Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 335 - Leopold and Loeb: The Perfect Murder

Episode Date: February 13, 2023

What is the the Perfect Murder?  It's what two affluent and academically brilliant young Chicagoans, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, wanted to pull off in 1924 when the murdered fourteen-year-old Bobby Franks. WHY did they want to kill anyone? In part, to prove to themselves that were Übermensches after misunderstanding the philosophical nihilism of Nietzsche. They had come to think that they were truly advanced humans. People above the law. And that normal morality didn't apply to him. They couldn't be held liable by the laws of lesser men around them. Except they could! And they would be. They would be caught quickly because while they were extremely academically talented, criminally, they were morons. And then these two morons would have everyone in Chicago and around the nation talking about what they'd done in another so-called "trial of the century." Want to apply for the Cummins Family Scholarship fund?  The application process opens on MARCH 6TH, 2023. To apply click this link!: https://learnmore.scholarsapply.org/cummins/ Click the "Scholarship Hub America" button. Register to create a Hub account with a unique username and password.Log into your account and complete the questions in the profile section. The list of scholarships will display on the website.   Locate the  Cummins Family Scholarship Fund application and click the “Apply Now” link to fill out your information!     An online recommendation form must be submitted on your behalf. It is the student’s responsibility to follow up with their recommender to ensure they submit the information before the deadline. Next start filling out the application by completing all required fields and click the “Save answers” button.  If all required data was entered, the Application section in the progress bar at the top of the page will turn green.  An error message will display at the top of the page if any fields are missing or have incomplete information. Click the “Next” button at the top of the page and use the Add a Document tool available to upload your documents. Once all documents have been uploaded, click the “Next” button again to review your information before submitting your application.  If all information appears correct, click the “Lock and Submit” button and click “OK” to submit your data to Scholarship America for processing. You will receive an email confirmation once the application has been successfully submitted.  If you don’t receive the email confirmation, please check your spam or junk mail folder or search for an email from [e-mail]  to confirm your application has been received. Questions can be emailed to [e-mail] Hot Bad Magic Summer Camps are ON SALE!  BadMagicMerch.com Bad Magic Productions Monthly Patreon Donation: This month's donation is for $14,740 to Teach For America, a diverse network of leaders who work to confront the injustice of education inequity through teaching.You can learn more about Teach for America or get involved by going to teachforamerica.org An additional $1,640 is being put into the scholarship fund! Thank you to all of our patrons who are able to continue to support not only us but these amazing causes. Teachforamerica.orgGet tour tickets at dancummins.tv Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/X9kDFavXzOkMerch: 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.

What makes the perfect crime? I would say that the perfect crime is a crime that goes undetected by everyone except the perpetrator. A crime where there are no investigators because investigators don't realize a crime is even taken place. Or at least one where investigators don't have enough evidence to convict whoever committed it. It remains unsolved forever, letting its perpetrators live out their lives as supposedly

innocent people. The perfect crime to me doesn't mean a crime where the cops have bungled the investigation or a crime where a luck or chance leads to the criminals getting off. It's a crime that criminals have designed to be so foolproof, so perfect that the crime is literally unable to be solved. Real diabolical, evil, genius mastermind shit. And the perfect crime is what two young men from Chicago, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, thought they could of course pull off back in 1924. I mean, how could they not? They were geniuses. And they were actually.

They were also a long ways from being criminal masterminds. When authorities caught up to Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, for the killing of 14-year-old Bobby Franks, they were shocked by who they had found. These two killers were not hard and criminals or long rap sheet having ruffians. They were not men involved with the mafia or any other type of gang. In fact, they were barely men. Leopold and Lowe were just 19 and 18, really only men in a legal sense. The authorities had caught boys, boys with no arrest records,

very wealthy privileged boys who had grown up, which is about every advantage that anyone could hope to have. Boys that had very, very bright futures ahead of them. mostly privileged boys who had grown up with just about every advantage that anyone could hope to have. Boys that had very, very bright futures ahead of them. Well futures they did have ahead of them before they had thrown those futures away for a census killing. Both Leopold and Lobe had grown up in Kenwood, an exclusive affluent Jewish neighborhood at the time on the south side of Chicago along the shore Lake Michigan.

Nathan Leopold was a brilliant student who had started studying for his bachelor's degree at the University of Chicago at the tender age of just 15. When authorities found them, Nathan was 19 in studying law. Leopold's partner in crime, Richard Loeb, was also the kind of boy destined for a bright future, or at least a cushy one. His father was the vice president of Sears Robuck and Company, a multi-millionaire who afforded his four sons every advantage they could dream of.

Like Nathan Richard, I graduated from high school as a young teenager, only 14, then graduated from the University of Michigan at only 17. I mean, these were two really smart kids, wealthy kids, kids from stable, two parent plus lots of paid help having homes. Kids whose arrogance partially fueled by their intelligence had led them to recently do some really, really dumb shit. Before the murder, they had been secretly committing a variety of crimes, escalating from arson to theft

then to murder, thinking that they'd never be caught due to their advanced intelligence. No dumb cops were ever gonna catch these two masterminds. They were gonna prove to themselves in society how smart they were by committing a murder that no one could possibly trace back to them. They were going to commit the perfect murder. During the winter of 1923 and 1924, the two spent long hours planning their dastardly deed. They came up with a murder plan. They thought was foolproof. They

would kidnap, kill, and then hide the body of an affluent child. Then they direct the victim's father to throw a packet containing a lot of ransom money from the train the traveled south of Chicago along the elevated tracks west alike Michigan. They would of course be waiting below in a car and as soon as the ransom hit the ground they would scoop it up, make their escape and no one would ever have any idea what they had done to get their payday. So why would two rich kids ransom anyone? For money they didn't need? It was genius. theory actually wasn't a terrible plan. It was to throw off investigators from looking at people like themselves, but an execution it was idiotic.

So how exactly did these two get caught? And is there really such a thing as the perfect crime? All of this and more in this week's 1920s, jazamania, society's going to hell in a hand basket. You must be a criminal. You lumpy headed son of a bitch yet another trial of the century edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck.

You're listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday, meet Saks and happy Valentine's. To all those hot, hard daddies, father daddies out there covered in olive oil or soy sauce, looking for love and all the wrong places. Happy Valentine's to everyone else as well. Welcome to the coldt the Curious, the Incomments of Suck Daddy, Living Breathing Front but Dump, known chicken Joe associate, Yahuwa 13 rowdy, Sullivanian sex therapist,

and you are listening to Time Suck. Hail Nimrod, Hail Lucifina, praiseable jangles and glory be to triple M. Couple quick announcements and then we're off to the row and 20s to cover the heinous crime of two really smart, complete dipshit. If you haven't seen me yet on tour, the Bernal down tour is coming to Texas next to Tejas and search the sounds of whooping and yippin' and yon and gunfire here. I mean, San Antonio Friday, February 24th, Dallas on Saturday, the twirling fifth, fuck yeah, bro, then Seattle, Pont Antonio, Friday, February 24th, Dallas on Saturday, the 25th, fuck yeah bro, then Seattle, Pontiac, Michigan, Indianapolis, almost sold out in Indy, New Orleans. My love drive, Lindsey crazy, by pretending that you're supposed to say no, Lens down there,

which you're not. Philly, Cleveland, and Columbus coming up. And now, let's get sexy. Right, Valentine's Day, let's get sexy and talk about some sexy merch. Brandenua, Rabester, Estetarion, Estran, Tachena, Zewelda, Antonio Banderasa. It's hot, hard, father-daddy's Italian bistro, and male strip club. A Tia-shirt, a feature-amilla, Antonio Banderasa, a complete lia, drenched in olive oil. To see this creamy daddy body,

slurping to hot meatballs, called 1-900-HOT-Daddy. Well, that's a spicy meatball! So that sounds great, and that's available at BadMergicMerg.com. Cherry-wise, now we will be donating this month to Teach for America. So thank you to all of our patrons for patrons.

There we go. For allowing us to donate every month, gonna be donating to a diverse network of leaders who work to confront the injustice of education and equity through teaching. Awesome group of meat sex. Doing their best to make sure that poor kids, not just middle class or rich kids,

also get a good crack. You're going to a good college and help improve their futures. Not just the Leopolds and Lobs of the world. You can learn more about Teach for America or get involved by going to teachforamerican.org, donation amount, TBD, as I record this, and one more cool thing before murder.

Speaking of teachers, the Cummins Family Scholarship Fund presented by Bad Magic is almost here. This year we will award $3,000, $5 thousand dollar scholarships to three very deserving people in our community. All the details on how to apply will be in this episode description to apply just visit learn more dot scholarship excuse me starting over learn more dot scholars apply dot org slash comments. And that's fucking worthy. And that's why we're writing that in the episode description going to put a link in there. The application process opens March 6th, 2023. That is March 6th.

More info in the episode description. Questions can be emailed to Cummins at scholarshipamerica.org. Do all kinds of things. Hail Nimrod. Now back to the world of true crime, the story of Lee, Paul, and Loeb. But a very different story than normal. No serial killer, just two teens

who thought they could kill another teen and then in doing so, ended up in a trial, well, sentencing hearing, but referred to as a trial, talked about in America in 1924, about as much as OJ Simpson's trial. We'll be talked about in 1995. The case of Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb would go down in history as something that just really, really should not have happened. Like all murders saved for ones in self-defense, of course, shouldn't happen. But in double L's case,

it was just such an obviously senseless crime. Just stupid stacked upon stupid. These two weren't acting on sadistic, sexualized urges, they didn't need the money. They weren't even killing someone, they felt had disrespected them. Someone just felt was deserving to die. They just carried out a murder as more of an

almost intellectual exercise. Taking some poor kids life and additionally tormenting his parents just to prove to themselves that they could do that. They could fuck with the world around them however they wanted and not suffer any consequences. They really wanted to celebrate each other's incredible cunning and intelligence. Just put on your glad rags, you egg, you butt man, you, we beat the fuzz and collected the

cabbage just like I knew we would. Now let's dip the bill and celebrate our success. The first of many perfect crimes, there's a real sheep of a canary singing down on Plymouth tonight. It's time we head out and tip a few. Find some real dishes and see about slipping in between some games. Haha. At these fucking idiots before they're arrest, they seem to have everything going for them. Even if they didn't choose to use their intellectual abilities to make high profile careers for themselves, they still would have had a big old cushion of money and status to rest on for the rest of their lives. Some trust funds and inheritance, inheritances to live out charmed lives with.

Instead, they ended up on a sentencing trial for a brutal murder to determine if they would be executed or not. Because of its strangeness, the crime would be the inspiration for many fictional stories in the years that followed. Leopold and Lowe would be the inspiration for Alfred Hitchcock's rope in 1948. Meyer Levin's best-selling 1956 novel, Compulsion. Movie would follow that. More recently, themes from the case resurface in the 1992 film, Swoon 1997's Funny Games. The murder and trial even inspired a biographic musical, Hamilton style in the 2005 off Broadway, Throwny, The Leopold and Loeb story. What was at the heart of this case and the stories the case spawned was a single question.

Why did two young well-educated boys from multi-families kill for no apparent reason? Right, again, they didn't need money. Wasn't a crime of passion or vengeance, but also wasn't entirely random. The killers meticulously premeditated and planned their act and considered other victims, including Loeb'sbes younger brother Tommy.

After their arrest, the media came up with all kinds of utterly ludicrous possible answers as to why these two killed. Maybe my favorite part of the episode. Started with the societal degradation of the roaring 20s. Fucking flapper girls and jazz. If that isn't movie young, fellow to murder, what will? And a lot of people actually did blame the jazz life for what these two did. Can't you feel the evil?

Look, you just hear the subliminal message. Watch out kids, I have to move your feet. You're bound to murder when you hear this beat. Everybody now do the toss, stand, do the toss, stand. Keep those legs around and kill everyone in town Kill, kill that's jazz, baby! Clare and Innisfeld with the cake, it's a killer girl, eh? Or didn't you feel it? Didn't you feel the evil there?

Hell itself is probably a big ol' jazz lounge Full of women wearing kind of but not really form fitting dresses It only sometimes cover their knees I see you Lucifina, I see what you're doing. Get out of here. To hell with the devil. But seriously, fucking newspaper reporters actually attributed the murder to the jazz life, a generational rot that gave young men an appetite for gin, heavy petting. And if you follow their logic, homicide, hmm, makes a lot of sense. First comes gin, right?

Beels above pine-needled murder, a lickser, then comes heavy petting. You get your digital wet and Satan's lady, Canyon. You bet your ass. It's going to be finger into trigger next. As the Chicago Daily News noted at the time, elite schools and fancy neighborhoods were not immune from boys whose conduct, like they're thinking, is independent of conventions and taboos. They scorn the judgment of other students, gloring in their superior wealth, their sharper

wits, their greater capacity for forbidden pleasures. Sounds like those kids might have even been smoking dope. Refer madness. Yes, the society was heading in a different direction as it usually does, and it was freaking people out as it usually does. The 1920s women were bobbing their hair, smoking cigarettes, drinking gin,

wearing kind of short skirts, but not short at all compared to today's skirts. Sexuality was everywhere, kind of not compared to today, but you know, compared to the sexually boring ass 1800s it was, and young people were eagerly taking advantage of their new hedonistic freedoms. Some thought that traditional ideals centered on work discipline and self-denial had been replaced by a culture of self-indulgence at speakeasies and late-night entertainment, and all of that obviously led to homicide or something.

The sky is falling. Society is crumbling. No matter how good life is actually going, there is always the sky is falling crap. Always. Every fucking generation. There are hordes of dipshits outraged by the state of moral decay of the world has fallen into. Sometimes the outrage, you know, legitimate, right? People mad about, you know, plantations, slavery. Yeah, that was a good thing. That was outrageous. But people outrage over gin and jazz.

Shut the fuck up, grandma. Go back to playing your solitaire and shaking your head and disgust and glaring at everyone quietly. There was also a rise of postmodern literature following World War I that had a rise of postmodern literature following World War I that had a lot of people feeling paranoid, not good about the future, literature that didn't try to moralize, but sought to effectively portray the carnage of the global war and

emphasized a pessimistic lost outlook of the world. The unprecedented carnage and destruction of the war had stripped many members of a generation of their illusions about peace and prosperity. How could it not? Many expressed doubt and cynicism and their artistic endeavors, which I get. So many millions of people had senselessly died between the Spanish flu and World War I. So I mean in disease, so I guess that part's not senseless. An estimated 70 plus million people died between 1914 and 1919. And as education programs expanded and more and more Americans acquired secondary education,

a good number decided to continue learning and degree programs at colleges and universities where they were exposed to some of these artistic, seemingly pessimistic philosophies. In the 1880s, German philosopher Fredrick Nietzsche began to speak of nihilism, where he saw what he saw as the disintegration of traditional morality in western society.

And now his works are being taught in American universities. Nihilism is defined in my little little dictionary app as the rejection of all religious and moral principles in the belief that life is meaningless. And if nothing fucking matters, well, then why not just kill some kid, you know, just to pass the time. That is not what Nietzsche meant, actually, we'll dive into his philosophical beliefs in a lot more depth later on. Some people thought that a general cultural malaise is what drove Nathan Leopold and Richard Lobe to kill the Evangelical preacher Billy Sunday, passing to Chicago on his way to Indiana warned that the killing could be traced to the moral miasma, which contaminates some of our young intellectuals.

It is now considered fashionable for higher education, to scoff at God. Prokosha's brain, salacious books, infidel minds, all of these helped to produce this murder. Oh, yes, nailed it! If I can nail it, Millie Sunday, infidel minds. I've been saying that for years. Right? If you're an infidel, if you have a mind, well then that mind is on murder. Right?

Snoop Dogg said it best, with my mind on some murder and some murder on my mind. Or maybe he said with my mind on some money and my money on my mind. But Snoop was charged with murder in 1993, acquitted, but he also smokes weed and has admitted to listening to jazz. So he probably has killed with that infidel brain of his. At least I think he's an infidel. He doesn't sound very religious based on lyrical content

But anyway, who the fuck was Billy Sunday? Sounds like a made-up name. I wasn't I was his birthday. I'm actually before preaching old Billy Sunday played major league baseball for eight seasons Then left baseball to become a preacher in a big-time prohibition guy Big moralist he was far from alone in thinking that an overall moral decay led to Leopold and lobe killing. The Chicago Daily Journal actually attributed the murder to quote, dementia, jazz mania. I love that. Dementia, jazz mania. Listen to enough jazz and it'll make you go fucking crazy.

Let me give you a little taste of the exact kind of jazz that they were talking about. This next track is Room Rent Blues. Recorded in Chicago by King Oliver's Jazz Band released in October of 1923, so just seven months before the murder of Bobby Franks. This is the evil shit, the dementia, jazz mania that Leopold and Lowe had been hypnotized and corrupted by. The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The the The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The the The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The The I won't play another second, it's too risky. I played that whole song, God knows how many of you are gonna fucking snap. But next week, the text of it around the rest of the world will be working to solve a couple hundred thousand new murders.

But how crazy is that? Did they believe that that jazz? I think that sounds like the most harmless laid back, just fun time music to me. And the lifestyle around that jazz drinking gin, I can old people drink, I love gin, but it's not a fucking cool, like what a badass gin drinker. Smoke and cigarettes, heavy petting,

and dresses that didn't run down, you know, to the flapper girls' ankles. All of that combined would quite literally lead a young man to kill. Aside from dementia of jazz mania, there were other equally insane explanations for why Leopold and Loeb killed. According to a random quote, Jewish spokesperson, spokesman, spokesman, uh, according to the Chicago Daily Tribune, some thought the boy suffered from an erosion of Jewish values.

The paper routed hundreds of thousands of rich Jews who don't know what to do with their money and who let their children grow up without any feeling of Jewish responsibilities is to blame. Was that a Jewish spokesman? Did they actually interview anyone? Or did that writer just make up from fucking stereotypical anti-Semitic shit? But also would not have it enough Jewish responsibilities to leave anyone to kill, right? You don't give a kid enough fucking chores to do and they're just gonna murder people, right? Yeah, that sounds right, you know.

If you just give a kid a bunch of money and I don't know if it's about, they're just gonna murder. What they're not gonna do is lay around and jerk off a whole bunch and eat a lot of snacks and not work and develop meaningful relationships. Now those trust fund motherfuckers are gonna kill. And then there were the chronologists

and those with similar ilk, these pseudo science nuts or something else. Phrenology is a now long discredited psychological theory or analytical method based on the belief that certain mental faculties and character traits are indicated by configurations of the school itself. You know, you fill somebody's head, find out what kind of lumps they got,

you can tell what they're up to. Phrenology was mostly discredited as a fucking quackery back in the 1840s, but it was still brought up with the sentencing trial or hearing of Leopold and Lowe. Phrenology's literally just link bumps on people's heads to certain aspects of individual personality and character. Phrenology heads or bus were used by phrenologists to perform school readings That would supposedly reveal information about a person's you know tendencies. Oh, oh my. Oh, oh I'm afraid to say all right. You are destined to murder look at this lump look at this lump right here By right here by the the airport due to its height and circumference. You will kill no less than five people Orestos man now before before the axiopon is lumpy destiny. Other similar thinkers thought that something else about the boy's physical appearance

meant that they were destined for murder. They were just, they were little too hairy and their faces were a bit crooked and stuff. You know, one of their eyelids, they had dri a little. So they couldn't help but kill someone. It wasn't really their fault, you know? I wish I was making this shit up. This kind of analysis was made popular from the writings of Seizard Lombroso. Born in 1835, died in 1909.

Seizard was an Italian doctor. A book out there, ministerio, about a gelato, a merrisa, a tomato, that's a spice, a maple, a wario.

Sorry, you know, I get excited now. And I hear someone's Italian. And that l'ombroso motherfucker, he even argued that being left handed meant you were much more likely to commit criminal acts than if you were right handed. That's what they're thinking of this time. He promoted other kinds of activism, activism derives via French from the Latin word activist, meaning ancestor of us and Latin means grandfather and it's believed that act is related to attitude and the way it is. Activism derives via French from the Latin word activist, meaning ancestor.

A vuss and Latin means grandfather, and it's believed that act is related to adda, a word for daddy. Oh, fuck yeah. Hot, hard, father-daddy action again. So many daddies in this recent sucks. Makes my hot, hard, father-daddy dick so hard. An aneurysm describes instances when an organism,

or person resembles a more distant ancestor like a less developed human perhaps than its parents. Because Leopold and Lobe had certain features that clearly came from earlier more primitive humans, looked a little chimpish perhaps they didn't. That meant they had the bloodthirstyness and lack of ethics to match. Those very well educated fucking idiots were also primitive cave people types. This analysis would make its way to Leopold and Loeb sentencing hearings, Dr. Harold S. Herbert, told the course that his examination of Leopold body and features had located

considerable pathology. It didn't. This is not a thing, but they thought it was a thing. According to Dr. Holbert, the hair development is pronounced. His eyes are somewhat prominent. One eyelid is lower than the other. His face is not the same on two sides. There being a symmetry. Every one's face is asymmetrical.

I don't care that this was a long time ago. I have fucking dumb as this guy. Just look at 10 faces, motherfucker, and they're all gonna be a little asymmetrical. And he thought that's all meant that he had to go murder somebody. You know, you got a droopy eyelid? Well, killings in your future.

Tell us where the bodies are. The Chicago Tribune following these types of absurd lines of reasoning ran a sketch of the heads of Leopold and Lowe. Note that one of the other them was marked by things such as a sensuous lips, excessive vanity, love of excitement. How does that read physically? A lack of reason. I just picture lots of little like arrows. Here, look at the? A lack of reason. Just picture lots of little like arrows.

Here, look at the forehead, lack of reason. And then absence of moral and benevolent power. Look at the jaw. All based on physical features. Others, namely the psychologist, hired by Leopold and Lowe's legal defense team, pointed to psychology to explain how the boys developed a lack of empathy

and respect for human life that led to the murder. Okay, now we're making some sense at least. I mean, they did lack empathy and they did lack a respect for human life that led to the murder. Okay, now we're making some sense at least. I mean, they did lack empathy, and they did lack a respect for human life. These psychologists provided the tabloids with more fodder when they alleged that Leopold's childhood governance, an elation woman, so French woman named Nicknamed sweetie,

sexually abused Leopold and his brother. Also said that Lowe had been manipulated by his super strict governance and to become in the time of immoral degenerate capable of murder talk about this more timeline. Other thoughts of the boys alleged homoerotic experiments with each other reflected deeper perversions right. I mean, you stick a dick and a mouth that is part of a body attached to more dick and murder is bound to follow.

I mean, they did allude to that. The newspapers didn't cover any possible homosexual acts committed between the two as much given that they were quote, unsuitable for family consumption. Unlike a lot of murder details. Talking about murder in America, still to this day, more socially acceptable than talking about Dix

going in and out and in and out and in and out of man mouths and man butts. Kids hearing about what you know kids hearing about that they you know they might want to go fuck around with some dick someday hearing about murder that's fine though that might just lead to you know using the same logic more murder which is obviously okay same logic, more murder, which is obviously okay. What is not okay, you know, our sexual pleasurable acts where no one dies and the only hurt caused by them is due to irrational moral judgment of the inherently harmless acts. And then the most compelling explanation for why the boys decided to murder Bobby Franks came from Clarence Dero, the killer's attorney. On the third day of his closing arguments, Darrow asked the judge to consider that wealth has its misfortunes. Leopold and Lowe in his view were victims of affluence.

I want to be victimized by affluence. Given every advantage and opportunity, Darrow argued the boy suffered a kind of paranoid reaction to their own privilege. Darrow's argument would be the early version of the affluenza defense, made famous again in the case of 20 year old Ethan couch who mowed down four people on a Texas road back in 2013 Right the old Afluenza argument is not new on June 15 2013 if you don't remember couch lost control of his family's pick up truck after he and his friends been playing some beer pong and drinking some beer They stole from Walmart veered into a crowd of people, you know helping a driver whose car wasn't working on the side of the road. The crash killed the stranded motorists, a youth minister who stopped to help her and a mother and daughter who came out of their nearby home to help. And couch 16 at the time of the crash was found after the crash to have a blood alcohol

level three times legal limit for adult drivers. Like I said, a few weeks ago based on my own DUI from 2010, don't drink and drive. This idiot talking right now in the suck dungeon could have ended up doing something, you know, just like that. Something much worse than ended up with having a hard time getting into Canada. Thank God for Uber and other rideshare services now less excuses than ever drinking drive. And anyway, it's like colleges to evaluate a couch in 2013, introduce the affluenza, right, term at trial and reference to couch being coddled by his wealthy parents He testified the couch learned, you know, nothing from his first run-ins with the law

Psychologists said his parents covered for him and taught him a system. It's 180 degrees from rational if you hurt someone Say you're sorry. I'm in that family. If you hurt someone send some money Which I do get, you know, I do think that probably mess that kid up, but also you fucking kill somebody, and I think you get to blame being a spoiled kid and not get in trouble. Back to Leopold and Loeb did wealth and a possible lack of accountability make them kill Bobby Franks. Make them? No. But being privileged and receiving the advantages of wealth, I do think went a long way to them feeling like they were above the law like they could get away with murder Wealth was certainly part of the reason why the case became so big in the media Newspaper readers saw that wealth wasn't to guarantee for Bobby Franks and for the Franks family that they would live secure happy lives

Is their victim also, you know comes was wealthy for the leap for Leopold and lobe for their families. Well, did not guarantee respectability for the killers themselves. Well, apparently couldn't, you know, buy the thrills they wanted as far as not being punished for those thrills. While affluence may, you know, play a role in why the boys or may have played a role in why the boys thought they could get away with something. The real primary reason that Leopold and loowe killed Bobby Frank was very simple. They killed him because they wanted to. Okay, let's talk structure.

The further cover the story of Leopold and Lowe, first gonna look at the idea of a perfect crime, which is to dirt bag young men thought they'd come up with when they hatched their idea to murder a young boy and collect ransom, then we'll take a deeper look and do who Leopold and Loeb were in today's timeline, culminating with their horrific acts and subsequent investigation and sentencing hearing, and then what happened to them after their convictions? What is the perfect crime? Well, there's not just one. A perfect crime, a community thing already considered a crime like theft, arson, murder, or saying fuck in public in Dubai, where investigators can determine who the perpetrator was.

And you can seriously go to jail for up to a year in Dubai for saying fuck one time in public. Or be deported. What a wonderfully free place the UAE is. Such a strange place. So modern in some way so backwards others Anyway, another perfect crime cases the investigators can identify the perpetrator But because illegal loopholes or other circumstances they can't get a conviction

Hollywood is especially obsessed with these kinds of perfect crimes The 1999 Tom Lee Jones and actually Judd film double jeopardy Maybe the best example of this in which a woman is falsely convicted of killing her husband and is then told that if she now goes and hunts him down and kills him, she can't be charged again, which is of course, in reality, complete nonsense. Every court in the world would consider this two murders, which should be innocent of the first one, but absolutely guilty of the second. In reality, the perfect crime can be pretty simple, right? The perfect crime can be a murder committed by somebody who had never before met his victim, or her victim has no criminal record steals nothing, tells no one leaves no forensic evidence

behind, which we've learned from so many true crime sucks is almost impossible now. A man recently charged with a murder of four students here in Idaho back in November 13, 90 minutes from the suck dungeon to University of Idaho, criminology student Brian Coburger, if found guilty, he'll be learning that forensic evidence makes a perfect murder very hard to commit nowadays. Another possible perfect crime is a crime committed in an area of high public traffic where DNA from a wide variety of people is present making finding evidence that would point to any one perpetrator, not like finding a needle in a haystack.

True perfect crimes, I think, like I said at the very beginning of the episode, are ones we never hear about. Once we know about a crime, it's no longer perfect. We can only know about hypotheticals and close calls, crimes that were maybe almost perfect. Let's look at some interesting close calls now. In March of 2009, a 6.8 million jewel theft in Germany was described as being

close to the perfect crime, like very close. Three mass glove thieves were caught on surveillance cameras sliding down ropes from the store's skylights out smarting. It's sophisticated security system and not setting off alarms until after, you know, they had left the area. That night, they got away, but they did leave some evidence behind some DNA found in a single drop of sweat on a latex glove discarded next to a rope ladder used to reach the ground floor.

A drop of sweat was all it took. Police ran the material through the German criminal database and got a hit. Actually got two hits. The computer identified 27 year old identical twins, Hassan and Abbas under German law, they can't identify by their first and last names Despite having this DNA evidence the police were unable to bring the case to court since the DNA belong to One of a pair of identical twins But they couldn't determine which one and because both of the twins denied committing the crime and they didn't have any other evidence

The courts did not feel it could truly prove which of the two was the criminal On March 18, 2009 before the case went to trial, the twins were released. And since he statute of limitations for burglary in Germany is 10 years and no other evidence has been found, the twins will now never be convicted for a crime that at least one of them committed. Maybe both of them. There were three thieves at night. Something similar would happen to two Malaysian men, also in 2009, who escaped hanging for drug trafficking,

because they were twin brothers and the courts could not distinguish between the guilty brother and the innocent brother. I had never thought about how having an identical twin would be very helpful when it comes to committing the perfect crime. This next crime may have actually been perfect as far as crimes we know go about, so close to perfect.

If I had heard about this one before, I forgot about it. I'm always trying to find good jewel-hized stories in general. Some guys pulled off of very successful art heists using some good old-fashioned disguises. The heist which took place in Boston would go down as one of the most flawless art heists of all time. This is, I mean, criminally impressive. March 18th, 1990, the day after St. Patrick's Day, some police officers, quote unquote, arrived at the door of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, claiming to have

received a call about a disturbance. And they looked, you know, like legit police officers so much so that the security guard who answered the door, let them in. And then one of the police officers convinced his poor bastard that there was a warrant for this guard's arrest and got him to step away from his post to sort out why they thought there was a warrant for him. And then the police officers were really cronies in disguise. They quickly handcuffed the guard ordered him to call the other guard to the front and

then that guard also handcuffed and then the thieves you know made off with thirteen paintings including masterworks by Rembrandt Vermeer de Ga worth roughly at the time they took them a third of a billion dollars to this day no one has been arrested in conjunction with his crime nor have the paintings ever been recovered the stolen works are now valued at half a billion but i was thinking how do you sell them now? The robbery was the largest art theft in American history. The FBI thinks them obded it, but can't prove shit. Museum is currently offered $10 million reward still for the return of these paintings. Statute limitations has passed here as well. So you know, now even if these guys confess, can't be prosecuted. I wonder where these

paintings are right now, right? Hanging up on some wall and strong Russian pulling boy Putin's bedroom or something displayed in some Russian oligarch's private gallery, like would some oligarch pay close to full value for something known to be stolen? It's going to be hard to resell. These crimes, of course, are robberies. Leopold and Lowe would go down in history as the men who thought that they could commit the perfect murder.

Let's look briefly at some other murders. You might say we're perfect in the sense that whoever committed them got away with it. A lot of the most enduring unsolved murders qualifies perfect crimes to many like the murders of Jack the Ripper, the zodiac killer, a lot of other serial killers thought they were getting away with perfect murders and did for quite some time, but eventually it all came crashing down. Joseph DiAngelo, aka the East Area Rapist, aka the Vassalia Ransacker, aka the original Night Stalker, aka the Golden State Killer and Subject of Suck 90, almost got away with a whole bunch of crimes, did get away with them for 44 years.

He's believed to have raped at least 51 women robbed over 120 homes and killed at least 13 people all between 1974 and 1986, but wasn't caught until 2018. You know, committed his crime. You know, had he committed his crimes back in the days of Leopold Lo, probably would have never been caught. No one ever got a real good look at his face who lived and talked about it. He wore gloves, so police didn't have fingerprints. He would call from phone booths or stay on the line for only a short time so no one could trace his location. Didn't leave any evidence useful at the time.

He was committing these crimes to detectives, but left a lot of evidence would be very useful later. He left his DNA everywhere, which was what led to police finally catching up with him when Dangelose familial DNA popped up on a genealogy website. Technically like DNA analysis, sorry, technology like DNA analysis has made the perfect crime less and less likely to happen now. You could get away with being a lot sloppier back in the 1920s and still not get caught

than you can now. And Leopold and Lowe, despite actually being very, very academically intelligent and living back in the 1920s, they still got caught. Despite how much harder it is to get away with murder now, perfect murders are still undoubtedly being constantly committed. There are currently over 200,000 unsolved murder cases in just the US and that number increases by between six and 10,000 each and every year. And these unsolved murders do not count all the murders, you know, murderers, investigators don't even think

are murders. Like if everyone, the police, the medical examiner, relatives, et cetera, believed the victim died of natural causes or in a tragic accident, then there's no murder to be investigated. So by definition, we will never know when the perfect crime has been committed because we will never know it's occurred

in the first place. And there might be a lot of perfect murders being committed. There were over 126,000 deaths in just 2010 alone in the US that were the result of quote accidental injury. If 1% of them were murders that were never recognized as such, that would be 1264 murders. An Australian woman would almost get away with this kind of perfect crime. Yvonne Gladys Fletcher was convicted in 1952 of poisoning not one, but two of her husbands with thalium.

Thalium is an odorless, tasteless chemical and went absorbed by the body. It evidently results in symptoms that look a lot like dying from natural causes, making it a popular choice for poisoners. At the time, do the chronic rat infestation problems and certain overcrowded overcrowded parts of Sydney and elsewhere in Australia, and Thalium's effectiveness as rat poison, it was readily available over the counter in new South Wales where Thalium sulfate was marketed as a commercial rat bait under the brand name Thalrat. Yvonne was only caught because her neighbors noticed that her second husband seemed to be suffering the exact same kind of strange and terrible lethal illness in 1952 that Yavon's first husband had suffered from in 1948.

She was convicted and sentenced to death and then her sentence subsequently commuted to life imprisonment after the New South Wales government abolished the death penalty. Then actually released in 1964 at the age of only 42, remarried and had a quiet life. Wonderful third husband, who the fuck he was marrying you Vaughn did not get away with poison the second time around You know, but she got away would have gotten away the first time if she would never would have tried it again It would have been just an accidental death and who else may be getting away with poison people right now citing 2022 governmental stats here in the US in average of 240 people die as a result of unintentional poisoning every single day.

That includes drug overdoses, but wouldn't intentionally overdosing someone also be a perfect murder. How many times has that happened? Okay, Yvonne got away with, you know, Killer Once, one perfect crime would not be so for Leopold and Lowe. The two of them would not only get caught and pretty quickly, they also never got the ransom they tried to claim. The parents of their victims were going to give them ransom money, but they fucked that exchange up. They fucked up so much. Killing Bobby Franks was so far from the perfect crime. Leopold and Lowe made about a gazillion

mistakes. Just to demonstrate how far from perfect their attempt was before we get into the timeline and cover more details. Some notable mistakes were leaving the body right by similar road tracks where it was very quickly discovered by a random passerbyer. And then they were seen together in the rental car at the time and place the kidnapping had occurred. A rental car they left blood stains in. They left a pair of eyeglasses at the crime scene belonging to one of them with an unusual hinge mechanism that had only been bought by three people in the Chicago area. They also claimed as an alibi that they had been out in their car the night of the murder, even though their show fur was repairing that exact same car that exact same night. So it couldn't have been used. Didn't put a lot of thought to their

fucking alibi. And then one of them even tried cracking a joke during questioning about if he were to murder someone, it would for sure be some self-important little twat like Bobby Frank's. Not good, motherfucker. He had told a journalist that. Not good. Wrong crap for that joke. Criminal masterminds, these guys were not, and there were other mistakes, and their botched

crime would captivate the national media. What was shocking and intriguing about Frank's murder, of course, was, you know, who killed him as we've talked about. Two young university Chicago students named Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. And again, by all accounts, you know, they should have had, you know, full lives as upstanding members of society and accomplishment. Like we said, Nathan Leopold, brilliant student enrolled in university Chicago at 815 earned distinction as an amateur ornithologist as well.

A bird scientist publishing two papers in the, the, the leading ornithologist, ornala, oh my God, ornithological. There we go, journal in the US. Fucking bird watchers, gotta keep an eye on them. Almost as bad as jazz lovers. The upholds family, wealthy, well connected as father and a student businessman who had inherited a shipping company, then use that to make a second fortune in aluminum cannon, paper box manufacturing.

I forget his undergraduate degree. Nathan went on to study law at fortune in aluminum cannon, paper box manufacturing. I forget his undergraduate degree. Nathan went on to study law at the University of Chicago, poised to accomplish so much. Had he not been a shithead, Richard Loeb, 18 of the time of the murder, also came from a wealthy family. As I said, his dad, vice president Sears, a guy who possessed an estimated force of $10 million equal to about $170 million today. Loeb's were fucking loaded. Third son of the family of four boys,

Lobe had distinguished himself early, graduating from University of high school at just 14 and rowing that same year at the University of Chicago. His experience as a student at that university was not a happy one. His classmates were several years older and he earned only mediocre grades, but of course he did he's 14.

At the end of his sophomore year, he transferred to the University of Michigan, remained a lackluster student, but again a very young one who spent more time playing cards and reading dime novels and sitting in the classroom, maybe became a young alcoholic during his years in Ann Arbor. Nevertheless, he managed to graduate from Michigan in a 1924, was back in Chicago taking graduate courses in history at university. These two were smart academically. Of the two Leopold was the smartest with an IQ reporter. The so far above the regular scale they were using the time that it was impossible to attach a precise figure to it. Investigators estimated that he scored between two 10 and 220. And if that is true, I'm not sure it is only because that is

preposterously high that would make him possibly smarter than the smartest man in the world right now according to the Guinness Book of World Records Sounds Korean professor Kim Jung-young this guy was solving differential equations live on Korean television when he was five years old He was knocking out calculus problems when he was three, three years old. I don't know if Leopold was that smart, but the fact that some speculated he was, shows how smart he may have been. He was a genius of some kind, just not a criminal genius.

And lobe, no slouch either, tested to have an IQ of 160. There's different IQ scales out there. Some have 140 as the bottom benchmark for genius, others have the barometer 160. Again, both so smart both so privileged and That's why they're crime so shocking why them? Right beneath both of these boys well-bred exterior was a darker more perverse interior

Field by arrogance and superiority When the two Remed after you know, they were acquainted with each other growing up in 1923 like Fred and Rose West their combination of their particular personalities and the fact that their relationship did become romantic like a like a spark right to set the fire led to an explosive murder on the surface the boy seemed to have little in common lobe was gregarious and extroverted leopold was misentropic and aloof it became intimate companions the more Nathan leopold learned about Richard lobe the stronger his attraction for the other boy was.

Loeb was considered very good looking. Slender, well-built tall, brown blonde hair, humorous eyes, and a sudden attractive smile, had an easy open charm about him. Later Leopold would describe Loeb like this. His charm was magnetic. Maybe mesmeric is the better word. See, he was a fucking smart guy who says someone's mesmeric.

He could charm anybody he had a mind to. He seemed to have an inborn knack of making friends of winning everyone's affection with his rose colored glasses on. It didn't matter to Nathan Leopold. Richard Lowe would often indulge in purposeless destructive behavior. Stealing car, setting fires, smashing storefront windows. Now, in fact, Nathan liked it. Nathan Leopold himself can be very annoying, which caused him some friendships, but love didn't seem to mind.

He liked having someone else smart, worshiping him. Leopold had an irritating habit of bragging about his supposed accomplishments. It quickly became tiresome to listen to him, you know, boasts about, you know, speaking 15 languages, for example, which wasn't true. But again, he worshiped lobe and lobe loved that. Leopold also had a tedious obsession with the philosophy of Frederick, Frederick Nietzsche. He would talk endlessly about Nietzsche's idea of a mythical Superman, who because he was a Superman stood outside the law beyond any moral code that might constrain

the actions of ordinary men. Even murder Leopoldlan was an acceptable act for a Superman to commit if the deed gave him pleasure. Morality did not apply in such a case. Logan cares much about Nietzsche, but he liked hearing about how he should be above the law because of how intelligent and gifted he was. Having a companion made Richard Feele, who made Richard feel like a criminal mastermind, that's what he really liked. These days, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb might seem like cliche figures.

Intellectual nihilistic from morseless killers who want to bring society to its knees, sociopaths, real world precursors of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, or Tyler Durden from Fight Club. But that character wasn't a common media archetype back in the 1920s. Could be argued that Leopold Aloeb created the mold for that archetype. When it comes to American media, film, TV series, fictional novels and such, they would tell investigators that the idea to kill Bobby came from the pure love of excitement, a love of thrills, and doing something different. All right, enough dancing around this story now. Let's get into all the

devilish details in today's Time Suck timeline. Right after today's mid-show Sponsor Break. And now it's time for another crime of the century timeline. Shrap on those boots soldier. We're marching down a time suck timeline On November 19th 1904 Nathan Freud and Thal Nate dog Lee a Pold Jr. is born Chicago Son of Florence and Nathan Lee a Pold Lee a Pold were a wealthy German Jewish immigrant family a child prodigy Nathan will claim to have spoken his first words at the age just four months. And then he'd go on to get an undergraduate degree at the University of Chicago with five beta Kappa honors and would also get some national recognition for being a f***a nerd. I mean, ornithologist.

Leopold and several other ornithologists identified the Kirtland's warbler and made a stuute observations about the parasitic nesting behavior of brown-headed cowbirds, which threatened the warblers. Leopold was set to travel around Europe just a few weeks after he killed a 14-year-old boy, and a few months later, would have been going to Harvard Law School. We don't have a lot of day-to-day details of this bird-loving murderous childhood, so let's pivot now to Richard Loeb. Richard Albert Dick Loeb, born on June 11th, 1905 to Chicago to the family of Anna Henrietta and Albert Henry Loeb, a wealthy lawyer and retired vice president of Sears Roblox and company. Dick Loeb's father was Jewish

and his mother was Catholic, Nate Dog and Dick Loeb. They were never called that in life to my knowledge, but I will call them that from time to time today. Also, when I say dick lobe, makes me think of an earlobe, right, but one on a penis, which is kind of gross to imagine. But I take comfort knowing that you are also now probably imagining like a earlobe of some sort hanging off a dick of some sort, maybe with a gauge in it, some kind of earring, and feels good not to be alone. some kind of earring and feels good not to be alone. Blackly a bold, Richard, who was sometimes called Dickie or Dick, nice to have a lot of dick in this suck, Lo was exceptionally intelligent as I stated

with the encouragement of his governess as a private teacher, more on claims of what went on with the governess as these boys later. He skipped several grades in school and went on to become the University of Michigan's youngest graduate at the age of only seventeen low was especially fond of history was doing graduate work in the subject of the university's kaga with the time of the murder

unlike a nade dog uh... however as smart as he was dick lobe was not overly interested in intellectual pursuits preferring socialize play tennis read pulp detective crime novels and raise hell uh... the two young men grew up with their respective families in the affluent Kentwood neighborhood in Chicago, Southside. They were pretty close neighbors all their lives in a dish into owning a summer state, now

called castle farms in Charlotte, Void Michigan. The lobes owned a mansion in Kenwood, just two blocks from the Leopold home. I think I put a teen in earlier, Kenwood. Castle, Castle Farmsville Loeb Summer Home is a place that now has its own dedicated Wikipedia page. This is quite someplace. A very popular wedding venue. Used to be a rock concert venue,

Metallica, Aerosmith, ACDC have played there. 45 acres on the shores of Lake Charlevoi. No idea how much this property is worth now, but I bet it could sell for somewhere between $1500 million. That was the lobe's summer home. Though Leopold and Loeb knew each other casually while growing up in the neighborhood, they didn't really begin to become friends until mid-1920. Their relationship quickly with Infloresh, at the University of Chicago, really in 1923,

they became very close. They discovered a mutual interest in true crime. Leopold also very interested in Friedrich Nietzsche's concept of Superman or Ubermensch in German. I've teased this a little bit now. Let's explore this concept in a little more detail since it really seemed to help push these guys to kill. The concept of the Ubermensch is explained in Nietzsche's work of philosophical fiction, thus spoke Zarathustra. The protagonist Zarathustra spends ten years of solitude in the mountains and then return to the nearest town, excited to share his wisdom about the ubermatch.

Zarathustra preaches that humans are merely a bridge between animal and ubermatch, saying, to become the ubermatch one must transcend the established morals and prejudices of human society to define their own purpose and values in life. In the novel, most of the talents people ignore. Zarathustra leaving him feeling dismayed and disillusioned. He's fucking bummed out that most humans are becoming content with mediocrity, simple pleasures, avoiding anything extreme. Why won't they push themselves towards becoming an ubermensch, true self-actualization, a step beyond self-actualization even. There are a thirst for a search that one must undergo three

metamorphoses before they can become the ubermensch. The first age is becoming the camel. The camel is not afraid of discomfort. The camel possesses the discipline to obtain new knowledge, but still bears the burden of obedience to existing social constructs. Right. The second stage is evolving from the camel to the mother fucking lion. The lion does follow the subjective societal rules placed before him by or does not follow the subject of rules.

Excuse me, place before him by mere sheep by camels. The lion revels in his independence by fiercely rebelling against social constructs. The ones he previously carried as a camel. And then the third stage of these metamorphoses is becoming the child. That's right, first camel, then lion, then a little kid. It'll make sense. The child seeks truth on their own without external influences controlling them. Whereas the camel only knew following society's rules and the lion only knew rebelling against society's rules, the child is able to make creative discoveries and

develop their own rules for life, right? Carpe Diem mother fucker. And I'll decide how best to seize the day as well. Thank you very much. Zara, Zara, Zara Thustub, not a fucking word you say every day, believed by undergoing these three metamorphoses, us lowly average meat-sexy schmucks, could learn to truly live life on our own terms, instead of succumbing to society's expectations. Like as a modern example, the Camel and us might question the value of higher education, but pursue college regardless,

because we've been told that's what we're supposed to do. Meanwhile, the lion might reject the value of higher education for the purpose of going against the grain of what we're supposed to do. Meanwhile, the lion might reject the value of higher education for the purpose of going against the grain of what we're supposed to do and maybe jumping into some form of entrepreneurship. Finally, the child would determine the value of higher education for themselves without considering the opinions of society around them. If higher education fit into the child's life plan,

then they would pursue it regardless of what their parents, friends, and the rest of society felt about that decision. And of higher education did not fit into the child's life plan, then they would pursue it regardless of what their parents' friends in the rest of society felt about that decision. And of higher education did not fit into the child's life plan, they would forego college, regardless of what those around them thought. The child lives life on their own terms. Does not mindlessly follow the footsteps of those before them. Also does not mindlessly rebel against the footsteps for the sake of mere rebellion. They do what makes the most sense.

Hail, name, rod and hell, Zavina. There is a lot about this I like. And by embracing the inquisitive nature of the child, Zara Thustra felt, so of course, you know, Nietzsche felt, we can discover what is truly meaningful to us, rather than have others give us meaning. Tell us what is meaningful. And through the child, one can become an ubermatch, a superhuman. We're not at some comic book superhero sense. Just a human who's evolved above the typical trappings and limitations intellectually of us average meat sex. A human who does not accept without analysis, any morality, modality, handed down by a government religion, culture, etc. To thine own self be true to quote Shakespeare's hamlet. To die own self be true to quote Shakespeare's hamlet quote from Shakespeare's hamlet least one of these things Nietzsche also emphasized in his philosophical musins was the importance

of friends and ones moral evolution. Nietzsche felt that friends should not only share joy but also challenge one another. Zara Thruestra believed that the purpose of this relationship is to foster cooperative competition that leads friends closer to becoming the ubermatch. Friends challenging each other's viewpoints leads to more self-examination, a better understanding of one's beliefs through spirited discourse friends can continue to evolve each other's knowledge and morality. And if you have the right friends, intelligent, challenging friends, not just mindless

of accepting the status quo, they can push you to a much more evolved authentic examin' life where you construct and embrace your own custom morality. A morality that is above any local laws passed down by the government that counts on its citizens to be camels. A morality above any created by a religion that counts on its followers to be sheep, camels, not lines. Ultimately, a shared desire for enlightenment between, say, two curious friends can push both to transcend

the morality created by inferior camels by other humans intellectually morally beneath them to quote Bill Murray the great Bill Murray from Kingpin I can do anything if I want to walk finally big earners above the law. You pulled him low but interpret all this as seeing the ubermanches someone who would be like big earn the law, someone who wants to just do shady shit. And thus, you know, feel that they can be as destructive and lawless as they wanted to be. But that is not what Nietzsche intended. He thought that the ideal ubermensch would be a quote Caesar with Christ's soul. Someone who isn't going to accept the laws of the land and the social moors of the culture and morals

of religion is always being right. Someone willing to re-examine everything and decide what's right for themselves, but pragmatically what's right for themselves would also be right for society overall as far as people's well-being. That was what Nietzsche was trying to get us to find some new meaning as opposed to the old meaning

handed down to us by outdated, you know, governmental laws and religion. Leopold and Lowe would take Nietzsche's uver-mench concept, misinterpret it as something a lot fucking darker. They particularly, Nathan Leopold, thought that superman possess superior abilities and intellects, which allowed them to rise above laws that bound unimportant average masses, right? Allowed them to do things like killer random teenager, just to see how it felt. And then not feel bad about it because they're creating their own morality. He believed that he and Loeb were these individuals in a letter to Loeb.

He once wrote, a Superman is on account of certain superior qualities inherent in him exempted from the ordinary laws which govern men. He is not liable for anything he may do. Ah, spoiler alert! Court would find both of these dipshit's pretty fucking liable. Seems all, also like many others, like that these two Ahs hats mercanturated the spirit of Frederick Nietzsche's overall nihilism, right? That word is defined as the rejection of all religious and moral principles,

and the belief that life is meaningless. But Nietzsche, son of a Lutheran pastor, a man who famously declared God is dead, did not believe that life had no meaning. So you could just go fucking rape, kill, do whatever shit you want regardless of how hurtful it might be. He held a worldview that promotes human flourishing by remaining faithful to the here and now and to this earth instead of manufactured and often harmful and oppressive notions of God and law. But he still was encouraging people who really understand his philosophy to find meaning

and not just be terrible. But Nate Dogg and Dick Love, they didn't see that in the writings. They just saw, oh, fuck yeah, bro. God doesn't exist, laws or social constructs created by stupid fucking camel folk. We're intellectually superior Superman Ubermensch is not beholden to anyone but ourselves. Let's fucking go The appalled lobe decided to test her little theory about being Superman by initially committing some acts of petty theft and vandalism

They broke into a frat house University of Michigan stole some pen knives camera a typewriter stole a typewriter. They would later use to write their ransom notes. For the robbery they wore masks and carried two loaded revolvers and a rope to tiny one up who interrupted them not getting caught reaffirmed their belief that they were superior humans who could easily avoid capture by outwitting the stupid camels who surrounded them and bold and now they up the anti right escal? Escalated to arson. What exactly they burned? Is it made clear in sources? Best source I could find said that they set several random fires.

None that resulted in any loss of life. Loeb, you know, did some joy rides and some cars. They committed acts of vandalism such as sneaking out in the middle of the night, smashing in some storefront windows and Kentwood and Hyde Park. And I apologize to my notes. I don't know if it's an auto-credit thing, but I wrote Kent Wood and Ken Wood both. So it's definitely one of those, that neighborhood. And now I can't remember which one.

When the media didn't cover any of these crimes, Leopold and Loeb were disappointed. They wanted to do something more people noticed. They wanted to toy with the public. Have those camels fear them. We recognize, even if recognized anonymously, for being ubermenschis, masterminds, they started planning a crime that the media would have no choice but to cover a sensational crime, a perfect crime, a perfect murder. In the fall and winter of 1923 and 1924, these two spent seven months planning their murder. They planned everything from the method of

abduction to the disposal of the body to confuse investigators as to the perpetrator's motives, they decided to make a ransom demand. $5,000 is what they would ask for, about $85,000 in today's money. To make the ransom demand, they planned an intricate sense of complicated instructions to be delivered to the family, one step at a time to pay phones, or via payphones. Then they would type the final set of instructions involving the actual money drop in the form of a ransom note using the typewriter stolen from the fraternity house. For the murder weapon, they chose a chisel. Then they began to search for the right victim. After a couple of false starts, including the consideration of Richard Loeb's own brother Tommy,

they picked Armand Deutsch. An 11-year-old boy and grandson of Julius Rosenwald, the president of Sears, probably the richest man in Chicago. On April 20th, 1924, Leopold visited a rental car shop in downtown Chicago. The plan is now set in motion, the very beginning. He pretends to be a traveling salesman by the name of Morton D. Ballot. He's able to provide a bankbook with the same name for some ID verification. He's able to get that bank book earlier that same morning by depositing $100 to open an account and just telling the banker that he was mordant, D-ballot. It was at Easyback in 1924. Getting the rental car would be a bit trickier. Dick Low was asked to provide three references. Said he was only in the city for a brief time could just provide one reference. Mr. Lewis Mason. Mason was Nathan Leopold,

who was waiting by a drug store pay phone to take the rental car company's call as Mr. Mason. And he gave a good enough reference for the rental car store clerk to rent him a vehicle. Rent a, you know, lobe vehicle. Making sure I'm getting, oh yeah, rent a Leopold vehicle. Excuse me. So I guess it wasn't actually a much trickier. It was really easy. I mean, these guys didn't even need fake IDs for this shit. Illinois would not have driver's licenses until 1939. And the US did not start issuing social security cards until 1936.

Businesses didn't really start asking for much proof, paper proof, visual proof of identity until after World War II. So much easier to get away with shit back then. So much easier to pull scams. But these two geniuses will still be caught quickly. After grabbing that rental car, Lowe, checks into a hotel, the Morrison also under the name Morton De Ballad wanted to establish a paper trail of some mysterious Mr. Ballad figure that would send the police on a wild goose chase

if they came looking. When he arrived at the hotel, there was a mail waiting for Mr. Ballad sent previously by Leopold and Loeb. The pair now drove the car around for a few hours and returned it. Now they've established some local business with a local rental car company. You know, they're in their files as a customer who returns the car damaged free, all part of their master plan, make it easier to get the next rental car. Jump, you know, they're just making sure that they could jump ahead a month now, the day before the murder made 20th, the pair drive Leopold's

red sports car to a local hardware store and buy some rope. Then they drive it to another hardware store, buy a chisel. Rope to type the victim, a chisel to kill them with. And that's a random fucking weapon. Feels like they overthought their weapon choice. And how will we kill this meaningless camel, Mason, should be shoot them. Now too noisy, strangle them to barbaric beneath us stab them to cliche were different were ubermensch's we make it up as we go along. Let's use a waffle iron

Top hat a pair of seals skin slippers Chisel okay. Yes, chisel like like a sculptor making something new out of something that already exists. Yes, yes, yes. Then they had to a third drugstore by some hydrochloric acid to just figure the remains with. No shortage of drugstores around there. Then they go back to Leopold's to further prepare. Low-brap some tape around the sharp end of the chisel to create a kind of club, even weirder now. Not just a chisel, a needlessly modified chisel. Why not just fucking buy a club or buy a hammer? Also, ripped up pieces of fabric to make a gag, and then leopold types up a ransom note.

Dear sir, you know doubt know by this time that your son has been kidnapped. Please follow our instructions carefully and nothing will happen to it. If you don't follow our instructions, to the letter, you will never see your son again. Number one, do not communicate with the police. If you have done so already, please do not mention this letter. You will never see your son again. Number 1. Do not communicate with the police. If you have done so already, please do not mention this letter. Number 2. Go down to the bank and get $10,000 in old bills. Make sure the bills are old. Any new or mocked bills will be noticed.

Get $2,020 bills and $8,050 bills. Number 3. Be home by 1 o'clock. Do not let the phone be used. Number four, refer to me in all communications as Ubermatch. And I shall refer to you as a lowly camel. Number five, I am more than human. We don't need to talk about it. I just want you to know it. Number six, I want to thank you for I want you to thank me. There we go for allowing you to bear witness to the incredible transformation that is my own intellectual moral ascension. Number seven. What do you think of King Oliver's new Riverside blues track? It's simply divine, right? I think it's a cat's pajamas fella. Makes me want to fucking murder! Can you not hear it?

Can you not hear the murder? In the jazz! Uh, he only actually, of course, listed those first three instructions. Once these two called the parents of whoever they took, then they planned to provide them with further instructions. Now they just had to go kidnap and kill somebody. The next day, May 21st, 1924, Lee a pulled the lobe, get another rental car and Michigan Avenue, same place you ran in front before a green, Willie's night under the same

alias of Morton D. Ballad. That afternoon, they slowly drive around the streets of the Southside Chicago, looking for a little arman. Five o'clock after driving around Kenwood for two hours, they're ready to abandon the crime for another day. I'm being honest to them, arman show fur. I picked him up from the private Harvard School for boys, or the wasn't for boy, Harvard School for a dentist appointment. So Armand wasn't walking home from school as expected. They did find another kid on the list

that they had made of acceptable murder victims, Johnny Levinson, but there were too many witnesses around Johnny, so they bailed on kidnapping him. Dennis Leibold drove North along Ellis Avenue, lobes sitting in the rear passenger seat, suddenly saw his cousin, Bobby Franks, walking south on the opposite side of the road. Bobby was the 14 year old son of a wealthy Chicago match

manufacturer or watch manufacturer, Jacob Franks, also Loeb's second cousin, and across the street neighbor, who had played tennis at the Loeb residence know, at the low residence several times. Lowb knew they had found their victim. He tamplied Paul on the shoulder, indicated for him to slow down, fucking idiot. Here is one of their first huge mistakes,

maybe the biggest one. Well, next to the next to the one I've just needlessly killed in somebody. Like if you're trying to commit the perfect crime, the perfect murder, why would you pick somebody who lives across the street? Like why would you pick somebody who lives across the street? Like why would you pick somebody who know it, a fucking neighbor?

The police, when this person turns up missing or dead, they're gonna for sure talk to people that this kid knew like other fucking kids in the same neighborhood. Man, geniuses when it came to academic studies, but not street smart, these two, not at all. Leapold turned the car in a circle driving slowly down Ellis Avenue, gradually pulling alongside Bobby now.

Hey, Bob, Dick Loeb shouted from the rear window. The boy turned slightly to see the dark green Willie's night sedan car produced between 1914, 1933 by the Willie's Overland company of Toledo, Ohio, stopped by the curb, low, lean forward into the front passenger seat to open the front door. Hey, Bob, I'll give you a ride. Loeb said, the boy shook his head, no, though, lean forward into the front passenger seat to open the front door. Oh, I'll give you a ride. Loeb said the boy shook his head, no, though, he was almost home and said, no, I can walk. And now these two masterminds should have left, but they didn't.

They wanted to kill someone so bad. They were so hopped up on the jazz. Just couldn't stop. Come on in this car. I want to talk to you about the tennis racket you had yesterday. I want to get one for my brother, lobe now insisted. Bobby moved a bit closer now. He was standing by the side of the car.

Lobe looked at him to the open window. Lobe could have grabbed him, pulled him inside, but instead continued talking, hoping to persuade the boy to climb into the front seat. Bobby stepped onto the running board and then did slide himself into the front seat, sitting right next to Leopold. Lobe jester towards his companion. You know Leopold, don't you? Bobby glanced sideways, shook his head now, he didn't recognize him.

No, he said. You don't mind us taking around the block, low-bast? Certainly not. Bobby turned around on the seat to face Loeb, he smiled at his cousin with an open innocent grin, ready to banter about his success in yesterday's tennis game like any 14 year old boy. The car accelerated down Ellis Avenue as it passed 49th Street, Loeb felt on the car seat beside here for that stupid fucking chisel, modified chisel. Right. Again, they taped off the blade so that he could use the blunt end the handle is some form of club.

I guess maybe they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves by just buying a club or again, just overthinking things. I guess maybe they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves by just buying a club or again just overthinking things Lobe feels the makeshift club in his hand now. He grasps it firmly at 50th Street Leopold turns the car left as it makes the turn Bobby looks away from Lobe Glances towards the front of the car when he does so Lobe reaches over the seat grabs a surprised boy from behind with his left hand Covering Bobby's mouth to stop him from crying out, right? They're in public people could hear around this immediately following his action almost simultaneously. He brings the chisel club down hard, smashing it into the back of the boys school. He pounds the chisel into Bobby's school with as much force as

possible, but it does not render him unconscious. Bobby has now twisted halfway around in the seat, facing Loeb desperately raising his arms, protect himself from further blows, but it won't help. Loeb smashes the chisel down two more times into Bobby's forehead, still Bobby struggles. So Dick Loeb swings again with all his might and the fourth blow splits open a large hole in his poor boy's forehead. Blood from the wound is now spilling everywhere, spreading across the seat, splashing onto Leopold's trousers, spilling onto the floor. Bobby is still conscious and struggling. Killing not nearly as easy as Loeb or Leopold's trousers, spilling onto the floor. Bobby is still conscious and struggling. Killing not nearly as easy as Lowe or Leopold had expected it to be was not at all

like it was in pulp detective novels. They're making more mistakes. Now this is fucking messy. This is very messy. Now Lowe reaches down, grabs Bobby, pulls him suddenly upwards over the front seat into the back of the car. James a rag down this boy's throat, stuffing it down as far as possible, blood's getting everywhere.

Tears off a large strip of adhesive tape as he wrestles around with Bobby and tapes his mouth shut. Leopold meanwhile, still driving around Chicago, near where they live and brought fucking daylight during all this. Bobby's moaning and crying now stops. Once his body goes limp, low relaxes his grip on him,

and Bobby's now dead, lifeless body slips off his lap and lays crumpled at his feet with the body on the floorboard. Out of view, these two geniuses now drive to the do drop in a restaurant in Hammond, Indiana, just a few miles outside of Chicago city limits, where Nate Dogg not covered in too much blood, I guess, grabbed some hot dogs and some rubers. After that, you know, they have their hot dogs, they have their rubers, then ride about aimlessly until it gets dark enough for them to feel like they can quietly dispose of the body.

After dark, they drive to a predetermined swampy dumping ground near Wolf Lake in Hammond, Indiana, 25 miles south of downtown Chicago. There they remove and discard Bobby Frank's clothes, concealed the body in a large culvert kind of along the Pennsylvania railroad tracks north of the lake. They do not bury the fucking body way out in the woods. No, just kind of drop it off in a culvert right next to some railroad tracks, not far from the road easily visible. Anybody who wants to walk by to obscure the body's identity, they poor hide-to-clerk acid

on Bobby's face is general to disguise what he looked like, hide the fact that he'd been circumcised and then they leave. They don't even put his, yeah, again, his body, they don't even put his body deep into the culvert, just very lazy. Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyeglasses fall from Leopold's jacket onto the muddy grounds near the body. These ubermentches have left very incriminating piece of evidence of the crime scene. By the time these two make it back back to Chicago word is, of course, spread the Bobby Franks is missing. When they are back in the Hyde Park neighborhood area close to the university, Richard pulls up to a drug store on 57th Street. It's almost 10 o'clock inside the store.

The clerk directs them to the pay phone booth at the rear. They'll find a phone book there. Dick Loeb searches for the Franks address. Finds it reads it off to Nathan, writes it down, who writes it down, and very careful, precise handwriting to mask his own penmanship on the front of an envelope. The clerk sells the postage for the letter, six two cent stamps, and to ensure that it will reach its destination the next morning. They also purchase a special delivery stamp, which Nathan attaches at the upper right hand corner of the envelope. The nearest mailbox is two blocks away across the street from the Hyde Park

Post Office on 55th. Nathan lifts the latch of the box, slips in the previously typed ransom letter inside that narrow gap that will arrive at the Frank's house at eight o'clock the next morning. And now the pair drive to Dick Loeb's house. Richard gathers together Bobby's clothes, trousers, shirt, underpants jacket, wraps them in the blanket They draped over his dead body when they drove around and takes all this into the house Where they sneak into the basement where the home's furnace is still burning like an actual has a fire furnace at this time Richard can see the flames flickering behind the grate They unwrap the blanket feed Bobby's clothes to the fire and then Nathan notices that they have lost one of Bobby socks

A sock with a distinctive black and white checkered pattern. Shit, they have no idea where it is. Another mistake. The blanket itself is too saturated with blood to safely burn in the furnace, giving off a pungent odor so they hide that in the garden now behind the greenhouse. And again, not smart. They don't bury it. Just kind of toss it back there. It's a fucking bloody blanket. Now they still need to call the Frank's household to tell the boys father that they've abducted Bobby and that he should expect a letter of the morning with ransom details. The wall green drugstore at the corner of 47th and Woodland Avenue is still open at 1030 in the evening so they drive on over.

They can see the clerk to the window as they approach alone in the store leaning across the front of the counter, reading a newspaper spread out before him. Nathan purchases a telephone slug of the counter and walks with Richard by his side towards the rear of the store, picks up the phones receiver, reads the number to the operator from a piece of paper and Richard's hand. It's tight squeeze for the two of them inside this booth. A woman's voice comes on the line and explains that Jacob Franks had left the house about an hour previously.

There was no telling when he will return. Uh, he now waited for the maid to put floor of Franks on the line. Bobby's mother, uh, when a second woman speaks, Nathan speaks rapidly, yet clearly intent on wasting as little time as possible. Says, this is Mr. George Johnson. Your boy has been kidnapped. We have him and you need not worry. He is safe, but don't try to trace this call. We must have money. We will let you know tomorrow what we want. We are kidnappers you need not worry. He is safe, but don't try to trace this call. We must have money.

We will let you know tomorrow what we want. We are kidnappers and we mean business. If you refuse us what we want to try to report us to the police, we will kill the boy, then he hung up. And the two returned to Leopold's house. Nathan's father is still awake when they arrive at Greenwood Avenue, Gretzum shakes Richard's hand warmly, notices nothing wrong with the two. They don't seem upset, not bothered at all by what they've done

These two still think they're a couple of geniuses They think that if you know in their own ubermensch morality if they've decided that what they've done is not wrong Then it is not wrong. They have nothing to feel bad about Nathan's father also named Nathan thought that dick lobe was an excellent Influence on his son before the truth about all this that came out. He believed that Nate could have been a lot worse in his choice of friends. The three guys now sit around just talking to the living room for a bit, shooting a shit. And after a while, then, you know, Nate Sr. has to go to bed and then Junior and a fucking

Dick Loeb remain. They had downstairs playing a card game called Casino. Soon as time for Richard to return home, Nathan offers him a ride in his red willy's night, not sure why he didn't want to drive the rental car. Maybe he didn't want to drive a car with blood all over the seat. And then now Dick fucks up again, as the car drives south on Greenwood Avenue,

Dick feels the chisel and his jacket pocket in the excitement. He had forgotten about the fucking murder weapon. Just forgot he had it. And now just casually flings it, just fucking eats it out the car window. Lands on the sidewalk with a loud clatter. Someone hears that clatter. As the car continues south, a night watchman, Bernard Hunt steps out from some shadows. Hunt picks up the modified chisel examines it curiously, right? Someone has taped it to the blade. That's weird. And on the handle,

he can make out traces of dry blood, little bit suspicious. As he puts the chisel in his pocket, Hunt also looks up in time to see Nate's car driving away, a red car with distinctive disc wheels and nickel bumpers. He'll be able to identify later. He watches it turn right towards Ellis Avenue. The next day, Leopold and Loeb have a little bit

of a stain to deal with. A bunch of poor Bobby Franks blood is, again, all over the rental car. Oh, and then if I did mention before this, this guy, this watchman does hand that chisel over to the police. But yes, the next day, Leopold and lobe have a little bit of a stain to deal with. A bunch of poor Bobby Frank's blood is again all over the rental car. And another huge fuck up occurs. They're at Nathan's house trying to clean it up when the Leopold family chauffeur, Sven England, all Sven walks over and notices the boys cleaning the same dark green, Willie's night car that the boys had been driving yesterday. And he hadn't heard that Nate Dogg had bought a new car, so whose car was this?

He wonders, right? Richard's Nate still has a red Willie's night. Nate told Sven when he asked what they were up to that they had spilled some red wine all over the car. Uh-huh, not suspicious at all. I'm sure people guzzled Cabard a7-ion in cars back then all the time. Also Sven literally can't remember ever seen

Nathan perform manual labor before this incident. Like literally ever. Like he just say later, he was just like, oh this is weird, like why is he, why isn't he having someone else clean something? He's always had other people do these things. What's he up to really? Next, the pair take a break from cleaning the car.

They're able to get most of the visible blood stain removed and just think, ah, fuck it close enough. Geniuses. And keep moving the ransom plan along. They now drive downtown with a series of typed out notes that would direct Mr. Franks along a very convoluted treasure hunt of sorts, more like a reverse treasure hunt until we losing fortune at the end. Nathan goes over the plan one more time with Dick as they drive north along Greenwood Avenue. They're going to first telephone Jacob Frank's

at his home directing him to the Ross drugstore 1465 East 63rd Street, the corner of 63rd and Blackstone. Franks was then to wait at the rear of the store by the telephone booth for a phone call for further instructions. Then, while Jacob Franks waited the drugstore, he and Richard will telephone Franks from a second drugstore instructing him to walk to the railroad station one block west of the first drugstore, the catched train that came down from Chicago. The train left at three o'clock from central station heading towards Philadelphia. To set shit up for the final leg of the Ransom instructions, they then go to the Central Train Station where Dick Loeb disguises himself with the hat, glasses, and black overcoat. He buys a ticket to Philly, gets on the train

so we can hide a note on the train with the final instructions. The note instructs Mr. Franks to move to the back of the train. After he gets the note, watch out the window to the east until he sees a red brick factory with the name champion painted on it outside in big white letters. After passing the factory, he was to just fucking fling his box of cash out the window to the east. Where our two geniuses will be hiding and waiting to scoop it up, head back home, toast to each other's uberman success, and then celebrate by listening to some fucking evil jazz while eating a new born baby or some shit. UGH! Thank you, Dark Lord, for giving me music to fuel my dastardly deans! DASTRATLY DEADS! For real now, while Loeb is hiding in the train, Leopold is working on setting the ransom sequence in motion.

From a payphone, he calls a taxi to the Franks house. The Franks had by now received that typewritten ransom note that had been mailed in IB4, telling them to wait by the phone. You know, for further instructions, don't talk to the police, don't take another call. Next, Nate Dog calls the Franks, gives them a full set of instructions for the ransom payment. Bobby's father, Jacob, was their tax he was heading his way. He was a tell the driver to take him to a pay phone located at the pharmacy at 1465 E 63rd. Okay, now, first plan to call that pay phone.

Right. As I said, order Frank's data, the other location to receive news, fucking board the fucking train. Then Jacob Frank's would have been directed, right, to look for that message stored in the box in the last train car. The message that lobe has just planted, right, the message that would direct him to throw the money out the window like I talked about earlier. If all went according to plan, Leopold and Lobe would be hiding near the railroad by the factory with champion right on the outside, get their

money, blah, blah, blah, but it wouldn't go down like that. As Leopold and Lobe drove down town around 230 to place a call to the pharmacy pay phone, they pass by a newsstand. On the front page of the news for the day, is the headline that says, boy's body found in swamp. Fuck, it's Tommy Franks. All right, his body has been found in less than 24 hours. The perfect murder. Lobe wants to abandon the ransom plan now,

but Leopold insists they go through with it. So they continue the drug store. Use the pay phone there to call the other drugstore's pay phone and get no answer. Why? Because Jacob Franks wasn't able to fucking memorize the exact address of the drugstore. He was not in a good state of mind when he answered the phone. His son had just been kidnapped. He shook up. These idiots did not give their instructions, you know, they gave it to quickly and did not repeat the drugstore address. did not make sure he had written down the drug store address before just hanging up like a couple of fucking morons Pretty important if you're trying to ransom someone to make sure that they actually understand

How to give you the ransom money and now since he can't make it to the right drug store He can't receive the next bit of info that will lead him to the train station. So it's over. Leopold and Lowe now have to abandon the ransom plan. The train is literally left the station. They now return the rental car. A rental car that still has a blood stain in it, but you know, fuck it. They kind of tried to get it out and then take a taxi back to Kenwood, both headed to

their respective homes, where they walk in to see family members reading the day's papers and talking about the murder of their neighbor. Again, why would you kill someone who lives in your own neighborhood? If you're trying to get a perfect murder, the body has not only been found, a passerby, a spot in the body, notified the police,

but people are already assuming it's the body of Bobby Frank's, right? Thought to be kidnapped the night before. And now the Frank's family in all this confusion, they hear terrible news. They hear the news that it is their son that has been murdered. Unbeknownstly, he pulled low while the ransom plan was falling apart. Bobby's uncle had been dispatched to the morgue and had identified the body. And it is Bobby, sorry if I've said Tommy once or twice before, by the time he pulled

the low, made it home, the Frank's family knew that their son had been killed. And that will be the headline the next day. So this perfect crime has really started to unravel, less than 24 hours after the act itself. Now, folks uncovering their crime up, Leopold and Lowe hide the typewriter by Tosnet and then nearby Harbor. Then they burned the blanket they had used to move the body

by dowsnet and gasoline and just set them on fire in an alleyway. Seems like they could have found a less public way to destroy it. And then they went about their lives as usual. And all for the most part, other than going over plans of how to respond to any questions the police might ask them. All right, I bet they're rehearsing.

The next day they read in the paper that a pair of eyeglasses has been recovered from the crime scene, right? Leopold eyeglasses. Whoops. The Chicago police have launched an extensive investigation. Rewards are being offered for the information. Investigators initially focus on teachers at Bobby's private school, the Harvard school,

while Dick Loeb goes about his daily routine quietly. Leopold is speaking freely to police and reporters, offering theories to anyone who will listen, you know, like a master criminal does. He's so cocky. Leopold even told James Mulroy, a former classmate at the University of Chicago. And now a journalist at the Chicago Daily News, when asked if Bobby was as good of an athlete as he had heard that he never liked Bobby. And he actually added, this is what I mentioned at the start of the show, if I were to murder anybody, he would, he was just the little cocky son of a bitch that I would pick. That's his quote.

If I were to murder anybody, he was just the cocky little son of a bitch that I would pick. What a moron, just asking get caught. Back to the pair of eyeglasses now. The prescription and frame were common enough, but they were fitted with a very unusual hinge. When police looked into it, they found that only three customers in Chicago had purchased that hinge and one of them was Nathan Leopold. They're fucking done now. Please go to question him about it.

Leopold tells him his glasses. Might have fallen out of his pocket on a bird watching trip. At that spot, the previous weekend, how weird, that he would be a bird watching, right where his neighbor would end up dead. So the police know they're not buying this. Then on May 29th, 1924, eight days after the murder of Bobby, not Tommy Frank's Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb are officially brought in for questioning. They told police that on the night of their murder in an alibi, these two geniuses had carefully constructed over the past few days. On the night Bobby vanished, they picked up two women to cago using leopold's car then drop them off sometime later near a golf course without learning their last names

and that alibi would crumble almost immediately because leopold's chauffeur told police he was repairing leopold's car on the very night in question uh... the night they claim to be picking up these women these two fucking geniuses had bothered to look into the actual status of Leopold's car the important night. It was in the garage the entire day. This show for his wife confirmed that the car in question was parked in the Leopold garage on the night of the murders.

This is bad, this is real bad. Once confronted with that information, just two days later on May 31, Richard not so tricky dick lobe, ubermensch crumbles. He confesses, he throws fellow uber, Nate Dog, under the bus heart. He claims that Leopold had planned everything. Had killed Franks in the back seat of the car while Loeb drove. Once now confronted with that story, Uber bench Leopold, you know, quickly confesses, and says, no, Loeb was the murderer.

He was a driver. These two genius supermen had already turned on one another. An investigator speaking to Leopold now asks, now Nathan, I just want you to go on in your own way and tell us the story from the beginning. Tell us the whole thing. And Leopold replied, when we planned a general thing of this sort,

it was as long ago as last November, I guess at least, and we started on the process of how to get the money, which was the most difficult problem. We had several dozen different plans plans all of which were not so good for one reason or another yeah, dude Fucking none of these plans were good the whole ransom angle really stupid far from perfect When he got to how they chose the victim he said I waited in the car there while dick went through the alley to a place Where he could either command a view of Harvard school Or if he saw any likely looking children, he could start playing with him Very inconspicuous

Right after some time I should say around three several of the groups of boys playing in the afternoon with the so-called tutors Had left for a vacant lot on 49th and Drexel We follow them up there. I have he made a stop at home from my field glasses in the meantime. Around 3 or 315, and we parked on the opposite side of Drexel Boulevard and watched these children at play. We also sneaked around on foot to the front, behind a lot, where we could observe without being seen. We also had another group of boys spotted in a lot just across the street from my home, 48th and green, but why would you ever look across the street from your house? We waited around until a quarter of five when the gangs broke up, but one of the boys had run down the alley. As we thought merely in play and we'll be back. Apparently, they had greatly

disappointed us. We missed our opportunity of following any of them home. We then went down Lake Park to 41st Avenue, where an acquaintance of Richard Loeb's had a son who might be expected home at that time. They had greatly disappointed us. What a creepy thing to say. All we wanted to do was murder them and instead they greatly disappointed us. Both Leopold and Loeb admitted to the investigators that they were driven by their thrill-sinking, thrill-seeking, uber-managed illusions and an aspiration to commit a perfect crime, to prove that they were so smart,

so advanced they can kill with impunity. Fucking dumb, they must be quickly feeling now. Neither claim to have looked forward to the killing but Lee Pold did admit interest in learning what it would feel like to be a murderer. He said he was disappointed to note that he felt the same as ever. Hello, sociopath. Well now the state attorney, Robert E. Crow is pretty sure that this is going to be an open and shut case for these two for the death penalty, right? He knew that these two dipshits were going to be executed and soon. He even boasted to the press that it would be the most complete case ever presented to a grand or petit jury. And the defendants would certainly hang. He had a amount of evidence. They pulled a low

bit confessed. They had even shown the police crucial evidence that the police didn't have when they first started talking. They told them what the fucking typewriter was that they dumped and that linked them to the crime even more conclusively, the criminal masterminds. But Crow didn't really fully take into account just how much money Leopold and Lowe had on their side. Their family's hired clearance,ce Darrow as a defense attorney, arguably the best, most famous lawyer in America at the time. For a retainer, Albert Loeb paid Darrow $70,000 equivalent to $1.2 million today. Rumored that Mr. Loeb gave Darrow an additional million dollars that time to spend on the defense, equivalent of about $17 million today, this guy was a fucking monster in the courtroom, a known name in the legal circle still to

this day. By 1894, Daryl had achieved notoriety within Cook County as a clever speaker and a stupe lawyer and a champion of the weakened defenseless. Year later, he'd become the most famous lawyer in the country when he successfully defended socialist labor leader Eugene Debs against conspiracy charges that grew out of a strike against the Pullman Palace car company. Robert E. Crow, the state's attorney, could have test firsthand to Daryl skills. In 1923, Daryl had humiliated him in the corruption trial of Fred London, a prominent Republican politician. And now it was a rematch, attorney versus attorney. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

Head to the Cook County Fairgrounds, watch the match of the century! One state prosecutor with a losing record but an airtight case takes on clearance, he fought the law and he won, derro, and two complete idiots! Everyone knows they're guilty. Glasses of found murder weapon, a crushed out of my hand more. But is jazz ready to blame blame are there heads the wrong shapes Who gets hang who walks free? We'll tell you the whole seat, but you only need the edge There took the case because he was such a staunch opponent of capital punishment

He knew these two were guilty. He just didn't want them to hang for it on July 21st 1924 Chicago's Cook County Courthouse will begin its session with John R. Cavill, Cavirley, presiding his judge. Cavirley had been born in England and was a devout Catholic who had paid for his legal education by once carrying water and steel mills for 87 cents a day. It was a blue collar no nonsense dude who was not going to suffer foolish entitled Bratzwell. Once Chicago's city, he had broken up a ring of personal injury lawyers who had swindled the city at a millions of dollars. He was rewarded with a municipal court judgeship and later promoted to trial court.

And now he was part of what was being called in the papers as the trial of the century. Everyone wondered how would Leopold and Lowe plead guilty or not guilty. Most people, the media, the media included speculated that the two would plead not guilty by reason of insanity. But Clarence Dero knew that a jury trial, which is what would come from a not guilty plea, would almost certainly lead to a conviction and the death penalty for his idiotic and very unlikeable and not insane clients. So he convinces his clients to plead guilty. As a rational fucking person, he made it clear to them and their families that, you know, with the evidences to shitheads

left all over the place, there was not a chance in hell that they were going to walk away from all of this and resume their lives. There was no trips to Europe and their near future, no Harvard. They were not ubermatches. His plan was to try and convince, you know, judge caverly to give Lee a poll and lobe life sentences. That was best case scenario. Then maybe they would get paroled in their middle ages, not a great fate, but better than being hanged for certain in a jury trial.

Lee a poll and lobe were guilty of murdering Bobby Frank's, Darrow told Kaverley, but he wanted the judge to consider three mitigating factors in determining their punishment. Their age, their guilty plea, and their mental condition, and now the ensuing trial of the century technically would not be a trial at all. It would be a very long sentencing hearing. And so during July and August of 1924 both sides presented their evidence. Robert E. Crow representing the prosecution presents over a hundred witnesses, documented details of the crime showing how methodically Leopold and Lowe had planned out to murder Bobby Franks, right?

They get the guy you found the fucking chisel, they get the rental car company to talk about the blood in the car, people with drug stores, all sorts of shit. He emphasized how lucid how thought out their planning was. Emphasized this was not the behavior of insane people, it was the behavior of cruel, cold, blooded, consciousless killers. The defense meanwhile called in a variety of psychiatrists and doctors and other so-called experts to prove that Leopold and Loeb were not able to see clearly how their actions had been wrong and did not deserve the death penalty. This was all that weird head-shaped shit I mentioned earlier, like droopy eyelids and such, asymmetrical faces, too much jazz. The three major defense psychiatrists were dubbed the three wise

men from the east by the prosecutor in the press. They were William Allyson White, director of St. Elizabeth's hospital for the insane in Washington DC. William Healy, one time director of the psychopathic clinic in Chicago, Bernard Gleck, formerly the alianist as forensic psychiatrists were then called at Singsing, Prison in New York and in 1924 as staff member at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons William Allison White was the one who told the court that both Leopold and Lo had experienced trauma at an early age at the hands of their governesses According to other staff who worked for the family There was a belief that sweetie real name Matilda Wands had begun having a sexual relationship with Nathan

Leopold when he was just 12. She also had sex with Nathan's older brother Samuel when he was 17. Nathan's mom was an invalid bedridden due to an undiagnosed illness, and apparently unsupervised while dad was off in a way at work, the Leopold boys had become unnaturally close to Matilda. Meanwhile, Lowe had allegedly grown up under a very strict disciplinary regiment. So exacting that in order to escape punishment, he had no other recourse. He had to lie to his governess. And so in Dr. White's account, at least, he had been set on the path of criminality.

Dr. White would say, Emily Struthers, this is Loeb's governess, pushed him tremendously in his schoolwork. Oh, how dare she. Was apparently very ambitious with regard to him and stimulated and pushed him ahead. Ruh! Further than he would have gone without that sort of stimulus. So I think I can get a good parental figure. He says, for example, in college, he lied about his marks.

He lied about all sorts of things. He lied to Leopold, his comrade, about his attendance in college. While his marks were on the whole pretty good. He made them a good deal better. He was continually building up all sorts of artificial situations until he himself says that he found it difficult to distinguish between what was true and what was not true. My God. Okay, the, uh, the beam molested shit with Leopold. Yeah, that's bad. Uh, can he blame the murder of Bobby Franks on, you know, being molested? No, get the fuck out of here. That's absurd.

And this is more absurd. This is just so pathetic. Right? Right. He was put on the path of being a murderer because his governor expected a lot out of this gifted child. The fuck? This, this doctor's a clown.

Uh, Dr. White continues. He considered himself the master criminal mind of the control of the controlling a large and controlling a large band of criminals whom he directed. Even at times he thought of himself as being so sick as to be confined to bed but brilliant and capable of mind that the underworld came to him and sought his advice and asked for his direction. And so he directed this whole group of criminal conspirators from his sick bet. In a well-rounded, well-integrated, well-knit personality, emotion and intelligence go hand in hand. Dickey is in a stage, which if it goes on further as capable of developing

that kind of very malignant splitting. Uh-huh. Good job with the word salad, their doctor trying to pull one over on the judge with a bunch of cycle babble, pity party bullshit. Leopold had also been traumatized. The defense is a psychiatrist argued. Having been sexually intimate with his governor at an babble, pity party bullshit. Leopold had also been traumatized. The defense's psychiatrist argued, having been sexually intimate with his governor at an early age, right?

Yeah, as I said. And it also pushed hard to be academics as a period, right? So of course he snapped. About Leopold, White would give this analysis, saying, Nathan's pathology had begun an early childhood. His classmates at the Douglas School had teased him relentlessly. His estrangedment from his peers had begun when he was seven or eight years old and had

continued throughout his time at the Harvard School and into the present. Nathan had always been a lonely unhappy child ever the outsider, and to protect himself from further pain and hurt, he retreated into an inner world where emotion counted for nothing and intellect was all. Nathan, like Richard, was trapped inside a world of fantasy. Nathan imagined himself as a slave, subservient, yet physically powerful, who had saved the life of his king, and had thereby earned the king's gratitude. It was an elaborate fantasy played out in a numeral ways, yet it always allowed Nathan to imagine himself as superior. The two of them came together

white said it was like fireworks, love had suggested the murder had taken and lowb had suggested the murder and taken the initiative. But when he faltered, Leopold was always there to back him up. In addition, Darro called a series of expert witnesses who offered a catalog of Leopold's and Low's physical abnormalities, what's everybody didn't have any. One witness though testified that they had dysfunctional endocrine glands. Of course they killed their endocrine glands. It's just so fucking dysfunctional. God, it's so hard to just do what I want in life with these fucking glands, dysfunctioning all the time. All the while the media coverage of this trial or sentencing hearing rather is fascinating million. So intense was the public interest in the mental processes of

the killers that publisher William Randolph Hearst searching for a scoop offered to pay noted psychiatrist, Sigmund Freud, half a million dollars plus transportation costs from Europe to examine the accused killers. And Freud actually turned him down, said he was too ill to travel. All right. The student was time for both sides to sum up their cases. Crow would talk about how the two boys were anti-Christian deviants to indulge in sex with one another and represented the worst kinds of criminal behavior known to man. He would say, Leopold has proclaimed since he was 11 years of age that there is no God. The fool in his heart has said there is no God. I wonder now, Nathan, whether you think there is God or not. I wonder whether you think it is pure accident that this disciple of Nietzschean philosophy dropped his glasses or whether it was an act of divine providence to visit upon your miserable Caucasus, the wrath of God, and the enforcement of the laws, the state of Illinois.

And all probably the present mental disease of these two defendants would disappear very rapidly. If the causes for its existence were removed, if the glasses had never been found, if the state's attorney had not fastened the crime upon these two defendants, Nathan Leopold would be over in Paris, or some other of the gay capitals of Europe indulging his unnatural lust with a 5,000, he had rung from Jacob Franks, and the case closes, and we are just as much in the dark as ever as to what these Four crimes of lobes were because the doctors concluded that legally and forensically it was advisable to question him about it

And then I asked you when Darryl talks about tricks. Who are the tricksters in this case? These four crimes he's referring to come from a passage in the so-called Bowman Holbert Report crimes he's referring to come from a passage in the so called Bowman Holbert report, a secret report prepared by the defense, but leaked the newspapers that it caught Kro's attention. I guess Richard had mentioned four crimes denoted by the letters A, B, C, and D, two psychiatrists. What were those crimes, Crow wondered? No one knew the defense psychiatrist had decided not to ask Richard about them. Crow believed it lobe was referring to something embarrassing enough for Nathan Leopold to be able to blackmail Richard Loeb

into a sexual relationship, which is total speculation, you know, on his part. Okay, so Crow continues, what strange hold do this man Leopold have on Loeb? Why did he submit himself to the unnatural practices of Leopold? I will tell you, Your Honor, and I think I will demonstrate

a beyond a preadventure of a doubt that these four episodes, that these four crimes were known to Leopold, and he blackmailed Loeb. He threatened Loeb with exposure if he did not submit to him, and Loeb had to go along with Leopold. And Leopold was willing to go along with Loeb because he could use his body for vile and unnatural practices, such as taking your honor, his throbbing, hot hard father daddy love stick, and pushing it in and out, and in and out your honor, in and out, and in and out, while listening to jazz, while drinking gin, in and out, in and out your honor, while reading Nietzsche, in and out, in and out of his bottle and his mouth, and the palm of his clothes hand your honor your honor. And maybe also rubbed it against the shoulder

to his feet, your honor. And maybe on his back as well, your honor. And perhaps some sword fighting went on, or maybe some docky, you know, sounding perhaps your honor. I added the your honor, of course, Crow actually finished with a jumping head a bit in his clothes and argument, your honor, it may be hardly fair. To the court, I'm wishing he actually did all that stuff. Now, your honor, it may be hardly fair to the court. I'm wishing he actually did all that stuff now. You're honor. It may be hardly fair to the court. I'm aware that I've helped to place a serious burden upon your shoulders. And at that, I have always meant to be your friend, but this was not an act of friendship.

I know perfectly well that where responsibility is divided by 12 is it is easy to say, away with him. Obviously referring to 12 jurors, right? You can share the moral responsibility for the verdict. And he says, but your honor, these boys hang, you must do it. There can be no division of responsibility here. You can never explain that the rest overpowered you. It must be by your deliberate, cool, premeditated act without a chance to shift responsibility. Code, make some comments later that would be even more pointed about how the court needed to kill these two young men.

It was the obviously morally righteous thing to do and judge Cavali did not like these comments. Daryl would now make a speech that would be called the finest speech of his career. Daryl was impassioned 12 hour long speech split over two days focused on the inhumane methods and punishments of the American justice system and the youth and immaturity of his clients. He delivered it while the temperature in the courtroom reached 97 degrees. Here's a little part of it. It is a really good speech. This terrible crime was inherent in his organism and it came from some ancestor. Is any blame attached because somebody took Nietzsche's philosophy seriously and fashioned his life upon it. It is hardly fair to hang a 19 year old boy for the philosophy that was taught him at the university.

We read of killing 100,000 men in a day. During World War I, we read about it and we rejoice in it. If it was the other fellows who were killed, we were fed on flesh and drank blood, even down to the Prattling Babe. I need not tell you how many upright honorable young boys have come into this court charged with murder. Some saved in some sense of their death, boys who fought in this war and learned a place of chief value on human life.

You know it and I know it. These boys were brought up in it. It will take 50 years to wipe it out of the human heart if ever. I know this, but after the Civil War in 1865, crime to this sword increased marvelously. No one needs to tell me that crime has no cause. It has, as it has, as definite a cause as any other disease.

And I know that out of the hatred and bitterness of the Civil War, crime increased as America had never seen before. I know that Europe is going through the same experience today. I know it has followed every war, and I know it has influenced these boys so that life was not the same to them as it would have been if the world had not been made red with blood.

Your honor knows that in this very court, crimes of violence have increased growing out of the war, not necessarily by those who fought, but by those that learned that blood was cheap and human life was cheap, and if the state could take it lightly, why not the boy? Has the court any right to consider anything but these two boys? The state says that your honor has a right to consider the welfare of the community, as you have, if the welfare of the community would be benefited by taking these lives well and good. I think it would work evil that no one could measure.

Has your honor a right to consider the families of these defendants? I have been sorry, and I am sorry for the bereavement of Mr. and Mrs. Frank's, for those broken ties that cannot be healed. All I can hope and wish is that some good may come from it all, but as compared with the families of Leopold and Loeb, the Franks are to be envied and everyone knows it. Here is Leopold's father and this boy was the pride of his life. He watched him and he cared for him. He worked for him. The boy was brilliant and accomplished. He educated him and he thought that fame and position awaited him as it should have awaited. It is a hard thing for a father to see his life's hopes crumbled into dust and lobes the

same. Here are the faithful uncle and brother who have watched here day by day while Deky's father and his mother are too ill to stand this terrific strain and shall be waiting for a message, which means more to them than it can mean to you or me. Shall these be taken into account in this general bereavement? The easy thing, and the popular thing to do, is to hang my clients. I know it.

Men and women who do not think will applaud. The cruel and thoughtless will approve. It will be easy today. But in Chicago, and reaching out over the length and breadth of the land, more and more fathers and mothers, the humane, the kind and the hopeful, who are gaining and understanding and asking questions not only about these poor boys, but about their own. These will join and know a claim with the death of my clients. These will ask that the shedding of blood be stopped and that the normal feelings of

man resume their sway. Your honor stands between the past and the future. You may hang these boys. You may hang them by the neck until they are dead, but in doing so you will turn your face toward the past. In doing it, you are making it harder for every other boy who in ignorance and darkness must grow up his way through the mazes which only childhood knows. In doing it, you will make it harder for unborn children. You may save them and make it easier for every child at some time I stand where these boys stand. You will make it easier for every human being with an aspiration and a vision and a hope and a fate. I am pleading for the future. I am pleading

for a time when hatred and cruelty will not control the hearts of men. When we can learn by reason and judgment and understanding and faith that all life is worth saving and that mercy is the highest attribute of man. And that's a good speech. That's a very good speech. If I'm that judge, I do still hang those two motherfuckers, but it is a good speech. Maybe feeling that the judge was now sympathetic to Dero, Robert Crowe now said to the media that Dero had sought a friendly judge who would bind his shabby arguments, and that remark made it back to Cavalier who didn't care for it. For the first time during the hearing, one reporter wrote that the judge showed a flash of passion and called the comment a cowardly and dastardly

attack on the integrity of this court, one intending to intimidate him. Crow apologized hastily, hastily, but his innuendo may have, you know, harmed his case greatly. Now if the judge rules in favor of hanging these two, it could be seen by some, it's him going against his own true judgment to prove to Crow that he's not partial to Darrow, like he's worried about Crow's approval of him or something. Worried about proving the integrity of the court. The judge also probably was less than please with Crow's indelicate observation that quote, if a jury returned a verdict without death punishment, every person in the community would feel that the verdict was founded on corruption So basically saying that if the judge doesn't hang these two he's corrupt

But whatever the reason September 10th 1924 judge John are Cavalier hands down his sentence Both Leopold and Loeb Will not get the death penalty. They get life imprisonment for the murder and an additional 99 years for the kidnapping. In his ruling the judge, Echo Derro's emphasis on the burden he had been made to bear, then he offered his reason for choosing life imprisonment instead of death by hanging for Leopold and Loeb, saying, it would have been the path of least resistance to impose the extreme penalty of

the law. In choosing imprisonment instead of death, the court of least resistance to impose the extreme penalty of the law. In choosing imprisonment instead of death, the court has moved chiefly by the consideration of the age of the defendants, boys of 18 and 19 years. The court thinks it is within his province to decline to impose the sentence of death on persons who are not a full age. This determination appears to be in accordance with the progress of criminal law all over the world and with the dictates of enlightened humanity More than that, it seems to be in accordance with the president's hit the row observed in this state

Despite his son not being hanged the trial itself seems to have taken quite a toll on Dick Low's father little over a month later He dies at the age of 56 of heart failure The appalled and low initially are both sent to Juliet prison and Juliet Illinois, although they are kept apart as much as possible, the two do manage to see each other in the prison and maintain a friendship. Wonder how many times they, you know, says something to the effect of, what the fuck were we thinking? The appalled was transferred to states, Phil Penitenture in 1931, after serving seven years. Lobe will soon be transferred there as well, Penitentiary, 1931 after serving seven years.

Loeb will soon be transferred there as well, once reunited. They'll continue to be friends. And we'll also expand the prison school system, adding a high school and junior college curriculum. Then one of these uber mentions will meet someone else who really doesn't care about the rules and morality of the camels of American society around them. January 28, 1936, Richard Loeb is viciously attacked by fellow inmate James Day with a straight razor in the shower.

Dies soon afterwards in the prison hospital at the age of only 30. Day claimed that Loeb had assaulted him, but day was unharmed while Loeb sustained more than 50 wounds, including defensive wounds on his arms and hands. Right? Wonder how much, wonder how much fucking jazz they listened to before being sent to prison. Enough to permanently ruin his brain clearly. Lobs throat had been slashed from behind. News accounts suggested that lobe had propositioned days actually. On February 19th, 1936, and a column printed in the Syracuse Journal, Mark Hellinger wrote, I must tell you of the line that came to me from an unknown correspondent in Chicago.

This anonymous contributor said he had the absolute lowdown on the recent slain of Dicky Lowe. Seems that Lowe made a slight mistake in grammar. He ended a sentence in a proposition. And that is some classic 1922 for you and some homophobia. In his later autobiography, Life plus 99 years, Nathan Leopold ridiculed day's claim that Lowe had attempted to sexually assault him. This was echoed by the prison's Catholic chaplain, a confident of Lowe's, who said that it was more likely that day attacked Lowe after Lowe had rebuffed his sexual advances. Whatever happened, one half of the Superman duo is now gone. And Nathan continues to reform himself in prison now.

Despite suffering from near constant depression, yeah, I fucking bet he was depressed. What a life he threw away, he had everything. He becomes a model prisoner, makes many significant contributions to improving conditions at state bill, prenaturary. These included reorganizing the prison library, revamping the schooling system, teaching its students

and volunteer work in the prison hospital, 1944 Leopold even volunteered for a malaria study at the prison and was deliberately inoculated with malaria pathogens and then subjected to several experimental treatments. He later wrote that all his good work in prison and after his release was an effort to compensate for his terrible disgusting act. And he would give an answer to a parole board as to why he and lobe killed Bobby Franks. I don't love it, but this is what he would say. He said, I've been trying desperately to fathom the situation. I will never quit trying.

I admired Richard lobe extravagantly beyond all bounds. I literally lived and died on his approval and disapproval. Well, he didn't literally. It's not that word works. I would have done anything he asked, even when I knew he was wrong, even when I was revolted by what he suggested, and he wanted to do this terrible thing. Why I cannot be sure? Certainly it was mad, irrational.

Maybe there was some kind of juvenile protest and overwhelming desire to show that he could do it and get away with it. The only thing that comes out of my thinking that even bears on it is that at 19 my growth and development were unnatural. My thinking was of a grown person, but I had the feelings of an undeveloped infant. Uh-huh. Pretty gross. I find that pretty gross.

Almost always the same with these fuckers, the blame game, right? Blame the dead guy who can't contradict you. It was his fault. It was his lead I was following. Then maybe, you know, maybe a lot of that was true. Or maybe he just still couldn't admit to himself that he did what he did because he fucking wanted to. Right?

Well, he wasn't the one who swung the chisel club thing. He did do a lot of the planning, right? Help put this murder together for months. He had his own mind. He didn't have to follow the others, you know, leading. He enjoyed a little hot dog and root beer right after watching a 14 year old. He'd help pick up. He's savagely beaten and suffocated and killed. He shot the shit with his dad just hours after the killing. Same fine.

But he didn't want to do this. He was he was revolted. I don't buy that for a fucking second. In the early 1950s, author Meyer Levin, a former classmate of Nate dogs at the University of Chicago, requested Leopold's cooperation in writing a novel based on the Franks murder. Leopold responded that he did not wish a story, told and fictionalized form, but offered Levin a chance to contribute to his own memoir, which was in progress. Well, Levin, he didn't want to do that, so he went ahead with his book alone. Despite Leopold's express objections, and the novel will be titled Compulsion,

and will be published in 1956. Levin portrayed Leopold under the pseudonym Judd Steiner as a brilliant but deeply disturbed teenager, psychologically driven to kill because of his troubled childhood, and an obsession with lobe. Leopold later wrote that reading Levin's book made him physically sick.

More than once, I had to lay the book down and wait for the nausea to subside. I felt as I suppose a man would feel if he were exposed Stark naked under a strong spotlight before a large audience Sounds like Levin's fictional portrayal must have been pretty accurate 1959 the book would be made into a film starring Orson Wells playing a fictionalized version fictionalized version of Clarence Dero Wells will win the best actor awarded that year's cans film festival and that film holds a perfect critical rating of 100% on Rotten Tomatoes

as I record this. Backing up a yearly, it holds autobiography Life Plus 99 Years was published in 1958 as a part of its campaign to win parole. In beginning his account with the immediate aftermath of the crime, he engendered widespread criticism for a deliberate refusal, expressly stated in the book to recount his childhood, or describe any details of the murder. He was also accused of writing a book solely as a means of rehabilitating his public image, and for better or for worse, it worked. After 33 years, numerous unsuccessful petitions Leopold was paroled in March 1958. By this time, he was in poor health suffering from rheumatism, diabetes, kidney trouble and a heart ailment.

Mercesly hounded by the press, he had been forbidden as a condition of parole to deal with the media. Leopold vomited incessantly as he was driven away from the prison toward Chicago. A newspaper reporter following Leopold's vehicle wrote, Nathan Leopold walked out of the state filled prison Thursday into the wonderful world of free men and promptly got sick. Soon after his release, the Brethren Service Commission, a church of the Brethren affiliated program, which is an anti-baptist or anabaptist Christian

denomination, accepted him as a medical technician at his hospital in Puerto Rico. He expressed his appreciation and letter in, a news article saying to me, the Brethren Service Commission offered the job, the home, and the sponsorship without which a man cannot be paroled. But it gave me so much more than that. The companionship, the acceptance,

the love which would have rendered a violation of parole almost impossible. Later in 1958, he attempted to set up the Leopold Foundation to be funded by royalties from life plus 99 years to quote aid emotionally disturbed, retarded or delinquent youths. I know, old time ago.

But the state of Illinois avoided his foundation's charter, however, on grounds that it violated the terms of his parole. After that, Leopold moved to Santorce, Puerto Rico, really nice neighborhood in San Juan, and married a widowed florist named Trudy Feldman. Move back to school, earned a master's degree at the University of Puerto Rico, a really nice neighborhood in San Juan, and married a widow to Flores named Trudy Feldman. Moving back to school, earned a master's degree at the University of Puerto Rico, then taught classes there, became a researcher in the social service program of Puerto Rico's Department of Health, worked for an urban renewal and housing agency, did research on leprosy at

the University of Puerto Rico's School of Medicine, and like he had been as a young man, resumed his interest in birds, active in the natural history of Puerto Rico, traveling throughout the island to observe its bird life. 1963, he published checklists of birds of Puerto Rico and the version islands. And then, on August 29th, 1971, 13 and a half years after his release from prison at the age of 66, this motherfucker kidnapped another kid.

13-year-old, this time, little Eddie Bonitas. And beating to death with a fucking hammer. No perfect crime, second time around either. He was quickly apprehended and again, uh, did confess. Why did he do it? Well, he just couldn't stop listening to that jazz baby. Oh, the jazz made him kill. The jazz made him kill that boy.

Catch you here, the murder! Catch you here it! Now, he didn't kill again. But how mad were you for a second? If you believe me. I know many of you are very wise to my silly tricks. And I actually meant to play a different one. I really want you here now. Little, little Josephine Baker.

Maybe, maybe that's a droller. It's a diabolical lens that I've already told you didn't have. We played this in another set before. Blues, guys. Josephine Baker back in the Josephine Baker's second. That's nothing to this story, guys. Wanna hear her voice for a second? I don't know, just as you as could be.

That'll record something. Every day is a cloudy day for me. No, Nathan Leapold died of a diabetes-related heart attack. August 29th, 1971 at the age of 66. Now both Superman were gone. And this one I do have to admit, he did seem to have been rehabilitated by the end. He did do a lot of good with his life

after serving over 30 years in prison for helping sensously take the life of someone else who might have also done a lot of good with his life. had he not been savagely, you know, fucking murdered. And now let's get out of this timeline. Good job, soldier. You've made it back. Barely. The strange murder of young Bobby, not Tommy Frank kid who lived around Kenwood not Kenwood.

You know, killed by the by the also young Lee a pole to love what a weird and tragic story before I recap it and we headed the takeaways and time sucker updates. First, if you care about yourself, your children, other people's children, society, not crumbling, into wanton, dystopian, constant murder and lawlessness, you really do need to hear the following PSA. Hey, I'm sure you've heard of the mention of Jasmania. I'm sure you know what? What jazz is this? It's bad. You might even know that jazz is dangerous.

But do you really understand just how bad and dangerous jazz is? Please hear a few eye-opening testimonials from some former jazz lovers. Hey, my name's, uh, my name's Johnny, I was a good kid growing up. Honourable student, boys, gout. Played a little scrabble with my grams. Within one day, grams let me have a super gin. And let me listen to some old cold train. Hey, hey, six months later, I killed that bitch.

I cut her fucking head off and shit her skull. I didn't know what was happening. It turns out I had a dementia, Jasmania Dementia, Jasmania can ruin your life in so many ways. Let's hear from someone else Yeah, hey, that's me. David Childress. A former host of, maybe, his giants, and A&G. And I was once a promising student at the University of Montana, and Gokris.

I had a bright future ahead of me, but then I roommate played some Miles Davis for me. And the next thing I knew, I was dropping out and dedicating my life to ancient aliens that are encrypted hunting. I have to keep myself distracted at all times with a rich, franity life, or I'll kill everyone I love. I have dementia, Giasmania. And now just, just one more. to be a Spanish. I used to be a mayor and a tour of Melanie Griffitha. A big time of Hollywood

and act, but now I run an Italian obesity on a mayor's trip club. Somehow I became an Italian a stereotype, a mom and me, a butter being a muscle alcohol guy to forget it. All because of how I dimension a jazz media. Dimension of jazz media is real and it's really more lives every day. If you or someone you know has a jazz problem, please call 1-800-GIN-JAS. That's 1-800-GIN-JAS. The roaring 20s are over but Dimension Jazz Media is not. Hey, wait.

What kind of music is playing behind this PSA? Oh my god. What is that? What is that port progression? And hey, wait, what kind of music is playing behind this PSA? Oh my god, what is that? What is that port progression? Is it jazz? Is it jazz? Damn you, smash your chest, mania! Damn you! Gotta hope a lot of people hear that message. No, for all our mistakes. Whew, heavy stuff.

Back to Leopold Loeb and poor murdered Bobby, not Tommy Franks now. All three of them had so much going for them, you know? Three lives ruined by fucking jazz. I mean, a senseless act. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were two Jewish teens from Chicago who seemed to have it all. Both graduated from college's teens, on track to get advanced degrees, so much fucking money and support, even without their education, right?

They would have had every advantage that money can provide. Families loaded instead of doing something good with all these advantages, they decided to murder a young boy and attempt to be committing the perfect crime, a crime that no one would be able to pin on them, and then they'd be able to live out the thrill of knowing they'd got away with something. Well, seeing their dirty deeds splashed across newspapers

as they went on to live simply fabulous lives, eating a little of peach moba But that wouldn't happen because when it came to these crimes these two geniuses where it is Now let's crime. Please investigate as quickly discovered Bobby's very poorly hidden body and the curious pair of custom eye glasses next to it These eye glasses quickly led them to Nathan Leopold and when Leopold and Lowe were brought in for questioning They told a very shitty alibi story And when police questioned about them about that, Loeb confessed, tried to pin it all on Leopold and Leopold confessed, tried to pin it all on Loeb. And if they wouldn't have had, you know, if they wouldn't have confessed, well,

the carelessly tossed still bloody murder weapon would have still been turned into the police, the bloody rental car and more would have turned up. And these two would have been hanged for sure had they went to trial. Hanged after a real quick trial, their attempt at a perfect crime came crumbling down, exposing the murder plot that was not the work of criminal masterminds, but of two rich, arrogant, two smart for their own good young men who thought the law did not apply to them. Right? They hired a very expensive, famous attorney.

Their families did Clarence Dero who would defend them kind of, he would get them to plead guilty in an attempt to avoid their executions by the electric chair or excuse me, not by the electric by hanging. And then in their sentencing hearings, Dero would call in over a hundred witnesses and psychologists, some experts, some trash, pseudoscience, wacky doodles to testify that Lee a pulled and lobe should not be executed. Dero's defense would culminate in him delivering a 12 hour long speech over two days, an extreme heat in the courtroom talking about how young and immature Leopold and Loeb were, how executing them would be inhumane.

Man, two fucking days, I could not be a judge. I could not listen to anyone talk to me that long about technical defense strategy, shit. But judge Cavalied could and did, and defense president, uh, defense's presentation did work. Leopold and Loeb were given life sentences with an extra 99 years for their kidnapping instead of being hanged. And while Richard Loeb, uh, you know, would be savagely murdered in prison himself later. Can't say I feel sorry for him after what he did do Bobby Frank's Nathan Leopold would actually earn a release from prison after a

little over three decades. And he seemed to do a decent amount of good in the world after noticeably improving the prisons he was held in. After a huge early fuck up, he put that brilliant mind to use for good. A mind clearly not destined for a life of crime. So begrudgingly, I have to say I respect what he did for the most part after 1924. The story of Leopold and Lo, inspired crime and thriller writers for decades. I hope this presentation entertained you today. Even if your IQ is a hundred and six year above, it was still pretty hard to get away with

murder in 1924. And it's a lot harder now. So maybe don't try it. Let's look now at today's top five takeaways. Number one, on May 21, 1924, Nathan Leopold, a Richard Loeb murdered Richard Loeb's second cousin, a 14 year old named Bobby Franks, influenced by a misunderstanding of Nietzsche's ubermensch philosophical concept, the two had begun to think that they were above the law, and wanted to create a crime that would generate a lot of media attention and prove that they

could get away with murder. Number two, two important pieces of forensic evidence would prove that Leopold and Lowe murdered Bobby Franks, a tie prider. They installed one that had distinctive sticky keys that matched the ransom letters and the hinge from Leopold glasses, which had only been purchased by three people in Chicago. And then there were so many other major mistakes. They're out of the by quickly disproven as soon as Leopold's chauffeur told police that the car they supposedly been driving in the nighting question was in the shop. And they quickly turned on one another and confessed after just a few hours of interrogation.

Long way from the perfect crime. Number three, so many strange theories were floated in the press in 1924 as to widely upholding low murdered Bobby. From speculations about the decadence of the jazz age to weird theories about Leopold and Loeb's physical features to the idea that their wealth and privilege had turned them into sociopaths and everyone was speculating as to why two teenagers with all the opportunity in the world would do such a thing. Number four, Richard Loeb died in prison in 1936, but Nathan Leopold went on to get parole in 1958, became a decent member of society, lived on the rest of his days in Puerto Rico,

working into university, returning to his old love of birds, and probably all of that was due to him no longer listening to jazz. Number five new info, just a year after he defended Leopold and loved Clarence Dereau would be involved in an even more historical and memorable trial. In 1925, the Tennessee legislature passed the Butler Law, which forbade the teaching of Darwin's theory of evolution in any public school or university. Other Southern states followed suit. The ACLU, the American Civil Liberties Union, now let the charge of evolution supporters, and offered to fund the legal defense of any Tennessee

teacher willing to fight the law in court. The man who accepted the challenge was John T. Scopes, a science teacher and football coach and date in Tennessee. In the spring of 1925, he walked into his classroom and read a part of a chapter on the evolution of humankind and Darwin's theory of natural selection and then was fucking arrested for doing so. And a trial date was soon set. I had holy mother of Gilead under his eye. May the Lord open. May science be shunned. Let us begin a new dark ages. Clarence Darrow would represent John T Scopes and the trial would turn into a media circus. When the case was open on July 14th, journalists from across the land descended upon the mountain hamlet of

Dayton, less than 2,000 people living there at the time. Preachers and fortune seekers alike fill in the streets, entrepreneurs selling everything from food to bibles to stuffed monkeys. The trial became the first ever in America to be broadcast on radio, scopes himself played a rather small role in the case. The trial was reduced to a verbal contest between Darrow and William Jennings, William Jennings, Brian, the prosecution. When Judge John Ralston refused to admit expert testimony on the validity of evolutionary theory, Judge John Ralston refused to admit expert testimony on the validity of evolutionary theory. Darrow lost his best defense by far, unfuckin believable, not gonna let experts talk about the validity of evolution. Darrow was down, but far from defeated.

I know I don't agree with him on the moral basis of a death penalty argument, but I think this is a very intelligent man. Darrow decided that if he was not permitted to validate Darwin, his best shot was to attack the literal interpretation of the Bible itself. The climax of the trial came when Darrow asked Brian, the prosecutor, to take a stand as an expert on the Bible and Brian agreed to do so. Darrow then fucking logic hammered Brian with a tough series of questions on his strict acceptance of several biblical stories from the creation of Eve from Adam's rib to the

swallowing of Jonah by a whale. The following expert excerpt is one famous exchange in the trial about the flood in the Bible's book of Genesis. Daryl says, but what do you think that the Bible itself says? Do you know how the estimate of the year of the flood occurred was arrived at? Brian says, I never made a calculation. A calculation from what? I could not say.

From the generations of man, I would not want to say that. What do you think? I could not say. From the generations of man, I would not want to say that. What do you think? I do not think about things. I don't think about. And they ask, do you think about things? You do think about. And Brian says, well, sometimes, and then cue some laughter in the court. Despite the hilarity of some of these nonsensical courtroom exchanges, Judge Walston would rule that Brian's testimony would not be allowed to stand on record. It was clear to Dero that all was lost in his courtroom. He had no defense angles. In order to appeal the case to a higher court, he asked the jury to find his client guilty, and on July 21st, 1925, the court did, the jury did side with the law.

Clearleast Ghost was in violation of a Tennessee statute by teaching that humans have all from apes and he was fine to $100 in release. But the battle that played out before the nation proved a small moral victory for many supporters of evolutionary theory being able to be taught, thanks to Clarence Darrow, who showed just how strange a literal interpretation of the Bible can be. In the trials after math, Tennessee prevented the teaching of evolution, in the classroom though, all the way until the Butler Acts repealed in 1967. Additionally, the state legislatures of Mississippi and Arkansas passed their own bans on the

teaching of evolution in 1926 and 19 1928 respectively, which also lasted for several decades. Daryl died at the age of 80 and 1938, so he never got to see his most famous loss of vengeance. I hope he died, at least knowing he had made people think about something they clearly weren't used to thinking about. When they banned the Teaching of Evolution from public classrooms. Time, suck, tough, five, take away. Leopold and Loeb, the perfect murder has been sucked.

Deep apologies to all the Kenwood folk for having your name. You know, pronounced wrong a few times with a T. Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help making time so you can get this week. A big thanks to my partner in crime, Boss Bitch and the sweetest P, Lindsey Cummins. Yeah, she's a fucking badass. Thanks to the Suck Ranger Tiber C for producing direction today, the Art Warlock Logan Keith for helping with production as needed.

Thanks also to Bitelixer for Upkeep on the TimeSuck app, the Art Warlock again for creating merch at BadMagetricMers.com. I do love that Antonio Banderas shirt and also I am aware that he as I pointed out in the joke is Spanish, which is what makes it more ridiculous for me. It's awesome people confused about that online. And yes, thanks to Logan for helping the suck ranger and a team managed by our social media strategist Ryan Handelman, thanks to producer Sophie Evans for initial research this week. Finding this topic also thanks to the all seen eyes moderating the coldly curious private Facebook page the mod squad for making sure discord keeps running smooth.

Everyone over on the time sucks subreddit and bad magic subreddit next week on time suck we head to russia and I don't mock them. Not the main characters at least this time. We will fly with the night witches, Russian champions. October 8th, 1941, with Stalin grads surrounded, Leningrad besieged, and the Nazis making new gains on Russian territory every day. Joseph Stalin, not my favorite person, ordered the creation of three new Air Force regiments. And the twists, the regiments were all consists from pilots to ground crew to navigators and mechanics of women.

Led by Metsak's supreme, a Marina Rascova, who had undertaken a daring flight in 1938 that had made her the Russian Amelia Earhart, these young women, most of whom were between the ages of 17 and 26, would have to transform from flight hobbyists to killer soldiers. In all, there would be three regiments, the 586 fighters regiment, the 587th bombers regiment, and the 588th Knight Bombers regiment, and it would be the Knight Bombers who would earn the nickname of the Knight Witches. From the German soldiers, they fucking terrorized in darkness. Flying no frills wouldn't planes with ill fitting uniforms and no parachutes, most runs would happen with three planes. First two were meant to draw attention on enemy fire, third being the one that would drop the bombs, and the third plane to avoid

detection would have to cut their engine and glide over the target quietly as possible before dropping bombs and then hoping they could restart the engines or crash and die. The night which is we're extremely successful in their fight against the Nazis, the 588 regiment would fly around 30,000 swordies and have 23 other pilots awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. And they would definitely help change the tide of the war against the Nazis. The incredible badass story of the night witches next week on TimeSuck. Hail Luzofina!

I'm sure she was there guiding and protecting them. And now let's head on over to this week's Time Sucker Updates. Starting off with a very important dead watch announcement from rightfully concerned sucker Tom Simpson who writes, hey Dan, little space littered in frequent patron of Dahmer's wings and things. I forgot about it. I was listening to the DC Sniper's episode while it worked. I got to the part talking about John's childhood abuse.

At one point you mentioned John being told by a relative to hold a spark plug on a mower, while the yanked a cord and a shock to shit out of him. Well, fun fact, my father-in-law did that exact thing, same thing to me while trying to help me fix my snowblower. He thought I was hilarious as I screamed in pain. Hearing this and remembering all of your very series and eye-opening dead watch PSAs has brought to light some very intriguing facts about my father-in-law. My father-in-law does live near a large river. He does go on a lot of fishing trips to Canada for extended periods of time.

My brother-in-law does own a funeral home. Like with your dad, I also don't know where he was during a lot of the crazy murders that took place in the 70s, 80s and 90s. Lastly, and by far the most disturbing and haunting fact to me, during the recent campfire at his home, we all sat down to make s'mores and enjoy a nice night with the family.

My father-in-law pulls out a package of hot dogs. Does he offer anyone a hot dog? Nope. This man proceeds to eat a fucking raw hot dog while maintaining eye contact with me. When I confront him about eating a fucking raw hot dog, he laughs and then finish the juice in the package. I got up and walked out. Surely I'm not crazy, right?

What a sane, non-murderous person do that. Should I be worried? Could he be a serial killer? Is it possible he's hiding bodies in the river by his house? Where is he really going when he says he's in Canada on all those long fishing trips? And all the series says, my father-in-law is a great man. He has taught me a lot and I do love him.

But that hot dog thing is fucked up. My wife and I love the show. We are huge fans of your stand-up at one of your shows in Madison a few years ago. You actually signed fans of your stand up at one of your shows in Madison a few years ago. You actually signed one of your greeting cards to my mom. Oh, you know what? I'm gonna be going back to Madison.

I think sometimes this year. We're locking down some dates. And the off chance you read this on the show, it would mean a lot if you could shout out to my amazing wife Rose. She's an incredible social worker. And I'm so fucking proud of her. And all the hard work she puts in day after day.

She keeps me sane, listens to all my crazy rants, puts up with my weird jokes. She's the best thing never happened to me. And I also love her very, very much. Thank you, Dan. And to the bad magic team for all that you do, hail Nimrod, Tom Simpson. Well, Tom, I love you, man. You sound like a good dude. And your father-in-law sounds hilarious. I love the weird hot dogs. Stay right now. The hot dog, juice, slurp. Yeah, that was a bit intense, creepy. I hope though, if I have a son on the law someday, I'd do the exact same kind of creepy shit to him.

And Rose, good on you for fighting the good fight. Hail is the thing that social work is such important work. And now for a cool World War II update. From a cool Alaska sack, Kristen Warman. Who writes, Damn it, Dan, I listened excitedly to the devastation and Asia episode, hoping that you would touch on the Japanese occupation of the illusion islands in Alaska in the early 1940s As an Alaskan as an and as an army veteran this part of the war holds a particular fascination for me

It's the only time since the 1800s that a foreign military has occupied US soil unalaskia where Dutch harbor is Kisca at two Islands all suffered attacks by the Japanese and Kisca and a two were occupied until July of 1943. Routing the Japanese from, uh, at two was a brutal battle and they escaped from Kisca under the cover of bad weather. We still bomb the hell out of the island and craters from the bombs and in some cases unexploded bombs are still visible today. It's a fascinating part of my state history and interestingly since the area is so remote, remnants of the Japanese occupation, including too many subs, multiple ships, anti-aircraft guns, and a network of caves carved into the hills

all over Kiska Harbor still exist to this day. In the caves, artifacts like shoes, blankets, wiring for lights, and metal pots still remain.. Today the islands are part of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge, which is how I got my once, actually twice, in a lifetime chance to visit these special places. Kisca Harbor? Excuse me, is especially haunting with the hulks of wreck ships in the harbor and the anti-aircraft guns poking up like spikes from the hills above the harbor. Also worth mentioning is that at the time of the invasion, thousands of Alaska Native peoples were evacuated from their remote communities and moved toward a mountain to little more than prison colonies around the state.

They were often forced to leave with just what they could carry and destroyed their homes and communities to prevent invaders from utilizing the resources. The families that survived the disease and overcrowding of the evacuation camps had very little to return to. So, dammit, Dan, how dare you not cover my super specific special interest fast in what we're doing? That literally almost no one else knows about. For real, I grew up here and didn't learn about it.

Now, I'm not mad, just disappointed. And also, I want to apologize for my long email. Thanks to the last three to five stars, wouldn't change a thing. PS, one of my favorite shots of Kisca, the ship I worked on, the Tecla, is visible as a speck in the harbor, and a photo of me next to Kisca Harbor appears so that you know I'm not completely spouting bullshit. Interesting reads, as if you don't have enough homework, might be the thousand mile war

or the forgotten war, Christen Warman. Well, Christen, thank you for those pictures. It was cool to see what you saw. And yeah, I did not know much about this at all. I knew the Japanese occupies some of the islands of the illusion chain, but I didn't know that actual fighting took place on one of the islands between American and Japanese forces. And holy shit, you know, thousands died in this fighting. Looking into it now, a bunch of brutal, literal hand

to hand fighting took place during the Battle of Atu, May of 1943. Yeah, what a cool little piece of history. And that's so cool that there's actually still items from the Japanese occupiers in those caves. Right, you can visit a World War II battlefield that is on American soil. So very cool update. Now for a personal connection to a murderer revealed from Super Sucker, Selvi, Ursoi.

Selvi rides, hey Dan, before I get into your meandering connection to Patrick Kerny, I want to let you know how much I love your podcast, how much I've been enjoying, listening to it, before I get into your meandering connection to Patrick Kerney, I want to let you know how much I love your podcast. How much I've been enjoying listening to it. Well, I nursed my baby. My baby girl Robin was born this past October. And as you may know, newborns nurse pretty much around the clock for the first several months of life. I've had you blast into my ear holes for at least some of the three plus hours a day. I spend with my baby girl sucking on my teeth while listening to such gems as the Casanova killer, the bloody harps, Cannibal Cop. That was a weird one to experience while my baby made little hungry, somewhat demonic grunts on my boob.

Herb, Boundmeister and Joseph Mengele. Any of you my husband and I live in the Dell air with a D, not a B, neighborhood of LA LA right between El Segundo, Hawthorne, Inglewood and Manhattan Beach and very close to Redondo. As you went through the Patrick Kerny's cell you kept mentioning places so close to home it was eerie but when you said the address of Patrick Kerny's house you blew my mind. Patrick Kerny's house is only a few doors down from my husband's aunt and uncle's house on Robinson. We must have driven past his house tons of time since we visit his aunt and uncle pretty often. We will definitely ask them if they know

anything about the serial killer next time we see them. Now where do you come in? Well, my husband and I are good friends with your former playboy morning show co-worker Alex Callins. He was the best man in our wedding. I loved Alex. Yeah, great guy. So you used to work with Alex Callins. He's a good friend with us. We have an aunt, Uncle, on Robinson, and Uncle live only a few doors down from Patrick Colonel's old house. There's your connection. Hope you found out somewhat interesting. Selvi. Well, thank you, Selvi. That is fucking wild to have close relatives, a few doors down from where a serial killer lived a very prolific one who did sometimes kill in that home. And yes, I love Alex. Excuse me.

Tell him I feel bad for having to back out of his very cool TV project last year. I really wanted to do it, but the suck stand up, get rid of death, family, leave almost no time for anything else. I hope he found someone better than me for the part he had in mind for me, which was this fucking crazy magician guy, which is cool. Okay, now for some sweet fan fiction. We're gonna end on from Sweet Sack, Libby Thompson, very late in sharing this, Libby, but better late than never. Libby writes, hello, Dan, master of suck, and all hail the prophet of Nimrod. I'm writing to share with you a

fan fiction story that I wrote. I noticed that there haven't been very many stories involving my favorite characters, Pudi and Juju recently. So I decided to write one myself. One of my favorite episodes was 275. The Appalachian Cryptid's episode. And just thought that Pudi and Juju would be a natural fit for that episode. Now, I do have to apologize for the story being a little late as it's Christmas story, but I've never been very good with deadlines. Anyway, here it is.

Enjoy. Pudi and Juju meet the Squawk. A Christmas story. It was December and our heroes Pudi and Juju were visiting relatives in Paducaville in the Allegheny Mountains of Northern Pennsylvania for the holidays. They had just left aunt TT's house

and were walking to the woods to Granny Weezie's house. As it was December, the sun was setting early and recent heavy snow had obscured the trail that they were supposed to be following. With Putin the lead it was no surprise that they quickly became lost. I don't know why we have to go to Granny Weezie's house anyway, Putin said. She can't accrease me out. She got to have one eye, it's always looking off somewhere else and I always just want to know what the hell is looking at. And then there's her voice. Good Lord, she sounds like she got carried away while flating a frog

and done swallowed her whole Well, you know she's been smoking at corn cow pipes since she was knee high to a jume bug Judy said What do you think they call her wee is anyway in her name her name's Florence huh? I never know that You also don't know where we are do you stop nagging me? Excuse me Judy Judy snap stopping still and glaring daggers at pooty. Oh quit looking at me like that. It's not like you know where we are either. I'm not the one leading. Oh, put it in your lunchbox, Shirley. Don't you talk to me that way. I'll talk to you. Shh. Don't you shush me, Poodie said indignantly. Hush, I hear something. Listen. The two stood completely still for a moment,

listen to the night. At first, they heard only the sound of the wind whispering its secrets to the trees and gently ruffling the snow, but then they heard it, the sound of crying. This was not the delicate sniffling sounds of a dainty woman weeping for a lost shooter, but the full-on, blubbering sobs of someone who's lost their entire world. Costually following the sounds of the sobs, they found themselves approaching a boggy clearing. Much of the standing water was frozen over, but a large area of the ice was broken up, and a large creature was seated in the center of the pool, bawling loudly. It was a sort of pig-like creature, with incredibly wrinkly skin that was covered with

unsightly hairy warts and molds. Oh, that poor thing, he looks so miserable, Judu said softly. Yeah, probably because he's so ugly. Pyrr, he don't say that, it's mean. Oh, come on, that thing's so ugly, he can make an onion cry. You hush, I'm gonna go talk to him. No, don't do that, it might be contagious, and then you'll catch your desert ugly. But it was too late.

Juju had already stepped into clearing upon Juju approaching the creature squealed and froze as though it, as though if it didn't move, Juju might not notice it. Hey buddy, what's wrong? Juju asked gently. Why are you crying? The creature didn't respond, continuin' it's statue, ruse. Maybe it's too stupid to speak, Pudy suggested. Where if you can speak, anything can.

Hey! Don't you say Pudy, don't you pay Pudy no mind. Pudy has no manners, Juju said. Glaring at Pudy. Whose eyes rolled in response, turning back to the creature, Juju asked, why are you out here all by yourself? It's Christmas, why aren't you with your family? Somehow the creature managed to look even more miserable, as stared down on its webbed

feet and abjected ejection. Don't you have a family? It shook its head, and two more large tears rolled slowly on its warty cheeks. Oh, that's terrible! Listen, Pudy and me are headed to Granny Wheezy's house. Why don't you come with us? I'm sure she won't mind. Don't invite it!

Pudy whispered loudly. Where's he gonna sleep in the shed? If you don't stop taht dancing on my last nerve, you're gonna be one sleeping in the shed now hush. Like I said, you should ignore him. He's ignorant and ill-bred. After a little more gentle coaxing, Juju was able to convince the creature to join them in their journey to Granny Weezie's house. The creature indicated that it knew where they were and could even show them the way to the house. As the trio continued on their way with the creature now in the lead, Pudy sidel up to Juju and said softly, you sure Granny Weezie's gonna even let that thing in house? I don't see why not. She'd been living in the house all by herself ever since her own coondogged shit head died. She probably lonely too. Yeah, but come on. Even you have to admit,

this thing is pretty ugly. Yeah, Juju agreed reluctantly, but then again, so was pop-hop skater that man was so ugly when he was born Satan out of fright and she married him Oh, yeah, that is true the end and I assume they all had a fantastic holiday well done Libby Thanks for bringing Pudy and juju back and expanded on their little slice of the suck first That was that would that would have been a good episode to drop them in. Pudy and Juju meet the Squunk. I forgot about that strange, strange, appellation cryptid. Not too little, too little, too little, Libby. Just perfect.

Thanks everyone for sending in these messages. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did. Thanks for listening to another. I need a net. We all did. Thanks for listening to another Bad Magic Productions podcast. Please do not kill any random people to prove that you're an uber meant this week. That's not how it works.

And careful listening to jazz too. If it gets too dark, too murderous, turn it off, turn this back on, and keep on sucking. And magic productions. Kill everyone. Kill everyone you love. Let the jazz into your heart. Feel the deadly rhythms. Imagine the devil's dancing. Kill, kill for the jazz. Take everything for the jazz. Drink some Do it. Do it.

Do it. Join me on the dark side of jazz.