Read Online The Cases That Haunt Us by John Douglas, Mark Olshaker - Free Book Online
Authors: John Douglas, Mark Olshaker
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cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldnt you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance.
Good luck.
yours truly
Jack the Ripper
Don’t mind me giving the trade name
There was a second postscript attached sideways, and this was the part written in red crayon:
Wasn’t good enough to post this before I get all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I’m a doctor now ha ha.
This became known forever more as the “Dear Boss” letter, and the first appearance of “Jack the Ripper,” a name that quickly superseded the “Whitechapel Murderer” in public dialogue and private nightmare.
The other communication, referred to as the “Saucy Jacky” postcard, was also written in crayon and read:
I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, youll hear about saucy Jacky s work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldnt finish straight off. had not time to get ears for police thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.
Jack the Ripper
So the phantom monster had finally communicated with the world and given out his bloodcurdling name. Or had he?
Let me say here that although the police were immediately suspicious of the communications, many Ripperologists, after careful consideration, continue to believe that the “Dear Boss” letter and “Saucy Jacky” postcard are authentic. After some analysis of my own, I go with Scotland Yard and believe them to be fakes.
The process we use to evaluate communications from UNSUBs, such as ransom notes and letters to the police, is known as psycholinguistic analysis. It is not a handwriting analysis—we can get other experts to do that for us when we think we need it—but rather stresses the actual use of language, the style, and of course, the underlying message.
Of all the self-styled Jack the Ripper “copycats” over the years, perhaps the most famous and notorious was the so-called Yorkshire Ripper, who bludgeoned and stabbed women, mostly prostitutes, in the north of England from 1975 through 1980. There had been eight deaths, three other women had escaped, and the case had become the largest manhunt in the history of British law enforcement when I happened to be in England to teach a course at the Bramshill police academy, their equivalent to Quantico, about an hour outside London. The police had already conducted literally tens of thousands of interviews.
As might be expected in a case of this enormity, both the police and the media had received a number of letters purporting to be from the Ripper. They were all evaluated, but I don’t think the police placed much evidentiary value on any of them. But then a two-minute tape cassette arrived by mail to Chief Inspector George Oldfield, taunting the police and promising to strike again. Just as the “Dear Boss” letter had been reprinted in newspapers throughout England, the Oldfield tape was played everywhere—on television and radio, on toll-free telephone numbers, even over the PA systems at soccer matches—in the hope that someone would recognize the voice and identify the UNSUB .
I’d heard a copy of the tape back at Quantico, and after classes at Bramshill one evening, they asked me what I thought. I asked them to describe the scenes to me. It seemed the UNSUB maneuvered to get his female victims into a vulnerable position, then, like the Whitechapel Murderer, he’d blitz-attack them, in this case with a knife or hammer. And as in Whitechapel, he’d mutilate them after death. I thought the voice on the tape was pretty articulate and sophisticated for someone who got his ultimate satisfaction out of life from killing and mutilating prostitutes, so I said, “Based on the crime scenes you’ve described and this
Good luck.
yours truly
Jack the Ripper
Don’t mind me giving the trade name
There was a second postscript attached sideways, and this was the part written in red crayon:
Wasn’t good enough to post this before I get all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I’m a doctor now ha ha.
This became known forever more as the “Dear Boss” letter, and the first appearance of “Jack the Ripper,” a name that quickly superseded the “Whitechapel Murderer” in public dialogue and private nightmare.
The other communication, referred to as the “Saucy Jacky” postcard, was also written in crayon and read:
I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, youll hear about saucy Jacky s work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldnt finish straight off. had not time to get ears for police thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.
Jack the Ripper
So the phantom monster had finally communicated with the world and given out his bloodcurdling name. Or had he?
Let me say here that although the police were immediately suspicious of the communications, many Ripperologists, after careful consideration, continue to believe that the “Dear Boss” letter and “Saucy Jacky” postcard are authentic. After some analysis of my own, I go with Scotland Yard and believe them to be fakes.
The process we use to evaluate communications from UNSUBs, such as ransom notes and letters to the police, is known as psycholinguistic analysis. It is not a handwriting analysis—we can get other experts to do that for us when we think we need it—but rather stresses the actual use of language, the style, and of course, the underlying message.
Of all the self-styled Jack the Ripper “copycats” over the years, perhaps the most famous and notorious was the so-called Yorkshire Ripper, who bludgeoned and stabbed women, mostly prostitutes, in the north of England from 1975 through 1980. There had been eight deaths, three other women had escaped, and the case had become the largest manhunt in the history of British law enforcement when I happened to be in England to teach a course at the Bramshill police academy, their equivalent to Quantico, about an hour outside London. The police had already conducted literally tens of thousands of interviews.
As might be expected in a case of this enormity, both the police and the media had received a number of letters purporting to be from the Ripper. They were all evaluated, but I don’t think the police placed much evidentiary value on any of them. But then a two-minute tape cassette arrived by mail to Chief Inspector George Oldfield, taunting the police and promising to strike again. Just as the “Dear Boss” letter had been reprinted in newspapers throughout England, the Oldfield tape was played everywhere—on television and radio, on toll-free telephone numbers, even over the PA systems at soccer matches—in the hope that someone would recognize the voice and identify the UNSUB .
I’d heard a copy of the tape back at Quantico, and after classes at Bramshill one evening, they asked me what I thought. I asked them to describe the scenes to me. It seemed the UNSUB maneuvered to get his female victims into a vulnerable position, then, like the Whitechapel Murderer, he’d blitz-attack them, in this case with a knife or hammer. And as in Whitechapel, he’d mutilate them after death. I thought the voice on the tape was pretty articulate and sophisticated for someone who got his ultimate satisfaction out of life from killing and mutilating prostitutes, so I said, “Based on the crime scenes you’ve described and this
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