Free Naming Jack the Ripper: The Biggest Forensic Breakthrough Since 1888 by Russell Edwards Page A

murderous instincts
     on the most miserable and defenceless classes of the community . . . Hideous malice, deadly cunning, insatiable thirst for blood – all these are the marks of the mad homicide. The
     ghoul-like creature who stalks through the streets of London, stalking down his victim like a Pawnee Indian, is simply drunk with blood, and he will have more.
    This kind of reporting only created more anger and panic. Accounts of public reaction to Annie Chapman’s murder make it sound as if the entire East End of London had
taken leave of its senses and was gripped by hysteria. On the morning of the murder, Hanbury Street and the surrounding thoroughfares were crammed with excitable onlookers, some of whom took
advantage of the large crowds by selling refreshments.Perhaps even more macabre was the ‘renting’ of the windows of those houses which looked down on the back
yard of No. 29. Residents made a tidy profit charging one penny a go, so that interested people could look down on the murder site and perhaps catch a glimpse of the bloodstains.
    Outbreaks of civil unrest occurred, usually related to sightings of men who appeared suspicious. It did not take much for somebody to be labelled a suspect, and the very word that the murderer
had been seen in some part of the district caused lynch mobs to gather to seek out their quarry. One often-quoted story was that a local criminal nicknamed ‘Squibby’ was being chased by
two policemen through Spitalfields on the day of the Annie Chapman murder and, when the gathered masses saw this, they automatically assumed that the officers were chasing the killer and joined in.
Apparently ‘Squibby’ was quite a bullish character and it would often take more than one officer to arrest him, but on this occasion he practically begged them to get him somewhere safe
as the mob howled for his blood.
    To top it all, a lady called Mary Burridge, living in Blackfriars, after reading one of the typically gruesome newspaper accounts, fell into a fit at her home. She briefly recovered but relapsed
and died soon after. It appeared she was effectively frightened to death.
    In mid-September, in the absence of Dr Robert Anderson, who was still on sick leave, Chief Inspector Donald Swanson was given the important task of overseeing all information regarding the
Whitechapel murders. A well-respected officer, Swanson was authorized by Metropolitan Police Chief Commissioner Charles Warren to be the Commissioner’s ‘eyes and ears’ to be
‘acquainted with every detail . . . He must have aroom to himself, and every paper, every document, every report, every telegram must pass through his hands. He must
be consulted on every source.’
    Because of this, the importance of Swanson in this case cannot be overemphasized, and it is fair to say that his knowledge of the crimes exceeded that of any other officer, even though he was
not out on the streets involved with fieldwork. Because his was the desk over which crossed the witness statements, the pathology reports and every scrap of suspicion from every officer involved,
he was the one to make and veto decisions about all the forensic work. Inspector Abberline, who joined the hunt for the Ripper shortly before, has traditionally been given the honour of being the
officer in overall charge of the case; however, that role really fell to Swanson. His experience would lead to his comments about the murders, and even the identity of the killer himself, being
taken very seriously in later years. I certainly feel that his words should, and do, carry enormous weight: nobody knew every dimension of the case as well as Swanson.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    A MURDERER INTERRUPTED
    The Death of Elizabeth Stride
    T he murderer was now developing his ritualistic style: the bodies were being mutilated in specific ways, organs were being taken as souvenirs,
there was a heavily sexualized theme to the mutilations. He chose as victims women who were working in