I am Jack The...: A Biography of One Scotland's Most Notorious Killers - Thomas Neill Cream
The rumored famous last words of serial killer Thomas Neill Cream was "I am Jack the..." Cream was in prison at the time of the Ripper murders, but that didn't matter...he was fascinated by London’s premiere serial killer, and perhaps a part of him believed that his own killings established some kind of killer bond.
Cream may not have been the infamous Jack the Ripper, but he was just as brutal and sadistic. Cream could have settled being a respected surgeon, but there was something about taking a human life that he just could not resist.
In this book, we'll take you on the trail of this doctor turned madman--from his first murders to his ultimate capture and trial.
Cream may not have been the infamous Jack the Ripper, but he was just as brutal and sadistic. Cream could have settled being a respected surgeon, but there was something about taking a human life that he just could not resist.
In this book, we'll take you on the trail of this doctor turned madman--from his first murders to his ultimate capture and trial.
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I Am Jack the... PDF and ePub |
Excerpt
Prologue
August 1879. A cool and crisp evening in London, Ontario, Canada. A pair of young newlyweds, still very much in the honeymoon phase of early love, walk down the street together. Her thin, elegant arms are locked around his right arm, while in his left he carries an expensive-looking cane. The young couple are well off. Wealthy, in love and carefree, with their whole lives still to unfold before them.
Under muted breath the young husband recounts humorous tales to his wife, who laughs gaily at his anecdotes. His humour was an attraction to her. Her spirited laugh was an attraction to him. When their eyes met hers sparkled with affection, while his shimmered with passion. The dulcet sound of her laughter echoed around them, attracting the attention of the people they passed. They were oblivious to their surroundings, however. They only had eyes for one another. His voice could only be heard by her. Their impenetrable bond was a barrier to the outside world, keeping them locked inside their own personal bubble.
As they approached an alleyway to their right though, something did infiltrate their bubble. A smell. Strong. Pungent. Almost sweet, but nauseating. The odour brings the couple to a halt. Their laughter subsides. Their smiles evaporate. Concern replaces the glimmer that shone in their eyes. They exchange looks and ask the same question. Their attention turns onto the alleyway from where the smell escapes. In the bleak light they spot a shadowy mass on the ground. In unison they step forward, silently. Their attention is hooked like a fish. Their concentration fixates on deciphering what the mass is. And then, they the see it.
A body. A woman’s body lies prostrate before them. The smell of the chloroform reaches up from her lifeless body towards them like a ghostly apparition of her deceased limbs. All the while her dead eyes watch them.
The young wife screams and the sound rips through the night. Her husband instinctively pulls her away and turns her in towards his protective body. She grips his lapels and screams hauntingly into his chest. His hand grips his handkerchief and with it he covers his retching mouth. He takes a step away from the horror in the shadows and when he does so he notices the plaque on the wall of the building out of the corner of his eye. Turning his attention to it so as to read what it bears he see that the building is the office of Dr Thomas Neill Cream.
August 1879. A cool and crisp evening in London, Ontario, Canada. A pair of young newlyweds, still very much in the honeymoon phase of early love, walk down the street together. Her thin, elegant arms are locked around his right arm, while in his left he carries an expensive-looking cane. The young couple are well off. Wealthy, in love and carefree, with their whole lives still to unfold before them.
Under muted breath the young husband recounts humorous tales to his wife, who laughs gaily at his anecdotes. His humour was an attraction to her. Her spirited laugh was an attraction to him. When their eyes met hers sparkled with affection, while his shimmered with passion. The dulcet sound of her laughter echoed around them, attracting the attention of the people they passed. They were oblivious to their surroundings, however. They only had eyes for one another. His voice could only be heard by her. Their impenetrable bond was a barrier to the outside world, keeping them locked inside their own personal bubble.
As they approached an alleyway to their right though, something did infiltrate their bubble. A smell. Strong. Pungent. Almost sweet, but nauseating. The odour brings the couple to a halt. Their laughter subsides. Their smiles evaporate. Concern replaces the glimmer that shone in their eyes. They exchange looks and ask the same question. Their attention turns onto the alleyway from where the smell escapes. In the bleak light they spot a shadowy mass on the ground. In unison they step forward, silently. Their attention is hooked like a fish. Their concentration fixates on deciphering what the mass is. And then, they the see it.
A body. A woman’s body lies prostrate before them. The smell of the chloroform reaches up from her lifeless body towards them like a ghostly apparition of her deceased limbs. All the while her dead eyes watch them.
The young wife screams and the sound rips through the night. Her husband instinctively pulls her away and turns her in towards his protective body. She grips his lapels and screams hauntingly into his chest. His hand grips his handkerchief and with it he covers his retching mouth. He takes a step away from the horror in the shadows and when he does so he notices the plaque on the wall of the building out of the corner of his eye. Turning his attention to it so as to read what it bears he see that the building is the office of Dr Thomas Neill Cream.
