he began his later murder spree. Get a jointer Texas based cult of conscious development and channel all that bad boy energy into battling black lords on the astral plane.

PJ K could have murdered so many black lords level up as vibrational energy or whatever instead of end up in prison. He could have been like a ninth degree black lord black belt or something, you know, covered in spiritual protection, jewelry and charms and stuff. PJK also got pretty good at reading tarot cards and again did not expect that. Two years and eight months after he went to prison in November of 1967, he'd be out on parole. Wall on parole to now 21 year old bad boy meets bad girl Well, I don't know she might be a good girl. I guess Jackie Knight her husband at the time introduce him Weird soon. He was visiting the nights regularly and seemed to be good with their three children taking in the local fairs

And winning them prizes when he wasn't trying to maybe you know fuck mom behind dad's back behind dad's back Speculating here about the attempted fucking, but they will become romantic later and this all just seems weird to me. Why would you bring a dude home from prison to meet your wife? A single dude, maybe less than two of them were hooking up. I don't know. I just can't imagine doing that. I guess it's better than if she brought him home,

right, that would be more uncomfortable. If like your husband or wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever brought somebody home, especially the sex they were attracted to, you know, young, good looking recently released inmate. I can't imagine Lindsey letting me get away with that. Hey, baby, I want you to meet Mary Ella. She's a 20 year old smoke show.

Who's free single, probably horny, since she's been locked up. Anywho, I've been writing her letters in prison for funsies past few months and she just seemed so fucking cool. I invited her over. I was thinking she could crash in the guest room for a few nights, maybe join us for drinks, dinner on a date night tomorrow. Maybe we see a thing, maybe we have a sliver party,

or I don't know. Maybe I could fuck her quietly, the shower, like the warden my catchers at any moment. I don't know, I just don't have options for our new friend. April of 1968, the Volc County police caught an old's attempt to break in an entering, which sent him straight back to the Florida State Prison

in Rayford to complete his sentence. So, I don't know, I wonder if Jackie's husband was upset about this, or glad to seem go up to bring him over. Cause he will write Jackie from prison, and be released just over two years later, May 10th, 1970 with the pro- with as a pro officer later put it, excuse me, $25 in his pocket, a new suit and no responsibilities. But he did have a girlfriend, Jackie Knight.

Same lady, right? He's hanging out with last time he was free. She'd written to him all throughout his second sit in prison and a romance at Blossom. If it hadn't already blossomed before and as soon as he left Prison the two were married But their relationship wouldn't last more than a few months. Noles could not find employment or claimed he couldn't So he was soon back to hanging out with the drinking buddies and committing petty crimes Alarmed. I don't know why she'd be alarmed. I feel like she's seen this coming Jackie took the children and moved to make in Georgia where she had their marriage a note

She once later Paul was back in prison, shocking. So, September 15, 1971, Noles was convicted of breaking an entering with intent to commit a felony and sentenced to three years now. And if a reasons I do not understand, you got a very easy, especially for someone with a previous record. 1971, the maximum penalty for the same offense was 15 years. And the Noles got furlough privileges after just one year. Maybe Casanova, smooth-talk for the same offense was 15 years. And the Noles got furlough privileges after just one year. Maybe Casanova, smooth-talked the judge, used that Casanova charm to get things reduced.

Hey, baby, I'm in your honor. Sorry, it's so hard to be formal with such a sexy woman like you. I just, no disrespect. I can just tell, I can just tell even why we're robe. You have, oh, man of body under there that would make fairer faucet weak with jealousy. I'll accept any sentence you throw my way with no attitude. I'm just overjoyed to share a few moments in the same room with real life Venus as beautiful and as she is powerful and just. I also couldn't help but notice that you got your hair cut since I saw you last time.

It looks fantastic. Those feathered bangs, they bring out your dreamy eyes and just let the light just hit those hot cheekbones. My Lord, my rest was worth it. I'm not glad I committed crime, but I'm glad I got to end up in front of this little taste of heaven.'s have nothing on you. The honor here today, your honor is oh man. And then maybe does like a little curtsy. I don't know. After light sense, one day while out on furlough, he runs off. And the police catch up with him just a few weeks later, December 6, 1972, he fights him like a cornered wildcat, punching one officer nearly taking another down before the overpower him and return him to Rayford. No info out there and where they found him. While in the car straight at this time the now 26 year old begins corresponding with the

California woman named Angela Covick. He'd found her name in a sweet, awesome magazine called American astrology. Fuck yeah bro. Nice. Find a lady also into horoscopes. God, too bad he couldn't have used his daily horoscopes to avoid getting caught by police and sent back to prison though. Probably would have been nicer to meet that lady on the outside.

Maybe he skipped a day of his horoscopes. So let's see, let's see, let's see, what was my horoscope yesterday before the fuzz arrested me. Where are you, Sagittarius? Oh, yes, here we are. Hello, Sagittarius. Today you're in the mood to wander as the moon in your gregarious third house, pink social Venus in your communal eleventh.

With Mercury officially out of retrograde and zipping ahead in Virgo, today is a day to stay inside and focus on your spiritual development, or perhaps just watch some television door, nap and stuff. Soon Mercury will align with metamorphic Pluto, the planet responsible for deepened, sustained change. But until then, the cops will be looking everywhere for you, seriously, stay inside. Keep the blinds closed.

Take a breather, eat some snacks, leave town somewhere around midnight, quietly, and never come back, stay golden, bony boy. Now, and then he's all like, oh fuck, man, oh shit! Why didn't I read my always specific and accurate, consistently super-helpful horse go. Oh god damn it anyway Back to the documentary reality now He's back in prison. He meets fellow of a cult lover Angela Kovik. Oh sweet sweet Angela Angela's mother was a locally renowned psychic So maybe not so renowned if you have to add the qualifier of local to it

Angela loved the same things that Paul did reading reading horoscopes, tarot cards, getting fucked by dudes in prison. That kind of stuff. Maybe not the last part. And it was 26 and a recently divorced cocktail waitress from San Francisco. She responded to each letter that Paul wrote enthusiastically, beginning with high mad dog nose.

That made him happy. Another woman tell him how bad he was, giving him a cool nickname and shit. And I'm just like machine gun Kelly or he probably gave himself that mad dog, Null's nickname. And she accepted it. He called her my Yiddish angel and decorate it each letter with crayon drawings as a true romantic does of astral symbols, flowers, devils with initials, PJ between their horns, not alarming. The fact that he was imprisoned didn't phasers. She seems a, she seemed like she was real genius, real power couple of them making here. Her former husband

was serving time in California prison. And before long, these two dingolings had fallen in love. Angela would travel across the country to visit him at Rayford in September of 1973. And there their meeting went so well that he proposed marriage. She accepted even hired a Florida lawyer, Sheldon Yavitz. We'll learn a lot more about that he proposed marriage. She accepted even hired a Florida lawyer, Sheldon Yovitz. We'll learn a lot more about that goof all later. To try and get Paul and early parole, so we could join her in California.

Now with an incentive to be on his best behavior, nobles gets a GED, start taking some college courses. When he went before the parole commission, he said he planned to go to California where Angel had got him a job painting science, which doesn't sound like a real job, but I guess people do have to paint science Paul told angel that he'd been angry and aimless before but now that she'd helped him abandon his old ways and turn a new leaf

He was ready to be a good man Someone someone worthy of marrying and he gets an early parole Florida prison officials would later say they granted him this parole for two reasons One he was due for release in just a year anyway and And two, that's their horoscopes told him to do. No, California officials had agreed to supervise him. They also privately figured you know, in California, be better for him than staying in Jacksonville where he just, you know, undoubtedly fall back in

with the old friends, you know, fall back into his bad habits. Pond has released May 14th, 1974, Noles immediately flies to San Francisco. Angela bought him a ticket. Oh, he is fucking ready. But then when he arrives at Angela's home, the woman who had just recently promised to love him for the rest of his life seemed cold and distant.

She had cold feet. Did you change your mind? Gosh dang. Oh, my heck, this is not good. Why'd she do that? While Paul was being released, a psychic she had visited, told her that a dangerous man was now entering her life. Fuck, the world of the occult had just burned him.

Damn it! I wonder what his daily horoscope was, you know, was that day? Hey, Sagittarius. Bad news I'm afraid. You're gonna want to sit down for this. The woman you just flew across the country for immediately after being released from prison well, she's not who you thought she was. You see, the sun is at Libra and Jupiter, you're ruling planet and sliding back into Pisces with combative moors, Mars turning retrograde

in Gem night and the time is not right for a new romance. While the sun, mental mercury and outgoing Venus are all snoozing in Scorpio, and your rest for 12th house, the moon's in Aquarius, and your social third house, and well, I wish you washing bitch straight to you. She doesn't want to marry you anymore. Now she's going to blame on a psychic reading, but really, she just started fucking her ex-husband again. He's got that sweet, magic dick. I'm afraid

Now that he's fucking crumples it up. It's oh god god damn it Guess I'm be a bad boy forever now. That's the one similar stars for me Uh, Pauline, California for less than a week Sleep in an angel his mother plays each night Knowles will later claim to have started killing that same day. The same day that Angela told him that the marriage was off. He said he murdered three people in the streets, San Francisco that night, but that claim has never been verified. Based on what he's going to do though, that was verified. I don't doubt that it's possible. Before

he left town, not only did he, did Angela tell him that she had changed her mind about getting married, she also decided to reconcile with her former husband and has the horoscope said. One of she ever saw a psychic at all. Or if that was just some bullshit, she made up to get Paul to go away when she came to her senses and realized this dude was gonna be nothing but trouble. But then, you know, went back to a guy that sounds like he might have been in trouble.

I don't know, Paul was hurt by all of this. He was furious when they corresponded, when she visited him in prison, she made him feel so powerful and desired, made him feel like a celebrity. It was feeling like a celebrity so important to him because he felt like nothing at the Florida School for boys, because he even treated like dirt

for most of his life because he'd walked other boys that's appearing to leave nothing behind. Hmm, well now that feeling was gone. Two days after she entered their engagement, Paul returned to Jacksonville, where Paul be in Paul, classic PGK, pulled a knife on a bartender, turned a bar fight just a few weeks after

making it back to town. PJ K do his initials remind anyone else of PB and J. Peanut butter and jelly. No, I'm sorry, calling that a bunch, going forward. PB and J should have seen his knife fight coming. What's the point of these horoscopes if they don't help you out in situations like this? He'd be arrested and taken in jail,

straight to his old Haunt Raffer on July 26th 1974, PB and J. Slippery liked some jelly. Picks the lock at his prison cell and escapes into the night. That same night Paul commits his first murder. First murder authorities are confident he committed. Before we get into the murder portion of this timeline, it seems like the best spot for our mid show sponsor break. Thanks for sticking around, mate, sack. Now we're gonna return to July 26th, 1974. When PBJ, PBNJ, PJK, Casanova Killer, Polly,

Polly John, begins his murder spree in Jacksonville Beach. PBNJ knew he needed to get away fast, which required money in a vehicle and he had neither. So that many had his steal. He also didn't want to witness to putting back in prison so to increase the odds he wouldn't be incarcerated again he needed to kill. Perhaps, perhaps you just wanted to. Maybe decided now is the time to kick off his plan to becoming some version of babyface Nelson or John Dillager or some other brazenly violent outlaw he admired or maybe this first

death was accidental and something fucking change in him. Whatever the reason he breaks into the home of a 65 year old retired school teacher named Alice Curtis, living in Jacksonville Beach, not known whether he physically broke into the home or got him using a ruse. He'd used both methods in the months to come. If he physically broke in it would have involved either pick it a lock or just get lucky with an unlocked door. There were no signs of a break in.

Cassanova killer, you know, could have charged Wayne. Once inside, Paul ties Alice up and gagged her. And then while Paul ransacks her house for money, Alice chokes to death. Her dentures had been dislodged by the gag, Paul put around her throat, forced down her throat to fucking tight PB&J. And by the time he went back to check on her, according to her throat to fucking tight PB and J. And by the time he went back to check on her, according to him, you know, she was dead. Now he's staring at the body of his first victim and perhaps not an intentional kill. People who knew him

would later speculate this changed him. Alice was his first victim and now he crossed a new line that he could never uncross. Maybe one that he didn't want to uncross once he crossed it. Right? For his whole life, you've been dominated by an abusive father, judges, juries, jailers, Florida school for boys, goons. Now he realizes that he has an enemy to totally dominate someone else, to end them if he wants. Instead of leaving town as he had intended to with Alistair Stinks, nobles simply drives around Jacksonville and Alistair's white dodge dart, like a genius, find some friends and hides out with them. Now the taste for blood less than a week later, he kills again. August 1st 1974,

Elizabeth Anderson and her 13-year-old daughter leave their home in Jacksonville's pumpkin hill area to visit a sick relative. Elizabeth left her two younger girls, 11-year-old Lillian, seven-year-old Mylet, at home. She didn't love doing that, but also they weren't supposed to be alone for more than an hour Their dad Jack was gonna be coming home soon a Real-life monster in forcey would just barely beat him to his girls So fucking sad surely before Jack was due home at seven Elizabeth called home to check on the girls And they assured her that everything was fine

Then just a few minutes later Paul John Nobles abandoned Alice Curtis's, or starts to abandon it on a quite residential street near the Anderson's home. While he's just about to dump this car, he notices the Anderson girls watching him curiously, recognizes them, which meant that they very likely recognize him in his mind. He knew these girls. Their mom, Elizabeth, was a friend of Bonnie, Paul's mom. Commence it, they were going to tell his parents or her parents, you know, that they'd seen him, Knowles decides to kill him. He coaxes you know, that they'd seen him, no, those decides to kill him. He coaxes Lillian and Mylett endalysis car drives him to a remote location, strangles him both and dumps her bodies into a swamp. Neither girl, according to PB and J, were sexually assaulted.

When Jack arrives home at 7.20pm, delayed by a problem with his boat, a delay that will undoubtedly haunt him for the rest of his life, both his girls are gone. Immediately, Elizabeth and Jack are positive the girls have been kidnapped. They knew their daughters would have never gone off on their own. Jack calls the police who quickly began to conduct a 140 square mile search of Northeastern DeVal County, but nothing turns up. Elizabeth and Jack are sick with worry. Early into the search, they worry because even if the girls are still alive, Lillian has a serious thyroid condition and Mylet has asthma and a weak heart.

Both rely on medication to live. Sadly, they won't need it because they were both dead within an hour of their disappearance. Family wouldn't get closure for months, not until January of 1975, when authorities listened to Nol's description of this crime on tapes he recorded to document his kills. Tapes he made specifically, so he would become infamous. After hearing Paul's confession, the police searched all the swamps in the area, but the girls' remains were never found. Noles now feels like he has to get out of town.

The day after the girls disappear, after he kills him, on August 2nd, 1974, he decides to drive to Macon, Georgia, a four-hour drive north to hide out with his old ex, Jackie Knight. These two fucking dinged onks and kept in touch. Jackie may not have wanted to marry nobles, but some sort of attraction clearly remained. Maybe she had a fetish for flaccid weeners. What is big deal with flaccid weeners? Maybe she liked the rassul, maybe you don't kink shame. You never know when she could tell it could still show up after all these years. On his way to make a low on cash,

PB and J breaks into the Atlantic Beach home of 49 year old Marjorie Howie. Atlantic Beach essentially an Eastern suburb at Jacksonville. Paul strangles her with one of her nylon stockings. He seems to have after that accidental first strangulation developed a taste for this kind of killing. Again, it's not clear if he broke in

or if she for whatever reason invited him in. Also, again, like with his, you know, previous victims, doesn't seem as if he sexually assaulted her. When he left, he took cash and valuables, including a TV set that he proudly then gave to Jackie when he arrived at Macon. And then before he makes it to Macon, meets and kills a fifth victim. Dude, it's in a full-blown blood frenzy. Sometime in early August, the date still unknown. Knowles meets young Ima Jean Sanders, only 13. Ima was strong-willed and independent. After her parents divorced in 1968, six years earlier, she went to live with her dad and Beaumont, but then ran away frequently. Got so bad that her dad wouldn't even tell authorities when she ran away. He knew she'd turn up sooner or later. In July of 1974, Ima had hopped to bust to Warner Robbins, Georgia, a city of around 80,000 about 10 miles south of makin' where

her mom Betty and stepdad lived. When she got there, she called Betty from the bus station, asked if someone could pick her up. I'm a Jean's 4-year-old sister, Sharon was thrilled to see her, six months earlier, Sharon's other sister, Charlotte, that followed off the family's houseboat and drowned. Sharon had watched it happen, now she clung to her older sister for protection. On August 1st, Betty left the family and mobile home for a few hours, asked I'm a baby sit. But soon after her mother left, a group of byma's older friends pulled up in a van.

They were gonna party. Not wanting to miss out on a good time. I'm a told her sister to go inside and lock the doors. Sharon peaked out of the window as the van disappeared. To be the last time she saw her sister, it'd be the last time anyone in the family saw her live. Not far from Warner Robbins, Knowles would pick up a teenage hitchhiker, who he would say her name was Alma.

It would of course be Alma. After taking her to a wooded area, now Paul commits his first confess sexual crime. He confessed on those tapes he recorded, documented his dirty deeds, that he raped and strangled her, then left her body between some trees. Two weeks later, he returned to the location, see that some animals had dragged most of her corpse away. During that time, I'm his job owner, been detached from her school, noles buried the small bone, and then left.

I'm taking investigators over 35 years to officially add I'm a Sanders murder to noles list, because in Paul's tapes, again, he called her the wrong name, called her Alma. By the last week of August 1974, Noles was once again running low on funds and despite the TV and some other gifts, Jackie was hinting that he was, uh, overstaying his welcome after being staying with her for about three weeks now. So on August 23rd, Noles heads to the little unincorporated community of Musella. Only about a hundred people living in a rural Crawford County, Georgia, roughly 30 miles west of making. Uh, if I mispronounce Musella, but not many people are in a rural Crawford County, Georgia, roughly 30 miles west of making.

If I mispronounce Missella, not many people are going to fucking know about it. This is a very small area. A Noxlandora 24-year-old Kathy Sue Woods Pierce, who was home alone with her three-year-old son, Joel. When she opens it, Noel pushes his way in, demands money. Kathy tries to scream, which enrages him, so he rips the telephone loose from the wall, wraps the cord around her neck so tight, it's practically buried in her flesh

when investigators find her body. While Little Joel looks on how fucking traumatizing knows drags his young mother's now lifeless body onto the bathroom, leaves it on the floor, does not sexually assault the victim's remains, and makes off with whatever cash she can find. Also doesn't harm Little Joel, right? Maybe he had a bit of conscience shown up in little moments here and there. Maybe

just a I don't know, maybe that was one of the few lines he didn't want to cross. Kathy's body will be discovered by the father of her boyfriend who calls police while little Joel had seen everything, you know, it's too young to traumatize the help with the investigation. After leaving Jackie's place, Nol's now heads north. He's now murdered six people in less than six weeks. What's his plan? I don't know that he had one, other than to try and not get caught for as long as possible. And to rack up a crime log big and darken out to become infamous. He didn't seem to want to try and never live a normal life again.

He never really led one. He wasn't hoping to cross an international border and begin a new life, no strategy to take on and assume the identity. Just two months later, he would tell the journalists, right? Girlfriend for a week, Sandy Foxx that he would probably be dead within a year. Did nobles wanna die? Yeah, I think a part of him did.

You know, leave a trail of pain until someone finally caught up with him and took him out and then, you know, oh, fucking well. September 3rd, this walking shit show arrives in Lima, Ohio. Should be pronounced Lima since it is a Spanish word and since it is named after Lima Peru, but you know, America, fuck it. Lima, over 650 miles north of Macon, almost 900 miles north of Jacksonville, and it was doing a little better when PB and J rolled through than it is now.

The pretend setting of Glee has around 55,000 people living there in the mid 70s. When he used to build a lot of trains there and there was a lot of manufacturing that ended up getting shipped overseas, only has around 35,000 now. Whew, that's a big drop. On the 9th September 3rd, Paul enters Scott's in a local bar, strikes up a conversation with William Bates, a 32 yearold account executive for the Ohio Power Company. The bartender who knew Bates watched with mild interest as one of his regulars, you know, chatted it up with a tall drink of water,

tall young redhead. The two men left together, and then Bates would never be seen alive again. Mrs. Bates soon reported her husband missing. The detectives investigating his disappearance found an abandoned white dodge dart near Scotsin and traced it back to the deceased Alice Curtis. He was still driving her car. The discovery of a murder victims vehicle obviously indicated there was a good chance that Bates was now dead.

And he was, it's believed he left with Mr. Noles under romantic, you know, with romantic hopes. By the time he was reported missing, Nooles had already left Lima with Bates money, credit cards, and white Chevy Impala. Bates strangled body, no evidence of sexual assault. We'll be discovered several weeks later in some nearby woods. PB&J now heads west for California.

After that, he drives based on credit card transactions east to Missoula, Montana, and then south into Utah. So he probably drove right here through Cortaline. On September 12th, Noles arrived in Ely, Nevada, a little mining town of about 4,000 East Central part of the state. It actually has a really cool historic downtown built, the Donald of the 20th century. If you ever want to check it out, I love little towns like Ely. Bates credit cards were now maxed out and Noles needed more funds, so it was time to go hunting again. Somewhere in his travels, he picked up a gun. Since it didn't show up on any credit card transactions,

I'm guessing he stole it. Or perhaps his daily horoscope may have led him to it. September 12th, 1974. Today's a great day, Senator Terris. Your lucky number is four today in your lucky colorous, royal blue. Transformation brings positive changes by bringing peace and joy to you.

You've been focusing on your physical wellbeing, but now it's time to pay more attention to your mental health. And some relief from prolonged illness will arrive shortly. Also, there is a small shed behind the Conoco gas station right off the freeway in Billings by the westernmost exit. The door of the shed is unlocked and inside is a 38 revolver in several boxes of ammunition. Finally Pluto is correcting its course and lumbering forward after a frustrating five-month retrograde and greater financial health should be now able to return.

Oh, hot damn man, that's great. That was great. Well, day of the horse go, oh shit, okay. PpNJ uses new gun to overpower Emmett and Lois Johnson, a San Pedro couple, San Pedro, California. Emmett was 62, Lois was 59, they were vacationing and they're camper together, the campground in the edge of town. You tie them both up, shot each behind their left ear execution style, and then escaped

with their cash and credit cards. The bodies of Emmets and Lois wouldn't be discovered until September 18th, and by that time Noles was long gone. Since the FBI wasn't tracking the credit card transactions to a possible serial killer yet, because his style of killing keeps changing, there's no consistency with age or gender of victims for even murder style. This murder not connected to PB and J until the discovery of his confession tapes. So Paul just keeps on moving. It's not on national law enforcement's radar. A couple days later, September 21st 1974, Nolz is now driving through Seguin, Texas. Over 1,500 miles away. Dude, really puts a miles between himself

and his most recent murders. And it's a game around 30,000 people, less than 30 miles from the age of San Antonio, PB&J spots, Charlene Hicks, 42 year old widow, standing outside a rest stop on the side of Interstate 10. Charlene was on her way to a chili cookin contest, how very Texas. In San Marcos, it had simply stopped to take a little break in her drive.

Either way, Charlene, or sorry, she was either doing that on her way to a chili cooking contest, or perhaps her car had broken down, was the other part of that either way. Either way, Charlene would not make it to San Marcos. When her family contracted the Guadalupe County Sheriff's Department after she doesn't

turn up, they kick off a search, quickly find her car at the rest stop, since the car was not broken down. So I probably was having a new chili contest. Her family greatly worried about her safety as our law enforcement. She was not safe. She was dead. A few details about her death coming up in just a moment. Noles appears to have met his next victim before her remains were found,

butition and Dawson, September 23rd, 1974, in Birmingham, Alabama. Unclear as to whether he abducted her or if she traveled with him willingly, if she got charmed by Casanova. But she did travel with him for almost a week and she paid all the bills while they were traveling together. Witnesses were later confirmed that the two were seen,

traveling together, did not appear that she was an obvious distress. Nobles claimed in his tapes that he killed this poor lady, September 29th, 1974, then dumped her body into the Mississippi River, and he said he killed her because he just got bored with her. Or maybe she got tired of him, freeload enough of her. Not sure how he killed her, so I'll just say she was murdered. I'm guessing strangulation, but that is just to guess. While traveling, they did have a sexual relationship according to Noles, not sure if it was consensual, as he claimed, or if she was raped, her body never recovered.

Backing up just a little, Charlene's body would be recovered two days after Paul met Ann on September 25th. Deputy founder, nude body and some brush near a lonely stretch of Texas highway. She had definitely been raped and strangled to death and her skin was torn in several places after nobles had dragged her body through the barbed wire fence. That separated the brush area from the highway. For the next few weeks, nobles then traveled through Oklahoma, Missouri, Iowa, and Minnesota.

Did leave any additional bodies behind that we know of. Nobles now drives all over the fucking place. Credit card receipts would show that during Paul's five-month-long murder spree, he made more than 100 stops and at least 40 states. I mean, he made it to almost all the continental states. And a few weeks after tossing Anne's body in the river on October 16th, Noles walked up to a home in Marlboro, Connecticut. Little town of just over 5,000 people outside of Hartford.

And knocked on the door 16 year old Don wine who was home alone answered. Knowles quickly forces way inside, tighter up and raped her. Don's mother 35 year old Karen wine came home shortly after. Knowles now subjected her to the same torture. His 12th and 13th victims. PB and J getting rapier and rapier as time goes on now strangled in both with silk stockings and left. Take a money, a tape, and some records from Don's music collection.

He'd give those records to Jack and I, children when he visited her again. She would later claim that she had no idea anything bad was going on with Paul. When he'd swing through town, she felt so comfortable with him that she'd let him babysitter kids while she ran errands. What a weird fucking babysitter for those kids to think about having later. Yeah, I know Paul was kind of a weird baby sitter. I mean, sometimes he was cool, like, you know, even he'd let us stay up late, but other times, you know, he creep us out.

Like when he'd ask if, you know, like if we thought it'd be funny to like shoot the pizza guy in the face when he showed up at the door or if we ever he thought it would be funny if he ransacked our neighbor's house and killed her one inside before I left town, I thought that was weird at the time. Three days after leaving Connecticut, Nol's makes another deadly stop. He arrived in Woodford, Virginia on October 19th, there he forced or persuaded 53 year old Doris Hovey to let him into the home her home told her that all he wanted was a gun and then as soon as he got it he'd be on his way and not sure what happened to his previous gun. Apparently Doris believed him about want the gun or maybe just wanted

to believe him and we're just fucking scared out of her mind. She led the way into the study retrieved her husband's rifle as soon as he loaded it. He pointed it at her and shot her in the head. Before leaving, who wiped his prints off the rifle, left it beside her corpse, so I guess he didn't need it again. Just wanted to kill her. Also before leaving, he took some cash, other valuables, no sexual nature to this crime. Just needed some more stuff to keep running,

which wasn't a kill whoever to get it. As he now drove to Florida, and Olds knew that he'd taken enough life to guarantee going down into the history books. Now he needed someone to know what he'd done. Paradoxically he needed someone who would not turn him in when finding out what he had done. In Key West Florida, he picked up a pair of young hitchhikers, volunteered to drive them

to Miami. He'd later tell law enforcement officers how he planned to kill them, but you know, hadn't driven very far before a police officer stopped him for a traffic violation. Officer let him go with the warning, not realizing he was driving to get another stolen car. Now, no one gets lucky here. He also knew that there was no way now he could commit murder. Couldn't kill this couple because the police officer had seen him with him. So after dropping his passers-off from Miami, he now goes to see his lawyer, Sheldon Yavitz, that attorney we met earlier that got him the early parole and gave him a set of audio tapes and made a pretty dark declaration

He said I have something to tell you brace yourself. I'm a mass murderer Despite having a clientele professional criminals Sheldon apparently was not prepared for this and let's meet Sheldon here Not your typical defense attorney. This guy is truly like a real-life soul from better call Saul and breaking bad, except not funny. By 1974, his law practice was booming. His clients included Cuban extortionists who attacked their victims with hand grenades, a gang of drug smugglers that delivered to customers using federal express, a man who

liked to rob adult bookstores. He did not give a fuck what his clients did at all. Also didn't seem to care about the law, interesting quality for an attorney. He was cool with getting paid in whatever, like precious and clearly illegal stones from a jewel thief or a cobra sports car from a ring of burglars, a former drug dealer,

worked for him as a secretary. This character was very good again as clients off on technicalities, that was his specialty, his favorite being improper search and seizure. Sheldon is not, in my opinion, a likable fucking guy on any level. He didn't assume his clients were in a sentient working for them. He worked almost exclusively for clients.

He knew we're guilty. And seemed to enjoy the challenge of getting them off. You know, even if they were rapists, murderers, did not matter. Some people seem to think he liked work with criminals because he was one decades after his involvement with Noles, he'll get arrested in the bar of the booby trap lounge, home of stylish nude entertainment in a pop-in-o-beat Florida and charged with tax fraud. Noles will soon serve 48 dales, days in jail for initially refusing to turn over evidence that

Noles has given him. He'll get a contemptive court charge He was for nearly 20 years the premier drug lawyer for Southern Florida, which says a lot Then he resigned from the Florida bar before they had a chance to disbar him. What's there? We're going to do Nolz had met this fellow fucking deviant right through Angela Kovic that wealthy California woman who was you know Getting gonna get him off on parole early so she could marry him, but then she had her mind. She'd hired Sheldon, and, you know, he accomplished what she set out for, and now they have a relationship, and that's why he shows up with Sheldon now. The tapes Knolls gave Sheldon this day revealed that he had murdered 14 people over the previous four months. Knolls called his crimes, quote, successes, and wanted the Abbot to make sure that the world would know about them after his death so he can become quote as famous as Bonnie and Clyde.

The avid's later said in an interview, morally I should have called the police, but you know, fucking money. No, I said, but ethically, legally I was bound to protect my client or be disbard. If he was disbard back then, then he wouldn't be able to keep making millions I'm guessing under the table illegally. Getting paid, you know, big lumps of fucking unmarked bills from, you know, drug cartels and jewel thieves and shit. Not only speculating, but, ah, come on.

Not only did PB&J want you have it to make sure that the press and the public knew about his murders after his death so he could become famous or infamous. Also insisted he wanted to be shot down in a blaze of glory. Said that he had committed murders and several death penalty states knew his days were numbered and would prefer to

be shot down while you know resisting arrest then rather than a wait out the the lecture chair whatever you have a degree to keep a taste for him said he wouldn't call the police or alert any kind of law enforcement and then PB and J these self proclaim success story as he creepily told Sheldon headed back to Jack and I's house and making. While there it's possible that he killed Edward Hillier and Debbie Giffon, not Debbie Gibson, which is what my mind tried to say, not the pop star, a pair of teenage hitchhikers who have been traveling from their hometown of Gainesville, Florida to love Valley, North Carolina.

Hillier's body would be found just outside making on November 2. Body punctured by five bullets. Debbie Griffin remains missing. Searchers did find her purse keys and some articles of clothing. Their murders, you know, if he committed them, would take his eventual body count from 18 to 20. Noles would never take credit for these murders though. Investigators would speculate though that he did kill them to make up for not being able to care that kill that pair of hitchhikers. He wanted to kill but ended up releasing near Miami. November 7th 1974, Noles now for sure kills again. Less than three weeks after his last certain victim, 43-year-old

Ellen Carr returned to her home in midgeville, Georgia. Around 20,000 people live in a half-hour drive from making. Her day started out as just another morning after a long night shift at the hospital where Ellen worked as a nurse. Only the thing she had in her mind was good night's sleep, but that would quickly change. She entered her home to find that as one investigator would later put it, the place looked as if it had been attacked by an animal.

And this is very bad. Smashed mirrors, littered shards of glass, so across the carpet, sofas and chairs were ripped open, spilling their stuff out of the floor, bookshelves were upended, books littering the rooms like the rooms like a trash, and Ellen's 45-year-old husband, cars well, and her 15-year-old daughter, Mandy, are nowhere to be found.

What a fucking nightmare. Also, just real quick, cars well car. His parents felt the need to have car and his first name as well. Okay. Heart pounding, Ellen ran from room to room calling her family members by name and then a few minutes later she ran out of the house screaming hysterically. She'd found Car's well's nude corpse line faced down in the couple's bed. His hands bound behind his back. He had been stabbed 27 fucking times with the pair of scissors with enough force to have the tips of the scissors broken off

But the stabs hadn't killed him Medical examiners were later determined that he died of a heart attack probably brought on by the torture Local detective James Josie later said I worked a lot of murders, but that was the bloodiest crime scene I've ever seen Down the hall from her father the body of 15-year-old man he lays face down in her room when nylon stocking tied tightly around her neck, another shove down her throat. She appeared to have been sexually assaulted after death, but no semen was present. Medical examiner would later estimate that the pair had been killed sometime between 11.30 the previous night, 3 a.m. that morning. Please send soon found that several things were missing from the house, cars well as brief

case, shaving kit, credit cards, cash, identification, most of his clothing, plastic watch, digital clock radio, also missing from Mandy's room. While again, more and more of these crimes now of a sexual nature are still seen like PB&J's primary motivation was money. Had to keep finding his murder

so I can be infamous crime spray. Investigators initially believed that two people had committed the murders, given the extensive damage to the house and the fact that two victims have been overpowered. There were no fingerprints on the scissors that have been used to stab cars well, nor was there a single usable print in the house. He's taken care to make sure he's not caught. He also, again, keeps changing his M.O. stabs a dad with scissors so many times, that was new. Shubs a nylon down a rape victim's throat, that's new. As far as we know, we'd never attempted necrophilia before.

I wonder was all this done to help throw investigators off his trail? Or, and this is what I think in my gut is the truth, as he, you know, is he just trying new things because why the fuck not? Nothing's off limits morally for this guy, right? I think he did a lot of what he did based on what he just felt like doing in the moment. If he was attracted to a victim, he tried to rape him. If he wasn't, he didn't. Maybe cars will remind him of his dad or someone at the Florida School for boys, so he stabbed

the fuck out of him. Or maybe he just wondered what it would feel like to stab someone that many times. Maybe with Mandy, he just wanted to know what it would feel like to stuff Nile on his down her throat. Or maybe he was just following the advice this entire time of some really fucked up, you know, what it would feel like to stuff nylon down her throat. Or maybe he was just following the advice this entire time of some really fucked up, you know, daily horoscopes. November 7th, 1974. With the moon's movement to your solar third house for a

stay of over two days, dear Sagittarius, it's a time of more movement, mental engagement and variety. You're enjoying more clarity in your life, especially with longer time goals, communications, and learning. And it's a good time now to shake things up. Today, maybe grab some scissors instead of strangulation. Really let yourself go and experiment. Don't be afraid to get messy.

Also work on nagging money concerns by assessing where you can tighten the belt to curb unnecessary spending. It's time to create and then stick to a budget. It's not as punishing as your expansive self might imagine. And I know this pre-fucked up. I know this pre-fucked up, but it does definitely lighten

all this whore up for me a bit though to do those a astrology readings. A police would quickly discover why PB&J targeted the car home. It was not random. The police would later learn that cars will car had been seen the night before in the Pegasus and nearby gay bar. The bartender said he noticed him talking to a tall young man with reddish hair, but couldn't recall if he left separately or together.

And hearing that, I do feel extra bad for his wife, Ellen. Mandy, what's their only daughter? In the matter of just a few hours, she learns that her husband, her only child, have both been murdered and may have also just found out that her husband was gay. And no longer alive to answer any questions, like why didn't you tell me? Talk about a horrific combo of grief and being mind-fucked.

I hope for her sake she already knew that he had sexual, you know, attractions towards men and they had worked something out. Helen Ray, a sales clerk at a department store in Macon came forward to say that after these murders, a young man had brought a, or bots, excuse me, a tape recorder and four blank tapes paid for the items with a credit card that belonged to carswell car. Seems like Nol's wanted to record some more successes to send to shady shelter. A call immediately went out for all police departments to be on a lookout for a tall, good-looking young dude with red hair and his apata style mustache while detective search for more clues PB&J already miles away in Atlanta. In a bar there, wearing his victims clothes, he flirts with a young female reporter and

journalist named Sandy Fox. Telling her that his name was Darryl Golden. Fucking Darryl Golden, not a bad Eliest name. Stay Golden, pony boy. He was a businessman from New Mexico, visiting Atlanta to oversee a court case involving a restaurant chain that is dad owned. Not a bad story. Sandy believed him. Clearly wasn't shaken up at all by what he'd just done. Sandy, a 45 year old redhead this time, whose childhood might have made her more sympathetic towards Paul, more than other people might be. And shortly after her birth, June 30th, 1929,

one or both of Sandy's parents, she never learned her identities, had abandoned her. She'd been raised in an orphanage until the age of four and a half, a cruel place where she'd been forced to wear a different colored underwear to let everybody know she was a bed wetter. Her foster parents didn't understand her, they'd been alarmed instead of overjoyed for her when she learned to read quicker than their own kids.

And then they forbade her from touching any more books in the home except for the Bible. Sandy's teenage years coincided with World War II. The blitz, the whole keep calm ethos, the thing to do was to tamp it down, transcend the trauma. Channel the raid so deep that you hardly felt it. She showed an aptitude for painting, went to the Canberwell School of Art. 1949 she married Wally Fox, author of the cartoon strip, Fluke, a couple of three kids, what one would dive sits. In the 1960s she worked as a fashion editor for Vanity Fair in the Daily Sketch, and in

the 1970s as a feature writer for the Daily Express. She was climbed up the ranks from small featured to big stories, covered the Yamkepur War in the Middle East, 1973, and then landed in Atlanta on the night of November 7, 1974. She'd spent that day in Washington on a fruitless quest to interview former vice president Spiro Agnew, part of a one month trial with the National Enquirer. They were paying for her travel in hotel. That meant she actually needed to give them something and hadn't worked out so far. Had no plans for the evening as was her habit when landing in a new city.

She checked in with the local paper, the Atlanta Constitution here to see if one of their reporters might show her around, but no one was available. P.B. and J would be free though. What a lucky gal. Sandy alone decided to grab a few drinks at the hotel bar. She was nervous at the prospect of drinking alone in the south. Atlanta was not London, where the pubs and soho were so familiar to her that he functioned as a second home.

She wandered into the holiday in bar, started drinking, which improved her mood, and so did the handsome stranger, I and her, from the other end of the bar. She later remembered that he looked like a cross between Robert Redford and Ryan O'Neill, really easy on the eyes. He was over six feet tall, broad, shoulder, narrow, hip, had the rugged, facial features Sandy found attractive. She thought his suit and tie were conservative, yet classy. The kind of thing a successful businessman might wear from the boardroom straight to the bar, and he was looking at her. As she herself wrote a few years later, years of pulling in pubs and clubs had taught her that despite being a bit broad in the beam and not exactly a raving beauty, she had a magnetism, a powerful one that drew men as if

to a pile of iron fillings. That is some weird shit to write about yourself maybe. Also kind of extra weird to write about it in the third person. about yourself maybe. Also kind of extra weird to write about it in the third person. Sure, Dan may have had greasy as skin in the average bloke. And a bit of a belly and dark swarthy features that projected a tone of menace to many.

And yeah, maybe his large the normal eyes could make him come across his a bit mentally unstable. However, holy shit, thater was a push magnet. He couldn't walk across a room without slipping a bit, nearly falling down, thanks to the floor always being wet around him with push juice, flowing from every woman who gazed upon his manly visage.

Little quote there from Dan's upcoming book about Dan. Current working title, Professor Push magnet, hot slab of man meat, the Dan common storyins story has told by Dan Cummins. I don't know. Anyway, Sandy Dick Magnet Fox, wore black pleated skirts, white silk blouses, black sparkly tight sweaters, black stocking tie heel shoes, broadcasting to the world, at least according to herself,

who she's the one who gave this description, as she was single and ready to mingle with some young hot dick. Early to mid 20s was her ideal range. That meant she could get some itches scratched, but keep her real focus on her work. They're not gonna get too fucking clingy, Hey, I'll lose to Fina. I gotta say confidence and honesty is attractive.

I bet she was putting out some sexual magnetism. I see you, Sandy. I see you. Oh, eventually PB&J came over to Dandy, Sandy, and asked her to dance. She politely maybe flirtatiously declined, saying she had to work. It's anything quickly paid her to have went to the local inquire office,

wrapped a few things up, couldn't get the handsome stranger out of her head, though, so she went back to the bar and there he was. His horoscope probably told him to wait for her. This time she accepted his invitation when he asked again and they talked for hours, went out to dinner and then went back to Sandy's hotel room. After using cars he was in cars, well, cars, shaving kit to shave off his moustache, maybe Sandy didn't like it, maybe he's worried about being identified by law enforcement, nose gets into bed with

Sandy. They kiss, they make out and they do not fuck because he cannot get it up. He apologizes, Sandy reassures him that these things are fine, he just had too much of drink. Turned out to light, she cuddled up beside him and they drift off and she assumed that in the morning they would go their separate ways, but Darryl insisted on sticking around.

He drove her to a scheduled interview instead of letting her take a cab. She made plans to fly to her next assignment, West Palm Beach, that afternoon while he said he was attending court on his father's behalf, but then to her surprise, he approached her and she would leave in the hotel, saying that he'd already settled the matter. It was handled out of court.

He had time to travel a bit if she was interested, which she was. She wanted more of that soft dick. Woo! Maybe she should have stayed the last part. And totally spent almost a week together. Sandy had no idea that the man she was sleeping with kind of, sleep with, would never be able to have sex with her due to impototence the man who seemed so attentive, instead of in protective was a fucking psychopath. He insisted on paying for everything and drove her everywhere she needed to go in a brand new white Chevy Impala car.

His wardrobe made Darryl seem rich and cool to Sandy. She was smitten. When he volunteered to drive to Miami where he said he had an appointment she accepted, and her little love affair would continue for a little while longer. The pair left Atlanta, November 9th, out of Miami, they went clubbing, Sandy saw what a great dancer he was. When he started dancing, women turned around to watch fucking horoscopes and dancing. Who knew?

Once in West Palm Beach, November 10th, PB&J drove Sandy to the local office of the paper. She was trying out with, drove her to the house of Florida at Attorney General William Sacksby so she could conduct an interview, waited for her in the car. At one point, he asked her if she'd ever written a book. And if she would consider writing a book about him, Sandy was used to people trying to give her book ideas, but wanted to humor her new boo. So she asked him, well, why would he make a good subject? And to her, her amazement, Darryl applied that he was going to be dead within a year.

And he added that he expected to be killed for some stuff he'd done. While Sandy stared at him in alarm, Darryl told her that his attorney Miami had been given some special tapes for safekeeping. He said their contents would be revealed after his death, and that what was on those tapes would make world headlines. Half convinced he was joking, Sandy said that maybe he should see a psychiatrist. He smiled and said that he had seen a psychiatrist who told him I had the perfect criminal mind. He's not joking. Sandy is, as you might expect, the big creeped out.

Also, the impotence thing now starting to wear a little thin. Their fling was supposed to be a fuck fest, not a cuddle party. So the two part weighs two days later, November 11th, and Sandy is relieved. Nobles wanted to stay with her longer. She was worried about how to get rid of him. She introduced him to some important journalist friends. She made him feel important by proxy, and then she had to begin to avoid him for those last two days. Finally, he seemed to get the hint and give up, and she got a lucky way, luckier than she

realized at the time. Only a few days after they parted, Sandy's approached by police detectives, who have questions about this so-called derl. They informed her that he was really Paul John Knowles, an ex-con suspected of committing a series of rapes and murders over the past four months. They grilled her about her connection with him, hinted that she could be charged as an accomplice. Also how horrifying, detectives showed her photos of items taken from the car residents

and Sandy immediately identified several pieces of clothing that Darrell had worn during their time together Please also informed her that the Chevy Impala belonged to a businessman named William Bates Who strangled corpse had been dumped outside of Lima, Ohio the previous or that you know in September and The kill less went on they didn't know about all the murders But they knew about a lot of them like Charlotte and Hicks the Texas woman he'd raped and murdered, her corpse dragged to a barbed wire fence. The police asked Andy if he'd given her any gifts when she showed them a Mickey Mouse watch that identified it as having belonged to young rape and murder victim Mandy Carr, incredibly disturbing. Sandy Fox began to realize how lucky she was and began to suspect

that she'd been allowed to live for one reason. Noles request to write a book about him. Meanwhile, Noles moved on. After his dalliance with Sandy, he met up with James and Susan McKenzie, our British couple who knew Sandy, who he was introduced to through Sandy, who now felt bad for Noles because, you know, he got dumped, he seemed so alone. Susan would mention that she had a hair appointment the next day and Noles offered a driver. She accepted. But then once in the car together, he pulled over a few minutes into the drive and asked her for sex. When she refused,

he pulled out a pistol. She fought back, knocked the weapon aside as she screamed. She wrenched the car door open. Nol's grabbed a fistful of her hair, but she was able to break loose, ran it into the road, and then flagged down a car. She went straight to the police, told them everything that happened. Bulletin now goes out immediately with the description of the attacker in the name, Darryl Golden. Few days later, West Palm Beach police officer recognizes the stolen white Chevy Impala

and Nolz is still driving like a fucking idiot and pulls him over. Nolz reaches for a sawdust shotgun, the officer, who opened his car door, drops to the pavement when he sees that gun and stays there while Nolz drives away. He got lucky, real lucky, that nobles didn't fucking blast him. Must have been other witnesses.

No one the police will be watching his car now. Nobles decides he needs a new one. At same afternoon, a wheelchair-bound woman named Beverly maybe heard a knock at the door of her West Palm Beach home. The man behind it identified himself as Bob Williams from the IRS asked to come in. Puzzle, but not wanting to seem uncooperative. She let him in.

Don't let the IRS in, fucking ever. Uh, once inside, he told her that he needed a hostage and to get away car because the police were after him. Maybe somehow managed to keep calm, knowing that he'd probably get violent if she screamed. She tells him that she doesn't have a car, but her sister Barbara Tucker is on her way and she does have a car.

So he sits down and waits for barbed. Once barbed gets there, a company by her six year old son knows ties up Beverly, tells the boy to go play another room and forces Barb to drive with him to Fort Pierce in her beige Volkswagen. Like her sister, Barb remained calm, kept him talking, did everything he asked. She later said that he tried to rape her, but couldn't get an erection. Interviewed for that 11-a-live documentary I referenced interviewed a few years ago.

Barbara said, if I would have met Paul Noll and a nightclub, I would have gone out with him. He was very good looking. Then regarding his sexual ability, she said, he'd rate me over and over, but it wasn't rape in my mind because the man wasn't normal. He was not normal that way. Sexually, he wasn't like a real man. He was trying, but he couldn't do anything. And she pauses for a long time and then just says, impotent. The way she said it all in the doc, I imagine it would have enraged PJK to hear her. Uh, I loved it.

She is like, nah, he's fucking clown. Anyway, Paul left her tied up, gagged in a motel room on a Friday night before escaping in her car. Meanwhile, Beverly is able to wiggle out of her ties, calls police reports, barbers, abduction and both women uh, make it out of this life. Immediately the police linked the description of her attacker to Darryl Golden. The police does Beverly's home for fingerprints, show her some mug shots, able to finally put a name to the face of this killer now, Paul John Knowles on the evening news, his photo is broadcast along with the warning to residents that PGK is armed and dangerous. The walls are closing in. Now law enforcement officers all over the state are on the alert for Barbara Tucker stolen

Volkswagen being driven by PB and J on November 16 to 35 year old Florida highway patrol trooper named Charles Eugene Campbell notices a car that seems to fit the description. Traveling on US 19 year the northern Florida city of Perry turning on his siren, he overtakes the vehicle stops driver for questioning. Knowles draws his gun before Campbell can reach for his. He orders the officer to cuff himself and get in the back of the patrol car. Campbell does as he's told. Knowles now abandons the Volkswagen, drives away and Campbell's cruiser. A passing motorist witnesses the kidnapping calls the police, but by the time they have arrived noles and Campbell are long gone. Noles knows that the black and yellow patrol car he's driving stands out too much and the

law enforcement is going to be looking for it. So he uses the siren to pull over a Ford Grand Torino, then hurts the man driving it inside. James Meyer business guy from Delaware into the back seat along with Charles Campbell. Later that day, he'll pull into a gas station in Lakeland, Georgia to buy a pack of smokes. The proprietor wonders why uniform police officers in the backseat of the car, but because Campbell didn't seem to be struggling, didn't seem to look worried or scared, the proprietor writes it off and does not report it. November 17th, 1974, two Georgia sheriffs deputies spot Paul's new stolen blue Ford traveling along highway 42. No one is in the back seat.

Nobles manages to evade their roadblocks until one 10 p.m. that afternoon, when he ran up against a police blockade near Stockbridge, Georgia, instead of surrendering, he fucking floors it, right? Probably thought it was gonna be his blaze of glory moment, his body and Clyde. Come and get me copp us.

You know, maybe the car would explode into flames like an action movie. All the impact it was sent the car cringing into a tree, noles, bloody and battered but can still walk. Anker still run and starts running into the Henry County Woods firing a revolver behind him to keep the police chasing him at bay. He does make it away from them inside the car. Georgia police officers find Campbell's hat and an empty gun belt.

No blood in the back seats. They're hopeful the hostages might be found alive. Orders are, go out to take noles in alive so we can tell them where the missing men are. For hours, please search the woods using tracking dogs and helicopters. Finally, when a noles emerges from the clearing, a police officer does not spot him,

but David Clark does, a local resident and Vietnam War veteran. David grabbed his honey shotgun, approached, noles had wrapped a scarf around his injured hand to stop some bleeding. As David closed in, Nolz said, please help me. Well, David did not help him.

At gunpoint, he escorted him to a neighbor's house and called the police. Then he did seem, based on whatever kind of conversation he's to had to take some pity on him. Because when the police showed up and took Nolz into custody, Clark told him, don't hurt him. Fucking cast an overkiller, charmed another person. Police now took noles to the office of Dr. Joseph A. Blissett for a quick examination of

his injured hand wounded leg. Dr. Founded the injuries were minor, so noles was then delivered to the Henry County jail. A noles spotted the crowd of reporters around the jail. He literally laughed into light. Fucking squealed. It's like being a celebrity, the way that the crowded in on him, shouting questions, taking his picture, he loved it. Gave him such a rush of power. He refused to tell police whether it's hostages were dead or alive, decided to toy with him. He taunted

him saying, one word, one word will reveal where these men are. But if you say what it was, search for his hostages is still underway. Night temperatures are frigid and if the men are outside, they're risking death by exposure. Authorities float a plan to have Sandy Fox see if she can get anything out of noes, but she's already offered an exclusive interview about Paul to the Atlantic Constitution. So won't help him. Wouldn't be until November 21st, four days later that the men's fate would be revealed. Deer hunters made the discovery inside a pine-ticket. Myer and Campbell had been handcuffed to a tree, and unfortunately each man had been shot

in the head execution style. Their bodies were cold, they'd been dead for days. When Thordys told Noles that the search was over, he fucking grinned. Told him that the magic word was, papst. There was a papst brewery, very close to where the men were found.

Happy with his joke, Noles laughed at he's laughed at it or piece of shit. Over the following days, he would tell authorities that he'd killed 18 people, not by standing out loud, but by tracing a figure of 18 on his left palm over and over again. Of the number, you know, obviously, he write out a list of states where he killed on a piece of scrap paper, Texas, Florida, Georgia, Ohio, Virginia, Connecticut, Mississippi. Then when questioned by others, maybe wanting to sound more evil than he even was, he claimed now that he committed 35 murders. Investigators would only be able to eventually link him conclusively to 18, you know, with another two additional murders that we mentioned, likely committed by Noles.

Meanwhile, the press was rowing along with the story much to his delight. He was given the nickname of the Casanova Killer. Any picture of Noles seemed to capture his easy laugh, quick smile, devil-may-care attitude. At one point he mentioned that the tapes he'd given to his attorney, or he mentioned the tapes that he had given to his attorney, saying the contents on those tapes would make him famous. Federal judge Wilbur Owens now orders shady Shelton Yavits to hand those tapes over, but lawyer refused it, citing attorney client privilege. Neither Shelton or his wife,

Patsy would reveal where the tapes are, so Owens jails them both on contempt charges. Eventually, mostly to get his wife released Yavits gives in. Each writer's two packages, the tapes and Knowles will, which left everything to his parents and directed the Yavits to make my life story. Record and history, a record, sorry. Make my my life story record and history a record sorry make my life story record and history known to the world for the good of society

fuck out of here good as society uh... nobles even suggested books movies and television as the ideal mediums for getting his amazing story out of the masses no sorry buddy this podcast where you've been constantly mocked is about as good as you're ever probably get uh... he did sadly get to experience a bit of local celebrityism before he died. A nose was thrilled to see people lining the streets outside the courthouse, especially those who were so eager to catch a glimpse of the killer that declined onto roofs and hung off balconies.

He would smile at everyone in the courtroom, even the hostile friends and family of the car family. Local attorney had been appointed to his defense team Charles Markman before Yavits was released after, and those tapes over, before he did, he had him over Georgia governor and future president Jimmy Carter appointed state attorney general Arthur Bolton to prosecute noses for the George murders. Florida also wanted to prosecute him for the murders of Marjorie Howie and Alice Curtis. Other states wanted to speak to him about murders they suspected he was responsible for,

but no state would get the trial they wanted. PB&J not going to be sticking around much longer. Nope pun intended was sticking. PB&J was two nuts to make it to death row, bad pun kind of intended with nuts. Thanksgiving date 1974 a hundred found William Bates nude body in the woods outside of Lima. He'd been bound gagged, lectite before being strangled. Another murder charge authorities in another state now want to try him for. On December 4, 1974, Noles is secretly transferred to the Douglas County jail in Douglasville because of the facility, there is considered more equipped to

contain someone who had escaped custody before. There, Noles will continue to field questions, sometimes helping investigators, sometimes help an investigator, sometimes hindering them. In mid-December, he agrees to show Sheriff Erly where he had disposed to trooper Campbell's service revolver. The gun was an important piece of evidence. He allegedly used it to murder the trooper and James Meyer, so they decided to let him take him there. On December 18th, Sheriff Lee and Georgia Bureau investigation agent Ron Angel put nobles in a car so we can show them where in Henry County he had disposed of the weapon. Lee drove while Angel set up front beside him and nobles sat in the back shackled by his wrist and ankles.

They were on US 20 near Lee Road when Sheriff Lee noticed the nobles had lit a cigarette. Slowing down the car he asked nobles to hand it over. Instead of complying nobles put out the cigarette, lurch forward revealing that one of his wrists was free while the handcuffs dangled off the other. He leans over the seat grabs a sheriff's gun which goes off through the holster while Lee tries to control the car and push Noel's away Ron Angel draws his gun quickly shoots Noel's three fucking times. First bullet enters his chest, hits a bone, exits out his right side, second hits him under the right arm, third lodges in his brain killing him instantly. Carskid's off the highway, goes down a small embankment, stops against the barbed wire

fence post. Lee Radio's news to headquarters, a pathologist soon arrives and pronounces Paul John Knowles fucking dead. And they soon found out how Knowles had undone his handcuffs. It was a tip he received in his daily astrology. No, he was his horse coat. No, it was a broken piece of paperclip wedged into the right cuffs lock. So he must have hit it somewhere on him.

James Campbell, the brother of the murder trooper, was thrilled by the news. He'd tell a reporter, I'm just tickled to death that he died. I was afraid that he'd go into court, get declared insane, and go into a mental hospital. I'm glad it happened this way. Yeah, imagine I might feel the same way. Fuck that guy. PB&J left behind few belongings in his jail cell. One was a photograph of an electric chair that he ripped out of a magazine. Another was a letter to Angela Covick, still thinking

about her, I guess, as a letter where he described himself as both Clyde Borrow and John Dillinger. When this is over, he wrote, I will be more famous. Nope. Dude still hasn't even gotten a Netflix doctor in the height of the Western World's True Crime Obsession. Also, Scrawled on his cell wall in Fading Pantsle was Paul John Knowles, December 4th, 1974, till question mark. And finally, there was his horoscope for the day ripped from a magazine.

December 18th, 1974. Hey, Sagittarius. What in the fucking fuck are you doing still sitting in prison? You're a badass sentat. You're the archer and a shooter's got a shoot. It just said, center, dick up off your bunk, believe in yourself, and break out of this dump. Go for it.

Be the infamous outlaw, your destined to be. Also your lucky number is seven and your lucky color is moth. And you are likely to romantically meet a Gemini this week. Your opposite signs actually have much more in common than you think. Gemini rules these so-called lower- common sense, reasoning facts, hard data in lect, combined with your governance of the higher mind of wisdom, philosophy, consciousness, ethics, and metaphysics, together you can find sweet neurological nirvana. But first, use a paper clip to break free of your handcuffs and grab that gussah!

Come on let's fucking go! No, no horoscope is found in the cell, but you knew that. Bacteriality, PB and J's corpse was taken to the Whitley and Tidwell funeral home. Owners Steve Tidwell was instantly overloaded with requests to see the remains. One teenage girl pleaded, come on, I've never seen a mass murder before.

It's fucking creepy. Steve refused them all, he was glad when the body was placed in a wooden casket and on its way to the Atlanta airport. From there, it would be flown to the fucking sewage plant. He just dumped it a bunch of shit. No, it was taken to Knowles' father's in Jacksonville, for burial. There was still an inquest hearing about how Knowles' death had gone down though. The inquest jury believed that Knowles had conned his jailers into taking him out of the jail so he could break loose. His shady Florida attorneys thought otherwise. Oh, fucking Sheldon insisted his client had been set up

for execution and PB&J's other attorney, Charles agreed. Chuck and Sheldon said he had a letter from a no, a noes former Selmae who saw the noes said he'd be killed before a trial. Yeah, because he wanted to. He been talking about that for years. The inquest hearing would absolve Sheriff Lee and Agent Ron Angel of any crime

and how they dealt with noes escape attempt. Of course. The office is probably just looking for a big settlement, right? If the police had fucked up somehow, you know, maybe he would just get a bunch of money. Again, that dude seems like a scumbag to me. The two men involved in killing noles would go on to receive near universal acclaim for taking out one of the country's worst men. Sheila McGuire, the sheriff secretary told reporters that the office phone was ringing off the hook with most of the callers wanting to congratulate her boss. Hell yeah, hell, Nimrod. Dude was a rabid dog needed to be put down. It's nice ending to a story. When Angela Kovic heard about her former lover's death, she drove across the

country in Jacksonville to attend his funeral. Although her rejection of him seemed to be what set him off, she told reporters, I love it, according to some, but she told reporters, I loved him. If he had escaped this time, I would have gone with him. Well, that's fucking gross. Nose was buried in Jacksonville, Florida with only his family and Angela in attendance. The Baptist minister who officiated literally refused to pray that Nose Soul was gonna rest in peace. Thank you, your spare.

1977, Sandy Fox, book about Paul John's no comes out. She would title it killing time, later republished again, his natural born killer, and it did okay. Not great. She claimed the no was was only able to come near her by masturbating and he was not able to ever penetrate her. Was he only able to have vaginal sense of vaginal sex if violence was involved?

Or was he actually gay and just never came to terms with his real sexuality? I mean, it sounded earlier like he was able to have plenty of sex in prison. Or was he just a complete maniac with a fucking hornet's nest for a brain and sexual preference terms like straight or gay don't apply to him.

He was something else. January 2011, last timeline entry for today. Please investigate, as Georgia finally identified the remains of young IMA gene Sanders. I'm his mother and sister submitted samples of their DNA to the Austin County Texas Sheriff's Office. They never gave up looking for,

never stopped wondering what happened to her. They hope she'd made a new life for herself somewhere, but also wanted to know if she had been harmed. The Sheriff's Office sent the samples to the University of North Texas Center for Human Identification, where they were uploaded into the relatives of missing persons index of the combined DNA index systems, CODIS, and there was a match. The remains from Peach County belong to IMA. It was only after the match was confirmed that investigators then spoke with the current

and retired investigators of Nol's crimes. They wanted the audio tapes. They've been surrendered to Judge Owens. But we're told that the only copies of the tapes and their transcripts have been destroyed years ago when the courthouse and makin' had flooded. But then, asserted the Georgia Bureau of Investigation Archives yielded a letter written in 1975 by the U.S. Attorney, summarized a portion of the tape confessions and a passage read sometime in August 1974, noles picked up a white female hitchhiker named Alma, who represented her age

as 13 or 14, but who appeared to be in her late teens. He carried this girl to a wooded area, some distance from Macon, possibly west, he raped her, then strangled her and left. Left her body in the woods between trees, approximate two weeks later, he returned to the location and found that the body had been moved eight or 10 feet away apparently by animals. The body was greatly deteriorated and barely identifiable as a human being. Noles found her job wound and buried it in another area.

Captain Chris Rooks of the Warner Robbins Police Department flew to Texas to deliver the news to Imagines relatives personally. Betty received her daughter's ashes from him and would say after 38 years of waiting to know you feel like the walls closed in. I carried her home from the hospital and I get to carry her home today. Eh, can't fucking imagine and with that let's get out of this timeline. Good job soldier. You made it back. Barely.

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Casanova killer Paul John Knowles, PJK, PB&J. What a super fucking cool guy. I guess, you know, I mean, kind of an inspiring episode. I mean, if I could be any serial killer, I would definitely want to be him. I mean, the fact that he owned who he was, he made these tapes, didn't hide the fact that he was a ruthless killer.

I do respect that. He was this, he lived an authentic life. I mean, he went for it. He fucking went for it. And good for him, you wanted to be the best. I mean, what's not to like about that? What's not to respect? Largely as a culture, I mean, you know, we respect Michael Jordan for pushing himself past where other peers were willing to push themselves in order to be the best basketball

player ever. They respect Tom Brady for tirelessly working on his craft year after year after year, year to be the best quarterback of all time, but we're not supposed to respect. No, excuse me. Admire Paul John Nolz for trying to be the most successful serial killer ever for trusting his daily horoscopes to lead him to immortal fucking glory. Now he's a beast of shit. He's a loser.

Nolz told a prison psychiatrist that he truly felt no remorse for any of his killings, not even for the kids Yeah, the dude had a horrible childhood abuse of dad Years of abuse undoubtedly suffered at the Florida School for boys Perhaps rapes there as well didn't have it easy But that's no excuse Thousands of kids from shitty homes also were sent to the Florida School for boys

How many of them also became serial killers zero that I know of It's a choice on some level to be that evil Back when he he was a kid, Paul dreamed of becoming a bad, bad man. Why? What connections were not quite wired right in his head? What early choices combined with circumstances and temperament sent him on a dark path that he never walked off of? Is your accomplished his goal?

What a fucked up goal to have? No one should ever want to be infamous? Far better to be forgotten. Right? You're not going to be alive either way to know what people are saying, or if your spirit does live on and has awareness of what's still happening in this realm of the living. What the fuck are you doing hanging around here checking to see what people are saying about you? Go evolve past all that noise you spectral ding dong. Right? Get over your former self. If you want to be remembered, want to be remembered for doing something good or for being good something that has positive value I

Mean I personally I'm driven to try and become a better storyteller Better comic to write you know better bits that will matter to people in ways that help them Maybe inspire them creatively maybe pulled about a dark place in their minds with some fucked up humor, you know, some escapist, you know, entertainment so they don't feel as alone. Get away from their troubles for a little while. I feel better when I hear a message of you inspired me to go back to school or chase my dreams or, you know, be more content with life I already have

than I do when I hear a message of, dude, that was so fucking funny, both have value. Don't get me wrong. Love knowing that some people find me funny. 100% love knowing that some people find my horror story telling abilities unscared to death to be good. Enjoy the way I present stories and information. But when you take something I do and apply it to what you do

in a way helpful, not to me, but to you, that fulfills me the most. I think about the butterfly effect, right? Of I make you feel better, you make someone else feel better, they make someone else feel better, maybe that next person doesn't shoot up a school or something. What we do does matter. We can make the world a bit better or we can make it a bit worse. Or like PB&J, we can make it a lot worse.

At the end of the day, my dark cynical to some ass is actually pretty sensitive. I want to add positive value to the world. I sometimes see as a constantly burning dumpster fire on my worst days. And part of the reason I want to add something good is because of how aware I am of how many people don't. People who in their most extreme form show up in the world as someone like Paul John Noles. A lot of entertainers I've met over the years don't seem to really care about anyone others themselves.

They mostly just want to be as famous as possible. I don't know, so they can throw their ego weight around or something, feel superior to others. You don't have as many followers on various platforms. They treat people who can't help their career like shit or like they just don't matter. And how fucking sad. What is what a sad goal is to have infamy or fame in that way? Like how sad that Paul's dream was to be widely known For being a morally bankrupt asshole just a piece of shit who contributed nothing good to the world around him Who had a just pain and misery? I would rather not you know live it all than be known for that

Fuck hollow fame It's morally worthless. It can put money in your pocket, but so can human trafficking, so can selling coke, legs with fentanyl. Don't chase fame, don't chase infamy, chase equality life, chase creativity if you wanna be in the fame game in some kind of entertainment way. Chase craft mastery. And if fame comes with that, okay, cool, cool bonus.

If it doesn't, still cool, you're good at something. Maybe really good. And those around you know it, you know it. That has value, you can take pride in your craft whether five people or five million Know about it You have fuck all of fame and fuck Paul John Knowles for chasing it. Glad as dick was limp If he's a specter wandering around this earth. I hope his spirit dick still limp I'm glad I'll never be seen as more by true crime fans than a bottom tier serial killer when it comes to notoriety

Glad as confession tapes are lost. They were never released to the public, but were reviewed by Grand jury in 1975. And then the tapes along with the full transcripts destroyed after being ruined beyond repair in the flood of the federal courthouse and make it. They'll never be used to make a hit docu-series. Instead outside of the occasional podcast appearance, nobles will mostly be lost to history. That makes me glad.

Also glad he was in the horsecoats. That was fun for me. I hope it was fun for you. Maybe my stupid ass laugh. Now let's go over a few of this idiots deeds one last time with today's top five takeaways. Time suck, top five takeaways. time suck. Top five takeaway.

Number one, Paul John Knowles killed 18 people. Perhaps the full 20 be listed, or maybe even the 35 as he claimed between July 26, 1974 November 16th, 1974. After being dumped by his fiance, Angela Kovik, on the advice of her psychic, Knowles embarked on a cross country road trip from hell that would lead him through Florida, Georgia, Ohio, Nevada, Texas, Alabama, Connecticut, and Virginia. He'd move from kill to kill any lives indiscriminately. Women, men, children,

that he'd take what supplies he needed to get to the next place. He'd take cash, credit cards, cars, clothing, anything he could use to fund his on-the-run chaotic lifestyle. Number two, Paul John Knowles was nicknamed the Casanova killer a better nickname might be the ego killer Killed primarily because he wanted to be famous wanted TV shows movies books made about him as he told his lawyer Shady Sheldon gave Sheldon a series of tapes that he thought would make him infamous after his death But actually just ended up sticking Sheldon and his wife and jail for a while And he sought out Sandy Fox because she was a hard-hitting journalist told her that she

ought to write a book about it because he would soon be killed for something he'd done. And the world would know about it. Number three, Paul John Knowles was killed by Georgia Bureau of Investigation, Agent Ron Angel. After Knowles promised to show investigators where they could find the gun he used to kill a hostage in a state trooper. Knowles used a stolen paperclip to get free from his handcuffs trying grab a weapon did grab a weapon at that point, agent agent, angel shot him three times first in the body, finally

in the head. Nol's died after that third shot and a killer's unnecessary reign of terror was at an end. Number four, Paul John Nol spent six different stints at the Florida School for Boys. Place that only recently has come to be recognized for the brutality and inflicted on thousands. At the Florida School for Boys, children who could be as young as five, perhaps as young as three, were subject to beatings by classmates and staff, whippings at lasted hours, sexual abuse and a cartoonishly evil sounding basement rape room and more insane atrocities, including on some occasions outright

murder. Dozens of students were killed on the premises buried in unmarked graves, some which were graves their classmates dug. Much like with the Elon school, the full extent of these abuses wouldn't be revealed until the 2010s when victims began coming forward with their stories despite their shame and trauma. Long before anyone knew about how hellish the Florida School for boys was, it would be the place where John Paul Noll spent his four minute of years being abused

and all likelihood, seeing classmates get abused, seeing classmates disappear sometimes without a trace. This might not have made him into a serial killer, but as sure as shit didn't help him become a decent person. And number five, new info, where does the term Casanova originally come from? Well, it goes back to one person. Jicomo Casanova.

Casanova was an Italian adventurer, author from the Republic of Venice, born April 2nd, 1725. And his autobiography, Story of My Life, is regarded as one of the most authentic sources of the customs and norms of European social life during the 18th century. He became famous for his many affairs with women, so famous that his name became synonymous with womanizer. Womanizer doesn't actually really do this guy justice. In reality, dude was a disgusting sexual predator, a fucking dirtbag, not a womanizer, a rapist, and a pedophile. Incessed was on his

long list of transgressions. Maybe Casanova killer is a good name for Paul John Knowles. These guys were both fucking disgusting. Here's some of the shit that the one time priest and training Cassanova did. In the early 1750s, he rented a room from a woman named Madame Quinson, began a sexual relationship with her daughter Mimi, who was according to him between 15 and 16 years of age. After Mimi became pregnant, her mother apparently demanded Cassanova marry her. Cassanova, who was already married, not interested,

brought to court, he told the judge, no one could prove he was the father of Mimi's child. So deadbeat dad, fucking over some teen lover he used. Cool. During Carnival and night in 1745, after one of Cassanova's friends suggested it would be a good joke for Cassanova and seven other men to abduct Excuse me and rape a woman as he wrote in his memoir memoirs. They did that and according to Casanova she loved it

Highly fucking doubt that 1747 Casanova received a court summons after an injured girl's mother filed a complaint Casanova's declaration of defense claimed the mom had sold him her daughter's virginity. She explained that he tried to have sex there but that she refused and made a violent effort to resist him so he beat the shit at her. He wrote, I got a hold of a broomstick, gave her a good lesson in order to get something for the 10 sequins which I had been foolish enough to paint advance. But I've broken none of her limbs and I took care to apply my blows only on her posterior's on which spot I have no doubt that all the marks may be seen in the evening

I made her dress herself again send her back in a boat which chance to pass and she was landed in safety The mother received 10 sequins the daughter has kept her hateful maidenhood Jesus and if I'm guilty of anything it is only of having given a thrashing to an infamous girl the pupil of a still more infamous mother only of having given a thrashing to an infamous girl, the pupil of a still more infamous mother. Cassnovas victims were by his own account as young as nine, often adolescent girls. 1765, when he was 40, he purchased a 12-year-old girl in St. Petersburg as a sexual slave in his memoirs, described the rushing girl as emphatically pre-pubescent. Said her breasts had still not finished budding. She was in her thirteenth year, she had nowhere the definitive mark of puberty. 1761 dude even slept with his own teenage daughter.

And later wrote, I have never been able to understand how a father could tenderly love his charming daughter without having slept with her at least once. And this motherfucker's name went on to become an English term for someone who gets along well with the ladies. First used in that context around 1852, given its actual history, I think we should probably retire it. Fuck the Casanova killer and fuck the original Casanova as well. Time suck, tough five takeaways. Despite some tech situations, the Casanova killer Paul John Nill still got sucked.

Thank you as always to everyone involved. Start with Logan Keith today. The fucking Keith, the art warlock directing and producing today under different circumstances. We always just figure out how to get it done. I'm very, very happy about that so far. Thanks, as always, to the Queen of Bad Magic, Lindsey Cummins, creating the time for me to do this show weekend week out, including today. Thanks to Biddelec Sir for upkeep on the time. So like, app, Lindsey Cummins, creating the time for me to do this show weekend week out, including today. Thanks to Bitelixer for upkeep on the time suck app, the art warlock, again, creating the merch of Badmagicmerch.com,

check those posters out, helping one of our socials along with our suck ranger, Tyler C., and a team managed by our social media strategist, Ryan Handlesman. Thanks to producers, Sophie Evans, again with initial research. Thanks to the all seen eyes, moderating the Colt and Curious private Facebook page,

the mod squad, making sure Discord is fun and running and everyone on the time suck subreddit and the bad magic subreddit. So many places. So many other Facebook groups to find people who like to show and people who you may be able to be friend. Next week, we're releasing a very different kind of true crime suck. Deep diving on the infamous Bloods and Crips Southern California gangs immortalized in the hip hop culture I grew up with in the 90s. Next week, we're releasing a very different kind of true crime suck, deep dive in on the infamous bloods and crypts Southern California gangs immortalized in the hip hop culture I grew up within the 90s. How are these gangs notorious for an extremely bloody rivalry that included loads of drive-by

shootings get started? Well, they were founded by some high school teens. Crypts founded in 1969 by two high schoolers, Raymond Washington and Stanley Tooki Williams, who formed an alliance to protect their neighborhoods from other young people who were harassing them. As the years passed, this evolved into something completely out of their control, something that led to literally thousands of murders, Stanley Williams, Raymond Washington couldn't have known what their small street gang was going to turn into. And that the bloods gang would soon rise up as a powerful rival.

Today, the bloods and crypts are known all over the country for the violent crimes they committed against their rivals and innocent bystanders. It wasn't always like that, though. One point they were localized to South Central LA, the conditions in South Central created a perfect breeding ground for gang violence. Young black people grown up surrounded by racist discrimination, a lack of community resources, police officers who hated them wanted to keep them out of white neighborhoods. Many of the civil rights leaders in black panthers they once looked up to have been assassinated or sentenced to lengthy prison terms. And now angry youth street gangs rose into power in a climate of hopelessness and rage. With strong bonds formed through years of shared experiences

of racism and discrimination, bloods and crypts gangs took over their respective territories and enforced those boundaries with astonishing brutality. The murder and crime rates in LA skyrocketed gangs engaged in fight shooting stabbing, other serious crimes, crack cocaine epidemic only added to this, allowed the bloods and crypts to expand across the entire US through alliances with various drug cartels. Rap music, movies, movies, glamorize the gang lifestyle, but was it? Is it? Really so glamorous. Bloods and cryptrips next week on Time Suck. Right now, let's head over to this week's Time Sucker Updates.

Updates? Get your time sucker updates. First update doesn't have anything to do with the previous episode or with me, or even with these shows. My cousin Zach who never reached out for anything has a woman who works for him over in Wyoming whose son Kyle Ellis has been missing for years. Last scene dropped off at a gas station in Grable, Wyoming. The former honors, so I'm just going to help him to get the

word out. The former honors student and athlete has been had been suffering from mental illness and drug abuse in the years leading up to his disappearance. He is 33 now, good looking dude. Sleeve tattoo on his left arm, or at least you know this is from four years ago in his last scene. Sleeve tattoo on his left arm, tattoo on his right shoulder, six feet tall, 190 pounds when he disappeared. That's like frame, Caucasian, dark brown hair,

hazel eyes, tattooed across his abdomen, his sex drugs and rock and roll. If you think you've seen him, you can find a photo online easily by searching Kyle Ellis Missing Person. Please email his mother Heather Vanderhoof directly Heather at concept zhp.com. That's Heather at concept zhp.com. If you can't remember that, you can email us as always, Bojangles at Timeslok podcast.com. That's Heather at concept zhp.com. If you can't remember that, you can email us as always. Bojangles at Timesuck Podcast.com. He's one of several people to go missing from the Grable Wyoming area in recent years.

Little town in just over 2,000 people. Hope this helps Heather. Cannot imagine what you've gone through. And now some suck related messages starting off with a super sack, space, or scooter McGee who has a question about last week's episode. You write, say, time suck team, Scooter. I said, yeah, not Scooter, Scooter.

Scooter, I just finished listing episode 316 and I'm left with a question burning in my mind, if bears not the most evil corporation in the world and who is? If the suck master had to choose, if there could be no ties, who is the most evil corporation in the world? It must know your faithful space that are scooter murky. Oh, okay, I wasn't crazy. You say scoots and scooter. Okay, this is really tough because there are so many that are so bad in so many different ways. But if I had to pick one

in recent history, I would say Purdue, pharma. I mean, how many opioid overdoses and life destroying addictions to opioids did the Sackler families greed directly lead to? Maybe the worst drug cartel of all time. Now, this one might get me in trouble. Look at the things in different lights. I would say the Catholic Church is the most evil corporation in the history of the world, right? I mean, if the salvation they've sold isn't real and it's more of a business, and most of the world does not believe what they're selling now, then how many people have died in vain, been burned as heretics for not believing, or as witches, died, you know, violently in the crusade or the Spanish Inquisition?

How many native people around the world have been butchered? How many children molested? How many cultures destroyed? How much wealth built off a selling fear of eternal damnation off a selling the promise of salvation? How many wars have been fought? How many tens of millions have died on behalf of the church of Rome? To me, no one single institution throughout the course of human history

has as much blood on their hands. Due to the size of their following, millennia of cultural influence and longevity. No one else to me is even fucking close. Next up, shout out requests from a humble servant of Nimrod, sweet sack, Justin Kraf, who writes, suck nasty, humble and loyal spaces are just in coming in fucking hot. And want to write this in for a while now.

And this week's time sucker updates on the bear the Bear AG episode inspired me to do so. Want to ask for a special shout out for my kick ass fiance, Amber. 2022 is kicked us in the nuts a couple of times. I'm by no means asking for a pity party, but we all have our trials and tribulations. And I really hope a shout out from the Suck Master can bring some positive vibes

to my best friend and soulmate. She has sacrificed so much for our family this year, both of us have been bustin' our asses working all the overtime we can to keep our ship afloat. But I wanted to know that she is the glue that keeps our family together. She's the best mother to my two awesome step-sons.

She is the boss bitch that keeps this meat sack walkin' the line. I'm a firm believer that not too many people can honestly say their life partner is also their best friend. Fuck am I lucky to be one of those few? Oh man, me too. So I feel you there. We just celebrated our seven year anniversary in August. As a little anniversary getaway, I'm so fucking pumped to say that after waiting for years

to see you live, we're driving about three hours straight north from Indiana to see you in Grand Rapids on October 22nd. Also the first time we've ever stayed in a hotel room together alone because we've always traveled with the kids. That's right. After seven years, Lucifer and his presence will be strong. All right. Then the top of the office, and early Christmas presents, she got us tickets to see you in

Indianapolis for the Barnard All-Down tour. Second Rose Center, meet and greet tickets. Greatest woman in the world. I tell you, I say all this not to gloat, but to say none of what's going on in this one space of this world would be possible without this incredible woman and human being She is so beautiful inside now so self. I love the writing so selfless and so hard working. I truly wanted to know Want her to know that all her sacrifices do not go unnoticed Thank you for all you do day in and day out baby and finally to use her sucking tin. Let me suck your dick from only

That's good because we talked earlier on the secret suck about how Logan's tired of you know, dicks and sucking. I mean so fucking much to so many thousands of people. The impact you've had in all our lives and the butterfly effects is immeasurable. I can't imagine how many of these you get. So I totally understand you can't get them all on an air. Just know I appreciate the time you take to read them on top of the other stuff you do. Can't wait to finally see you in about two and a half weeks. Three and a five stars wouldn't change the thing. And hail fucking Nimrod.

Well, hell Nimrod to you, Justin. And hail Nimrod and hail Luciferina to your boss, bitch, Amber, so much respect to both you. Man, you hard work in persevering, meat, sex. And actually, I didn't have a good talk or this week. I've been not as romantic as I used to be early in the relationship.

I used to write these really nice letters and say these kind of things that you just said in this message and I just got out of the habit. And you know, it bummed around, she brought it up a few times, I just didn't start doing it again. And then I just like this week, just took 20, 30 minutes and wrote this really nice card,

just exactly the feelings I had. And it made her so fucking happy. So I love seeing other people express us to their partners. You know, sometimes we just feel weird or get embarrassed or act like we don't have time, but these little things can matter so much. Much respect to both of you for just being so, yeah, so hardworking. Glad you can make it to some shows.

In the subject line, I didn't mention it, but you mentioned being on the rooms for the shows. Maybe that's a joke. But if you're not kidding, you might want to take a low dose on the Shroom Front for my comedy show. You're gonna be covering some darker subjects, getting into some weird places, you know,

with jokes that might not wick mix that well with a heavy dose. But you know how they hit you. I can't imagine trying to follow a standup show on too much Shrooms, but they tend to not make me giggly, like they do with some people, like a lot of people. So that's my drug advice for the week. Now I'm gonna end on a touching message from a super sack Ken Sternberg

Who wants to let us know a little bit about his hero of a brother and Talk about Mike is kind of a butterfly effect. Just just how much our lives and ways we may not expect can affect others So Ken writes greetings to the mush mouther Fucker suck master and the rest of the bad magic team. First off, sorry for yelling in the subject line. Oh yeah, all the caps. I do apologize, but this message is very important. I didn't think my first message to the suck master would be of this nature, but here it goes.

Before we get into it, I'd like to give a brief overview of myself and my love for the suck. I was exposed as crazy as podcasts by my over-the-road driver trainer, excuse me, with a trucking company TMC Dylan Brewer. Shout out to him because without him, I wouldn't have found this jam when I did. Back in 2020, got my class A CDL, went over the road with TMC,

was only with them for about a month, before getting a local job with my local lows, doing flatbed deliveries to customers, allowing me to be home every night with my fiance and two boys, that's awesome. First suck, my friend had me listen to was the Disney suck, Fucky Roy Disney. LOL. I've been hooked ever since. Had to go back, start from the beginning because that's how I am fast

forward. And now it's September of 22. I'm almost caught up on episode 296, part one of the Holocaust. So if you read this on air, it's going to be a little before I hear it. This podcast is community. This built around it are just special. And I love it. Here and all the time, sucker updates about everyone's lives, Cummins, Law, Victims, help on each other out, just everything in general. The podcast has done so much for so many people and so many different ways.

Little bit about me now. I'm 32 born in 1990, you young man. Woo, 90s babies. Join the Army National Guard here in Missouri in 2010, served in the military intelligence sector as an imagery analyst. Sounds fucking cool. Basically playing where as Waldo with bad guys via satellite and drone imagery.

I have two older siblings, brother and sister, a doctor, but that doesn't matter, we're just as close. Four younger siblings, three sisters and one brother. Two of my younger siblings are full, two or half. Needless to say, my family has always been a little crazy to do the size, but always full of so much love. I now reside in Southern Missouri close to Springfield and drive a local delivery semi for low-to-home Improvement, which I love doing get to drive around the area explore new roads meet lots of new people

Now the main reason for this message. I wish my first message was under better circumstances I was waiting until I was all the way caught up before writing in but unfortunately this message cannot wait until then This last Wednesday, September 14th, my 16 year old brother had a tragic accident. Not going to go into all the details, because we're still trying to figure out exactly what happened. Anyway, the paramedics were able to get his heart beating again, rushed him to a local hospital. I met my mom and sister there. By the time I arrived, the lifeline helicopter was already in route to flying him to Springfield, Missouri, about 40 minutes by car away from my town to the main hospital there. His heart was beating, but he had to have a respirator, and his brain was not active.

Now, if we walked him to the chopper, my mom and two sisters drove to Springfield to meet him there. I went to my mom's to take care of the animals, clean up the house, the mess it was made. There was some blood. I didn't want my mom to have to be the one to clean it up. Told him if I needed to drive down that night, I would, but if not, I'd be down the next morning. So now it's the morning of the 15th.

My fiance and I get our boys, 95 to the bus to go to school, take care of our animals, two dogs, 10 cats, two horses, Jesus Christ. A pony and a miniature donkey, holy shit. Then head over to mom, stay care of our dogs and cats. We get down to Springfield and the update was that they had done another test overnight, still no brain activity.

When we get there, they had just stopped all his sedation and pain meds so they could run the test again with no interference. Unfortunately, hours later, the results were the same. My fiance and I had already gone back home for the day because we had to be home for the boys to get off the bus at the house, got those results from 4 p.m. And at that time, he was now legally declared dead. We went back down the next day, the 16th to say goodbye with our boys this time so they could say goodbye

to their uncle. Hardest part was telling my nine year old because my brother was very close to him. They loved to play video games together, draw, do lots of other things. We stopped by my mom's house to grab some shirts. They wanted because my mom, three younger sisters and my brother all had matching Hawaiian shirts

with parrots on them and they wanted to wear them. Everyone else dressed in Hawaiian shirts, bright colors and anything Steve would have liked. My nine year old also gave him a Pikachu Pokemon card to take with him on his journey beyond because they both love Pokemon and Pikachu was their favorite. They both got their love of Pokemon for me.

He was an organ donor. So we got a final walk out from his room to the ambulance that took him to the airport to fly to St. Louis where the transplant team was waiting. And it was beautiful. The hospital staff, well I didn't know they did this, lying two full hallways. As we walked him out, we played a song for him as we walked. The song was a bit ridiculous, but that's what he would have wanted. The song was what he called his summer anthem. For this summer, the song is Betty by Young Gravy. If you haven't listened to it, please do. It's not really an appropriate song for that situation, but Steve would have loved it. The hospital staff gave my mom a bear that had his heartbeat in it and a mold of his hand in a

real nice wooden box. We went back to my mom's at night, had a small get together with our family that was there and a few of his friends, set her on a campfire, listened to a playlist we were making for him, that the transplant team could play while they harvested his organs for transplant. Man, that's heavy. We got an update from the transplant team on the 18th that they could successfully,

or that they had successfully transplanted everything they could and below was the message we received. I know this update may be bittersweet, but I wanted to let you know that because of Steve, several lives have been saved and change forever. Thank you. We'll never be enough. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, you and your family are in my thoughts, but I know you're in many of the uplifting thoughts of the 16 year old female whose life is saved because of a brand new beating heart. The 65-year-old male who's taking brand new breaths because the life-saving gift of lungs. The 43-year-old male whose life is saved with the gift of a liver. The 55-year-old female who's receiving a second chance of life with the gift of a pancreas and left kidney. And a 36-year-old man who gets a second chance

of life through a right kidney. Stephen is a hero to so many, his legacy continues. Wow, holy shit again. Man, five lives, five lives saved by your brother because he was an organ donor. What a great reminder of why that's important. So sorry for your loss. And thank you for sharing this story. I knew organ donation was important, but I didn't think about how many lives

could be saved by one person literally giving their body to others, that is fucking powerful stuff. I know a go fund me for your brother has been posted in the Coltocures to Facebook group. If you haven't already, I'm sure you can post it in numerous other bad magic related Facebook groups to get the word out more as well.

Nimrod is beyond pleased with Stephen. Now he can live on the bodies of five other people, which is pretty magical. Huge thanks to all the doctors and staff who work so hard to improve our lives and ways like this all the time. People whose names we may never know, but do shit like make organ transplants possible. People who are the opposite of Paul John Knowles. And there are more of those people out there than there are the opposite.

I'm convinced of that. Take care of each other, everybody. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did. Another bad magic production podcast is done. Please do not kill me one, and it attempt to get famous this week. But

if you must, can you at least make sure that the person who kills the petafile? And keep on sucking. And magic productions. October, 2022, just in general. Hey, Chef Terris. You're going to listen to an episode of Time's Like Podcasts about a serial killer Paul John Knows, but a twat. Also, you don't have any lucky numbers this month. Literally every number is unlucky for you. You know having lucky colors either,

but best to avoid all the colors this month. You're also not likely to romantically meet anyone in all this month or year or even decade. You're going to die alone as agitarious. No matter me, you get mad at Venus and see triple retrograde. It's not vibrating hard on the heart to send you the right frequencies and whatnot.

It's lower houses flooded. Some kind of septic pump. Problem I'm guessing. Good luck, young man. You're going to fucking need it.