The Serial Killers by Colin Wilson and Donald Seaman Page A
Authors: Colin Wilson and Donald Seaman
Ads: Link
antimony poisoning’ aroused immediate suspicion, and he was soon arrested. Vials of antimony tartrate were found on him and he was sent to Broadmoor, the asylum for criminal lunatics. While he was incarcerated there a fellow inmate died of poisoning, in mysterious circumstances.
Young was released after nine years, in February 1971. Far from being cured, his compulsion to carry on poisoning was undiminished. A few weeks after he took a job with a photographic firm at Bovingdon in Hertfordshire, head storekeeper Bob Egle began to suffer pains in the back and stomach. Mr Egle died in July 1971. Very soon so many of the staff were suffering from stomach upsets that the term ‘Bovingdon bug’ became common parlance. In October the same year another storekeeper, Fred Biggs, fell ill. On 31 October Graham Young noted in his diary ‘I have administered a fatal dose of the special compound to F’. Mr Biggs died three weeks after he was admitted to hospital, cause unknown. In November 1971 two more Bovingdon employees complained of stomach upsets, ‘pins and needles’ in their feet and found their hair was falling out. Finally a team of doctors was called in to try to identify the deadly ‘Bovingdon bug’; whereupon Graham Young, a newcomer to the firm who was forever trying to impress by his knowledge, astonished Dr Robert Hynd, the presiding Medical Officer of Health, by asking if the ‘bug’ symptoms were consistent with thallium poisoning. (Thallium, or T1, is a metallic element found in flue dust resulting from the manufacture of sulphuric acid, and causes gradual paralysis of the nervous system.)
Such a question naturally aroused suspicion, and Scotland Yard was asked if Young had a criminal record. When his Broadmoor background became known he was arrested on suspicion of murder. A subsequent search revealed his diary, complete with incriminating entries. At first Young claimed they were notes intended for a novel; but when he was found to have thallium in his possession (intended as a suicide potion if he were caught) he confessed to murdering both storekeepers, and was imprisoned for life. His sister Winifred, who had suffered for so long at his hands, told of her brother’s ‘craving for publicity, and notice’ in her book, Obsessive Poisoner . She also said he spoke of loneliness and feelings of depression when he called on her shortly before his arrest (he referred to himself as ‘Your friendly neighbourhood Frankenstein’). When she suggested he should mix more with other people, Young replied, ‘Nothing like that can help . . . You see, there’s a terrible coldness inside me.’
A number of serial killers express similar longings to be important . Some, mistaking fame for notoriety, hope to win acclaim by evading arrest while continuing to commit murder galore. Many genuinely believe they cannot be caught, like Jack the Ripper, and even if mistaken are quick to voice their surprise. Kenneth Erskine, alias The Stockwell Strangler, told the police who arrested him, ‘I wanted to be famous . . . I thought you were never going to catch me’. After he was jailed for the last time, Ted Bundy expected authors Stephen G. Michaud and Hugh Aynesworth to write their book 1 not about his crimes, but about him : Bundy, the celebrity. Michaud overcame the problem by persuading him to speculate on ‘the nature of a person capable of doing what Bundy had been accused of doing’ – which the killer happily did.
Paul John Knowles, a young, red-headed American ex-convict who had spent half his adult life in jail, was a rapist and serial killer who murdered at least eighteen people in the four months before he was arrested for the last time, in November 1974. He was then twenty-eight. Sandy Fawkes, a visiting British woman journalist who by chance met Knowles before he was arrested and covered the courtroom hearing ( see here ), recognised this longing to be somebody in Knowles’ evident pride on being
Young was released after nine years, in February 1971. Far from being cured, his compulsion to carry on poisoning was undiminished. A few weeks after he took a job with a photographic firm at Bovingdon in Hertfordshire, head storekeeper Bob Egle began to suffer pains in the back and stomach. Mr Egle died in July 1971. Very soon so many of the staff were suffering from stomach upsets that the term ‘Bovingdon bug’ became common parlance. In October the same year another storekeeper, Fred Biggs, fell ill. On 31 October Graham Young noted in his diary ‘I have administered a fatal dose of the special compound to F’. Mr Biggs died three weeks after he was admitted to hospital, cause unknown. In November 1971 two more Bovingdon employees complained of stomach upsets, ‘pins and needles’ in their feet and found their hair was falling out. Finally a team of doctors was called in to try to identify the deadly ‘Bovingdon bug’; whereupon Graham Young, a newcomer to the firm who was forever trying to impress by his knowledge, astonished Dr Robert Hynd, the presiding Medical Officer of Health, by asking if the ‘bug’ symptoms were consistent with thallium poisoning. (Thallium, or T1, is a metallic element found in flue dust resulting from the manufacture of sulphuric acid, and causes gradual paralysis of the nervous system.)
Such a question naturally aroused suspicion, and Scotland Yard was asked if Young had a criminal record. When his Broadmoor background became known he was arrested on suspicion of murder. A subsequent search revealed his diary, complete with incriminating entries. At first Young claimed they were notes intended for a novel; but when he was found to have thallium in his possession (intended as a suicide potion if he were caught) he confessed to murdering both storekeepers, and was imprisoned for life. His sister Winifred, who had suffered for so long at his hands, told of her brother’s ‘craving for publicity, and notice’ in her book, Obsessive Poisoner . She also said he spoke of loneliness and feelings of depression when he called on her shortly before his arrest (he referred to himself as ‘Your friendly neighbourhood Frankenstein’). When she suggested he should mix more with other people, Young replied, ‘Nothing like that can help . . . You see, there’s a terrible coldness inside me.’
A number of serial killers express similar longings to be important . Some, mistaking fame for notoriety, hope to win acclaim by evading arrest while continuing to commit murder galore. Many genuinely believe they cannot be caught, like Jack the Ripper, and even if mistaken are quick to voice their surprise. Kenneth Erskine, alias The Stockwell Strangler, told the police who arrested him, ‘I wanted to be famous . . . I thought you were never going to catch me’. After he was jailed for the last time, Ted Bundy expected authors Stephen G. Michaud and Hugh Aynesworth to write their book 1 not about his crimes, but about him : Bundy, the celebrity. Michaud overcame the problem by persuading him to speculate on ‘the nature of a person capable of doing what Bundy had been accused of doing’ – which the killer happily did.
Paul John Knowles, a young, red-headed American ex-convict who had spent half his adult life in jail, was a rapist and serial killer who murdered at least eighteen people in the four months before he was arrested for the last time, in November 1974. He was then twenty-eight. Sandy Fawkes, a visiting British woman journalist who by chance met Knowles before he was arrested and covered the courtroom hearing ( see here ), recognised this longing to be somebody in Knowles’ evident pride on being
Similar Books
