Victims attributed to Jack the
Ripper (L-R): Mary Ann Nicholls, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catharine
Eddowes, and Mary Jane Kelly.
Jack the Ripper’s Victims
by Denise M. Clark
The legend of
Jack of the Ripper – the first serial killer in recorded history – conjures up
visions of fog shrouded streets, the sound of footsteps clicking loudly and
menacingly on cobble-stoned alleys, visions of a fiend with evil eyes, thin
fingers and a black medical bag dangling from them. The London tours that
celebrate his life feed off that image.
Despite the dozens of books written about Jack
the Ripper, books crammed with speculation about his identity and his
motivation, the fact is no one knows anything about the actual man who committed
the most infamous murders in crime annals. The only thing positively known about
the Ripper is who his victims were. Over time, they’ve been all but forgotten.
Who were they?
Over a period of six weeks in the late summer and
early fall of 1888, the Ripper went on his rampage, killing and mutilating five
prostitutes with an escalating fury. Despite the largest manhunt in London
history, he managed to elude arrest even though he killed two of his victims
within a stone’s throw of canvassing bobbies. Unlike almost all other serial
killers, he vanished into thin air, disappearing as abruptly as he had arrived.
The murders occurred on weekends, his stalking
done on Friday, Saturday or Sunday nights, suggesting a man who held a decent
job working regular hours. How is it possible that so few clues were found? How
could a man drenched in blood so simply disappear? How could he escape when one
third of the police force, both undercover detectives and bobbies in uniform,
were stationed in and near dozens of pubs and rooming houses, patrolling the
same routes throughout the area every 15 minutes? Did he escape through the
ancient but still vast underground labyrinth of London’s sewage system? Or was
he himself a policeman?
The horrific murders sent fear throughout London,
not just in the East End where they occurred. It probably didn’t help anyone’s
peace of mind that Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde was
playing at London’s Lyceum Theatre. Unlike poor Mr. Hyde, Jack was not an
ogre. He might have been an over controlled, hedonistic murderer, but he surely
did not look like one. He must have been charming, if not an out and out
handsome specter of a man, for he managed to convince women, painfully aware of
the dangers of a monster in their midst, to go off with him. He probably looked
as nondescript as today’s Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer.
Though the police more than likely did not
realize it at the time, they did create what could be loosely termed as a
psychological profile of the killer, though it was based more on conjecture than
viable proof. Because his victims showed no evidence of struggle or defensive
wounds, it was suggested the killer was an inoffensive and respectable looking
man who struck not only swiftly, but powerfully. Experts also suggested their
man was a solitary eccentric, a man of great physical strength (after all, it
takes a lot of strength to nearly decapitate a human head), suffering from
homicidal or erotic mania and possessing a vengeful, brooding nature. The object
of the attacks, they proposed, was neither rape nor murder, but mutilation.
One hundred years later, in 1988, the Institute
of Forensic Sciences prepared an FBI psychological profile of the Ripper. The
main characteristics are as follows: male in his late 20’s, a local resident
of the area. He was believed to be employed and probably free from family
obligations, as he kept rather late hours on the weekends. He was likely to have
been in trouble with the police in a lesser capacity than murder, and was
probably a loner. He was seen as having been abused as a child, perhaps by his
mother. Really? Sounds a bit like the ‘profile’ the authorities had
developed in 1888.
Though many law enforcement advances had been
made by that summer in 1888 and crime scene photographs were generally taken,
there still remained the common belief that a photograph of the victim’s eyes
would reveal the killer in them. So much for scientific advancement. But it took
time to adapt to new crime detection methods and detectives in 1888 did not have
the luxury of DNA evidence or tools that could be utilized to examine
microscopic evidence such as tissues, hair or clothing.
Though blood could be tested to determine whether it was of animal or human
origin, blood typing was not yet practiced. Still, what forensic medicine had
been developed proved valuable. Though the method of establishing the time of
death was fairly new in 1888 -- it was supported in court even though body
temperature was still determined by touch and not yet by thermometer -- so was
the fairly uncertain calculations used to estimate the onset of rigor mortis.
The police did have the ability to identify posthumous bruising, the cause of
death, and the ability to determine the nature of murder weapon used. In
addition, the measurements of the knife wounds inflicted on Ripper victims
allowed investigators to identify the type of instrument he used to murder and
mutilate the women.
At the time, London’s East End and Whitchapel
sections were considered to be the dumping grounds of society. Slum buildings,
lodging houses (over 233 in Whitechapel alone), and dilapidated shops lined
crooked and narrow cobble-stoned streets. Traders pushing loaded carts crowded
the streets by day, hawking their wares while day workers roamed back and forth
to slaughterhouses and meat markets, sometimes covered in blood. Sanitation was
practically non-existent and the resulting filth and stench permeated the air
hovering over the entire area. What would possibly lure Jack to such a place?
The main attraction would appear to be the 62 known brothels and over a thousand
prostitutes – no one knows exactly how many prostitutes plied their trade
because many women resorted to ‘casual prostitution’ once in a while to make
ends meet. For serial killers in general, and for Jack the Ripper in particular,
prostitutes are the easiest prey.
Mary Ann Nicholls
The first woman to be positively identified as a
Ripper victim was Mary Ann Nicholls. Though several books and historians claim
three victims came before her, others dispute the possibility, citing that one
‘Jane Doe’ given the name ‘Fanny Fay’ was fictitious. The other two
possible victims, Emma Smith and Frances Coles, are mentioned in the ‘Whitechapel
Murders’ file of the Metropolitan Police, although at the time they weren’t
believed to have met their demise at the hands of the Ripper.
Mary Ann Walker was born in 1845, making her 43
when she was murdered. At 19 she married William Nicholls and bore him several
children, but around 1877 William ran off with another woman. Subsequently, Mary
Ann began to drink. In 1880 they were divorced, William keeping the children. He
paid Mary Ann a small living pittance until 1882 when he found out she was
making a living as a prostitute. By 1888, Mary Ann, the mother of five children,
still remained remarkably young looking for someone forced to live in such dire
straits. At 5’2", with small features, high cheekbones and gray eyes, she
probably had little trouble finding clients. But, unfortunately, during the
pre-dawn hours of Aug. 31, she became the Ripper’s first victim.
Police Constable John Neil walked his beat,
passing by Buck’s Row, just off Whitechapel Road at 3:30 that morning. A lone
gas lamp at the end of the street provided feeble light and enough shadows to
hide anyone who did not wish to be seen. All was quiet, no drunken disturbances,
no brawls, just a dark and narrow, filthy street winding around dilapidated
hovels and slaughterhouses. Upon his return to the location 10 minutes later,
Neil found Mary Ann, her throat slit from ear to ear. It wasn’t until after
she’d been carted to a makeshift mortuary that jagged incisions were found in
her abdomen. Early conjecture was that Mary Ann had been murdered by one of the
many gangs roaming the East End, a theory the police were quick to abandon a few
nights later when the mutilated body of a second prostitute was discovered on
Hanbury Street, less than a mile away.
Annie Chapman
Annie Smith was born in Windsor in 1841. After
her marriage to John Chapman in 1869, the couple lived in West London. Shortly
before one daughter’s death in 1882, Annie abandoned her family. Friends and
family members claimed her marriage was destroyed by Annie’s alcoholism and
promiscuity, but her acquaintances disagree. Either way, she eventually ended up
in Whitechapel, and by May of 1888 lived in a lodging house on Dorset Street.
"Dark Annie" Chapman was also a small woman, 5’ tall, with dark
brown hair and blue eyes. She led a rough life hawking her crochet work, selling
flowers and other trifles, only occasionally resorting to prostitution to pay
for a bed to sleep in each night. She spent the week following the attack on
Mary Ann Nichols arguing off and on with a woman named Eliza Cooper. The
argument, with occasional blows traded, left Annie with a black eye and bruises
around her chest. On the evening of Sept. 7 and the early morning hours of Sept.
8, she reportedly told the deputy of the lodging house, who asked for her doss
money, ‘Don’t let the bed. I’ll be back soon.’ (For a more complete
transcript of the account, see ‘Jack the Ripper, A to Z’ by Begg,
Fido & Skinner.) She never returned, though she was seen at about 5:30 on
the morning of the 8th talking to a man outside of a house at 29
Hanbury St. Just before 6 a.m., her body was found in the backyard of the
property. No effort had been made to hide her body, and oddly enough, what most
witnesses who saw her body remembered were her striped wool socks, which peeked
from beneath her rumpled skirt. Her face and tongue were swollen, pointing to
her being choked to death, and two incisions on her neck had nearly decapitated
her. Her abdomen had been ravaged, intestines lifted from the abdominal cavity
and placed on her shoulder, her female organs removed and missing.
Residents of Whitechapel were now painfully aware
that a madman lurked in their midst, but what could one do to protect oneself
against the unknown? Almost three weeks passed without another attack, but just
as the population began to hope the mad killer had moved on, the reprieve ended
and he struck again, only this time with increased ferocity.
Elizabeth Stride
Elizabeth Stride, a 45-year-old woman of Swedish
descent, had also been married, but the relationship was considered over even
before the death of her husband in 1884. She ended up living from time to time
at a common lodging house in Whitechapel from as early as 1882. By 1888, she had
been arrested and convicted many times for drunkenness. On the evening of Sept.
29, she was briefly seen at her lodging house before leaving, and according to
witnesses, apparently in a cheerful mood. She was spotted on several other
occasions during the night and into the early hours of Sept. 30, the last time
at approximately 12:45 a.m., when she was seen with a man outside Dutfield’s
Yard on Berner St. At 1 a.m., a man drove his horse and cart into the Yard, only
to discover Elizabeth’s still warm body. Police Constable William Smith, who’s
beat encompassed Berner St., saw a man and a woman talking together at about
12:30 a.m. In hindsight… well, who’s to say? Elizabeth’s throat had been
slit. Her autopsy recorded bruises on her shoulders, supporting the belief that
she had been pressed to the ground and held there while her throat was cut.
Perhaps due to the arrival of the cart and horse into the Yard, no additional
mutilations were found on Elizabeth’s body. But the night was still waning.
Catherine Eddows
A short time later that night, Catherine Eddows,
a 46-year-old with three children, was out and about on the darkened streets.
She and her common-law husband also had separated due to heavy drinking and
occasional bouts of violence that erupted between them. She had just returned to
London from a brief period of hop picking in Kent. She told the manager of her
rooming house that she had ‘come back to earn the reward offered for the
apprehension of the Whitechapel murderer.’ After being warned to be careful,
she replied, ‘Oh, no fear of that.’ (‘Jack the Ripper A to Z’)
At 8:30 on the evening of Sept. 29, she was
arrested for drunken misconduct and taken to Bishopsgate Police Station and
thrown into a cell to sleep it off. At 1 a.m. on Sept. 30, she was released. At
1:35 a.m., she was seen talking to a man near an entryway into Mitre Square, her
hand resting on his chest. At 1:45 a.m., Police Constable James Harvey walked by
the Square, but seeing or hearing nothing within, did not enter.
Police Constable Edward Watkins had entered the
square from the opposite side at 1:30 a.m. On his first pass through, he shone
his lamp into the corners and alleys leading off in three different directions,
but saw nothing. On his second pass, he saw the body in the southwest corner and
reported that ‘she had been ripped up like pig in the market’ and that her
entrails ‘were flung in a heap around her neck.’ (For a complete account of
witness statements, see ‘Jack the Ripper – The Complete Casebook’
by Donald Rumbelow) She was still warm. As with the others, her throat had been
slit. Her intestines lay over her right shoulder and another short length of
intestine lay on the other side of her body. Her face had been savagely
mutilated, her eyelids cut, her nose and cheeks gashed. The tip of her nose was
gone and her lips and mouth suffered knife damage as well. The autopsy
discovered her womb missing.
Then another brief lull in the spree of murders.
In early November, the Ripper attacked again, once again escalating the ferocity
of the attack.
Today, it is understood and accepted as
scientific fact that serial killers usually begin to degenerate, their grasp of
control slips, and their passion and need for killing increases and accelerates.
The murders grow closer together, as compared with the need of a drug addict who
discovers that he must continually increase his dosage of a particular drug to
maintain even a thread of ‘normalcy’ in his everyday life. So, it can
probably be accepted that Jack the Ripper was on the verge of self-destruction
and breakdown the night he met Mary Jane Kelly and went with her to her humble
dwelling in Miller’s Court in the wee hours of Nov. 9, 1888.
Mary Jane Kelly
Mary Jane, 25, was the youngest of the Ripper
victims, yet her life had been no easier than those lived by the others. She met
and lived with a man named Joseph Barnett, but they lived a nomadic lifestyle,
continually forced to move due to drunkenness and rent owed. They eventually
ended up at 13 Miller’s Court on Dorset St. Mary Jane and Barnett were known
to be a nice couple that only got into trouble if they became drunk. Her friends
testified that Mary Jane had confided to them that she was afraid of the killer
stalking victims in Whitechapel and was thinking about moving. She waited too
long.
On the evening of Oct. 30, Barnett left Mary
Jane, and though he continued to be friends with her, personal conflicts made it
impossible for them to remain together. He gave her money when he could, but
more than likely she drank it away, for she was once again forced to resort to
prostitution to repay debts incurred even though she was in the first trimester
of a pregnancy.
Barnett spent a few moments with her on the
evening of Nov. 8 before Mary Jane took to the streets. Throughout the night,
she was spotted by acquaintances on several occasions until around 2 a.m. when
she was seen going into her room with a man. Three women who lived in the room
above Mary Jane’s woke in the pre-dawn hours when they heard a cry of ‘Murder!’
from her room below.
Mary Jane was found at 10:45 that morning, lying
on the bed in her room. Her throat had been slit, her head nearly severed. Her
abdomen had been sliced open, both breasts removed. Her left arm, like her head,
remained attached to her body by flaps of skin. Her nose had been cut off, her
forehead skinned, as well as most of her legs, which were also flayed open to
the bone. Intestines and other internal organs had been removed and her liver
was found between her feet. Muscle tissue from her legs, along with her breasts
and nose, were piled onto a nearby table. Due to the lack of defensive wounds,
it’s clear that she offered no struggle and was quite possibly killed while
she slept. The time of her death was determined to be sometime between 3:30 and
4 that morning.
Mary Ann ‘Polly’ Nicholls… ‘Dark Annie’
Chapman… Elizabeth ‘Long Liz’ Stride, Catherine Eddows and Mary Jane Kelly…
brutally murdered, ravaged and then forgotten, almost an afterthought to the
memory of the madman who so brutally murdered them. Annie Chapman was buried at
Manor Park, Elizabeth Stride in Pauper’s Grave number 15509, in East London
Cemetery. Catharine Eddowes was laid to rest in an unmarked grave in Ilford,
while Mary Jane Kelly was buried at Walthamstow Roman Catholic Cemetery.
The search for the identity of Jack the Ripper
continues. Medical/suspense fiction writer Patricia D. Cornwell has been bitten
by the ‘Ripper-bug’, and has been conducting forensic studies of her own on
documents still on file in Scotland Yard and elsewhere. But time has a way of
hiding secrets, and some facts may never see the light of day. Any explanations
of why Jack the Ripper began his rampage and why he stopped, if he did, will
most likely never be answered.
