Fiendish Killers

by Anne Williams

  Winnie was tried for Anne’s murder only and, found guilty, she was sentenced to death by hanging and sent to death row. But suspicion around the botched trial, and public support for Winnie, was growing. Appeals were launched, sabotaged by Jack Halloran in court. Winnie’s execution date was put back. Realising that they were not going to beat the courts in a fair trial, Winnie’s defence told her to claim insanity. Although far from insane, Winnie and her family pleaded so, recounting tales of madness through the generations, with their testimonials interrupted on occasion by staged, crazed outbursts from the defendant. It worked. Winnie was declared insane and transported to the state hospital. Here she lived as a model prisoner (in spite of her seven successful escape attempts, including one which actually gave her freedom for seven years) and she was looked on more as a member of staff than a patient. Jack would come to the hospital on occasions to taunt her, but he was eventually banned from the grounds.

  Her placement in the hospital had always been on the grounds that should she ever recover her sanity, her death sentence would still stand. In 1952, a final appeal was made to overturn this ruling. It was successful, and Winnie Ruth Judd became free from the threat of the noose. She returned to the asylum, safe in the knowledge that future appeals (which would maybe reveal her sanity) could never lead to her death. Of these future appeals, there were two. One in 1969 which was denied, and another in 1971 which finally, and with the backing of the nation, was successful.

  She lived for twenty years, under an alias name, in California but returned to Phoenix for the last decade of her life. She died quietly in her sleep at the age of 93.

  Halloran’s true involvement in the crime and attempted cover-up was never established.

  I Don’t Like Mondays

  On Monday January 29, 1979, as the teachers and children of Cleveland Elementary School in San Diego were arriving for the start of a new week, sixteen-year-old Brenda Spencer, who lived just across the street from the school, was taking aim with a rifle which she had been given for Christmas by her father just a month previously. She opened fire, killing Principal Burton Wragg who was attempting to save the children in his care, and custodian Mike Suchar who came to Wragg’s aid. Eight children and a police officer sustained bullet wounds; that these injuries did not prove fatal was the result purely of luck rather than intention. One of the children who survived the attack had been hit by a bullet which struck him just one inch away from his heart.

  Spencer resisted arrest for six hours. When it was finally over, she told the police that were questioning her that quite simply, she didn’t like Mondays and that this livened up the day. She admitted that there was no motivation whatsoever for the shooting spree and compared the morning’s activity to ‘shooting ducks in a pond’ and the children to ‘a herd of cows standing around’. She told officers that it had been really easy pickings.

  In a fairly straightforward trial, she pleaded guilty to two counts of murder and assault with a deadly weapon. The court sentenced her to twenty-five years to life, in prison, which she was sent to serve in the California Institution for Women. Each of the four parole boards she has since appeared in front of have turned down her appeal.

  Her indifference and lack of remorse was waning by the third parole appeal in which she expressed some guilt. She further went on to claim that she had been sexually abused and beaten by her father as a child, an accusation which she had hitherto not made, and one which he denies. She claims that she actually asked her father for a radio for Christmas but received the rifle instead, which was to become the murder weapon. His reasons for this, she believes, were to encourage her to kill herself. She even cites suicide as the reason for her shooting spree that morning, hoping that the police may have shot her dead by the end of the six-hour stand-off. With a history of depression, Spencer had attempted suicide before but each attempt had failed.

  She also expressed some remorse over the responsibility which she feels for every ‘school shooting’ which has occurred since, and regret that her actions may have in part inspired the perpetrators’ actions.

  Her account has changed on a number of occasions. She has claimed that not only was she drunk at the time of the shootings, but that she was also under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs. When tests were produced at the time of the shootings, there was no evidence of such substances in her system. She argued that these results were fabricated and that the real results had been hidden by the prosecution. She then asserted that there was no proof that any of the victims had been shot with bullets from her rifle and instead that they could have been killed by the police. Spencer also told the board that she was given mind-altering drugs after her arrest, and was made to sign, say and do things during her confession and trial which she didn’t mean. She made a statement saying that roughly fifty other women whom she had met in prison had been treated the same way and that she intended to file a federal civil rights suit.

  She will no doubt attempt to go up again for parole. But Brenda Spencer’s anger and ability to handle stress is still questionable. After the break-up of a relationship with another inmate, Brenda carved the words ‘courage’ and ‘pride’ into her chest with a heated paperclip. Also against her is the fact that California rarely grants parole in cases of murder.

  PART FIVE: Fiendish Doctors

  Doctor William Palmer

  Over 30,000 people crammed the streets of Stafford to witness the grisly spectacle, some of them having spent the entire night in the pouring rain just to make sure they had a prime viewing position. The case of Doctor William Palmer had become so notorious that no one wanted to miss the occasion of him being hanged on June 14, 1856. Although he had allegedly been responsible for around fourteen deaths, including members of his family, he was only tried for one murder, that of John Parsons Cook.

  William Palmer was born in Rugely, Staffordshire, in 1824. As a young adult he gained a reputation as being a bit of a rogue who loved gambling and had an eye for the ladies. Even as a boy at school his former schoolfriends said that he was ‘always up to his tricks’. He would trick men that were employed by his father into lending him money.

  His medical training was constantly interrupted by allegations of stealing money, probably due to the large debts he had accrued from his bad habits. While working at Stafford Infirmary, he was accused of poisoning a friend during a drinking competition. Although nothing was ever proved, the hospital decided to put their dispensary under lock and key just to be on the safe side. Palmer was even dismissed from his first job in Liverpool for stealing money sent in a letter that was addressed to his employers.

  In 1845, Ann Brookes, who had only just left finishing school, met the charming young Doctor William Palmer. Ann was the wealthy heiress to the Noah’s Ark hostelry in Stafford, and having been warned by her guardian about Palmer’s reputation, she decided to turn down his first offer of marriage. However, Palmer was persistent, seeing a prosperous future with the not only pretty, but wealthy, nineteen-year-old young woman. Eventually, Ann gave in and agreed to marry him. The wedding took place in 1847 at St Nicholas Abbey in Abbotts Bromley.

  Within a year of being married, Palmer was borrowing money from his mother-in-law, Mary Thornton. Mary had hated her new son-in-law right from the outset, and had done everything in her power to convince Ann not to go ahead with the wedding. Their first child was born in 1848 and shortly afterwards, Mary Thornton came to live with the Palmers to help look after the baby. Within two weeks Mary had been taken seriously ill and died.

  Mary’s life had been insured for a hefty £12,000, but Palmer was disappointed when the insurance company refused to pay out the full sum. He constantly complained to his wife about the meagre allowance that was paid to her by her trustees four times a year. With his debts mounting any money coming into the Palmer household was soon swallowed up. By the end of the year Palmer was strongly implicated in the murder of Leonard Bladen, to whom he owed £600.

  Over the next four years,
Ann gave birth to four more babies, but each one died within weeks of being born. They all died suddenly, with the same symptoms, as did two of his illegitimate children, the result of his many affairs.

  By 1854 Palmer was deeply in debt and couldn’t see any way of ever getting clear, so he decided to insure his wife’s life for £13,000. After just one payment, Ann Palmer mysteriously died, the death certificate gave the cause as ‘cholera’. His housemaid bore Palmer an illegitimate child just a few months later, but this baby also died after being attended by the kindly doctor.

  john parsons cook

  By 1855 William Palmer was seriously in debt and several of the moneylenders were starting to make threats. Palmer had insured his brother, Walter’s, life, but the insurance company had refused to pay out due to the suspicious circumstances of his death. Adding to his worries, was the fact that a former lover, Jane, the daughter of a Staffordshire policeman, was blackmailing him. Palmer had no scruples, and had even forged his own mother’s signature on several loan agreements, for which he knew he could face fraud charges.

  Palmer knew the only way out of this mess was to turn to gambling to try and win enough money to pay off all his debts. On November 13, 1855, Palmer went to Shrewsbury Races accompanied by his close friends, John Parsons Cook and a man called Cheshire, who was the Rugely postmaster. Cook, who was a weak, pale-looking young man, got exceptionally excited when his horse, Polestar, came first, potting him a tidy sum of £3,000. An hour later, a despondent Palmer, who had won nothing, decided to return to Rugely and leave his friends at the racecourse.

  Cook, on the contrary, decided to celebrate and held a celebratory dinner for some of his friends at the Raven Hotel, treating his guests to glasses of sparkling champagne.

  The following day, November 14, Palmer received yet another threatening letter, this time from a solicitor called Pratt, demanding his money. Palmer decided to go back and try his luck at the Shrewsbury races, this time in the company of a saddler by the name of George Myatt. That evening after a small win, Palmer dined at the Raven Inn in Shrewsbury with Cook, Cheshire, Ishmael Fisher, a wine merchant, George Herring, George Myatt and George Read. At some point in the evening, Palmer went out to the housemaid’s pantry where he was seen by a lady from Manchester, who has been described as ‘a lady who loves to attend races’. She noticed that Palmer was pouring some liquid from a small, brown bottle into a tumbler, which he then shook before putting it up to the gaslight. Palmer didn’t seem at all distressed when he realised the lady had seen what he was doing.

  Palmer returned to his friends at the dining table, after which a tray of brandy was brought in and handed round to each of the men. After Cook had taken several sips of his brandy, he stood up and complained that the liquid was burning his throat. Palmer then picked up his glass, drank from the tumbler, and then passed it on to George Read to taste, saying, ‘Taste it. There’s nothing in it. Cook says it’s drugged.’

  Read replied, ‘What’s the use in giving it to me, when you have drunk the very dregs!’

  Cook was feeling unwell and retired to his bedroom accompanied by Herring and Fisher. To be on the safe side he handed Fisher his money belt. His friends sent for a doctor, and had to ask for help again in the middle of the night. By the morning Cook was feeling a little better and managed to get up and eat some breakfast.

  That day Palmer returned to the races, but lost heavily when his horse, Nettle, failed to finish its race. Had his horse come in first, he would have won £5,000 which would have gone a long way to ending his troubles. In the evening Cook and Palmer booked into a room at the Talbot Arms, a hotel which was directly opposite Palmer’s house in Rugeley. Cook, who still wasn’t feeling 100 per cent decided to go straight to bed.

  On Friday, November 16, Palmer invited Cook to dinner. The following morning when Palmer went to take his friend some coffee, he found Cook had been violent sick all night and he spent the rest of the day in and out of his room.

  By Sunday, November 18, Cook was no better, and Palmer decided to call an old family friend, Dr Bamford, to get a second opinion. The chambermaid, Elizabeth Mills, told Bamford that she had also been sick after she tasted some of the broth that Palmer had sent up to his sick friend.

  On Monday morning, Palmer went to London, taking Cook’s betting slips with him and managed to obtain the majority of his winnings before returning to Rugeley. On arriving back home he found that his friend was feeling a little better.

  In the early hours of Tuesday morning, Cook took a turn for the worse. Cook’s long-time friend and doctor, Jones, was called and arrived at about 2.00 p.m. Cook was in a terrible state, shrieking wildly and tossing about in fearful convulsions. All his limbs went rigid and within minutes his heart had stopped beating and he was dead.

  Suspicions of foul play were heightened when Palmer attempted to bribe several people who were involved with the coroner’s inquest. Mary Keeley, who had been asked to ‘lay out the body’ said she had seen many corpses, but none that were as stiff as Cook’s. There was also a witness to say that Palmer had bought strychnine from a pharmacy, the night of Cook’s death.

  arrest and trial

  Palmer was arrested for the murder of John Parsons Cook. The bodies of his wife and his brother were exhumed and re-examined, although their bodies did not show enough evidence to charge Palmer for their deaths. Because the police felt that a Stafford-shire jury could be biased, they sought an Act of Parliament, which allowed the case to be heard at the Old Bailey in London.

  Despite the evidence only being circumstantial, the similarity between Cook’s death and that of strychnine poisoning was such that the jury found Palmer guilty of his murder. Although there is no proof, many people believe that Palmer could have killed as many as eleven people, others say that he was just convicted because of his bad reputation. Whatever the case, Palmer became famous and was christened by the newspapers as ‘The Rugely Poisoner’ and ‘The Prince of Poisoners’. Such was his notoriety that broadsheets and ballads were sold on the streets and souvenirs and even the rope­maker sold sections of his noose for a guinea a piece. His life and death gave rise to an entire genre of artefacts, known as Palmeriana, which ranged from reports of his trial to Staffordshire china figurines and reproductions of his death mask. It was customary in the nineteenth century to make a death mask after someone has been executed, and Palmer’s can still be viewed today in the County Museum at Shugborough.

  Doctor Thomas Neill Cream

  Acording to an article in the British Medical Journal, medicine has produced more serial killers than all the other professions put together. Dr Thomas Neill Cream was a physician with a homicidal hatred of women, especially those who worked under the cover of night. Cream was known to have killed at least seven women in Canada, Chicago and London, which is where Scotland Yard finally caught up with him in 1891.

  the formative years

  Thomas Neill Cream was born in Scotland in May 1850, the oldest of a family of eight children. Four years later the family moved to Canada, where Cream undertook medical studies at McGill College in Montreal. A handsome, suave young gentleman, Cream graduated with honours on March 31, 1876, and immediately set his sights on London. England had a shortage of doctors at the time, due to poverty that had manifested itself during the Industrial Revolution. However, his exodus from Canada was hampered when he ran into an angry mob led by the father of a young woman by the name of Flora Brooks. Flora had been seduced by Cream and as a result had become pregnant. In his panic to get rid of the child, Cream performed an abortion, nearly killing Flora in the process. Mr Brooks was understandably angry and held Cream at gunpoint, forcing him to marry his daughter. The wedding took place on September 11, 1876, but when Flora woke the following morning, she found her new husband had fled to London, leaving a brief note promising to stay in touch.

  the temptations of london

  Cream loved London and studied at St Thomas’ Hospital, where both Thomas Lister and Florenc
e Nightingale had once worked. He took advantage of everything that London had to offer, including all of its illicit temptations. He went dancing, drinking, frequented music halls and theatres and had liaisons with both society women and prostitutes alike.

  Cream was reinstated to his bachelor status when Flora mysteriously died in 1877. Freed from his marriage, Cream opened a medical practice in the centre of Edinburgh. Things were going well for the promising new, young doctor – that is until another mysterious death occurred in 1879. The body of a young, pregnant woman was found dead in a shed directly behind Cream’s surgery. Lying beside the body of chambermaid Kate Gardener was a bottle of chloroform. Despite all the evidence pointing to Cream, he was acquitted of murder, but his reputation had gone down the pan.

  Cream decided to move his business to Chicago, which is where his murderous predisposition really revealed itself. He had set up his practice close to the city’s red-light district, and he soon made his trade by performing illegal abortions. Although it was strictly against the moral code in the nineteenth century, it wasn’t unusual for doctors to make some quick money in this way. Unfortunately, many of the women fell victims to these abortionists, who really could be classed as ‘butchers’ rather than doctors. Many bled to death or contracted diseases from unsterilized instruments. When two prostitutes died after receiving abortions from Cream, the police started to take an interest in the new physician on their patch. One of the women had bled to death, while the second had been prescribed ‘anti-pregnancy’ pills, which were later discovered to be the poison strychnine. The latter was Cream’s preferred method of killing his victims, convincing the prostitutes that the pills would help to prevent sexually transmitted diseases. Little did they realise that they would die in the most excruciating way. Cream, who was thought to be addicted to cocaine and morphine at the time, was arrested, but once again narrowly escaped murder charges.