This post is taking extra time to research so be patient. If you have any suggestions on who should be included on this list, hit me back with a name in comments.
As I maintain my constant search for acts of extreme depravity I happened to run across a story from 2008. As I read through the story I thought to myself, “This can’t be real.” Sadly however, as I read the same story from different sources, I came to the conclusion that this story is not only real but one of the most disturbing that I had run across in a while.
Tyler, Texas is approximately 100 miles southeast of Dallas. In January of 2008 Tyler was home to 25 year old Christopher Lee McCuin and the strange events that follow. On Friday, January 4th McCuin took his girlfriend, 21-year-old Jana Shearer by force from her Whitehouse, Texas home. McCuin then murdered Jana at his home later that night. McCuin then drove to his estranged wife’s home, where he stabbed his wife’s boyfriend, William Veasley, 42. Though officers arrived at the home
expeditiously, McCuin managed to escape after a short chase.
Saturday morning McCuin arrived at the home he shared with his mother. Excitedly he exclaimed to his mother that he had something she needed to see out in the garage. To her unexpected horror, McCuin’s mother and her boyfriend stepped into the garage to see the mutilated corpse of Jana Shearer. The mother and boyfriend hurriedly fled the garage area in hopes of flagging down a police officer. Ironically, it was McCuin that called 911 on himself. He reported to the dispatcher he had killed Shearer and was boiling her body parts.
Officers arrived to find McCuin barricaded in the home. After a short stand-off McCuin surrendered and was taken into custody without incident. After his apprehension a tactical team entered and found Shearer’s body. During their search of the property officers were shocked to find an ear
boiling in a pot of water on the kitchen stove. Officers also found a hunk of human flesh on a plate with a fork stuck into it.
Although it is unclear whether McCuin actually ate any of his victim; authorities believe that, according to his 911 call, he may have tried to eat some of Ms. Shearer’s body parts.
Christopher Lee McCuin, 25, was arraigned Monday, January 7th, 2008 on a capital murder charge and was given a 2 million dollar bond. McCuin’s past charges include driving while intoxicated and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon charges. When he was arrested, McCuin had an outstanding felony retaliation warrant. Authorities cite that McCuin had a history of violence, pointing out past instances of assaulting his estranged wife, his girlfriend and his sister. Officials are unsure of the cause of McCuin’s rampage.
I read further, thinking to myself about how we feel as a society feel about cannibalism. I tried to understand what could have set him off in this fashion. Surely there had to be warning signs concerning this young man’s instability. Still deep in thought about this young man, I came across a new headline concerning this tragedy. “Christopher McCuin accused of mutilating and killing girlfriend Jana Shearer dies.”
It seems that after being held in Smith County Jail for almost a full year, Christopher Lee McCuin died in his cell. McCuin was pronounced dead at the East Texas Medical Center. Authorities report that they do not believe McCuin’s death was suspicious and that foul play wasn’t suspected noting he was in a jail cell by himself.
How does an otherwise physically healthy individual just up and die? As an outsider looking in I can only imagine about what went on in that jail. A Black man accused of murdering, mutilating and cannibalizing a white woman in Texas; I truly doubt that a thorough investigation was made into this. Although I’m sure the young lady’s family would have wanted to see justice served, maybe they can rest a little easier knowing that he won’t be around to hurt anyone else. Rest in peace Jana Shearer and may God’s blessings ease the pain of all affected by this tragedy.
During my periods of incarceration, I’ve found myself, on several occasions, in the company of individuals that I thought were the embodiment of pure evil. As I sat in the dining halls and day rooms, I listened to men tell stories of street life and give graphic accounts of murderous events that have taken place on the underbelly of society. Regardless of how vile and disturbing the stories passed around behind prison walls were, they pale in comparison to the horror I discovered during the research for this post.
Until recently, I had never heard the term, “baby farm,” before. Also, until recently that is, I had always considered infants exempt from violent crime. True, periodically you would have an isolated case of violence of some sort toward a baby, but it wasn’t commonplace. The truth is; you don’t realize how much you don’t know until you learn something.
During the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, baby farming was a popular form of income in Europe, Great Britain and the United States. Baby farming meant the taking in of an infant or child for payment. Women would advertise themselves as a child care provider and take in as many infants and children as they could. baby farmers were paid in the understanding that care would be provided. Some baby farmers “adopted” children for lump-sum payments, while others cared for infants for periodic payments. In the case of lump-sum adoptions, it was more profitable for the baby farmer if the infant or child she adopted died, since the small payment could not cover the care of the child for long.
Children born out of wedlock, divorced mothers and poverty stricken families often brought unwanted children to these places. Mistresses of married men were forced to place their babies in these farms to conceal their affairs. The black market sale of babies and children was prevalent during this period also. Acquired through baby farms, crooked social services workers or simply kidnapped, infants were regularly sold to wealthy families. If a child could not be sold or pimped out to community pedophiles they were neglected to the point of death or simply murdered outright. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances regarding the child’s conception, the mother could not appeal to authorities concerning the whereabouts of her child. To do so would cause the woman a great deal of shame and ridicule; illegitimate births were frowned upon heavily during that era. If the parent did return to claim the child, the “farmer,” would tell them that the baby died of natural causes or taken by a social services worker. Usually, simply threatening to expose the infidelity of the woman and her lover to the community was enough to quell any investigation
Baby farms, black market adoption houses and child procurers caused the child mortality rate to skyrocket during this period as infants were murdered by the thousands. Of the hundreds of baby murderers of this period, three caught my attention as the most sadistic: Amelia Dyer, (England), Marianne Skoublinska, (Poland) and Enriqueta Martí, (Spain).
Amelia Dyer was born in 1837 and earned the title of the most prolific baby farm murderer of Victorian England. A nurse by trade she began using her home to house infants of young women who had conceived illegitimately. Fathers of illegitimate children had no financial obligation to the child or mothers during this time which left the mothers in desperate need of housing and child care. Dyer portrayed herself to be a kind woman that would provide a safe and loving home for the child. She would advertise to nurse and adopt a baby, in return for a substantial one-off payment and adequate clothing for the child. In reality, Dyer would farm off the babies for adoption while allowing the rest to die of neglect and malnutrition. Eventually Dyer took to murdering each child herself which allowed her to keep most, if not all of the fees. Dyer ran her business unnoticed until a doctor made note of the number of infant deaths in her establishment. The authorities were alerted and Dyer was arrested and convicted; not of murder, but of neglect. Dyer was sentenced to 6 months hard labor.
Upon her release, Dyer resumed her murderous career. Learning from her mistake of involving doctors, Dyer would now dispose of the bodies of murdered infants herself. Over the years, Dyer would attract the attention of the police several times. Each time they would get close, she would fake a nervous breakdown, relocate her business and take up an alias name to work under. After several bodies of infants began to surface, each linking to Dyer in some manner, authorities devised a plan using a decoy mother to set Dyer up. The plan was successful and as Dyer sat, expecting a distraught mother to show up, the police came and searched her premises. As they entered the home, the stench of death overtook many of the officers. No bodies of infants were found, however, authorities did find direct evidence linking Dyer to the murder of at least 20 infants. Estimates conclude that after decades of being in business Dyer was responsible for at least 400 deaths of infants and children. Amelia Dyer was found guilty of murder and on Wednesday, 10 June 1896, she was hanged at Newgate Prison in London, England.
Marianne Skoublinska was a Polish murderess that operated her baby farm in the late nineteenth and centuries. Not much is known about Skoublinska and her baby farming business. What is known is that in the late 1800’s, Madame Skoublinska left the baby farming business to begin a lucrative career in post pregnancy infant disposal, or after birth abortions. It seems that a parent or parents of unwanted infants paid Skoublinska to destroy the baby.
It is unknown exactly how long she operated this business, but in 1890 the public learned of the sinister livelihood of Marianne Skoublinska. Police and firefighters were called to a fire at her place of residence. As the fire was extinguished bodies of five children were found, not in bed but buried in various sections of the home. During the autopsy the physician determined the these children had not perished as a result of the fire but had received life ending injuries previous to the fire being set, one of which bore distinct traces of the skull having been battered in. Skoublinska was immediately placed under arrest.
During the investigation and trial the true horror of this woman’s deeds were exposed. As the police questioned neighbors they found that Skoublinska had only resided in that particular home for four months. As they dug for evidence in rubble of Skoublinska’s home, it is said that fifty bodies of children were found. Neighbors also testified of Skoublinska’s boasts of having the fattest, healthiest hogs in the district on account of the exceptionally good feed she provided for them. The truth was, she often threw the bodies of babies to the hogs to be devoured.
Marianne Skoublinska stood accused of the murder of 76 infants and children. She was charged with setting fire to her cottage, containing the bodies of five little children, in order destroy evidence and collect on the insurance on her property. At the trial it was established that not a single child who was entrusted to her care and entered her den ever left her house alive. It was also shown that she charged two different amounts for, “taking care” of children, fifteen roubles for allowing the baby to die in a few weeks, and twenty for killing the baby within a day or two. Despite the overwhelming amount of evidence against her, Marianne Skoublinska could not be convicted of murder and was sentenced to three years in prison.
Enriqueta Martí was never a baby farmer; but she was a prostitute, kidnapper, procuress of children, pedophile, cannibal and child murderer. Born in 1868, Marti
made an attempt at normal domestic life however, the seedier side of Barcelona, Spain attracted her and she became a prostitute. During the day she would dress as a homeless person, begging for hand outs and looking for children that seemed lost or abandoned. When she found a child she wanted she would take them by the hand and lead them where she wanted. The child was normally pimped out to area pedophiles then murdered the child later that evening.
Eventually her dreams of socializing with Spain’s elite came true. Her pimping and prostituting gave her the income necessary to live well and attend all of the gala events where the wealthy of Barcelona gathered. It is probable that in these places she offered her services as procurer of children. It was her connections with the wealthy that enabled her to continually operate a brothel that made whores of children aged 3 to 13. Though she had been arrested for operating such a business, Enriqueta was never tried and the matter of the brothel was lost in the judicial and bureaucratic system.
Marti was also a practitioner of black magic and considered a witch doctor. The ingredients she used to make her remedies were made from the remains of murdered children. Ranging from infants up to children of 9 years, she used everything that she could; the fat, blood, hair, and bones (that normally she turned into powder). For this reason, she did not have problems disposing of the bodies of her victims. Marti sold salves, ointments, filters, cataplasms and potions all of which were supposedly cures for diseases and ailments which had no cure at the time. Wealthy people of Barcelona paid large sums of money for these remedies.
The true number of children taken by Marti is unknown. Over a twenty year span experts theorize that Enriqueta Martí may be the most dangerous serial killer in the history of Spain. During her years of operation in Barcelona the public suspected that someone was kidnapping babies. Throughout this period there were many children who disappeared without a trace and the fear among the population was crippling.
On February 10, 1912 Marti kidnapped her last victim, Teresita Guitart Congost. On February 17th, a neighbor of Marti, Claudia Elías, saw a little girl playing with another child through the window of Marti’s home. Elias, having never seen the children before, asked Marti about them. Marti gave know response and began to keep all curtains to her home closed. A child fitting the little girl’s description had been reported missing; Elias, finding Marti’s behavior peculiar, reported her suspicions to a neighborhood businessman and to the authorities. Under the guise of a chicken inspection, law enforcement gained entry to the house and found the two girls. One in fact was the missing Teresita.
During questioning, the other child; Angelina, gave a frightening testimony. She told of another child, a boy named Pepito. Unbeknownst to Marti, she had witnessed Marti kill Pepito on the kitchen table. She explained how Marti dismembered Pepito, “like a chicken,” the little girl described. The girls further told authorities about how they themselves were lured away from their parents by Marti promising candies to them. After questioning the girls were returned to their homes.
During the investigation, authorities searched Marti’s current home as well as two of her previous places of residence. From their searches they found countless jars containing parts of children. In hidden rooms they found fifty pitchers, jars and washbowls with preserved human remains: greasy lard, coagulated blood, children’s hair, skeletons of hands, powdered bones and pots with the potions, ointments and salves already prepared for sale. Throughout the walls and ceilings of the homes were skeletons of infants and young children. Authorities also recovered blood soaked bags; some containing children’s clothing while others contained small human bones.
Enriqueta was imprisoned in the “Reina Amàlia” jail to await judgement. She tried to commit suicide by slashing her wrists with a knife of wood. Fearing that a successful suicide attempt by Marti would cause a riot among the community who wanted to see Marti tried and executed, she was put on 24 hour watch by other inmates. It would be those inmates that killed Marti while in prison custody. The death of Enriqueta robbed authorities of the opportunity to completely expose all of her secrets. The kidnapper and murderer died the early morning of May 12, 1913.
As a result of these women and murderers like them, laws were put in place around the world to protect children. One thing for certain, when driving through rural areas, I will never look at farms the same again.
Looking out of his apartment window Richard saw the “Goth” kids sitting in the green park grass talking. “Fucking role players,” he said to himself. “They don’t know what it’s really like,” he grunted to himself in an angry tone, just barely audible. The involuntary shaking he was currently experiencing had gotten worse throughout the day. “They choose to live this way; I didn’t have a fucking choice!” Richard continued as his low mumble became a yell. He became frenzied as he rummaged through the filthy apartment. Sifting through the carcasses of small animals and rodents he had assembled, he finally found one that was to his liking. Standing in the middle of the room, he held his head back, and drained into his mouth the animal’s last drops of blood. Mentally frenzied, he hurried about his apartment looking for more blood. He could feel the blood within his veins gradually turning to dust. “I have to stop it!” He yelled out loud. Just when all seemed hopeless he spotted the squirrel he killed earlier. “Yes,” he exclaimed as he cut the rodent open and devoured his entrails.
He thought back at how they laughed at him when he tried to explain the theft of his pulmonary artery. At the hospital, they scoffed at him when he shared fantasies about killing rabbits with the staff. Sitting in his favorite chair; a urine scented, blood soaked, easy chair, placed in the center of the room, he remembered how his roommates had given him an ultimatum about moving. Wanting to be rid of Richard so desperately, they left him and the apartment. He was glad that they were gone, now he was free to bring the animals in that he needed. He was now free to concoct his special life giving recipe. Richard had found that mixing the raw organs with Coca-Cola in a blender and drinking the concoction prolonged his life. Richard, now relaxed, could feel his heart expanding back to its normal size; breathed a sigh of relief now that he also felt his blood starting to re-liquefy. He looked over the fine array of creatures that had unwittingly helped him prolong his life and began to sob. In his mind he knew that the only blood that would cure him permanently was human blood.
The conspiracy that he had fallen victim to so many years ago was now beginning to take its toll on him; so he thought. Reading about the exploits of the Hillside Strangler; Richard felt that he too had fallen prey to the same despicable alien experiments and that they were both kindred spirits of sorts. Breaking into a hysterical laughter, he recalled the looks of horror on his neighbor’s faces after he’d devoured their beloved rabbits, dogs and cats. Smearing their life giving blood all over his pale white frame brought Richard to an unparalleled state of euphoria. He wondered what level of ecstasy a bath of human blood would elevate him to.
Feeling erotic, Richard disrobed and slit open all of the remaining animal carcasses. Caressing himself with the rotting animal parts he began developing his plan for attaining his crimson gold from a human contributor. The attempts he had made previously had ended in failure. The first time Richard shot wildly into the home of a Sacramento woman. A police search of the woman’s home found the slug in her kitchen; no one was harmed. The next attempt came in the form of a drive by shooting. The victim was Ambrose Griffin, a 51-year-old engineer and father of two, who was helping his wife bring groceries into their home. Richard had killed him but could not collect the “ingredients” from his victim to prepare his elixir. Lying naked on the floor of his apartment covered in blood and rotting animal flesh he devised his next plan.
Walking through a neighborhood to enact his strategy, he attempted to break into a home but found the door locked so he left. As he walked he spotted an old high school classmate, Nancy Holden. He asked Nancy for a ride, but frightened by his disheveled appearance, she declined and drove away. Richard continued down the street. Arriving at the home of a young married couple, he broke in and stole some of their valuables. Angered by the woman’s absence, Richard urinated into a drawer of their infant’s clothing, and defecated on their son’s bed. The couple came home while he was still in the house; the husband attacked him, but Richard escaped.
Angered by his lack of success Richard continued walking until he came across the home of David and Teresa Wallin. Spotting the pregnant Teresa carrying garbage from her home he deduced that the home probably lacked a male presence. Gaining entry to her home, Richard shot the woman once in the hand and twice in the head; killing her instantly. Giddy with the obvious success of his objective, Richard dragged her body to her bedroom and raped it post-mortem while repeatedly stabbing it with a butcher knife. When he had finished, he carved the corpse open and removed several of her internal organs, using a bucket to collect the blood and then taking it in the bathroom to bathe in it. He then sliced off her nipple and using an empty yogurt container as a drinking glass, drank her blood; before leaving, he went into the yard, found a pile of dog feces, and returned to stuff it into the corpse’s mouth and throat. Moving quickly through the night, he returned to his apartment. Reclining peacefully, he continued to devour the fruits of his labor and smeared the remains on his exposed frail physique.
On January 23rd of 1978 Richard awoke in extreme pain. “It’s happening again,” he yelled aloud! Richard felt the sensation of what he perceived to be the excruciating pain of his heart shrinking. His deteriorated mental state allowed him to see his blood turning to dust before his own eyes. Frantically, he thought of a way to save his life. Richard purchased two puppies from a neighbor, both of which he immediately killed and drank the blood of. He then left the bodies, like discarded soda cans, on the neighbor’s front lawn.
Four days later the unrelenting sensation returned to Richard and he knew that mere puppies would do nothing to quill the pain. On January 27th, Richard entered the home of 38-year-old Evelyn Miroth, who was babysitting her 22-month-old nephew, David. Evelyn’s six-year-old son Jason, and Dan Meredith, a neighbor was also in the home. Richard confronted Dan first and fatally shot him twice in the head at point-blank range. Hearing the commotion, Jason ran to his mother’s bedroom, where he was found and fatally shot twice in the head. Richard then found Evelyn in the bathroom and fatally shot her once in the head. He dragged her corpse onto the bed, where he simultaneously sodomized it and drank its blood from a series of slices to the back of the neck. He then shot 22-month-old David in the head.
Richard’s debilitating mental capacity enforced his delusions of his shrinking heart. His depraved mental state formulated only one solution. He stabbed Evelyn’s corpse at least half a dozen times in the anus, the knife penetrating her uterus. He stabbed her in a series of vital points on the body, which caused blood from her internal organs to pool into her abdomen, which he then sliced open and drained into a bucket; he then consumed all of the blood. Still unsatisfied, Richard retrieved David’s corpse, split its skull open in the bathtub, and consumed some of the brain matter.
A knock on the door startled Richard, a play date young Jason had planned came calling. Richard grabbed Dan’s car keys and David’s corpse and left through a side door. The child saw Richard leaving and informed a neighbor. The neighbor broke into the Miroth home where he discovered the bodies and contacted the authorities. The police found that the perpetrator left perfect hand & fingerprints in blood on the walls, as well as footprints on the floor. At home Richard removed David’s penis and used it as a straw through which he sucked the blood out of the body. He then sliced the corpse open and consumed several internal organs and made smoothies out of others. He finally disposed of the corpse at a nearby church.
For a week Richard was at home secluded and oblivious to the on goings around him and concerning him. Still marveling in his “accomplishments” a knock on the door startled him. Richard adamantly refused the police detective’s request for an interview and slammed the door. Unbeknownst to Richard was the ballistic results that linked him directly to each murder as well as the fingerprint evidence that led the police straight to him. Richard, dressed in his bloody clothes, left his apartment for the last time. Officers arrested him and found inch of his apartment to be soaked or covered in blood. Body parts, mainly intestines were found in Tupperware bowls as well as on shelves in the refrigerator. “I was forced to do this,” he told the officers at the station. “I need a radar gun then I could show you,” he told FBI profiler Robert Ressler. He continued, “With a radar gun I can go arrest the Nazis and UFOs and THEY can stand trial for the murders.” Richard than proceeded to hand Ressler a hand full of macaroni and cheese that he had saved in his pants pocket.
On May 8th, 1979 Richard was found guilty of 6 counts of first degree murder. The defense asked for a clemency hearing, in which a judge determined that he was not legally insane and was subsequently sentenced to die in the gas chamber. On December 26, 1980, a guard doing cell checks found Richard lying awkwardly on his bed, not breathing. An autopsy determined that he committed suicide with an overdose of prison doctor-prescribed antidepressants that he had been saving up for the last few weeks.
Such was the life, crimes and death of Richard Trenton Chase; the Vampire of Sacramento.
Normally I don’t do food criticisms; however in my efforts to seek out subject matter for my second book, I found a little lady fits whose criteria fits perfectly for inclusion in my little blog of depravity. So get out your pens and paper and get ready to take notes as we uncover the secret recipe for Omaima’s Egyptian Spare Ribs.
Born and raised in Egypt, Omaima Nelson immigrated to the United States in 1986. Soon after her arrival in the U.S., Omaima began caring for children of various households as a nanny. Slender with olive skin and bedroom eyes, it wasn’t long before a photographer noticed her and she began working part time as a model.
Omaima underwent a series of dysfunctional relationships with other men. In October 1991 a 23 year old Omaima was out for a night of fun and relaxation at a local bar, while shooting pool she met a 56 year old pilot named William Nelson. A whirlwind courtship ensued and in a matter of weeks the couple married. Acquaintances of the couple describe the two as ordinary love birds in respect to their relationship. However, on Thanksgiving Day 1991, the theme of the day would be anything but ordinary for William “Bill” Nelson & his wife Omaima.
On Thanksgiving 1991 Omaima Nelson repeatedly stabbed her husband Bill with a pair of scissors in their Costa Mesa apartment. Mrs. Nelson then proceeded to beat her husband with a clothes iron other objects until he died. Normally, death is the embodiment of the end, but for this true tale of the macabre, this is only the beginning. Later Omaima would claim that she was raped and beaten and that the crimes were in self-defense, however, evidence shows that Bill Nelson was tied securely to the bed during the onslaught.
After making sure that Bill was indeed dead, Omaima proceeded to dismember her husband’s corpse. Blending portions of the corpse with the day’s Thanksgiving meal; she forced body parts down a garbage disposal unit that she kept running for hours after the murder. Omaima boiled Bill’s head, fried his hands, attempting to destroy his fingerprints and skinned his torso and lower extremities. Remaining body parts were stuffed in garbage bags as she appealed to ex-boyfriends to assist her in the disposal of them. To add insult to injury, she castrated the corpse claiming she’d done that out of revenge for the abuse he had inflicted upon her.
The climax of the evening came when Omaima donned her red hat, red stilettoes and red lipstick. She then proceeded to cook the ribs of her murdered husband, barbecue style. “I did his ribs just like in a restaurant,” Nelson is quoted as saying. She said she sat at the kitchen table with Bill Nelson’s cooked remains and said out loud, “It’s so sweet, it’s so delicious. . . . I like mine tender,” she reportedly admitted to the court psychiatrist.
Omaima Aree Nelson was found guilty of 2nd degree murder on January 12, 1993. She was sentenced to 28 years to life in prison. Omaima first became eligible for parole in 2006, but was denied when “commissioners found her unpredictable and a serious threat to public safety.” She became eligible again in 2011, but was denied by the parole board again, citing that she had not taken responsibility for the murder, and would not be a productive citizen if she were freed. She will not be able to seek parole again until 2026.
Albert sat in his room on a frigid January morning. He had become accustomed to entertaining himself with the vivid images, thoughts and memories that occupied the four corners of his mind. Some of the memories were decent, most depraved, but all of them were his property. He recalled a poverty stricken childhood filled with pain and suffering. Even now, memories of Saint John’s Orphanage were clear as a bell. Just as clear as if it all happened yesterday. The death of his father left his mother and siblings in dire straits. As the youngest of four, he was the child forced to live at the orphanage. “They tried to break me!” Albert thought to himself. The staff would administer ungodly beatings to the children for the slightest infraction. “They broke the other children”, Albert reminisced, “but not me, I embraced the pain.” Albert sat back and closed his eyes, not only had he embraced the pain, he fell in love with it; it would be a love affair that would endure throughout his life.
Nearly drifting into sleep, Albert was awakened by the piercing sound of his mother’s voice. He looked around the small room then realized it was simply a dream. Albert was almost nine when his mother came and “rescued” him from the orphanage. He then thought of the little boy he met when he was 12. The feelings he had for the telegraph boy were feelings that he had been taught were for a girl. Though these feelings initially frightened the young Albert, his suitor eased his conscience and assured him that his feelings were virtuous and that they should continue their relationship. Albert’s young friend introduced him to urolagnia and coprophagia and taught Albert that the taste for urine and feces was an acquired one; but one that he would learn to enjoy.
Fighting off the sleepiness that was beginning to fall upon him, Albert smiled when he remembered being a young man in New York City. Unable to find employment, Albert made a living doing something he truly enjoyed, having sex with men. Unhappy with Albert’s status at that time, his mother introduced him to his would be wife. “Did I truly love her?” Albert thought to himself. The word love had become so distorted and twisted in his life that he was truthfully unsure about any emotions as they related to him. Ironically, just as his mother once did, his wife abandoned him and left Albert with six children to raise. While raising his children, Albert would attempt to teach them the joy and ecstasy of pain. He would fashion a paddle filled with nails and have the children paddle him until he bled.
Suddenly a loud noise down the hall interrupted his daydream, but Albert soon quelled his anxiety and resumed his reminiscent state of being. As he turned the pages of his life, a malevolent spirit seemed to invade Albert. The once pleasant atmosphere had become somber as Albert began to think about “the boys.” Beginning in 1890, about the time he arrived in New York, Albert began having “urges.” He could always hear the voices that would speak to him, giving him disturbing tasks to carry out. Ordinarily, he was strong enough not to relent to their power. But now, now he wanted to succumb to them. He would become a willing participant to their ungodly requests. Albert thought of all of the little boys that he had tortured and raped. Albert then stood up and walked over to the mirror on the wall. Gazing at his reflection, he formed a wry smile, “I wanted them to enjoy the pain as I did,” he whispered to himself. Having traveled across the country extensively, Albert once bragged to someone that he had children in every state. The true and horrific nature of that claim had yet to be revealed at that time
Albert looked around the room and scoffed at the peeling paint, “what a shotty job,” he thought to himself. Having been a painter himself, he was extremely critical of the work of others. Albert sat down again and thought about the children that he’d extended his special brand of caring to over the years. Unrepentant, he enjoyed memories of the pain and suffering he inflicted upon these young victims. The mere recollection of their torture sent Albert into a sexually aroused state. He recalled his” instruments of Hell” consisting of a paddle of nails, meat cleaver and knives and how he used them on the children. Their screams were a sheer delight to Albert; to him their cries were like the songbird in flight.
Albert stood up to look in the mirror again, staring at his reflection; he began to think of two men that greatly influenced his life. The first man was a past lover of his. On a romantic afternoon, the two had visited a waxworks museum. Albert became fascinated by an exhibit that demonstrated the bisection of a penis; soon after, he developed a morbid interest in castration. Still gazing at his reflection, he remembered how, as a younger man, he had mastered the art of seduction. The young Albert had men at his beck & call back then. There was one man; Albert sat down, struggling to recall his name. “Kenner, Kenny no Kedden, Kedden was his name,” Albert said aloud. Kedden was a retarded man that Albert had seduced. When he first laid eyes on Kedden, Albert had decided that he would be the one to satisfy his newly found fixation with castration. After tying up a naked Kedden, Albert began to cut around his penis. Smiling, Albert sat back on his bed, reliving the moment then suddenly; his cheerful demeanor became sullen as he remembered the look of anguish on Kedden’s face. It frightened him so that Albert administered first aid to the wound, left a $10.00 bill on Kedden’s knee and left town, never to return to St. Louis.
Albert thought of the second man as a godsend. Throughout his younger years Albert could not understand the insatiable hunger that he felt. His ravenous desires had gone undiagnosed until he ran into an old friend, Capt. John Davis. Davis would entertain Albert with tales of his adventures on the Steamer Tacoma. Albert chose to lie down to fully relive Davis’ accounts of his exploits in China. Albert smiled as he remembered how Capt. Davis emphasized to him the state of poverty and starvation that the Chinese were going through. How the meat of children drew top dollar during the famine. He especially enjoyed the graphic description of the whipping of the children to tenderize the meat for consumption.
Albert then relived the pleasures that were derived from his encounters with these men. As he lay, hunger pains actually set in when he recounted the children he had devoured over the years. He remembered how much he enjoyed preparing the children for his meal. No longer was the whipping of the children to no avail, the whippings were now used to tenderize the children’s flesh. In his own mind the recipes he had conjured up were delectable. Utilizing his vivid imagination, he could see the faces of “his children,” as he so affectionately referred to them. Albert recalled watching Francis X. McDonnell play with the other boys. He’d been able to lure him away, sexually assault him and just when he was about ready to dismember him to take home; he heard voices and people coming. He hadn’t eaten Francis, but as he thought back now, he could visualize the possibilities. The name Billy Gaffney popped into Albert’s head. He remembered this little boy as well as the methods and efforts he used to create a fine meal of the four year old. “Little Grace,” Albert whispered to himself, as he sat down on the bed. Albert reminisced about how cute Grace Budd was. Seven years after abducting Grace, Albert wrote a horrifying letter to the Budd family detailing the kidnapping and demise of their beautiful daughter. He had actually come to the Budd home to take their son Edward, “Grace sat in my lap and kissed me. I made up my mind to eat her,” he repeated to himself a line he’d written in his letter to the Budd family. Suddenly, his mood changed from reflective to irate. “Why did I write that letter?” Albert said while banging his head against the wall. The letter, that infuriated Albert, had been a key component in alerting the world of his depraved existence.
Albert’s once blissful demeanor had now been replaced with rage. Again he stood and looked into the mirror. This time he saw something else, he saw an imprisoned old man. His recollection of the letter he’d written to the Budd family brought him swiftly into the sobering reality of his current situation. The letter also reminded him of a face; angrily Albert spat into the toilet, not the face of a child but that of Detective William F. King. He remembered his arrest and interview at the police station. Albert vehemently denied any involvement in any kidnapping or murder. “I don’t know anything about those bones they say they’ve found. And cannibalism! The very thought sickens me,” Albert recited the testimony to himself in the exact same manner that he told police on the day of his arrest. However, due to Detective King’s tenacious questioning, Albert soon recanted and confessed, signing a full statement filled with the horrendous details. Albert’s face took on a smug look as he recalled Detective King transcribing the declaration of guilt he provided. He remembered the officers’ look of utter disgust as he gave the account of Billy Gaffney’s death, dismemberment and consumption in full detail. Albert was no stranger to the police or to prison, however this time; there were no sexual escapades with the other men as there were on his first arrest. Absent were the nice calming doctors and comfortable hospital stays as in his second arrest. The only comforting aspect of Albert’s current predicament is that it would soon be over.
Albert continued to stare into the mirror. Raising his head and gazing into the light, Albert began to pray. He had always heard voices in his head, during his confession he admitted that everything he had done was at the command of God. Continually looking at his reflection in the mirror, he gave thanks for his frail and gentile demeanor that had given him the ability to abduct and devour children around the country. Albert told Detective King that it had been the voice of John the Baptist that led him to the 23 states that he had lived in. He also informed the detective that in each state, he had killed at least one child. Albert never returned to the same neighborhood. Though the wickedness of his deeds knew no racial barriers, he had always been partial to Black and disabled children, reasoning that police would be less inclined to look for them. Still gazing at his likeness, Albert took note of his thick gray hair and his drooping gray moustache. While thinking of his beloved rumpled suits, he had an epiphany. The very same qualities that allowed him to ravage the children of various communities in perceived anonymity were the same characteristics people remembered to identify him at his trial. Albert’s head dropped.
As the noises of chains and voices became louder, Albert resumed his prayerful state. He spoke out loud to himself “What I did must have been right or an angel would have stopped me, just as an angel stopped Abraham in the Bible [from sacrificing his son].” He began to hum hymns that he recalled from his youth in the orphanage. Crying, he fell to his knees and began to recite scriptures, “Happy is he that taketh Thy little ones and dasheth their heads against the stones,” he said piously. At times he would go on endlessly with quotations from the Bible all mixed up with his own sentences.
Hours passed, Albert maneuvered so that he might enjoy the excruciating pain within his hips. During questioning he admitted that he had been sticking needles into his body for years. He had been placing them in the area between the rectum and the scrotum. At first, he said, he had only stuck these needles in and pulled them out again. In an effort to reach the next plateau of pain, he stuck others in so far that he was unable to get them out, and they stayed there. To verify his statements, Albert was X-rayed and sure enough, there were at least twenty-nine needles in his pelvic region. The pain caused Albert to think about his children and the games that he’d taught them in their youth. Though he had wished his children would learn to enjoy the pain as he did, he never forced it upon them. Actually, Albert had been a very fine father. He never once in his life laid a hand on one of his children. Thinking of them sent Albert into a depressed state, he whispered to himself, “I’m still worried about my children,” he sniffled. His six children ranged from age 21 to 35. “You’d think they’d come to visit their old dad in jail, but they haven’t.”
The voices in the hallway moved closer to Albert. The rattling of the chains reminded him of the inevitable. The facial expressions of the jury were seared into Albert’s consciousness. He remembered looking at them as they listened attentively to the prosecution read the ghastly account of his alleged crimes. Ten hours of testimony was resolved in a mere half of an hour, “We find the defendant guilty as charged,” the jury foreman said. The words of Judge Frederick P. Close were deafening in his mind. ”Death by electric chair,” said Judge Close. Albert thanked the judge for his sentence; he recalled how the thought of experiencing the voltage in his body excited him. Albert enthusiastically welcomed prospect of feeling that much pain. Pain had been the only constant in Albert’s life and he was a loyal friend to it as it was to him.
As the prison cell doors opened to take Albert to his court designated appointment, he fell into a state of emotional numbness. As the officers extracted him from the cell, one of them asked him sarcastically, “are you ready to die?” Albert responded, “I have no particular desire to live. I have no particular desire to be killed. It is a matter of indifference to me.” The officers placed Albert in the chair and fastened the straps, preparing him for his final transition. As he sat excitedly anticipating the currents that soon would be coursing throughout his body, Albert had a thought. From this point forward, Hamilton Howard “Albert” Fish would strike fear in the hearts and minds of children for centuries to come and would forever take his place in the annals of American history as,