True Crime England

In the waning days of World War I, William K. Dean was brutally murdered, his body hog-tied and dumped in a rainwater cistern on his farm in the quiet town of Jaffrey, New Hampshire. Suspicion quickly fell on Dean's wife, an invalid in the early stages of dementia. Her friends, outraged at the accusations, pointed instead to a former tenant of Dean's, whom many suspected of being a German spy. Others believed that Dean's best friend, a politically powerful banker and judge, was involved.

Lady Bette, the 14-year-old heiress to the vast Northumberland estates, becomes the victim of a plot by her grandmother, the Countess Howard, to marry her to the dissident fortune-hunter Thomas Thynn, a man three times her age with an evil reputation. Revolted by her new husband, Lady Bette flees to Holland. Within weeks, Thynn is gunned down in the street by three hired assassins. Who is behind the contract killing? Is it the Swedish Count Coningsmark, young and glamorous with blond hair down to his waist?

In literature and film, the spy chief is an all-knowing, all-powerful figure who masterfully moves spies into action like pieces on a chessboard. How close to reality is that depiction, and what does it really take to be an effective leader in the world of intelligence? This first volume of Spy Chiefs broadens and deepens our understanding of the role of intelligence leaders in foreign affairs and national security in the US and UK from the early 1940s to the present.

In Shadows in the Monarchy: Royal Scandals and Murder Plots, acclaimed author Lee Brickley embarks on a captivating journey through history, uncovering the layers of secrecy and scandal that have shrouded the British monarchy. The intricate web of deceit—reaching from the ties between Prince Andrew and disgraced financier Jeffrey Epstein to the unsettling rumors around Queen Victoria's grandson and the infamous Jack the Ripper—paints a chilling tableau of power and its corrosive effects.

On January 7, 1994, residents of the Berkshire Hills woke up to a typical snowy winter day in the majestic woods of Western Massachusetts. The quaint New England towns, the idyllic scenery and the people who lived there could have stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

In the early 19th century, a series of murders took place in and around London that shocked the whole of England. The appalling nature of the crimes - a brutal slaying in the gambling netherworld, the slaughter of two entire households, and the first of the modern lust-murders - was magnified not only by the lurid atmosphere of an age in which candlelight gave way to gaslight but also by the efforts of some of the keenest minds of the period to uncover the most gruesome details of the killings.

In 1878 the Criminal Investigation Department replaced Scotland Yard's corrupt and discredited Detective Branch. In this classic story of the early days of detection, Joan Lock tells the fascinating story of the creation of the CID, the scandal which preceded it, and the successes and failures of the new organisation, including early cases such as the four murders by Ernest Southey, the ferocious outbreak of dockland killings in 1869 and the more familiar Bravo, Neill Cream and Jack the Ripper crimes.

A female thief, with four husbands, a lover, and, reportedly, over 12 children, is arrested and tried for the murder of her stepson in 1872, turning the small village of West Auckland in County Durham upside down. Other bodies are exhumed, and when they are found to contain arsenic, she is suspected of their murder as well. The perpetrator, Mary Ann Cotton, was tried and found guilty and later hanged on 24 March 1873 in Durham Gaol. It is claimed she murdered over 20 people and was the first female serial killer in England.

It took three tortured days in 1876 for Charles Bravo to die from the poison that burned its way through his body. The subsequent investigation revealed many people with a grudge against the young barrister. The dramatic inquest was covered in sensational detail by the press, but no one was convicted of his murder. Over a century later, James Ruddick draws on new evidence to solve one of the most famous murders in criminal history.

Step into the shadowy realm of the Patriarca Mafia Crime Family, where power, deception, and ambition intermingle to create a riveting saga that has left an indelible mark on New England's criminal history. In this meticulously documented narrative, Mafia Library uncovers the untold story of one of America's most infamous crime families, tracing its origins from the turbulent days of Prohibition to its enduring presence in the 21st century.

Florence Maybrick was the first American woman to be sentenced to death in England - for murdering her husband, a crime she almost certainly didn't commit. Her 1889 trial was presided over by an openly misogynist judge who was later declared incompetent and died in an asylum. Hours before she was to be hanged, Queen Victoria reluctantly commuted her sentence to life in prison. In her opinion, a woman who would commit adultery, as Maybrick had admitted, would also kill her husband. Her children were taken from her; she never saw them again. Her mother worked for years to clear her name.

In It's Just the Way It Was, Joe Broadmeadow and Brendan Doherty take you inside the investigations, covert surveillance, and murky world of informants in the war against organized crime. Make no mistake about it. It was a war targeting the insidious nature of the mob and their detrimental effect on Rhode Island and throughout New England.

When one hears the term "Victorian", many images come to mind. For some, the term conjures up visions of lace and gloves and delicate fans. Others think of tight corsets and even tighter morals. Others, swayed perhaps by one too many British costume dramas, envision gentle elegance and long lost beauty. Naturally, few people think of multiple dead bodies cast about in the streets or dark bedrooms.

There have been a countless number of serial killers throughout history, and certainly more prolific ones, but the timing, circumstances, and unsolved nature of the case continue to make Jack the Ripper the most famous serial killer in history. The murders came at a time when media coverage could be both more acute and more widespread, and it allowed the public a closer look into how police agencies operated at the time, exposing both their strengths and shortcomings.

As is so often the case with a serial killer, the first murder was largely ignored. She was a "fallen woman", a prostitute barely worthy of police notice. But then there was another victim, killed and butchered while plying her illicit trade. The police took notice and, by the time the third body was found, also mutilated and filleted like a fish, the public took notice too. An outcry began to swell from the good people of the city.

In today’s world where meeting people for sex can happen with a simple click on your phone, a new type of gay sex called Party N Play or Chemsex has become all the rage. Several young gay men were being found dead, appearing to have overdosed in a city church yard in east London. Soon a popular 41-year-old, Stephen Port, who had appeared on Celebrity Chef UK, would be arrested and charged with four of the young men’s murders by overdosing them with GBH, the date-rape drug.

When one hears the term "Victorian," many images come to mind. For some, the term conjures up visions of lace and gloves and delicate fans. Others think of tight corsets and even tighter morals. Others, swayed perhaps by one too many British costume dramas, envision gentle elegance and long lost beauty. Naturally, few people think of multiple dead bodies cast about in the streets or dark bedrooms, most mutilated to a shocking degree.

The bright lights and city bustle of East London make it hard to imagine that only a century ago, the inhabitants were gripped by terror - the infamous Whitechapel Murders - or reign of terror of Jack the Ripper...Step back in time to the 1880’s where the scene was a maze of dark, foggy alleyways and narrow cobbled streets lit only by a few flickering gas lights.