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EPISODE THIRTY-TWO
Episode Thirty-Two: The Blackout Ripper Part 8: In this episode, we dive into the life history of Gordon Frederick Cummins, a sadistic spree-killer who murdered four women (and attacked two others) in four days in London's West End, but here we ask who is he and why?
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THE LOCATIONS
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THE BLACKOUT RIPPER – The Final Part – The Life of The Blackout Ripper
INTRO: On Thursday 25th June 1942 at a few seconds after 9am, in the cold stone execution chamber inside Wandsworth Prison, the cruel life of the West End’s most sadistic spree-killer was cut short by a long drop and a sudden stop, as the second and third vertebrae of his neck was snapped, severing his spinal cord and (in an instant) The Blackout Ripper was dead. With the trial concluded, the evidence archived and the limp body of Gordon Frederick Cummins buried in a pine box, the news stories ceased and his name was no longer plastered inside of every newspaper (nestled next to adverts for corsets, hair tonic and piles cream), as in the minds of the public and the press, the case was closed. But in a race to exploit the graphic details of his grisly crimes, one important question was never resolved, and that was “why did he kill?” Why did a seemingly normal and relatively handsome 28 year old man with a bright military career, a happy marriage and a grammar school education, who was raised in a loving and a respectable middle-class family, and had no criminal record, drug issues or history of mental illness, why did he strangle, pose and mutilate four women, across four days, in London’s West End? Trying to pin-down who Cummins is an impossible task, as some people say he was charming, pleasant and polite, whereas to others he was rude, aloof and arrogant. But regardless of what type of man he was, several questions remain; why did he steal when he was in a well-paying job, why did he lie when the evidence was against him, and why did he hate these women so much? By the time of his death, he had given no confession, his statements were lies, there were no witnesses to back-up his story, and his wife and family totally believed in his innocence. So why did he kill? Well, that’s what we hope to explore in his episode, but I warn you now, there is smoking gun, there are no certainties, and what we unearth may ask more questions than it answers. My name is Michael. I am your tour-guide. This is Murder Mile. And (for the first time ever) I present to you, the final part of the full, true and untold story about the life of The Blackout Ripper. SCRIPT: Gordon Frederick Cummins was born on 18th February 1914, five months before the start of World War One, in the small rural village of Earswick; a quiet leafy hamlet nestling in wilds of North Yorkshire. Raised in an idyllic setting surrounded by fields, streams and buzzing bees, Cummins’ childhood was the epitome of perfect for a young boy, as with trees to climb, fresh fruit to eat and clean water to drink, he was a far-cry from the industrial filth, poverty and squalor of the big cities. Being an adventurous boy who was eager to explore but was always constrained by the boundary of his tiny world, with Earswick consisting of little more than a handful of thatched cottages, twenty families and a small school, although his village was barely 4 ½ miles from the bustling city of York, for a quizzical and excitable boy, it must have seemed a world away. Raised in a quiet aspirational middle-class house by his doting mother, his strict school-master father John Robert and his older-brother John Harvey, who – as the first-born son had the honour of being named after his father – Gordon Cummins grew-up with no sisters, no female friends and no close relatives, as with John Robert being an intensely private man who (as a school-master) felt a certain sense of seniority over everyone else, and with his mother coming from Northumberland in the far north-east of England, Cummins had very few playmates, and almost none who were girls. So, as an over-active, imaginative and frustrated young boy stuck in a small friendless world, with no-one (outside of his family) to talk to, to play with or to learn from, Cummins drifted into day-dreaming. Did it bother him that his brother was the first-born and the favourite son? Did it matter that he knew very little about girls? And being the school-master’s son, was he bullied by the boys, teased by the girls, and allowed to get away with more than most? That we shall never know. But what he needed in his life was stability… and that’s exactly what was missing. With the world in upheaval following World War One, the Cummins family went where the work was, so when John Robert became the school-master of Vicar Pritchard's School in Llandovery in the south west of Wales; they packed-up, moved-out and once again, being uprooted, Cummins had lost the few friends he had, and as a new boy, in a new town, in a new country, he became the outsider. And being from a middle-class English family in a Welsh working-class town, surrounded by people he didn’t know, who spoke a language he couldn’t speak and saw words he couldn’t read, as he withdrew into his own personal world, the more difficulty he had concentrating, the worse his academic record became, which (for his father being the school-master) was deeply shameful. For anyone, those early teenage years are awkward enough, but for a hormonally-charged Gordon Cummins who lacked even basic social skills, a rudimentary knowledge of girls and a sense of himself, it was around this time that – being ashamed of his heritage and having a voice which was a mix of his father’s native Yorkshire twang and his mother’s natural Geordie drawl, being both working-class northern accents - that Cummins adopted a mock-posh accent, in a hope to distinguish himself. But being a divisive figure, who (like his arrogant father) exuded the sense of seniority of a man in denial of his own upbringing, this new accent only served to alienate Cummins further, and the more he was ignored, the more he began to resent others for making him feel inferior. Sadly, this sense of entitlement and a desire to live beyond his already generous means would bring a great shame on the family, when his father; a strict school-master and a devout Catholic was caught stealing money from the school. And although he professed his innocence, never confessed, but later (under the weight of evidence) repaid the money, being burdened by a sense of shame, he lost his job as the school-master and the family were forced to move back to England. Did his father’s actions show Cummins that the world owed him more than he was given? Did it give him an appetite to live beyond his means, even if it meant stealing? And did his father’s foray into criminality, his arrogant rejection of the rules and his denial of his obvious guilt show Cummins that he was entitled to do whatever he wanted, and – better still – he could get away with it? In 1929, the Cummins family uprooted to the typically English and delightfully picturesque rural village of Harlestone in the Northamptonshire countryside, five miles north-west of Northampton, which with a smattering of cottages, families and a school was not unlike his birth-place of Earswick. Once again, they lived in the School House; with his father as the school-master, his mother as a house-wife, his older brother training to be a teacher and Cummins in his final year at Northampton grammar school, and although his father had committed fraud, having not been prosecuted and with very few repercussions for his actions, life for the Cummins family returned to normal. And even though they felt more at home here, as a private family, they rarely socialised and kept to themselves. Aged 15 years old, having barely scraped through basic education at Northampton Grammar, with the help of his father’s connections, Cummins attended Northampton College of Technology where - even though he achieved a diploma in chemistry – he was described as lazy and easily distracted. Having blossomed into a handsome young man of five foot nine inches tall, with pale blue eyes, fair wavy hair and a charming smile, with an athletic physique and a well-rehearsed upper-class accent, Cummins had started to gain the attention of girls, but being over-eager, immature and inexperienced, he found it difficult to be himself and instead he would boast, lie and show-off. Quite when Cummins got his first girlfriend, we shall never know, but as a love-sick teenager desperate to explore this new-found world of feminine allure, although he was merely a student with a modest amount of pocket-money, being eager to lavish his lady lovers with a fine array of gifts and trinkets, Cummins often lived beyond his meagre means, and (to afford this lifestyle) he stole. And as much as those who knew him stated that he stole, up until his arrest for assault and murder, Gordon Frederick Cummins he had no prior convictions, no criminal record and not even so much as a black-mark against his name. It’s as if (like his father) money was paid and his crimes were forgotten. So, what did Cummins’s early foray into criminality include; theft, assault, cruelty? That we shall never know. Was he excited by these thefts, apathetic towards their victims and did robbery become an alternative means to achieve his goals (when his parents said no to more money)? And being described as a “thrill-seeker” and a “daredevil”; was adrenaline his drug of choice, was his love all-consuming, or in his desperate bid for attention did he injure his head and change his personality forever. Or was this arrogant, aloof and narcissistic young man already on course to become a mass-murderer? In November 1932, being eager to see the world and spread-his-wings, 18 year old Cummins moved to his mother’s home city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the north-east of England where he worked as an assistant warehouseman for Elswick Leather Goods, but being dreadful at his job, easily distracted by girls and lacking any kind of concentration, he was dismissed after just five months. Moving back home, a few months later Cummins started work at George Baker & Co, another leather manufacturers, this time in Northampton, but he barely lasted one year as not only was he incapable of following simple requests, but his employers described him as “abnormal and dense”, and once again, he was too easily distracted by girls. In October 1934, 20 year old Cummins moved to London and worked as an assistant chemist in another leather goods firm called Reptile Dressers at 48/50 Bermondsey Street, where once again, he lasted just one year, before being booted out for being lazy, slow and unfocused. Three jobs in two years, and yet, in statements which would strangely mirror those who knew him in his final posting at the RAF base in Regent’s Park, at none of his work places did anyone recall Cummins having any friends; he was always short on money, always boasting and eager to impress the girls. So, did moving to London (one of the world’s most expensive cities) fail to kerb his urge to live beyond his means? Did working in the leather tanning industry, a dangerous job which often meant workers were exposed to highly noxious chemicals such as chromium, cyanide and mercury based biocides, did this effect his personality, or was the damage already done? And did being based in Bermondsey, flanked by wharfs and factories on the south-side bank of the River Thames and surrounded by dock-workers, sailors, pubs and prostitutes, is this where he found his fondness for hard drink and easy sex? Lacking any focus, Cummins may have squandered the next few years drifting through a series of short-term dead-end jobs in London’s docks, splashing out on booze, chasing after babes and blowing his cash before he’d even paid the rent, but it was here in the summer of 1935 that he met and fell in love with a 22 year old secretary, whose name was Marjorie Stevens. Very little is known about Marjorie – who she was, how they met or what she looked like – and as a shy retiring person she was very much a homebody hoping to settle down in a nice house with a good man, and so, being a steadying influence, it seemed as if Marjorie would be the making of Cummins. Marjorie and Gordon married on 28th December 1938 at Paddington Registry Office on Harrow Road (oddly, just a ten minute walk from where Evelyn Hamilton and Doris Jouanett would be murdered), by which time Marjorie had been promoted to a theatre producer’s secretary, Cummins had changed careers and they had both moved in together into a rented first-floor flat at 21 Westmoreland Road in the leafy suburb of Barnes (south west London), which they shared with Marjorie’s sister Freda. In a rare statement recorded after the trial, the intensely private Marjorie described their marriage as “very very happy” and that her husband “has never been anything but kind and tolerant to me in every respect. He is a normal man who does not consort with other women and he is certainly not a sex-maniac or a pervert”, further stating that “he is not a drunkard, occasionally he would binge, but when he got drunk, he would just become quiet, withdrawn and would pass-out”. Marjorie remained faithful, married to Cummins and maintained his innocence until the day he died, and although they wanted a family, in the four years of their marriage, they never had children. Shortly after meeting Marjorie, Cummins quit the graft of the leather-work industry and enlisted in the Royal Air Force; a noble profession with regimented training, a regular income and even though he was stationed right across Britain, he’d regularly travel back to London’s West End to visit Marjorie. So, with him being regularly billeted across the far-flung parts of Great Britain, did this cause a rift in their relationship? Was their marriage not as harmonious as she claims, with their marital bed being icy cold? Was this why they didn’t have children, or was he suffering from impotence? And was it during these regular weekend visits to the West End that Cummins started visiting Soho prostitutes? Although the Royal Air Force kept the easily distracted Cummins in a strict routine of tight schedules, tidiness and discipline, just like his fractured childhood, he rarely stayed in one place for more than a few months, as Aircraftman Cummins was posted to several RAF bases in as many years. Unlike his previous employment at the leather tanners, his Commanding Officer described Cummins’ conduct as “exemplary”, that he was efficient at his work and was never known to complain, and here he would remain in military service for eight years. But, as before, being unable to make new friends, eager for attention and desperate to disguise his true-self, his Commanding Officer also added that Cummins was “boastful, cunning, prone to lying, fond of drink and was morally loose”. Initially stationed at RAF Felixstowe on the south-coast of England, Cummins was a Flight Rigger, part of No85 RAF Maintenance Unit based in Felixstowe harbour, who assembled the airframes for seaplanes. As before, by adopting a posh-accent and upper-class mannerisms, with his back straight and his nose in the air, as well as claiming to be well educated (which he wasn’t), pretending that he spoke French (which he didn’t) and professing to be wealthy (even though he was always broke), Cummins got the nickname of “The Count”. Next, Cummins was posted to RAF Helensburgh in Dunbartonshire (Scotland); a recently opened top-secret facility known as the Marine Aircraft Experimental Establishment, where (with the German Luftwaffe bombing every allied runway, engineers were developing innovative avionics and seaplane technology) and once again, being disliked, deceptive and boastful about his many conquests with women, Cummins had become known as “The Duke”. And, as always, he was broke. Next, Cummins was posted to RAF Catterick, an air-crew training base for Hurricane and Spitfires, back in his home-county of Yorkshire, where “The Count” was widely known as a boozer, a womaniser, a liar and with robbery and theft having become a regular part of his routine to purchase gifts and trinkets to impress the ladies, Cummins had bought himself a gun. By April 1941, just 10 months before his killing spree, Cummins was posted to RAF Fighter and Bomber Command in Colerne, Wiltshire in the west of England, where – having bragged to locals in The White Heart, The Six Bells and the Fox & Goose public houses that he was the black-sheep in a well-to-do family – he was nicknamed the “Honourable Gordon Cummins”, and although he was notoriously broke, somehow Cummins would always come into money, which he would lavish on the ladies. With Colerne being a small rural village built around an air-base, on his evenings, Cummins would travel to the city of Bath, just eight miles away, where he would regularly frequent the local brothels and places of ill-repute, such as the red-light district on Quiet Street, and infamous prostitute hang-outs at the Royal Hotel, the Francis Hotel and the Christopher, as well as a notorious café known as The Hole in the Wall, which was strictly out of bounds to all military personnel. During those few months that Cummins was in Wiltshire, two women were robbed and beaten by a fair-haired airman in the village of Ford, three miles north-east of Colerne, and several ladies handbags were stolen in the Hole in the Wall café, again by a fair-haired airman. Sadly, no positive identification of the man was made, and by the time that Bath Police had begun the investigation, Cummins had been reposted to RAF Predanneck in Cornwall. Where once again, “The Count” having claimed to be nobility, became a member of the prestigious Blue Peter Club in Mullion, and having inveigled himself into a trusted position with the proprietor, he syphoned off the booze supplying free drinks to the local ladies and (it is said) he stole £1000 worth of jewellery from the apartments above. But for whatever reason, no formal complaint was made to the Police. So, were these the only criminal acts which Cummins committed? A handful of thefts and a smattering of assaults in the pursuit of money and trinkets to impress his lady-friends, or had he progressed to being a prolific thief, able to bluff and bribe his way out of any conviction? That we shall never know. His final posting was at Abbey Lodge, known as No3 Air-Crew Receiving Centre in Regent’s Park, where he was engaged in a three-week course to train as a pilot, starting on 2nd February 1942, just one week before the murder of Evelyn Hamilton. And having trotted out a familiar tale of him being a wealthy black-sheep, within his first week Cummins had become notorious for being a liar, a thief and an odd-ball, who none of the airmen either trusted or liked, especially when (having had his confiscated) he tried and failed to buy himself another gun. Prior to his execution, Cummins was examined by Hugh A Grierson, Senior Medical Officer of Brixton Prison in which he stated that there was no history of insanity in the family, and that Cummins had no known mental health issues, no history of violence and no obvious hint of cruelty to either people or animals in his nature, all of which was corroborated by his father, his mother and his wife. During this examination, Cummins was lucid, rational and polite, and although he was unemotional throughout, he denied suffering from blackouts, memory-loss, drunkenness or any sexual perversions. He was also tested for VD, syphilis and all known STDs and STIs, all of which came back negative. So, who was Gordon Frederick Cummins and why did he kill? Robbery? Well, all four of his murder victims (Evelyn Hamilton, Evelyn Oatley, Margaret Florence Lowe and Doris Jouanett) all had money and personal items stolen, so if his impetus to kill began as thefts to obtain fancy trinkets like silver cigarette cases and a gold watch for his lady-friends, why did he keep them and why did he steal such valueless items like a handkerchief and a broken comb? Hatred? If Cummins didn’t have a prior history of cruelty, why would he – as a man who supposedly committed several assaults, robberies and thefts - escalate to strangulation, torture, mutilation and murder in a matter of months? Was he secretly a sadist? Was there an incident that caused him to snap? And (as a man who constantly craved the attention of women) why did he hate them so much? Rape? Cummins was clearly a man afflicted by erectile dysfunction, as at each murder scene, sex either didn’t take place or if it did he didn’t climax, as the condoms found on the floor were spent and empty. Impotence is extremely common amongst rapists, and as the attacks escalate, the sex becomes less important as their overriding desire is to over-power, to control and to humiliate, with many turning to strangulation and murder. So did Cummins have a prior history of rape which went unreported? And finally, humiliation? With Cummins, his murders were never pre-planned (as he never carried any weapons), so were they spontaneous acts of aggression? The key element to all of his murders was his victim’s humiliation; he would rob, strangle and mutilate them, but - more importantly - he would pose them; with their bodies naked, their breasts exposed and their legs left wide open, as their bloodied and ripped corpses stared blankly towards the door – a shocking sight to greet the poor soul who found them. And yet, all of these injuries occurred after he had attempted sex. But why? I want to show you an incident which occurred on the night of Monday 9th February 1942 at 11pm, the night that Evelyn Oatley was murdered. On the western corner of Piccadilly Circus, on the junction of Regent Street, Cummins (dressed in his blue military tunic and dark great-coat) stood with the red-headed corporal, bartering for sex with two Soho prostitutes – a brunette called Molly DeSantos Alves and a blonde called Laura Denmark. And as Laura escorted Cummins passed Café Monaco, she waved to a dark figure in a bright red jumper who was smoking a cigarette as she struggled to stay warm against the cold wintery wind, she was a working-girl that Laura only knew as ‘Lita Ward’, but whose real name was Evelyn Oatley. Being a 22 year old pretty petite blonde, Laura Denmark was exactly Cummins’ type, and he wasn’t shy of showing her his affection as he unsteadily stumbled down Old Compton Street, towards her Frith Street flat, having sunk back one too many Canadian whiskies in Brasserie Universalle. Situated on the first floor of 47 Frith Street (above Ronnie Scott’s jazz club today), Laura’s tiny first floor flat was sparsely furnished with just a bed with a sheet, a table with a candlestick, a wash-stand, a packet of razor-blades, some hats, clothes, curling tongs and a collection of kitchen cutlery. And as she popped a shilling in the coin-slot of her electric fire to warm the flat up, they started to undress. As Laura lay on her double divan bed, naked except for a pair of black stockings, Cummins held in his right hand a condom, as his left hand feverishly bobbed up and down inside the small tent of his white cotton pants, fiddling with his soft flaccid penis, as he leered at Laura’s nakedness, trying to get himself hard. The more he tugged, the less it grew and the greater his frustration got, as desperation etched across his shamed face and his cheeks flushed red, as with a deep sigh of defeat he said “no, it’s gone”. And as a man who (many said) was unemotional, Laura sensed a sadness in his eyes. Taking pity on him as his limp and shrivelled penis lay motionless, Laura sidled-up beside Cummins on the bed; a caring arm wrapped around this distraught man, a tender kiss on his cheek, as her head gently rested on his shoulder as they sat in silence, soaking up the warmth of the fire. And for the next half an hour, they chatted, they laughed, they joked and enjoyed each other’s company. Months later, during his trial, Laura described Cummins as “polite, courteous and a real gentleman, he seemed a very decent sort of chap and was very respectful to me”. Feeling more comfortable in her presence, as Cummins stroked her blonde hair, his penis swelled, and as the tent of his pants bobbed further and faster; with a grip, a grimace and groan, he was done. With a relieved exhale, Cummins apologised to Laura saying “I’m sorry for keeping you a long while, it must be the drink”; they dressed, walked back to Piccadilly Circus, where he shook her hand, politely said “I wish you all the best and I hope you earn more money tonight” and with that, he was gone. This moment occurred one hour before Gordon Frederick Cummins brutally murdered Evelyn Oatley. So, this begs the question, why was he so tender with women like Laura Denmark and Doreen Lytton (who he shared a cup of tea with), and yet, he would brutally torture, mutilate and humiliate Evelyn Hamilton, Evelyn Oatley, Margaret Florence Lowe and Doris Jouanett? At a critical moment in the night’s nuptuals, was his man-hood mocked? Is the difference between each woman whether or not they scoffed at his lack of sexual prowess? Did a word, a look or even a simple gesture spark a rage inside him, triggered by an unknown incident in this defiantly arrogant charlatan who believed in his own superiority? Or were these attacks entirely random? That we shall never know. After his execution, unable to believe that a man with no known history of violence would suddenly go on killing-spree, murdering four women and attacking two others in as many days, the detectives of Scotland Yard examined their cold cases and found two unsolved murders with eerie similarities. On Monday 13th October 1941, 19 year old shop-assistant Mabel Church waved goodbye to friend at Charing Cross Station, the next day demolition workers found her naked strangled body in a bombed-out derelict house on Hampstead Road, just a few roads east of Regents Park. On Friday 17th October 1941, 49 year old Edith Eleanora Humphries was strangled and bludgeoned to death in bed, in her flat on Gloucester Crescent, just two roads north-east of Regents Park. In both instances, their assailant was never arrested, questioned or identified. In both instances, they were robbed of money and personal possessions. In both instances, there was nothing that seemed to connect these women. In both instances, they were strangled within days and streets of each other. And even though, during that week, Cummins was stationed 98 miles away at RAF Colerne in Wiltshire; (just like Abbey Lodge) there was no accurate record of his movements in any log-book, as with most air-bases it was common for airmen to hitchhike to/from London so (if he did travel) his journey went unrecorded, and with Cummins regularly visiting his wife Marjorie at her workplace on The Strand, just a few streets south of Piccadilly Circus, not only would this put him within walking distance of Regents Park, but also on the same road as Charing Cross Station where Mabel Church was last seen. Posthumously, Cummins was considered a viable suspect by the Police in both cases, but with very little evidence, no charges or conviction could be brought against him. There’s no denying that Gordon Frederick Cummins was the epitome of a psychopath; arrogant, vain and self-obsessed, a habitual liar who showed no emotion for his victims, no remorse for his actions, gave no confession for his crimes and had a single-minded drive to fulfil only his own desires. And yet, somehow, by becoming a different person to different people, Cummins could be sweet and sadistic, charming and cruel, tender and a torturer, being opposite sides of the same personality. Even during his trial, when he was faced with insurmountable evidence against him and his impending death, Cummins was less interested in defending himself than he was of catching the eye of any girl. Was Cummins so arrogant that he truly believed he was innocent? Was Cummins such a day-dreamer that he could no longer tell the difference between right and wrong? Or as a lonely boy, with very little experience of girls, who was raised by doting mother and a self-righteous father who stole to fund a lavish lifestyle, a crime for which he was never convicted, did these minor moments shape an ordinary boy into a sadistic maniac, who believed he could (literally) get away with murder? And, if the killing-spree of Gordon Frederick Cummins wasn’t a snap decision, but instead was an act of selfish greed which slowly manifested itself over the twenty-eight years of his life, the real question we should be asking is how many more women were attacked and murdered by The Blackout Ripper? OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile. That was the final part of The Blackout Ripper series. Originally it was going to be a ten-parter, but I felt the life of Gordon Frederick Cummins, his personality and the key moments in his life (which led up to the murders) could be best summed up in a single episode, but there are still many unresolved questions about his life, so I shall be returning to The Blackout Ripper story once I’ve done more research. This is also the final episode of Murder Mile this season as I need to take a well-earned break to rest and research season two, but I hope to post some goodies whilst I’m away. If you love The Blackout Ripper story, please rate it and share it with your friends, as the more listeners Murder Mile gets, the more stories I can tell, and the longer this podcast can keep going. This week’s recommended podcasts of the week are Trace Evidence, hosted by Steven Pacheco, if you haven’t heard of Trace Evidence, why not? It’s a fabulous true-crime podcast where Steven digs deep into some truly fascinating unsolved murder cases with through research, heart and passion, hence why Oxygen .com voted it one of “7 True-Crime Podcasts you should listen to right away”, and luckily for you, here’s the promo. And secondly we have Ignorance Was Bliss, hosted by Kate, Ignorance Was Bliss is a podcast about crime and psychology in which Kate tackles the difficult issues of domestic violence and the psychology behind it, as well as schizophrenia, anxiety and modern mental health crises, in a series which is honest, true and well researched. So check out Ignorance Was Bliss (promo). This week’s new Patreon supporter is Anita, whose generous donation is going to buy myself an official set of Murder Mile knuckle-dusters, so if you see any mouthy youth in London with the words Elim Redrum written backwards on their foreheads, Anita that’s for you. Murder Mile was researched, written & performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. And until Murder Mile returns, stay safe and sleep well.
Credits: The Murder Mile true-crime podcast was researched, written and recorded by Michael J Buchanan-Dunne, with the sounds recorded on location (where possible), and the music written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. Additional music was written and performed by various artists, as used under the Creative Common Agreement 4.0. A list of tracks used and the links are listed on the relevant transcript blog here
Michael J Buchanan-Dunne is a writer, crime historian, podcaster and tour-guide who runs Murder Mile Walks, a guided tour of Soho’s most notorious murder cases, hailed as “one of the top ten curious, quirky, unusual and different things to do in London”, nominated "one of the best true-crime podcasts at the British podcast Awards 2018", and featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totaling 75 deaths, over just a one mile walk
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AuthorMichael J Buchanan-Dunne is a crime writer, podcaster of Murder Mile UK True Crime and creator of true-crime TV series. 
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