Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast - #147: Resistance: The Last Fight of Countess Teresa Łubieńska22/9/2021 
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Platform 5 at Gloucester Road tube station
Welcome to the Murder Mile UK True-Crime Podcast and audio guided walk of London's most infamous and often forgotten murder cases, all set within and beyond the West End.
EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN:
Today’s episode is about Countess Łubieńska, a formidable woman who endured a life of unspeakable horrors, and yet never stopped fighting for the rights of others. But when a simple night-out turned deadly, her last fight... would be for her life.
THE LOCATION
As many photos of the case are copyright protected by greedy news organisations, to view them, take a peek at my entirely legal social media accounts - Facebook, Twitter or Instagram.
The location of Platform 5 of Gloucester Road tube station is located with a dark orange cross, just below the words Bayswater, below Hyde Park. To use the map, click it. If you want to see the other murder maps, access them by clicking here.
Here's two videos to go with this week's episode. The one on the left show you Platform 5 at the Gloucester Road tube station where Teresa was last seen alive, and the one on the right shows you her last steps, before she was murdered. These videos are links to YouTube so they won't eat up your data.
SOURCES: As this case was researched using court records and several other sources, with just a few listed below.
MUSIC:
SCRIPT: Welcome to Murder Mile; a true-crime podcast and audio guided walk featuring many of London’s untold, unsolved and long-forgotten murders, all set within and beyond the West End. Today’s episode is about Countess Łubieńska, a formidable woman who endured a life of unspeakable horrors, and yet never stopped fighting for the rights of others. But when a simple night-out turned deadly, her last fight... would be for her life. Murder Mile is researched using authentic sources. It contains moments of satire, shock and grisly details. And as a dramatization of the real events, it may also feature loud and realistic sounds, so that no matter where you listen to this podcast, you’ll feel like you’re actually there. My name is Michael, I am your tour-guide and this is Murder Mile. Episode 147: Resistance: The Last Fight of Countess Łubieńska. Today I’m standing at the Gloucester Road tube station, SW7; two streets east of the Polish super-spy Krystyna Skarbek, four streets north west of the devil child’s home invasion, directly opposite the basement where John George Haigh dissolved the entire McSwan family in a drum of acid, and three streets from the infamous killings of a misunderstood young man - coming soon to Murder Mile. This is Platform 5 of the eastbound Piccadilly Line service at Gloucester Road. With the surface station opened in 1868 and the deep-level lines in 1906 - following a recent refurbishment - much of this tube stop remains unchanged; with its ornate titling, its deep green and cream tiles, its blood red surface station and its wonderfully arched platforms down below. Aesthetically, it’s actually quite beautiful. Sadly, many commuters miss this, as the platform is merely a place where they grumble about a train being delayed by a full minute, and for the rest of the journey – with heads down, a book open and earphones on – they daren’t catch anyone’s eye for fear of engaging in a conversation with a real human-being; except to grunt at someone who’s bag’s on a seat, to tut at a flannel-dodger for whom deodorant is merely a yearly gift, and to gasp at the ladies who manage to perfectly apply their make-up on the world’s bounciest tube without looking like they’ve been smooched by Bongo the Clown. Minding your own business is a skill we’ve all mastered, especially in London... ...but when crimes occur, this apathy makes for terrible witnesses. On Friday 24th May 1957, at 10:19pm, a Piccadilly Line train from Earls Court pulled in on Platform 5. From the middle of seven carriages - most of which were a-third full of revellers heading to and from the West End - a tall elderly white-haired lady exited the train. Her name was Countess Łubieńska; a truly formidable woman who looked a little frail, but – with fire in blood – was unafraid to right the injustices of the past. But somewhere between the platform and the lift, she was murdered. As it was here, having battled her way through a life of torture and pain - in a tube-station miles from her broken homeland - that Countess Łubieńska would lose her last ever fight. (Interstitial). If you think you know what courage is? Then think again. Countess Łubieńska was born Teresa Skarżyńska on the 18th April 1884, the daughter of Władysław & Dorota. Raised among the wealthy Polish elite in south-eastern Poland, her early life was privileged, she lived on a large country estate and she was educated at an élite Catholic boarding school for girls. In 1902, aged 18, she married Count Edward Łubieński; a prominent man from a once-powerful Polish clan, money was no object and together they raised three children; Isabelle, Stanisław and Izabela. Given her upbringing, she could easily have become just another pointlessly pampered lady, living a life of luxury, as from her high horse she looked down her nose at the less fortunate below... ...but that was not Teresa. Revered throughout Poland for her generosity of wealth and spirit, she was esteemed throughout the country, with every Pole knowing that her home was always open to all. She fed the poor and nursed the sick, but what made her more impressive was how she fought for those who needed her help. Teresa was a fire-brand, a force to be reckoned with who sought-out injustice and was never afraid to pick a fight with someone bigger than herself. As a moral woman who couldn’t abide bad behaviour, she would single-handedly tackle ruffians in the street, and easily go twelve rounds with any fascist. What she lacked in size, she more than made-up for in presence; as when she spoke, they listened, but when anyone needed an ear, she was silent. As a big personality, Teresa was staunchly-loyal and had a remarkable memory for details - she always remembered a name and she never forgot a face. During the First World War, she served in the Red Cross, she fought for her country supporting the 14th Regiment of Jazlowiec Uhlans, and she served alongside the Red Army in Kuban, southern Russia. By 1918, the war may have been over... but her fight had only just begun. Following the October Revolution and the armed uprising of Bolsheviks, as hostilities erupted between Russia and Poland, their country estate was encircled and – being a prominent Polish diplomat – the enemy forces stabbed her husband to death. To protect her three young children, Teresa fled with nothing but the clothes on their backs, as the Red Army stripped her home of money and possessions. Witnessing her husband’s brutal murder, the rape of her life and death-threats against her family, that would have been enough to break anyone... and yet Teresa never gave up. Instead, she fought on. Over the next two decades, living in a small top-floor flat at 6 Sierpnia Street in Warsaw, this widowed single-mother earned a modest wage as an accountant for the Post Office Savings Bank and – although times were hard – she continued to shelter the poor, to feed the hungry and to fight her oppressors. But as hard as her life was... it was about to get even worse. On the 1st September 1939, Germany invaded Poland in a blistering ‘blitzkrieg’ attack. Within six days, the country had fallen, its military was wiped out and its people fell under Nazi and Soviet control. 700,000 Poles were captured and 133,000 were killed, one of whom was Teresa’s only son – Stanislaw. Seen by the Nazis as ‘Untermensch’ - a sub-human species - with many Poles (especially Jewish Poles) confined to the ghetto; disease and famine swept through Warsaw, and – so hungry were the people – that when a horse fell dead in the street, they stripped it for meat, until all that was left was bones. Teresa was alone and struggling, but there was no time for selfishness or grief (as many would resort to), as the Polish people needed her help and – no matter what – she would fight to protect them. Her shabby little top-floor flat at 6 Sierpnia Street was home, but it was far from safe; as with a German barracks in front, a Gestapo building behind and the other floors all occupied by enemy soldiers, she was very much a lone hen in a fox’s den. But this did not stop her from doing her patriotic duty. As a resistance fighter and a lieutenant in the Polish Underground Army, her flat became a key base of operations for the resistance movement - where industrial sabotage and the assassination of fascist collaborators was planned - and for three years, she continued to hide dissidents, spies, refugees and even an entire family for six months, in that tiny little flat, right under the noses of the Nazi’s. But as selfless as Teresa was – simply to save their own skin - someone ratted her out. On the 11th November 1942, Teresa was arrested without trial, sent to Warsaw’s brutal Pawiak prison - where resistance-fighters were publicly hung as a warning to others – and here she was tortured. Relentlessly and without mercy, she endured weeks of painful and humiliating tortures, day and night. Designed to break her spirit; she was starved, sleep deprived, drowned, frozen and raped. Forced to stand in stress positions as she was beaten with an iron bar, whipped red-raw and kicked until she was black and swollen, many sadistic techniques included the snapping of bones, nails ripped out, genitals burned and taken to the brink of death, she would be brought back to life, only to be tortured again. These savage beatings would have broken even the toughest of soldiers... but Teresa never broke. In fact, for the rest of her life, she would wear the scars on her flesh like a badge of honour and defiance. And yet, as hard as her life had been so far... it was about to get even worse. From Warsaw, Teresa was sent to the Ravensbrück concentration camp; a Nazi death camp where you were either worked to death, starved to death, or were gassed in the extermination chambers. Imprisonment had left her frail and weak, as – like so many others – being riddled with lice and scabies in this filthy hell-hole, she fell seriously ill in a camp riddled with dysentery, tuberculosis, typhoid and pneumonia. But what kept her alive was her formidable spirit and unwillingness to let the Nazi’s win. Even inside, Teresa put others before herself. Nicknamed the White Angel of Ravensbrueck, her self-sacrifice and kindness made her legendary among prisoners and so feared among the Gestapo, that -for two years - she was held in a ‘punishment block’, which few survived... and again, she was tortured. In January 1945, with the tide of war turning against Hitler, the Nazis began destroying all evidence of their barbaric crimes, including the mass-extermination of its prisoners at camps like Ravensbrueck. In the final weeks of the war, Count Folke Bernadotte – regarded as the Swedish Oskar Schindler – made a secret deal with Heinrich Himmler and negotiated the release of 31,000 prisoners. On 28th April 1945, Teresa found herself standing on the quay at the Swedish port of Malmö. She was little more than a skeleton swathed in filthy oversized rags with a shaven head and shoes made of paper. Countess Teresa Łubieńska had fought through war, death, poverty, loss and torture. But regardless of what she had endured, the fact that she was alive and that she was still standing, that was courage. And yet, although the Second World War had ended... for so many Poles, her fight was far from over. With the Potsdam Conference divvying-up Poland among the Allies and the Soviets, like this already smashed and battered country was a spoil of war – with her hometown now under Communist control – this allied collaborator knew that if she ever returned to Poland, she risked being shot as a spy. So, with no other options, no money and no possessions, Teresa moved to London... ...where twelve years later, she was murdered. During the post-war years – to many, who never knew this amazing woman - The Countess was just a little old lady; frail, thin and weak, but with a bob of white hair and a very defiant walk. Struggling to get British citizenship, she found it difficult to find even a menial job, and so she relied on charity. Therefore, it’s unsurprising, that - living in a small rented room in Cornwall Gardens, two streets from the Gloucester Road tube station - she became friends with Krystyna Skarbek, codename ‘Christine Granville’; the former super-spy, who at the same time was reduced to working as a hotel maid, and when she was murdered by her stalker, one of the mourners who stood at her grave-side was Teresa. Through the forties and the fifties, the city was full of refugees, who were displaced and abandoned. And although Teresa had nothing, she feed the poor, she nursed the sick and – with her indomitable spirit – she slammed her fists on the table of debate, demanding that the voice of the people be heard. As chairman of the Polish Association of Ex-Political Prisoners, Teresa spoke-out against Communists, Nazis, fascists and racists, who - even in the post-war years – still had millions of supporters. She picked fights with Wladyslaw Gomulka (the communist leader of post-war Poland), she waged a viscous battle with the West German government to get compensation for Polish refugees, and – as a Catholic - she was unafraid to take on the might of The Vatican, from Cardinal Wyszynski, all the way up to the Pope. For many Poles in Britain, Teresa was beloved... ...but by those she opposed, she was feared. By May 1957, Teresa was 72 years old. Her health was declining, but - still fighting on- that fire in her belly was a fierce as ever, as just like her prisoner’s tattoo and the torture scars which pockmarked her cut-and-burned body – although time had made them fade a little, they would never disappear. And still being a moral woman, she was not averse to clipping a ruffian about the ear for foul language. In the two weeks leading up to her murder, Teresa had received three death threats; two by phone, one by letter, and all were anonymous vague threats issued – at a distance - by cowards. Rightly, she informed the Police, but she wasn’t overly concerned, given the real horrors of the life she had lived. Friday 24th May 1957 was a good day. The weather was warm but cool, and as a very social person, Teresa had been to a friend’s birthday party on Florence Road in Ealing. Dressed in a set of pearls, a white jacket and a little hat with bright flowers, although she was poor, she always dressed well. At a little after 9:50pm – being in good spirits, but not being a night-owl - Teresa said her goodbyes and left the party accompanied by her good friend, Father Kazimerz Krzyanowski; a roman Catholic priest, the Polish assistant at the Brompton Oratory and a survivor of Dachau concentration camp. Just shy of 10pm, they entered Ealing Common tube station, purchased two single tickets and sat in the seventh compartment of the District Line tube train. The journey was uneventful, the carriage held roughly twelve people, all of whom were quiet and (as often happens) kept-to-themselves. At no point did they sense any danger; they weren’t approached, harassed or (as far as they know) followed. As Father Krzyanowski lived at Redcliffe Gardens in Kensington, at Earl’s Court they exited the train. With a short walk to his home, he wished his friend “goodnight” and left the station. Teresa changed trains and took the Eastbound Piccadilly Line service one stop east to Gloucester Road tube station. Being a Friday night and one hour before the pubs chuck-out, the train which held an average of 220 seated passengers was roughly one-third full of workers and revellers going to and from the West End. At 10:18pm, one minute before, the westbound service departed, so by the time that the eastbound service pulled into Platform 5, both platforms were bustling with pockets of people, but weren’t busy, At 10:19 precisely, entirely alone, Teresa exited the train onto the wide well-lit platform. Speaking to no-one and walking at her usual ‘determined’ pace, she followed the ‘exit’ sign and headed up a short set of stairs, along the tiled corridor towards the passenger lifts, and the station concourse above. The distance from the train carriage to the lifts was roughly 150 paces. But nobody saw her, heard her, or witnessed what happened next. Emanuel Olu Akinyemi, a 32-year-old ticket-inspector was manning one of the passenger-lifts that night. At 10:18pm, to catch the eastbound Piccadilly Line service (which Teresa was on), he saw two people enter the lift; a short brunette lady in red shoes and a fair-haired foreigner in a checked suit. Apart from them, the concourse was empty, as he entered the lift with his passengers. During its brief descent, he heard a scuffle coming from in or near the iron spiral staircase to the right of the lifts, and assumed – as had happened many times before - it was tearaway kids trying to avoid paying the fare. But as the lift doors opened and the scuffling stopped, he witnessed no kids playing-up. Instead, he saw a lone woman; frail, tall and white-haired, a haunted expression on her face and her arms outstretched, as she staggered towards the lift, weakly muttering “bandit, bandit”. Putting out his hands to aid her, inside her jacket he spotted blood pouring from the left-hand-side of her chest. The only words her faltering voice could muster was “bandit, bandit”, and although this strong-willed woman remained upright as they ascended, clutching her heart, she collapsed at the foot of the lift. Emanuel called the police from the nearest phone-box, PC Ron Sherfield was on the scene in minutes, and although conscious – choking on her own bloodied breath – she had spoken her last known words. Giving no description of her attacker, she was taken to nearby St Mary Abbot’s hospital.... ...but shortly after arrival, she died. Teresa was stabbed five times with a small short-bladed knife; one in the stomach, one in the back and three in the left-hand-side of her chest, with two piercing her heart. She had no defensive wounds. A search was conducted of the station, the platforms and all departing trains, as well as the tunnels, but no weapon or assailant was found. A street-to-street search was initiated, but with no description of the aggressor, this proved fruitless. A few spots of blood were seen beside the iron spiral staircase by the lifts, but – with no witnesses - Police could only speculate that this was where it taken place. And although fingerprint experts were called in, being a high traffic area, there were no usable prints. The investigation was headed up by Detective Chief Inspector John Du Rose and Chief Superintendent Edward Greeno of the Met’ Police, but – given the victim’s status - they were also joined by MI5. A public appeal was made; 18,000 passengers and staff were interviewed, 214 Piccadilly Line trains were examined, her home was searched, any person listed in her address book was contacted, and – over the next few months - every knife found in any station was handed to forensics to be tested. Of the 13 people in the eastbound Piccadilly Line carriage that night, most were traced. Of the 17 who rode in the lifts at the time of the attack, almost all were found. But – for whatever reason – maybe they didn’t recognise themselves, didn’t see anything strange, or didn’t want to come forward, many witnesses remain unidentified, like the brunette in the red shoes and the foreigner in the check suit. Several possible suspects were identified, such as; an underground worker who had booked a room at a local hotel but hadn’t used it, a teacher who had arrived at school the next day with a black eye and scratches to his face, and a homeless man who was loitering near the station, but all had alibis. The case remains active, but as of today, no-one has been arrested for Teresa’s murder. (End) So, who killed Teresa and why? It was unlikely to be a robbery, as her silver brooch was still pinned to her jacket and her handbag was on her arm, but – as someone who would never back-down from a fight - this couldn’t be ruled-out. As a moral woman who was quick to rebuke the rudeness of ruffians, a relative later stated that Teresa often used the word “bandit” to describe hooligans, and a station porter had seen a ‘gang of youths’ (some of whom carried knives) getting up-to-mischief on the platform, shortly before the murder. As a political animal, who was beloved by many, but equally as feared by others, Teresa had ruffled the feathers of Nazis, Communists, fascists and racists – who she also referred to as “bandits” – as well as the governments of West Germany, Russia and Soviet-backed Poland, and The Vatican. But if this was an assassination, why murder a frail old lady, a decade after the end of the war? The murder rate in London was at its highest that year. So, it could have been a politically-motivated hit, or just as easily, as an unplanned attack by a lone nutjob, the jealous reaction of a stalker (as had happened to Krystyna Skarbek), a case of mistaken identity, or - as someone who everyone agreed “never forgot a face” - maybe she spotted someone from her past who was wanted for war-crimes? An inquest was held on 28th August 1957 at Hammersmith coroner’s court, where her death was ruled as ‘murder by persons unknown’. With a huge outpouring of emotion from the Polish communities, hundreds of mourners attended her service at Brompton Cemetery, she was buried not far from the political activist Emmeline Pankhurst and was posthumously awarded the Golden Cross of Merit. But let’s not remember her for her death. Let’s remember her for who she was; a resistance fighter, a charity-worker, a humanitarian, a champion of the poor, a defender of the right, an agitator of the wrong; a mother, a wife, a widow, and above all, she was Countess Teresa Lubienska – a living legend. OUTRO: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for listening to Murder Mile. As always, if you love to listen to a fat bald man waffle on about tea, cake, Eva and coots, and you’re keen to hear more details about this case and do a little quiz, stay tuned till after the break. A big thank you to my new Patreon supporters who are Becky McDowall, Chris Hawkes and Craig Stephens. I thank you. I bless you and so do the coots, but Eva doesn’t, not because she’s rude, but because she’s suffering from a massive hangover... again. What can I say? She likes yards of ale. Murder Mile was researched, written and performed by myself, with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein & Jon Boux of Cult With No Name. Thank you for listening and sleep well. *** LEGAL DISCLAIMER The Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast has been researched using the original declassified police investigation files, court records, press reports and as many authentic sources as possible, which are freely available in the public domain, including eye-witness testimony, confessions, autopsy reports, first-hand accounts and independent investigation, where possible. But these documents are only as accurate as those recounting them and recording them, and are always incomplete or full of opinion rather than fact, therefore mistakes and misrepresentations can be made. As stated at the beginning of each episode (and as is clear by the way it is presented) Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast is a 'dramatisation' of the events and not a documentary, therefore a certain amount of dramatic licence, selective characterisation and story-telling (within logical reason and based on extensive research) has been taken to create a fuller picture. It is not a full and complete representation of the case, the people or the investigation, and therefore should not be taken as such. It is also often (for the sake of clarity, speed and the drama) presented from a single person's perspective, usually (but not exclusively) the victim's, and therefore it will contain a certain level of bias and opinion to get across this single perspective, which may not be the overall opinion of those involved or associated. Murder Mile is just one possible retelling of each case. Murder Mile does not set out to cause any harm or distress to those involved, and those who listen to the podcast or read the transcripts provided should be aware that by accessing anything created by Murder Mile (or any source related to any each) that they may discover some details about a person, an incident or the police investigation itself, that they were unaware of. *** LEGAL DISCLAIMER 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", one of The Telegraph's top five true-crime podcasts and featuring 12 murderers, including 3 serial killers, across 15 locations, totalling 50 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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