[Oscar Wilde 07] - Jack the Ripper: Case Closed Page 5

  Human life is cheap in Whitechapel. Women are the victims of assault on an everyday basis. Even when crimes are reported, most remain unsolved. Rightly or wrongly, the killing of a dozen females within a matter of months would not have been considered out of the ordinary in this district, but for two factors:

  • the brutal nature of the killings and the degree of mutilation involved

  • the notion that the killings were the work of one man, the so-called ‘Jack the Ripper’

  My report is to be concerned with eleven deaths in all, but it is my firm belief that five of the murders – and five only – were committed by the same hand.

  THE FIVE VICTIMS

  MARY ANN NICHOLLS

  Body found at 3.40 a.m. on Friday 31 August 1888 in Buck’s Row, Whitechapel.

  Throat severed by two cuts; abdomen ripped open; assorted abdominal knife wounds.

  No worthwhile witnesses.

  ANNIE CHAPMAN

  Body found at 6.00 a.m. on Saturday 8 September 1888 at the rear of 29 Hanbury Street, Whitechapel.

  Throat severed by two cuts; abdomen ripped open; private parts mutilated; uterus removed; entrails placed around victim’s neck.

  Witness saw a dark-haired man of ‘shabby-genteel’ appearance with the victim at about 5.30 a.m.

  ELIZABETH STRIDE

  Body found at 1.00 a.m. on Sunday 30 September 1888 in Dutfield’s Yard, off Berner Street, Whitechapel.

  Throat severed by one cut only and no mutilation to abdomen. It would seem that the murderer was disturbed by some Jews who drove up to a Jewish club nearby and that he then, mordum satiatus, went in search of a second victim – see below.

  Witnesses give differing accounts of seeing Elizabeth Stride on the Saturday night – some say with a fair-haired man, some with a dark, some say he was well-dressed, some say shabbily dressed; estimates of his age also vary.

  CATHERINE EDDOWES

  Body found at 1.45 a.m. on Sunday 30 September 1888 in Mitre Square, City of London.

  Throat severed by one cut; abdomen cut open; uterus and left kidney removed; severe mutilation to body and face.

  Witness claimed to have seen victim in the square with a fair-haired man of medium height, aged about thirty, dress suggesting a sailor, not long before the murder, but his two companions at the time could neither confirm nor deny.

  Part of the victim’s clothing – a bloodied piece of her apron – was found later in Goulston Street, Whitechapel, with near it, on a wall, a message written in chalk: ‘The Juwes are The men That Will not be Blamed For nothing’.

  On 1 October, a postcard claiming responsibility for these two murders and referring to them as a ‘double event’ was received at the offices of the Central News Agency in New Bridge Street, Ludgate Circus, London EC. It was signed ‘Jack the Ripper’. It followed an earlier letter to the Central News Agency, also claiming to be from ‘Jack the Ripper’, received on 27 September, though dated 25 September. It was this letter and postcard – published in facsimile by the Metropolitan Police in the hope that a member of the public might recognise the handwriting – that gave common currency to the name ‘Jack the Ripper’. (I shall include the facsimile among the papers in this file.)

  MARY JANE KELLY

  Body found at 10.45 a.m. on Friday 9 November 1888 on Kelly’s bed in her room at 13 Miller’s Court, off Dorset Street.

  Throat severed to the spine; abdomen cut open; abdominal organs removed; heart removed. Mutilation of the most horrific kind.

  No useful witnesses.

  Attached you will find the coroners’ reports for each of these five murders. They make grim reading. You will notice that the fury of the mutilations increased in each case, the appetite seemingly sharpened by indulgence.

  Also attached are the more relevant ‘witness statements’ secured by the police – such as they are.

  THE INVESTIGATION

  In the history of policing in this country, I do not believe any investigation has been conducted as exhaustively as in the case of the Whitechapel murders. The husbands, lovers, relatives, clients and associates of the women have all had their stories and alibis tested. Because of the nature of the mutilations, butchers, slaughtermen, surgeons, physicians and medical students have been questioned. (The London Hospital is located in Whitechapel.) All types and conditions of men have been interviewed – from gentlemen known to frequent the locality after hours to vagrants, Poles, Russians and sailors passing through – upwards of 2,000 individuals in all. More than 300 potential suspects have been investigated. Of those, eighty were detained for detailed examination. No stone has been left unturned – and yet no worthwhile evidence of any kind has been found to link anyone with these horrific crimes.

  Of all the material I have considered while preparing my report, the most useful, in my estimation, has been the following from Dr Thomas Bond, the police surgeon who conducted the post-mortem examination of the last victim, Mary Kelly. One of my predecessors in charge of the matter, Assistant Commissioner Robert Anderson, provided Dr Bond with the papers relating to the earlier Whitechapel murders and asked for his considered opinion. This was his reply:

  7 The Sanctuary, Westminster Abbey

  November 10th ’88

  Dear Sir,

  Whitechapel Murders

  I beg to report that I have read the notes of the four Whitechapel Murders viz:

  1. Buck’s Row.

  2. Hanbury Street.

  3. Berner Street.

  4. Mitre Square.

  I have also made a Post Mortem Examination of the mutilated remains of a woman found yesterday in a small room in Dorset Street –

  1. All five murders were no doubt committed by the same hand. In the first four the throats appear to have been cut from left to right. In the last case, owing to the extensive mutilation, it is impossible to say in what direction the fatal cut was made, but arterial blood was found on the wall in splashes close to where the woman’s head must have been lying.

  2. All the circumstances surrounding the murders lead me to form the opinion that the women must have been lying down when murdered and in every case the throat was first cut.

  3. In the four murders of which I have seen the notes only, I cannot form a very definite opinion as to the time that had elapsed between the murder and the discovery of the body.

  In one case, that of Berner Street, the discovery appears to have been made immediately after the deed – in Buck’s Row, Hanbury Street and Mitre Square three or four hours only could have elapsed. In the Dorset Street case the body was lying on the bed at the time of my visit, 2 o’clock , quite naked and mutilated as in the annexed report.

  Rigor mortis had set in, but increased during the progress of the examination. From this it is difficult to say with any degree of certainty the exact time that had elapsed since death as the period varies from six to twelve hours before rigidity sets in. The body was comparatively cold at 2 o’clock and the remains of a recently taken meal were found in the stomach and scattered about over the intestines. It is, therefore, pretty certain that the woman must have been dead about twelve hours and the partly digested food would indicate that death took place about three or four hours after the food was taken, so one or two o’clock in the morning would be the probable time of the murder.

  4. In all the cases there appears to be no evidence of struggling and the attacks were probably so sudden and made in such a position that the women could neither resist nor cry out. In the Dorset Street case the corner of the sheet to the right of the woman’s head was much cut and saturated with blood, indicating that the face may have been covered with the sheet at the time of the attack.

  5. In the four first cases the murderer must have attacked from the right side of the victim. In the Dorset Street case, he must have attacked from in front or from the left, as there would be no room for him between the wall and the part of the bed on which the woman was lying. Again, the blood had flowed down on the right side of the woman
and spurted on to the wall.

  6. The murderer would not necessarily be splashed or deluged with blood, but his hands and arms must have been covered and parts of his clothing must certainly have been smeared with blood.

  7. The mutilations in each case excepting the Berner Street one were all of the same character and showed clearly that in all the murders, the object was mutilation.

  8. In each case the mutilation was inflicted by a person who had no scientific nor anatomical knowledge. In my opinion he does not even possess the technical knowledge of a butcher or horse slaughterer or any person accustomed to cutting up dead animals.

  9. The instrument must have been a strong knife at least six inches long, very sharp, pointed at the top and about an inch in width. It may have been a clasp knife, a butcher’s knife or a surgeon’s knife. I think it was no doubt a straight knife.

  10. The murderer must have been a man of physical strength and of great coolness and daring. There is no evidence that he had an accomplice. He must in my opinion be a man subject to periodical attacks of Homicidal and Erotic Mania. The character of the mutilations indicate that the man may be in a condition sexually, that may be called satyriasis. It is of course possible that the Homicidal impulse may have developed from a revengeful or brooding condition of the mind, or that Religious Mania may have been the original disease, but I do not think either hypothesis is likely. The murderer in external appearance is quite likely to be a quiet, inoffensive-looking man, probably middle-aged and neatly and respectably dressed. I think he must be in the habit of wearing a cloak or overcoat or he could hardly have escaped notice in the streets if the blood on his hands or clothes were visible.

  11. Assuming the murderer to be such a person as I have just described he would probably be solitary and eccentric in his habits, also he is most likely to be a man without regular occupation, but with some small income or pension. He is possibly living among respectable persons who have some knowledge of his character and habits and who may have grounds for suspicion that he is not quite right in his mind at times. Such persons would probably be unwilling to communicate suspicions to the Police for fear of trouble or notoriety, whereas if there were a prospect of reward it might overcome their scruples.

  I am, Dear Sir,

  Yours faithfully,

  Thos. Bond

  THE SUSPECTS

  Dr Bond is a police surgeon of considerable experience and a shrewd observer of human nature. My instinct is that our killer will prove to be some such individual as he describes: male, middle-aged, physically strong, solitary, eccentric in his habits, without a regular occupation but with a small income, inoffensive in appearance, possibly living among respectable persons, though committing his crimes without an accomplice.

  Who are our principal suspects? After considering scores of possibilities, I have reduced the list to just five – and I would very much like to be able to eliminate one or two of these before presenting my report to the Metropolitan Police Commissioner.

  The five are as follows:

  • MONTAGUE JOHN DRUITT

  • AARON KOSMINSKI

  • RICHARD MANSFIELD

  • MICHAEL OSTROG

  • WALTER WELLBELOVED

  Attached you will find a separate file on each of these men. Your thoughts – and any additional information – regarding any of the above will be much appreciated.

  Also attached are notes on certain other murders that took place in Whitechapel (and beyond) between April 1888 and February 1891, including the notorious ‘torso killings’. I do not believe they are relevant to this inquiry, as you know, but I supply them as background for reasons of ‘completeness’. Also attached are notes relating to two other suspects: HRH the Duke of Clarence and John Pizer, the man known locally as ‘Leather Apron’. I have included these for your interest, not because we consider them likely suspects, but in case you have additional information that could assist us in eliminating them altogether from our list of possibilities.

  8

  Breakfast at the Langham

  ‘Alarmingly, I think I may know them all.’

  ‘All five of Macnaghten’s suspects?’

  ‘Certainly four. I was at Oxford with one of them.’

  I had come down to the hotel dining room just before nine o’clock and, to my astonishment, found Oscar already ensconced at a window table, smoking one of his Turkish cigarettes, with the detritus of a full breakfast before him. He was not naturally an early riser, but there he was, bright-eyed and newly shaved, sporting a cream-coloured shirt, a lilac tie and a white amaryllis in his buttonhole.

  ‘I have eaten for both of us,’ he declared happily. ‘Poached eggs, bacon, kidneys, mushroom, the works. I had no dinner. I was famished.’ He dropped his copy of the Daily Chronicle onto the floor beside him and beckoned me to sit down. ‘There’s coffee in the pot, my friend, and fresh toast is on its way. The marmalade may be a little bitter to your taste, but I know you like a challenge to rise to.’

  Oscar was fond of saying that ‘only dull people are brilliant at breakfast’, but I have to report that on this particular morning he was on sparkling form – and far from dull.

  ‘It is my wife’s birthday today. I have sent her a telegram.’

  ‘I am happy to hear it,’ I said, taking my place opposite him and pouring myself some coffee. ‘Shouldn’t you be having breakfast with her?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, heavens no. A husband and wife should never share breakfast . . . those tedious tête-a-têtes that are the dream of engaged couples and the despair of married men . . . that eternal duologue about bills and babies.’ He drew deep on his cigarette. ‘I want to have breakfast with you, Arthur, and talk about murder.’ He said the word with relish. ‘Besides, I am seeing Constance tonight.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘I am taking her and the boys to the circus.’

  ‘Excellent, Oscar. Does she know?’

  ‘When she receives my telegram, she will. It’s the Russian Circus at Olympia.’

  ‘I’ve read about it,’ I said approvingly. ‘Apparently, it’s “the greatest show on earth”.’

  ‘I thought Aladdin at Drury Lane was supposed to be that. But never mind. I hope the boys will enjoy it. There are tigers and knife-throwers. And Constance likes anything Russian. You must come, too, Arthur. There’ll be clowns.’

  ‘I enjoy the circus.’

  ‘I have a box.’

  ‘A box?’ I repeated, impressed.

  ‘I have friends in high places.’ He chuckled and narrowed his eyes conspiratorially. ‘Well, I know the ringmaster. In life, I’ve found, it’s always useful to know the ringmaster. This one kindly supplies my caviar.’

  A rack of fresh toast arrived and, as I took a piece and began to butter it, I noticed Oscar glance suddenly out of the window. ‘Are you looking for the man who has been following you?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘and he’s not there. He was there last night, but he’s not there now.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re being followed?’

  ‘No,’ he said, stubbing out his lighted cigarette and immediately reaching inside his cigarette case for an unlighted one. ‘Far from it. I have a vivid imagination and a guilty conscience.’ He struck a Vesta and smiled at me. ‘I see you’ve brought Macnaghten’s file. Good. Let us forget the spectres that may or may not be haunting me and speak of murder . . . murder most foul.’

  I looked around the dining room. The tables were gradually emptying. The waiters were moving to and fro, busying themselves at a safe distance.

  ‘Open the file,’ Oscar instructed. ‘Who’s top of his list? Is it Druitt? He’s the one I knew at Oxford. What does Macnaghten say?’

  I opened the dossier and read as discreetly as I could: ‘Montague John Druitt, said to be a doctor and of good family—’

  Oscar interrupted. ‘I don’t think he was a doctor. I think he was a lawyer. The police know nothing.’ He shook his head.

&
nbsp; I continued reading: ‘Druitt disappeared at the time of the Miller’s Court murder. His body, which was said to have been upwards of a month in the water, was found in the Thames on the thirty-first of December or about seven weeks after that murder.’

  I hesitated. ‘Go on,’ urged Oscar, clearly recalling what came next.

  I read on: ‘He was sexually insane and from private information I have little doubt but that his own family believed him to have been the murderer.’

  ‘Sexually insane,’ mused Oscar, a little too loudly for my liking, while exhaling a thin plume of purple cigarette smoke and looking around the dining room. I sensed he hoped someone would hear him and be suitably shocked. ‘What on earth does Macnaghten mean by “sexually insane”?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, sotto voce.

  ‘I do, I fear,’ said Oscar. ‘I remember Druitt. He was a good-looking young man and a fine sportsman, but he was not – how shall I put it? – of the marrying kind.’

  ‘He was an invert?’

  ‘He was a man who loved other men. I think if we do a little bit of investigating, Arthur, we shall find that is what drove the poor fellow to throw himself into the Thames. Who’s next?’

  I looked down at Macnaghten’s notes. ‘Aaron Kosminski.’

  ‘Ah, yes. He is the one I don’t know. At least, the name rings no bells. I believe I did once get my hair cut in Whitechapel, so, who knows, I may have made his acquaintance. One of the advantages of being known for over-tipping is that you don’t feel vulnerable in the barber’s chair. Read on.’

  ‘Aaron Kosminski, a Polish Jew, resident in Whitechapel where he worked as a hairdresser. He became insane owing to many years’ indulgence in solitary vices. He had a great hatred of women, especially of the prostitute class, and was removed to a lunatic asylum around March 1889.’