 Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and is intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised. Welcome, Weirdos! I'm Darren Marlar and this is Weird Darkness. Here you'll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained. Coming up in this episode, an eerie tombstone stands watch over one of Portland Oregon's oldest cemeteries and the story behind that tombstone is a strange one. Don't take a gift from little Gracie's grave or her lifelike statue might cry tears of blood. When it came to her daughter's Elsa doll, one mom was eager and ready to let it go, but the doll supernaturally refused to be let go. An ancient stone cross is said by locals to be cursed and the curse infects anyone who dares to disrespect it. Christopher Slaughterford was seemingly a completely ordinary young Englishman, but he has earned an unenviable place in the legal books. For Alan Taylor, January 15, 1919 was just another day on his farm near Prescott, Iowa. That is, until his 15-year-old neighbor Irene Hoskins came stumbling down the lane with a gash in the side of her head. How did someone get the job of an executioner in medieval times? We'll find out. But first, two authors reported a very strange encounter with a mysterious entity they believed was not of this world. What did they see and why were they under the impression this being was not of this world? We begin with that story. If you're new here, welcome to the show. While you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, to visit sponsors you hear about during the show, sign up for my newsletter and our contests. Connect with me on social media. Plus, you can visit the Hope in the Darkness page if you're struggling with depression or dark thoughts. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness. The catacombs of St. Calyxtus in Rome, Italy hold the remains of 16 popes, several martyrs, and around a half a million Christians. Nine of those popes were buried in the famous crypt of the popes. The underground burial chambers, named after Calyxtus, who at the time of their construction was the deacon of Rome, under Pope Zeferenus, have long been a popular tourist attraction. Calyxtus was later elected Pope and eventually martyred for his Christian beliefs. The catacombs of St. Calyxtus are now naturally closed due to the coronavirus outbreak, but those who visited this rather gloomy place say they experience something strange there. Among these people are two authors who report a very strange encounter with a mysterious entity they believed was none of this world. What did they see? And why were they under the impression this being was not of this world? Did they accidentally catch a glimpse of someone from another reality? There is one particular aspect of this case that makes the experience very unusual to say the least. Lionel and Patricia Phanthorpe have investigated the world's unsolved mysteries for more than 30 years and are the authors of 15 bestselling books. In their fascinating book, Mysteries and Secrets of Time, I'll have a link to that in the show notes, they recall a highly unusual sighting of a being who was present inside the catacombs of St. Calyxtus. Lionel was visiting the catacombs together with Patricia and they were both behind the rest of the party. They were so far from the rest of the other tourists that they could still see them but both authors are convinced no one, absolutely no one, was behind them. According to their own testimony, Lionel and Patricia were not walking side by side. Lionel was about 30 meters behind Patricia and she was far behind the party in the catacomb. Lionel remembers how he suddenly became aware of someone's presence right behind him. In their book, the author's right, the tall stranger behind him in the eerie darkness of the Calyxtus catacombs was not of this earth but he was nothing hostile or negative. When he gave off any psychic atmosphere at all, it seemed to be curiosity. He seemed to be asking politely enough who Lionel was and what he was doing there. Lionel also got the impression that the entity was probably an ordained deacon or a priest. He was wearing a tall pointed hat like a traditional wizard from legends and folklore and a long cape which together with the hat gave the outline of a tall upright cone. The cloak and hat were black but they shone gleaming and glistening as though something bright and sparkling was woven into them. When Lionel turned to look more closely at the entity, he could see nothing. It was one of those apparitions that is restricted to peripheral vision because as a priest Lionel is frequently called upon to conduct funerals and regards comforting and helping the bereaved as one of the most important parts of his priestly work. He wondered whether the entity that had looked over his shoulder down there in the solemn silence of the Calyxtus catacombs had also been a priest. One who had laid to rest the mortal remains of those that lay there. The experience made a big impression on Lionel who tried to make sense of who he had encountered in the Calyxtus catacombs. In time Lionel became convinced the mysterious stranger must have been an early Christian funeral priest. This puzzling encounter raises many intriguing questions. Those who believe in the existence of ghosts will most likely say Lionel witnessed a spirit or a phantom of some sort. As mentioned on several occasions, the number of scientists to promote the multiverse theory is steadily increasing. If our reality is surrounded by multiple worlds invisible to our naked eye, it can occasionally happen that these worlds collide with our own and we can catch brief glimpses from other realities. Lionel and Patricia wonder if the encounter in the catacombs could have been a time slip. In their book, the others ask, did a priest from the 3rd or 4th century encounter a fellow priest from the 21st century? Did a man who had done his best to help the bereaved 17 centuries ago glide through a mysterious portal in time to encounter a kindred spirit doing that same work today? Assuming this was a time slip, it cannot be denied it was a very different experience than most time slip cases reported worldwide. What's unusual about this particular case is that Lionel saw the mysterious being once again, but this time not in the catacombs. When Lionel and Patricia returned to their hotel, the sightings continued for the next 36 hours. Lionel saw brief glimpses of the same entity that simply wasn't there in physical form. Lionel, who thought this must have been a priest, says the man seemed to be surrounded by animals, most likely sheep dogs or tamed docile wolves. As time passed, Lionel's peripheral visions faded until they were completely gone and he could no longer see the unknown stranger anymore. Lionel and Patricia think the experience was most likely a time slip and not an encounter with a ghost. As a theologian, Lionel had a great deal of sympathy for Calyxtus and he has wondered whether the entity he encountered could have been the deacon himself. In their book, Lionel asks could that strange figure looking over Lionel's shoulder in the catacomb have been Calyxtus himself from the days when he was the deacon responsible for it? Did Calyxtus sense that this British priest visiting these ancient Roman burial places from a century 1700 years ahead of his own was a tolerant kindred spirit, potentially a theological comrade in arms who would stand beside him in his dispute with bitter opponents who held cruder, narrower, less merciful views? These are valid questions and the reasoning is logical, but let's not forget that most who report time slips have no relation with the places or people they witnessed. Next, an eerie tombstone stands watch over one of Portland Oregon's oldest cemeteries and the story behind that tombstone is a strange one. Don't take a gift from little Gracie's grave or her lifelike statue might cry tears of blood. And when it came to her daughter Elsa's doll, one mom was eager and ready to let it go, but the doll supernaturally refused to be let go. These stories and more when Weird Darkness returns. Weird Darkness is celebrating its 8th birthday this month and our way of celebrating is to raise money for organizations that help people who struggle with depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide and self-harm. It's called Overcoming the Darkness and you can make a donation right now at WeirdDarkness.com slash Overcoming. A gift of any amount will bring us that much closer to our goal and your donation helps that many more people who are affected by depression, so no gift is too small. Our goal is to raise at least $5,000 this month. If you've not donated yet or if you'd like to give again or maybe you'd like to grab the link and share the fundraiser on your own social media and challenge others to give, visit WeirdDarkness.com slash Overcoming. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash Overcoming. The fundraiser ends on Halloween, so please give right now while you're thinking about it. WeirdDarkness.com slash Overcoming. Visitors to Portland's Lone Fur Cemetery may wonder at its name. The Lone Fur is now one of many in this lush and green space, home to nearly 25,000 souls at rest. In 1854, Oregon pioneer James B. Stevens sold a large part of his land in Portland to Colburn Barrel under the condition that Barrel maintain the gravesite of his father who was buried there. Just a few months later, there was no question of what the land would be used for after Barrel's ship Gazelle exploded, killing 24 of the 60 people on board. Body parts were blown into all directions, both into the sea and on land. Identification wasn't easy and early Portland settlers opened up their homes to store the bodies until they could be buried. Though Barrel had intended the land he had just purchased from Stevens to be his own personal plot, he ended up interring several victims of the explosion there, including his friend Crawford M. Dobbins calling the cemetery Mount Crawford after him. Years later, in 1866, Barrel tried to sell the land to the city, but they were not interested. Thanks to a group of Portland families, the property was incorporated and 20 more acres of land were added. Mount Crawford was then rechristened Lone Fur. The name was suggested by Barrel's wife Aurela in honor of the, at the time, Lone Fur tree on the property. In 1887, Stevens' wife Elizabeth died and he had a special gravestone carved for her resting place. The sculpture depicts James and Elizabeth standing together holding hands in a manner that can only be described as visually arresting. The tombstone also has a rather creepy quote imprinted on it. Here we lie by consent after 57 years, two months and two days, sojourning through life awaiting nature's immutable laws to return us back to the elements of the universe of which we were first composed. For two years, James visited his wife at what would also be his final resting place so that he could imagine holding his wife's hand again. He died in 1889 and was buried beside her. Elsewhere in the cemetery, you'll encounter nearly 10,000 of the residents of Lone Fur, buried without names, including 132 patients of an insane asylum run by a man named Dr. Hawthorne in the 1800s. Dr. Hawthorne was also buried here. One section of the cemetery, known as Block 14, was used to house the unidentified remains of Chinese railroad workers who were later exhumed and moved in 1948. Some, however, were undoubtedly left behind. Cemetery records claim about 1,100 immigrants were buried here and only 265 bodies were moved. The eerie occupants of the Lone Fur cemetery are not limited to the unnamed. Wander down the aisles and you may see the grave of Emma Merleton. Emma, 33 years old at the time of her death, was a famous beauty and infamous sex worker in Portland. She was murdered brutally, hacked apart with a hatchet. In an attempt to find her killer, one of her eyes was removed by photographers, who at the time believed that the last image a person saw would be preserved in their eyes. Unsurprisingly, this revolutionary thought did not result in her murderer being apprehended. One of Dr. Hawthorne's patients, one whose name was preserved, is another fascinating case. Charity Lamb was well known for having killed her husband with an axe, supposedly because she was jealous of her own daughter. It seems now that Charity was likely acting in self-defense against an abusive husband, but as the first woman convicted of murder in what was then the Oregon Territory, her notoriety outlived her. Today, James and Elizabeth Stevens, the two pioneers of Portland and founders of Lone Fur, greet visitors as they trek through the 30-acre burial ground that lies just across the river from downtown Portland. Tourists and curious locals have described the gravestone of the guardians of Lone Fur as unsettling, creepy, weird, spooky, but also awesome, incredible, amazing, sweet, romantic and beautiful. Though the cemetery is open daily to the public from 7 a.m. to sunset, Halloween is Lone Fur's busiest time of year when the cemetery hosts the popular Tour of Untimely Departures featuring the graveyard's most famous residents, including James and Elizabeth Stevens. Nearly a thousand people queue up outside for a chance to meet them and to see their undying love carved into stone for themselves each year. Savannah's Bonaventure Cemetery is known for its lush scenery and striking monuments to the dead, yet there is one particular headstone that stops visitors in their tracks. Surrounded by a long iron fence sitting pensively with her right hand resting on a tree stump is the statue of a little girl. Her name is Gracie Watson, also known as Little Gracie. She was the only child of Wales WJ and Margaret Francis Watson. Wales took over management of the luxurious Pulaski Hotel in the 1880s, though the Watsons found themselves largely ignored by the city's upper class. Margaret longed to integrate herself into the community and began giving away food and drinks at their hotel. Soon the family's social status improved. Numerous parties were held at the Pulaski, to which Gracie was often invited. The little girl charmed guests with her lovable personality, taking on the role of an adorable hostess. When she grew tired of mingling with the adults, Gracie would often slip away to play beneath the back stairwell. Her disappearing act became a running joke with the party goers who would ask aloud, where is Gracie? As a way of acknowledging the lateness of the hour. Then, just two days before Easter in 1889, Gracie Watson died of pneumonia. She was six years old. Wales and Margaret were inconsolable. A grief-stricken Margaret claimed that she could still hear little Gracie laughing and playing under the back staircase. Soon thereafter, Wales moved his wife into the newly opened De Soto Hotel to escape their painful memories. But over the years, different staff members insisted that Gracie's voice could still be heard near the stairs. Other staff members refused to go into the basement due to the ominous sound of low moaning and clanking metal. Wales Watson in a final tribute to his daughter hired sculptor John Walls to carve a life-sized monument of Gracie using a photograph as a reference. The finished work became the marker of her grave in Bonaventure Cemetery. It is said to be eerily accurate, all the way down to the shape of her mouth. And as the years passed, tales of Gracie's life and her haunting gravestone grew. Visitors to Gracie's grave often leave toys and objects for her to enjoy. Some say Gracie's statue cries tears of blood if these gifts are removed. Numerous witnesses have claimed to see what they perceived to be a real girl in a white dress skipping through the cemetery grass before vanishing into thin air. Others have seen little Gracie playing in Johnson Square, a public space near the Pulaski Hotel's former location. At least one person has seen a young girl staring from the window of the building at the corner of Bryan and Bull Street, where the Pulaski stood, until it was demolished in 1957. In the spring of 2002, a Savella tour guide led a group past the Pulaski's former site and began to tell Gracie's story. Suddenly she noticed an unfamiliar four-story structure reflected in the window of the building she faced. The guide spun around but saw no such building. She continued to see the same reflection in other buildings until she finished Gracie's story. Later, after seeing a historic photo of the Pulaski Hotel, the tour guide went pale and confirmed it was the reflection she had seen. Gracie Watson's grave is one of the most heavily trafficked in Bonaventure Cemetery. The iron fence was specifically added to prevent damage to the sculpture, yet if the aforementioned sightings are to be received, Gracie Watson herself is also watching over her resting place. So, if you're ever in Savannah, Georgia and decide to visit the beautiful 160-acre grounds of Bonaventure Cemetery, keep your eyes and ears open for a little girl in Victorian clothing. She may just be coming out to play. A story about a frozen doll seemingly haunting a family is creeping out people on the Internet. The now viral post made by a woman named Emily Madonia about her daughter's Elsa doll is definitely pretty freaky. The gist was this. Madonia and her family in Texas tried to toss out the doll in question. Emphasis on tried because little haunted Elsa home girl came back, y'all. Not once but twice. Her original motivation for tossing the Elsa doll was pure practicality. We decided to get rid of it because we wanted to get rid of old toys before Christmas, so we would have room for new ones. I didn't even think about the Elsa doll. My daughter said she didn't care about it anymore, so it was easy to throw away. It was so old and germy and she had already colored on it with her markers. It seemed useless to donate it, so it went in the garbage outside. Madonia told the Scary Mommy website. But as we now know, Elsa didn't stay gone. Two weeks later we were looking for something and found the doll inside a wooden bench in the living room. A bench that was covered in books and things and we never usually opened and wouldn't have opened if we hadn't been looking for something we had lost. At this point the family had what I feel to be a perfectly reasonable response to molded plastic traversing the supernatural realm to play hide and seek in your house. Madonia explained, my husband found it and yelled and I came running in. He put on rubber gloves and double-bagged the doll and took it out to the curb inside the garbage can with all the other garbage on top of it. The truck took it away. And while Madonia's husband clearly made a good call with the rubber gloves, it mattered not. Two weeks later, my daughter found the doll no bags hidden in our backyard. Scary Mommy asked Madonia the obvious question. Is there any way her kids or her husband or really any other animate person that isn't a demonic doll could be pranking her? Despite what people may believe to the contrary though, Madonia makes a few very good points. For starters, the entire situation has been a huge stress for her. If this was a loved one, they would surely have given up the gag by now. Her kids don't really comprehend the fact that it could be something sinister. They're just excited to see if Elsa comes back, like Santa or the Tooth Fairy. Her husband is right there with her in suffering legitimate lost nights of sleep over this. Also, the alternative to the doll being haunted isn't exactly any more comforting. Rationally, I wanted to believe it was a person doing this, but how terrifying is that? Especially since it would have been very difficult to find it in the garbage that had been taken. And someone secretly coming into my house and backyard is a terrible thought too, she said. Madonia says that since their Elsa story went viral, they've received a lot of feedback. We all know how the internet loves opinions. One thing people keep harping on is the fact that she mentioned the doll, although it was marked as a bilingual toy, only spoke English for the first two years, regardless of what setting it was on. Then it started randomly speaking Spanish as well, but right before we got rid of it, it would only speak Spanish and it stopped singing, she explained. It was only talking whether we pushed the button or not. This didn't immediately throw up any red flags for Madonia because hashtag momlife. If you have children, you've experienced the random and sometimes strange ways toys malfunction. However, and it's a spine-tingling one, there was a very recent moment the doll gave Madonia chills. The creepiest thing I ever saw the doll actually do is when I boxed it up to send to a friend in Minnesota. It laughed for about 30 seconds straight. Usually it would have been a little giggle after saying something, but it has never laughed like that before and that chilled me to the bone. My husband and I both looked at it in horror before we taped the box shut, drove it to the post office and mailed it off, she shared. As for where they mailed it and how the saga of the possessed Elsa doll will continue to unfold, a man by the name of Chris Hogan is the new owner of Creepy Elsa. I don't think he believes it could be haunted, so he took it for fun. I'm a skeptic too, but I just can't explain what happened here, said Madonia. I'll feel better if a couple weeks go by and it doesn't reappear at my house. It is after all 1500 miles away right now. She also covered her bases by shipping the Elsa doll with no return address. She and Hogan are online running buddies to a P.O. Box. Hogan couldn't send it back to her house if he wanted to. If the doll does come back, we feel confident in suggesting that the family should move, hire a paranormal investigator or both. When Weird Darkness returns, an ancient stone cross is said by locals to be cursed and the curse infects anyone who dares to disrespect it. As you already know, Built Bar is a sponsor of Weird Darkness. Don't tell them I said this, but I would continue to let them be a sponsor without them paying me at all, so long as they continue to send me these free samples. Today I received their new cookies and cream chunk. It's like having actual cookies and cream chunks in the candy bar. These aren't candy bars, so they're low calorie. This has 18 grams of carbs. That's fewer carbs than an average size banana or a honey crisp apple. This is my lunch, and it feels like I just had dessert. This cookies and cream chunk is just insanely good. You can save 10% off of anything you buy from Built. Just go to WeirdDarkness.com slash Built and use the promo code WeirdDarkness. All one word you can get 10% off your entire order, including the cookies and cream chunk. Now the hard part is, this actually tastes like dessert, but I want to eat another one. An ancient cross which puts a curse on anyone who dares to meddle with it. Now it's not the plot of an M.R. James story, but rather a news item in the Saskatoon star Phoenix March 28, 1969. The following is the entire article word for word. Headline. Ancient Saxon Curse if Stone Cross Moved. Residents in this Devon village fear the consequences of an ancient Saxon curse when municipal workmen moved the massive stone cross which has stood here for 1000 years. Legend has it that anyone tampering with the 20 ton granite monument will suffer a life of misfortune and eternal damnation. 30 years ago the council decided the cross was a traffic hazard and planned moving it, but workmen refused to do the job. Last year the scheme was revived and this time objections came from local citizens, led by 75 year old Madge Pope, who petitioned officials to heed the warnings. No action was taken for six months, but now workmen have begun the long task of digging up the stone from its 10th century foundations and re-erecting it on a new site. We're not worried about the curse, said a spokesman for the county highway department, and a workman commented, if there is a curse, it will only fall on the boss. He gave the order to move it, my mate and I are just doing as we are told. Meanwhile, this Pope is apprehensive. They are all very foolish to interfere with it, she says. The curse does work. Nobody in the village would dream of touching it. We all know what happened to others he tried to interfere with it. End of article Well, I thought this is getting good. I eagerly searched the archives for the sequel wondering what was the final body count from this act of desecration. And then I came upon this story from the Victoria British Columbia Times colonist from September 6th on the same year, just over five months later. Headline Saxon Curses Lose Potency with Centuries Cople stone England Saxon curses may have lost their potency after 1,000 years. At any rate, no dire consequences appear to have followed the shifting of an ancient stone cross in this Devon village in the interest of highway safety. The cross, a Saxon monument which has stood at the village crossroads since the 10th century, was supposed to bring a lifetime of misfortune and eternal damnation to anyone tampering with it. In modern times, it has proved a traffic hazard, impeding the view of motorists approaching the crossroads. But when the council first proposed moving it 30 years ago, workmen refused on account of the curse and the scheme was dropped. Earlier this year, when the idea was revived, some villagers headed by 75-year-old Madge Pope pleaded with the council to heed the ancient warnings. The council compromised, agreeing to move the cross only a few yards from its original site and to keep it on the crossroads. The job was done about two months ago, apparently without supernatural retribution. And of article Bummer Curses just aren't what they used to be in the good old days. This is the tale of how one seemingly completely ordinary young Englishman earned an unenviable place in the legal books and, more importantly, to our modern generation, his own Wikipedia entry. Christopher Slaughterford was born in Westbury Surrey, sometime in 1684. His father was a miller. He spent his early life apprenticing at a farm in Goldaming, after which he served other farmers in that neighborhood. Slaughterford was hardworking, honest, clean living, and eager to succeed. He had a good reputation and seemed as inoffensive and respectable a character as could be found. Before too long, he had saved enough money to buy a malt house in Shalford, which earned him a healthy living. The future was certainly looking bright. Slaughterford had an aunt keeping house for him, but he naturally now began looking for a wife to take her place. Equally predictably, the single ladies of the area saw this steady and successful young man as an excellent catch. When his attentions turned to a pretty servant girl named Jane Young, she welcomed his courtship. The pair were often seen together, socializing with friends or taking strolls in the countryside. Early in October 1708, Jane went to her employer, Elizabeth Chapman, with some exciting news. She and Christopher were getting married. Mrs. Chapman was happy for her young servant. She wished young well and admired her trousseau. When Jane left the Chapman home, it must have been with a light heart indeed. Instead, this simple tale of rural romance turned to dark tragedy. On the evening of October 5th, Jane and Christopher were seen together and then the girl vanished. No one knew what became of her, until about a month later when her body was found in a pond near Slaughterford's home. A surgeon's examination found several wounds to her head, which led to the common assumption that the unfortunate young woman had been murdered. The local community instantly settled on one suspect and one suspect only, the dead girl's sweetheart. It's unclear why so many people were immediately convinced that the hitherto exemplary Slaughterford would commit such a brutal act against the girl he planned to marry, but convinced they were. In the words of the Newgate calendar, a clamor was raised against him and every person believed that he had murdered her. But why would he do such a thing? Nobody could say. The common assumption was that Christopher had tired of his lady love and could think of no other way to be rid of her than by turning to murder. There was absolutely no evidence of any such thing, but that didn't stop this theory from quickly being accepted as fact. It was an alarming example of how easily public perceptions can be swayed. For his part, Christopher vehemently denied having anything to do with Jane's death. He insisted that he had no idea how she met such a grim fate and he was determined to prove it. On his own initiative, Slaughterford presented himself to the local authorities for examination. After a justice of the peace heard all the available evidence, he had no problem dismissing the case. As far as the law was concerned, Christopher was left with his good name unsullied. Unfortunately for Slaughterford, his neighbors felt differently. Lack of evidence be damned, the community continued to insist that he was a murderer. They just had to find a way to prove it. And so they did. Dark stories began to be told of Christopher's behavior after Jane's disappearance. One woman claimed that when she asked him what had become of his whore, he replied, I have put her off. Do you know of any girl that has money your way? I have got the way of putting them off now. Another woman said that before Jane's body was discovered, she asked Slaughterford what he would do if Jane Young should lay such a child to you as mine here. She alleged that he sighed, saying that was now impossible and burst into tears. Then a neighbor of Christopher's said he had seen a man and a woman walking together on the night Jane vanished. He did not see the couple well enough to identify them, but the man was wearing clothing similar to that worn by Slaughterford. Shortly after he passed by the couple, he claimed to have heard a woman scream. This lurid gossip seems like remarkably weak reasons to hang a man, but the community had whipped themselves up into a legal lynch mob. They knew, even if they couldn't exactly say how they knew, that Slaughterford was a murderer and they were determined to send him to the gallows. So intense was the uproar that the authorities decided it was necessary to have a formal trial at the next ass sizes. In the meantime, Slaughterford was held in custody at Marshall C. Prison, probably at least in part to prevent his neighbors from taking the law into their own hands. At his trial, Slaughterford's aunt and the apprentice who lived with them swore under oath that he had been at home for the entire night that Jane disappeared. The previously described witnesses brought forward their dubious testimony. The judge and jury realizing there was not a scintilla of hard evidence against the defendant quickly returned an acquittal. This verdict did nothing to quell the fury of his accusers. One way or another they were going to make Slaughterford pay for his crime. Local residents convinced Jane's family to bring a private prosecution against him. This brought particular hazards for the accused. If he was found guilty, he was unable to lodge an appeal to the monarch since the case was brought by an individual, not the crown. If Christopher lost this case, there was no hope for him. Neighbors took up a collection which financed the lawsuit as the young family was far too poor to do so on their own. In the summer of 1709, the riddle of Jane's death was again brought before the law. For Christopher Slaughterford, this was a case of the third time being anything but a charm. Although no additional evidence pointing to his guilt had been found, the jury all consisting of local men knew that they were there not to try the case but to deliver a conviction. Accordingly, they declared Slaughterford guilty and sentenced him to die. It was the first time in modern English history that someone was to be executed for murder based solely on circumstantial evidence. Slaughterford was hanged in Guilford High Street on July 9. He maintained to the very end that he was completely innocent. Shortly before his execution, he wrote a statement. Being brought here to die, according to the sentence passed upon me at the Queen's Bench Bar for a crime of which I am wholly innocent, I thought myself obliged to let the world know that they may not reflect on my friends and relations whom I have left behind me much troubled for my fatal end, that I know nothing of the death of Jane Young, nor how she came by her death directly or indirectly, though some have been pleased to cast reflections on my aunt. However, I freely forgive all my enemies and pray to God to give them a due sense of their errors and in his due time to bring the truth to light. In the meantime, I beg everyone to forbear reflecting on my dear mother or any of my relations for my unjust and unhappy fall, since what I have here sat down as truth and nothing but the truth as I expect salvation at the hands of Almighty God, but I am heartily sorry that I should be the cause of persuading her to leave her dame, which is all that troubles me, as witnessed by hand this ninth day of July. As a final gesture of contempt for the proceedings, as soon as the executioner put the rope around his neck, rather than wait to be pushed off the gallows, Slaughterford took the fatal leap himself. There was a local legend that his ghost was subsequently seen in the area with the noose around his neck and crying, Vengeance! Vengeance! The mystery of Jane Young's death may have been legally closed, but it was by no means resolved. There are a number of obvious questions in this case. If Slaughterford was indeed guilty, what motivated this hitherto law-abiding young man to kill his fiancee? If he was innocent, what made so many people so convinced of his guilt that they would literally pound him to death? Why did no one at least address the possibility that someone else might have murdered her? And was this even a murder at all? Presuming that Jane died the night she disappeared, her body, when discovered, must have been far too decomposed for any sort of proper post-mortem. It's conceivable that, while walking home, she accidentally fell into the pond and drowned, with the suspicious marks on her head and neck being caused after her death from rocks and other materials in the pond. Whether this was an instance of justice finally being done, or, as most legal analysts believe, an example of judicial murder, this was a remarkably perplexing case. For Alan Taylor, January 15, 1919 was just another day on his farm near Prescott, Iowa. That is, until his 15-year-old neighbor Irene Hoskins came stumbling down the lane with a gash in the side of her head. Young Irene told Alan that her father, John Hoskins, had murdered her stepmother, Hilda, and her two step-siblings, Roy and Gladys. Alan raced to the telephone and called for help. Chester Wood, another close neighbor, arrived soon thereafter. Together they rode to the Hoskins farm. The men had known John for some time and wouldn't have thought him capable of something like this. John Hoskins was a widower with two children, Merlin and Irene. In 1915 he'd married Hilda Campbell, a widow from nearby Nevenville, Iowa, with two children, Roy, 12, and Gladys, 18. John and Hilda had appeared happy together and the family was well-liked in the area. When Wood and Taylor arrived at the Hoskins farm, they could see Hilda's bloody body on the back porch. John stood nearby, grasping a straight razor. He told them not to come any closer or he would attack. Frightened, the two men fled. By the time law enforcement arrived, John had slit his own throat, as well as one of his wrists. He lay in a pool of blood just inside the back door of the house. One of the responders, a doctor, inspected the wounded man declaring him beyond saving. But then John began to twitch. They lifted him up and carried him inside the house to treat his wounds. A horrific sight awaited the responders once they entered the back door into the kitchen. On the floor were the bodies of Roy and Gladys. Blood covered the room in a grizzly red mosaic. Merlin was nowhere to be found. The doctor kneeled down to more closely examine John. It became clear his wounds were superficial. The damage to his wrist was minor and his throat had been cut too high to cause any fatal injury. The sheriff ordered Hoskins to be treated and then transported to the county jail in Corning, Iowa. With John Hoskins in custody, the investigation commenced. At the coroner's inquest, several of those who had been present that day were called to testify. A grim timeline emerged, based largely on the testimony of Irene and Merlin, who, it turned out, had witnessed some of the bloodshed before fleeing to his uncle's house. Irene said that she and Gladys had slept in until nearly 6.30 that morning, which was much later than John had wanted. The family planned to go see John's parents that morning. The delay apparently put John in a foul mood. He soon began arguing with Halda. According to the children, this was far from an isolated event. Indeed, earlier that same year, an enraged John had grabbed Roy by the throat and began strangling him. When Halda and Irene tried to break it up, John attacked them too. The quarrel subsided without further injury, then. Nevertheless, it told of violence to come. As John argued with his wife, the children sat down at the kitchen table and began eating breakfast. Soon, John joined them, while Halda went outside to the separating house to get some lard. In the middle of the meal, John stood up and walked to the back door. He reached outside and grabbed a piece of wooden buggy axle that he used for mixing hog feed. Without a word, John then walked over and clubbed Gladys in the head. She crumpled to the ground. John swung again, this time striking Roy. Irene and Merlin both ran, afraid for their lives. John ran after Irene, catching her easily in the front yard. She begged her father to stop, but John swung the axle. Blood, seeped from the gash left in her head, as John turned away from his bleeding child. He next spotted Merlin running across the room and called out to him. The boy froze in place. John ordered Merlin to take his horse and ride to his uncle's farm. He wanted Merlin to tell his uncle what had happened that morning. Petrified, Merlin obeyed. He ran to the barn, saddled up his horse and prepared to head off to his uncle's house. John then returned to the kitchen where he finished off Gladys and Roy with additional blows to the head. It was at this point that Halda returned to the main house. Upon entering, she discovered her children dead on the floor. John then struck her in the face with the axle. Halda stumbled out the back door and into the yard. John followed her, smashing her in the head, then leaving her for dead. Meanwhile, Irene had come to her senses. The first thing she saw was her stepmother in a heap in the backyard. She staggered over to the injured woman. Halda was badly hurt, but still alive. She told Irene to run away and find help. Irene complied and went straight to Alan Taylor's farm. With the last of her strength, Halda crawled onto the porch and died. By the end of the inquest, the entire region knew what John Hoskins had done. He showed absolutely no remorse about his crime, even relating details of that day to his jailers. Local authorities brought Hoskins to trial almost immediately, and by March 1st, 1919, he had pled guilty to murder. He was sent to Iowa State Penitentiary in Fort Madison, Iowa to serve out a life sentence. Irene and Merlin were sent to live with their grandparents in Evansville. In 1959, 40 years after the murder took place, the 78-year-old John Hoskins was granted parole after his original sentence was commuted. Surprisingly, he went to stay with Irene, who was now living in California. Life outside prison didn't suit John, however. He asked to be returned to Iowa. The state obliged and a parole officer escorted Hoskins back to Fort Madison. He died there in 1963. John's headstone is plain and makes no mention of the heinous crimes he committed on a cold, January day in 1919. Up next, how exactly did one become an executioner in medieval times? We'll find out. Central Massachusetts is a land of oddities and apparitions. Stories of the strange and paranormal have been passed down from generation to generation, and only the local populace has any idea of just how vast and deep their superstitions run. The world around you is much more than you can touch, taste, smell, see, and hear. Some of the stories are funny, some are sad, but all of them give you a taste of what it's like to be from the oddest part of the United States. You can't have a region of the country that has been settled for centuries without getting a few odd tales out of it. Open up a whole new world of fact and fiction that'll leave you with a deep appreciation for the strange and bizarre ghosts and heroes await, and the only thing they need to live on is you. Slightly Odd Fitchburg by Ed Sweeney, now available on Kindle, paperback, and audiobook versions on the audiobooks page at WeirdDarkness.com. Few occupations from history are as maligned as that of medieval-era executioner. Popularily painted as gleeful dispensers of death and torture, the truth seems to be that many executioners throughout this period usually treated the occupation with a certain reverence and exhibited an extreme dedication to duty. Beyond trying to minimize the suffering of those slated to be executed, this was, among other reasons we'll get into, because it would often mean the life of the executioner if they ever botched an execution or otherwise aren't extremely professional in carrying out their job. So, moving beyond any Hollywood depictions, what was it actually like to be an executioner in the ballpark of medieval times? And how did someone get the job in the first place? A thing to note before we continue is that the duties expected of and performed by executioners as well as what life was like for specific executioners has varied wildly across time and regions. For example, those condemned to death in the Ottoman Empire during the 18th century could potentially get off scot-free by challenging the executioner to a foot race. In this case, in addition to doling out lethal justice with their bare hands, executioners also worked as both bodyguards and gardeners. That caveat How did one become an executioner in the first place? It turns out that many European medieval executioners were former criminals themselves. You see, for reasons we'll get into shortly, the role of executioner was so unpopular that finding someone to do the job often required either forcing someone into the profession or offering the gig to someone who was slated to be executed themselves. Scandinavian countries were known to make extensive use of this novel hiring practice with a little twist thrown in. They'd maim executioners by cutting off one or both of their ears so that they could be easily identified by the public. It also wasn't uncommon for people made executioners in this way to be branded somewhere on their head, once again for the purpose of their new profession being, in this case literally, written all over their face. For example, as noted in Hugo Mathiasen's Bodel og Galgafutl, in the year 1470 a poor thief stood at the foot of the gallows in the Swedish town Arboga and was awaiting to be hanged. The public attending the spectacle had pity on the sinner and when he to save his neck offered to become executioner in the town, it was agreed. He was pardoned and the red hot iron was used to brand his body with both thief and executioner mark. In Germany, on the other hand, as author Joel Harrington notes in a discussion of his book The Faithful Executioner, Life and Death, Honor and Shame in the Turbulent 16th Century, while standing executioners on salary were the norm throughout Germany during the 1600s, for many centuries prior to this it was common place to thrust role of executioner upon a victim's oldest male relative. I'll place a link to that book in the show notes. This all brings us around to why so many avoided the profession like the plague. To begin with the general consensus among most was that in taking such a job, one was then sure to be damned in the afterlife. This was despite the fact that in some regions, such as France, executioners were by official church decree absolved of all sins committed while performing their duties. This still didn't stop the general public from considering executioners unclean, leading to the more practical problem with the job, nearly being completely ostracized from society. Coming back to those condemned to die instead of becoming an executioner, people seem to have been perfectly fine with this as the criminal's life would still be forfeit, just in a more metaphorical sense. For example, throughout medieval Europe, executioners were often forced to live in houses outside of the city or town that they applied their trade in. In cases where this wasn't possible, they tended to live near things like public latrines, lepertoriums, or brothels. Executioners were similarly often denied citizenship to the towns and cities they served and thus had few rights in the town and were largely barred from holding office or even entering churches, pubs, bathhouses, etc. Basically, most public establishments were off limits to the executioner. Thus, despite executioners being deemed critical for a society to remain civilized, they were paradoxically generally forced to live apart from that civilized society. In fact, some places across Europe went as far to institute laws specifically targeting executioners and what they could and could not do in their day-to-day lives. For example, the Bavarian town of Memingen enacted an ordinance in 1528 that forbade members of the general public dining with an executioner. Such laws and general attitudes effectively limited the people an executioner could interact with in their day-to-day lives, just their own family and those from the criminal underworld who simply didn't care that the executioner was unclean. On top of this, an executioner's children and spouse were likewise similarly shunned by anyone but the underbelly of society. This, combined with the fact that the children of executioners could usually only find mates with children of other executioners, understandably led to the role of executioner becoming a macabre family trade that resulted in executioner dynasties that spanned centuries. Beyond being ostracized and damning your progeny to a similar life as well as an afterlife full of hellfire, while there were potentially ways for an executioner to make a killing within the profession, it turns out for most, there simply weren't enough executions themselves to make ends meet. Alternate work was limited to jobs nobody else wanted. This included all manner of things from disposal of corpses, animal and human, emptying cesspools, collecting taxes from the diseased and prostitutes, etc. Oddly, at least from a modern perspective, another common profession for a well-trained executioner was that of a doctor and surgeon. You see, beyond executing people, another thing executioners were often called to do was torture people for various reasons. These two things, combined with the close-knit community of executioners sharing their knowledge amongst themselves, resulted in lifelong executioners generally having exceptional knowledge of human anatomy, and thus they were commonly called on to treat various medical maladies. In fact, one rather famous 17th century German executioner, Franz Schmidt, noted in his journal that over the course of his near five decade career, he had over 15,000 people he treated as a doctor while executing only 394 and disfiguring or otherwise torturing or flogging roughly the same number, meaning most of the time he functioned as a doctor, despite society at the time considering him an executioner. Schmidt was one of those thrust into the profession as his father was strong-armed into becoming an executioner, condemning Schmidt to the same life once he came of age, though Schmidt's story has something of a happy ending. Like many executioners, Schmidt was given a wide berth by the public in his day-to-day life, but the incredible professionalism with which he conducted his grisly duties earned him the begrudging respect of both the general public and those in power. In his later years, Schmidt was able to parlay this into a meeting with Nuremberg authorities, and then he was able to appeal to Emperor Ferdinand II himself with the goal of restoring his family honor. Swayed by not just Schmidt's words, but also letters from city council members and other notable people extolling Schmidt's character and dedication to his duty, the then 70-year-old executioner was granted both Nuremberg citizenship and had his family name cleared, allowing his progeny to escape the bloody specter of his work. Of course, being ultra-professional with the profession was something of a necessity for Schmidt, as at the time in Germany there was a law stipulating that any executioner tasked with doling out death by the sword, a form of execution largely reserved for especially important individuals who took more than three swings to behead a victim would be condemned to die themselves. Even where such laws didn't exist, the job of an executioner was extremely dangerous, as executioners were also at risk of being killed by either vengeful relatives or the crowd witnessing an execution. In regards to the latter, if an executioner was especially cruel in their metting out of punishment, simply incompetent to the point that they caused undue suffering or just otherwise acted in an unprofessional manner in performing their duties, it wasn't unheard of for a crowd to retaliate by killing the executioner on the spot, generally with no consequence to anyone in the mob. This constant danger of the job was something Schmidt himself talked about several times in his journal, though he only notes one instance where the crowd turned into a mob. This occurred during a flogging he was performing with the person being beaten ultimately stoned to death by the crowd. As you might imagine from this, in cases like Schmidt who was trained from childhood to take over the job from his father, a rather lengthy apprenticeship was called for, including a robust education from one's parent, followed by assisting in executions and torture from a young age. Schmidt also notes that he practiced executions extensively on various animals before being allowed to actually execute a human himself. The end goal of all of this was to make sure he wouldn't screw up, as raucous mobs didn't really care if it was someone's first day on the job or not. Now, although being an executioner came with some massive downsides, it wasn't all bad. Enterprising executioners could actually earn a fairly decent living doling out torture and capital punishment on command if they were smart about it. For example, especially skilled executioners who didn't mind traveling could take advantage of the scarcity of people willing to do their job by applying their trade across whichever country they happen to live in, rather than just staying local. Executioners also frequently earned extra money in the form of bribes from the condemned or their families, invariably given in the hopes that the executioner would ensure death was as swift and painless as possible or otherwise allow the condemned extra comforts leading up to the execution. This might include, for example, slipping them extra alcohol or the like to make the execution a little easier to handle. On top of this, throughout much of medieval Europe, a perk of being an executioner is that it was customary for whatever property was warned at the time of death to be granted to the executioner. Additionally, executioners in Germany were frequently tasked with things like arbitrating disputes between prostitutes and driving lepers out of town, among other such jobs, all of which they could charge a premium for because nobody else was willing to do the job. Executioners were also sometimes not just given the job of disposing of human carcasses, but also, in some regions, the explicit right to all stray animal carcasses found in a town. Depending on the animal, this could mean the rights to valuable hides, teeth, etc. An even greater benefit for certain executioners, this time in France, was the idea of duage de hage. In a nutshell, because executioners were so ostracized and couldn't in some regions, for example, just go down to the market and shop freely, under duage de hage, executioners were more or less allowed to tax those who sold various food and drink items. This came in the form of being able to demand goods for free. Finally, there is the money an executioner would be paid for performing an execution, flogging or the like. Although it is hard to say exactly how much an executioner could earn per hanging or beheading in today's currency due to the inherent difficulty of gauging the value of historic currencies, it is evident that it was a good amount, at least relative to the generally low social standing of executioners. For example, according to information gleaned from an old statue dated to a small German town in 1276, an executioner could earn the equivalent of five shillings per execution. This is an amount roughly equal to the amount of money a skilled tradesman could earn in about 25 days at a time. Likewise, an executioner operating in England some two centuries later in the 1400s could reportedly earn a fee of 10 shillings per execution or roughly 16 times the amount of a skilled tradesman could earn in a single day. Granted, as you might have deduced from the aforementioned case of Franz Schmidt, only executing about 400 people and flogging a similar number in his near five decades on the job, nobody was getting rich doing this by itself. It at least wasn't bad pay per hour of work. Finally, we'd be remiss in any discussion of medieval executioners to not point out that the idea of executioners wearing masks to hide who they were does not appear to have actually been much of a thing. Beyond, as mentioned in many regions, being literally branded as executioners, even large cities for much of history weren't actually that large, so people knew who the executioner in a given region was, if not directly, by being marked thus. That's wearing a mask would have been pointless. Thanks for listening and be sure to stick around for the bloopers at the end. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments at Darren at WeirdDarkness.com. Darren is D-A-R-R-E-N. WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can find information on any of the sponsors you heard about during the show. Find all my social media. Listen to audiobooks I've narrated. Sign up for the email newsletter. Find other podcasts that I host, including Church of the Undead. Visit the store for Weird Darkness merchandise and more. WeirdDarkness.com is also where you can find a hope in the darkness page if you or someone you know is struggling with depression or dark thoughts. Also on the website, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, you can click on Tell Your Story. You can find all of that and more at WeirdDarkness.com. All stories on Weird Darkness are purported to be true unless stated otherwise and you can find links to the stories or the authors in the show notes. An author's encounter with a none-of-this-world entity is by Ellen Lloyd for ancient pages. The Guardians of Lone Fur Cemetery is from Jessica Ferry for the lineup. The Ghost of Gracie Watson is by Gary Sweeney also at the lineup. Haunted Elsa Doll is by Julie Sprankles for Scary Mommy. Curse of the Saxon Stone Cross is from Strange Company. Also from Strange Company is The Trials of Christopher Slaughterford. The Hoskins Family Murders is by John Brasser Jr. for the lineup, and to become an executioner is from Today I Found Out. Weird Darkness is a registered trademark. Copyright Weird Darkness. Now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Psalm 32 verse 10. Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord's unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him. And a final thought. Be happy. Just because things are not good doesn't mean you can't see the good side of things. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness. Such laws and just general attitudes effectively limited the people an executioner could interact with in their day-to-day lives to their town, in their day-to-day lives to their own family, and those from limited the people an executioner could interact with. Such laws and just general attitudes, such laws and general attitudes effectively limited the people an executioner could interact with in their day-to-day lives to their own family and those from the criminal underworld who simply didn't care what the execution was. Such laws and general attitudes effectively limited the people an executioner could interact with in their day-to-day lives. Hey weirdos, be sure to click the like button and subscribe to this channel, and click the notification bell so you don't miss future videos. I post videos seven days a week, and while you're at it, spread the darkness by sharing this video with someone you know who loves all things strange and macabre. If you want to listen to the podcast, you can find it at WeirdDarkness.com-slash-listen