Lets get Lechmere off the hook!

[Herlock Sholmes]

The only one who has claimed that staying at the crime scene was the best way to appear innocent is you.

Your stawman has no resemblance to reality, nor to what anyone else is actually saying.

Forensic evidence that points to Cross being guilty - none.
Eyewitness evidence that points to Cross being guilty - none.
Motive for Cross committing the murders - none.

The Ripper escaped undetected from the other murders. The police said that Nichols' murderer could have easily escaped undetected. Cross staying was either the act of an innocent man or of a stunningly stupid killer.

I wonder how many hundreds of thousands of people over the years have discovered the body of a serial killers victim outdoors? How many of those turned out to have been the serial killer himself? Not one.

I wonder what kind of figure a statistician would place on the chances of Cross being the first serial killer in the entirety of crime history to do this. 10,000,000-1, 20,000,000-1, or even longer odds.

Then, how many serial killers in history ever killed and mutilated a victim on his walk to work and 20 minutes before being due to clock in. Not one. So what are the odds? Again, who knowns, 10,000,000-1?

So now we have to pile one unlikeliness onto the other because both apply to Cross.

This means that it would be more likely that the killer was a blind Amazonian tribesman wearing a Bugs Bunny costume than Charles Cross.

Cross is a joke suspect. I suspect that no one genuinely believes in his guilt Fiver. Some have just backed this horse for so long that they are now too embarrassed to admit how wrong they are, some ‘support’ him just because they like to cause arguments, some support them because they stand to benefit.

I mean, whoever heard of a serial killer escaping? Obviously they always prefer to stand around for a chat with a complete stranger.

[rjpalmer]

How did Lechmere Avenue in Chigwell get its name?

[chubbs]

Obviously Innocent. A Revolutionary Guide for Criminals

The world of criminal justice has finally cracked the code! Forget forensics, motive, or evidence, if you’re ever caught near a crime scene, just stand there when someone else shows up. Voilà! Instant innocence!

Seriously, folks, why didn’t every criminal in history think of this sooner? Imagine
the great train robbers waving to passersby while loading up sacks of cash..

Police: “Carry on, gentlemen. If you were guilty, you’d definitely be sprinting by now!”

This is genius level strategy. Everyone knows that only guilty people run away. People running? Suspicious. Standing around? Honorable citizen.

Did you know that’s why we don’t suspect statues of murder? THEY DON’T RUN AWAY.

Oh, but wait! What if the victim’s blood is on your hands? No worries.. just look confused when someone walks by. “Oh, hey! I found this person already dead, crazy right?” Works every time!

It’s not like criminals might, I don’t know, think ahead or realize that calmly staying at the scene might make them look less suspicious. No way. Criminals are way too dumb for that, right?

Better yet, let’s rewrite the justice system around this groundbreaking theory.

Caught with a weapon in your hand? Stay still! No one will suspect you.

Discovered digging a hole in the woods? Smile and wave, it’s just gardening!

Literally covered in blood? Relax, it’s not like standing there makes you look guilty or anything.

A man is found standing over a dead body with a bloody knife in his hand. A crowd gathers, staring at him in horror.
Someone shouts, “Did you kill him?”
The man calmly replies, “If I did, would I still be standing here?”
The crowd collectively nods, “Fair point” and walks away.

Moral of the story.. Confidence is the best alibi!

This logic is so bulletproof it makes me wonder why anyone runs from a crime scene anymore. Why flee when you can just vibe next to your victim and let everyone assume you’re innocent because you didn’t bother breaking a sweat? Genius.

But wait, it gets better, If standing around clears you of suspicion, why stop there?

Criminals can host meet and greets at their crime scenes:

“Welcome to the Lechmere Lounge™. Murder tours start at noon, refreshments provided!”

Honestly, if this is the standard of logic, the entire justice system might as well pack it up. Who needs trials when you’ve got the Lechmere Defense™ ?

Just exist confidently near a murder scene, and no one will suspect a thing.

So there you have it, the ultimate criminal cheat code. Don’t flee, don’t panic, and for God sake, don’t look guilty. Just stand there and act like you belong, maybe offer snacks to the next guy who stumbles upon you.

Because apparently, not running away is all the proof anyone needs that you couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong.

Justice? Solved.


The Baron

Silly old Peter Sutcliffe. If only he'd have stayed at the scene of all 13 of his murders he'd have got away with the lot.

[GBinOz]

Obviously Innocent. A Revolutionary Guide for Criminals

The world of criminal justice has finally cracked the code! Forget forensics, motive, or evidence, if you’re ever caught near a crime scene, just stand there when someone else shows up. Voilà! Instant innocence!

Seriously, folks, why didn’t every criminal in history think of this sooner? Imagine
the great train robbers waving to passersby while loading up sacks of cash..

Police: “Carry on, gentlemen. If you were guilty, you’d definitely be sprinting by now!”

This is genius level strategy. Everyone knows that only guilty people run away. People running? Suspicious. Standing around? Honorable citizen.

Did you know that’s why we don’t suspect statues of murder? THEY DON’T RUN AWAY.

Oh, but wait! What if the victim’s blood is on your hands? No worries.. just look confused when someone walks by. “Oh, hey! I found this person already dead, crazy right?” Works every time!

It’s not like criminals might, I don’t know, think ahead or realize that calmly staying at the scene might make them look less suspicious. No way. Criminals are way too dumb for that, right?

Better yet, let’s rewrite the justice system around this groundbreaking theory.

Caught with a weapon in your hand? Stay still! No one will suspect you.

Discovered digging a hole in the woods? Smile and wave, it’s just gardening!

Literally covered in blood? Relax, it’s not like standing there makes you look guilty or anything.

A man is found standing over a dead body with a bloody knife in his hand. A crowd gathers, staring at him in horror.
Someone shouts, “Did you kill him?”
The man calmly replies, “If I did, would I still be standing here?”
The crowd collectively nods, “Fair point” and walks away.

Moral of the story.. Confidence is the best alibi!

This logic is so bulletproof it makes me wonder why anyone runs from a crime scene anymore. Why flee when you can just vibe next to your victim and let everyone assume you’re innocent because you didn’t bother breaking a sweat? Genius.

But wait, it gets better, If standing around clears you of suspicion, why stop there?

Criminals can host meet and greets at their crime scenes:

“Welcome to the Lechmere Lounge™. Murder tours start at noon, refreshments provided!”

Honestly, if this is the standard of logic, the entire justice system might as well pack it up. Who needs trials when you’ve got the Lechmere Defense™ ?

Just exist confidently near a murder scene, and no one will suspect a thing.

So there you have it, the ultimate criminal cheat code. Don’t flee, don’t panic, and for God sake, don’t look guilty. Just stand there and act like you belong, maybe offer snacks to the next guy who stumbles upon you.

Because apparently, not running away is all the proof anyone needs that you couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong.

Justice? Solved.


The Baron

Sarcasm at its finest??

My wife and I watched "North by Northwest" last night (again). The Cary Grant character is talking to a man in the UN building when a glove wearing assassin throws a knife into the man's back. Grant attempts to support the man as he falls and in the process grasps the knife and pulls it from his back. At this moment he is photographed, clutching a body, bloody knife in hand and fingerprints all over the knife, and Grant runs away. We apparently have an open and shut case. Or do we??

I'm not sure this is even relevant, but there it is.

Cheers, George

[The Baron]

Sarcasm at its finest??

My wife and I watched "North by Northwest" last night (again). The Cary Grant character is talking to a man in the UN building when a glove wearing assassin throws a knife into the man's back. Grant attempts to support the man as he falls and in the process grasps the knife and pulls it from his back. At this moment he is photographed, clutching a body, bloody knife in hand and fingerprints all over the knife, and Grant runs away. We apparently have an open and shut case. Or do we??

I'm not sure this is even relevant, but there it is.

Cheers, George

If Thornhill had just stayed calmly at the scene, holding the bloody knife with a polite shrug, then, according to the Lechmere Defense, he’d surely have been cleared of all suspicion! After all, only guilty people run, right?

Hitchcock might have had to rename it ‘North by Staying Put’, and it would’ve been a very short movie.

Cheers to you and your wife for bringing up such a classic, Hitchcock’s ability to turn ordinary situations into chaos is unmatched. Perhaps he would’ve enjoyed the irony of a murderer strolling around the crime scene offering coffee to witnesses to prove their innocence. A true master of suspense!



The Baron

[Herlock Sholmes]

Sarcasm at its finest??

My wife and I watched "North by Northwest" last night (again). The Cary Grant character is talking to a man in the UN building when a glove wearing assassin throws a knife into the man's back. Grant attempts to support the man as he falls and in the process grasps the knife and pulls it from his back. At this moment he is photographed, clutching a body, bloody knife in hand and fingerprints all over the knife, and Grant runs away. We apparently have an open and shut case. Or do we??

I'm not sure this is even relevant, but there it is.

Cheers, George

It is relevant George because it’s a very clear pointer to the laughability of the suggestion of Cross’s guilt.

We have Roger Thornhill an innocent man in a crowded room. He knows that he didn’t kill the man but because he cradled him and instinctively removed the knife he looked guilty and even though there might have been people in the room who actually saw the man get a knife thrown into his back (and not by Thornhill) he still ran away. So even a man who merely looked guilty fled the scene.

And yet, according to the True Believers we have a man who was actually guilty and who actually had no one to potentially exonerate him and who actually had the murder weapon on him (hidden about his person) but this guy stood around waiting for a stranger, over whom he would have had no influence or control, to show up. Could anything be less believable?

Charles Cross moves further into the comedy section of the suspect list every day. Let’s hope that the few that have fallen for this non-starter of a theory realise their obvious error soon.

[Fiver]

If Thornhill had just stayed calmly at the scene, holding the bloody knife with a polite shrug, then, according to the Lechmere Defense, he’d surely have been cleared of all suspicion! After all, only guilty people run, right?

The Baron

Your posts continue to have no resemblance to reality or to what other people are saying.

You are the one claiming that the smartest thing for a man with a bloody knife in his pocket and no way of knowing if he has blood on his hands or clothes is to wait at the crime scene. You are the one claiming that is the best way to be cleared of all suspicion. You are mocking your own position and pretending it is everyone else's.

Nobody has said that only guilty people run. Nobody has said that the Ripper ran at all. They said that the smart thing for the Ripper to do would be to walk off into the darkness. You claimed that only an amateur certain to get caught would leave the crime scene instead of waiting, yet that is exactly what the Ripper did in the Stride and Eddowes murders.

The man who murdered Nichols was not in the same situation as Grant's Roger Thornhill. No one saw the Ripper with a knife in his hand. No one saw hm touching the body. No one took the Ripper's photograph. There was no way of knowing the Ripper's identity if he just walked off into the darkness.

So Lechmere not walking off into the darkness is either the actions if an innocent man or of a stunningly stupid murderer. It is only by luck that Robert Paul doesn't see Rippermere trying to clean his hands and knife, put the knife away, and move from crouching over the body to standing in the street. It is only by luck that Rippermere touching Robert Paul does not leave an unexplainable bloodstain on Paul's clothing. It is only by luck that neither Robert Paul nor PC Mizen notice blood on Rippermere's hands or clothing. It is only by luck that neither Paul nor Mizen ask for Rippermere's name.

No one knows Rippermere's identity. He has merely to change his route to work, a trivial thing for a carman with 20 years in the job, and he has virtually no chance of ever seeing Paul or Mizen again.

But Rippermere, showing the brains of a cobblestone, goes to the police and identifies himself as the man who found the body. It's laughably inept if he was the Ripper.

[Herlock Sholmes]

Your posts continue to have no resemblance to reality or to what other people are saying.

You are the one claiming that the smartest thing for a man with a bloody knife in his pocket and no way of knowing if he has blood on his hands or clothes is to wait at the crime scene. You are the one claiming that is the best way to be cleared of all suspicion. You are mocking your own position and pretending it is everyone else's.

Nobody has said that only guilty people run. Nobody has said that the Ripper ran at all. They said that the smart thing for the Ripper to do would be to walk off into the darkness. You claimed that only an amateur certain to get caught would leave the crime scene instead of waiting, yet that is exactly what the Ripper did in the Stride and Eddowes murders.

The man who murdered Nichols was not in the same situation as Grant's Roger Thornhill. No one saw the Ripper with a knife in his hand. No one saw hm touching the body. No one took the Ripper's photograph. There was no way of knowing the Ripper's identity if he just walked off into the darkness.

So Lechmere not walking off into the darkness is either the actions if an innocent man or of a stunningly stupid murderer. It is only by luck that Robert Paul doesn't see Rippermere trying to clean his hands and knife, put the knife away, and move from crouching over the body to standing in the street. It is only by luck that Rippermere touching Robert Paul does not leave an unexplainable bloodstain on Paul's clothing. It is only by luck that neither Robert Paul nor PC Mizen notice blood on Rippermere's hands or clothing. It is only by luck that neither Paul nor Mizen ask for Rippermere's name.

No one knows Rippermere's identity. He has merely to change his route to work, a trivial thing for a carman with 20 years in the job, and he has virtually no chance of ever seeing Paul or Mizen again.

But Rippermere, showing the brains of a cobblestone, goes to the police and identifies himself as the man who found the body. It's laughably inept if he was the Ripper.

Excellent post. Perfectly summed up.

[The Rookie Detective]

How did Lechmere Avenue in Chigwell get its name?

Not forgetting Lechmere Avenue, in Woodford Green, which is located directly parallel to the southern end of the M11 motorway.

Driven passed it many times

[Geddy2112]

Not forgetting Lechmere Avenue, in Woodford Green, which is located directly parallel to the southern end of the M11 motorway.

Driven passed it many times

We have a Leechmere Road and Leechmere industrial estate, it's bloody murder to drive around about 3:30am on a Friday morning...

[FrankO]

Good post, Fiver.

So Lechmere not walking off into the darkness is either the actions if an innocent man or of a stunningly stupid murderer. It is only by luck that Robert Paul doesn't see Rippermere trying to clean his hands and knife, put the knife away, and move from crouching over the body to standing in the street. It is only by luck that Rippermere touching Robert Paul does not leave an unexplainable bloodstain on Paul's clothing. It is only by luck that neither Robert Paul nor PC Mizen notice blood on Rippermere's hands or clothing. It is only by luck that neither Paul nor Mizen ask for Rippermere's name.

It's only luck the carmen don't walk into Neil after having left Nichols. It's only luck that Neil is at the crime scene when Mizen arrives.

[Geddy2112]

Let's be fair here, the murder probably happened around 3:30am when mumblings was heard, a train was passing and it spooked the real killer. He was long gone before Cross got there about 3:40 am.
Common sense seems to be rare in some quarters.

[Fiver]

Let's be fair here, the murder probably happened around 3:30am when mumblings was heard, a train was passing and it spooked the real killer. He was long gone before Cross got there about 3:40 am.
Common sense seems to be rare in some quarters.

Common sense is the rarest of the senses.

[The Baron]

A Life Unseen

The air tastes different now, thick, almost suffocating. He walks, but he doesn’t really feel the ground beneath his boots anymore. It’s as though the world itself has become a blur, each step melding with the next, each hour stretching into infinity. He should feel something, shouldn’t he? A weight, a sense of loss, something. But he doesn’t. Not anymore.
It happened. He knows it happened. He saw it. That boy, his body crumpling beneath the cart. He remembers it, but somehow it’s like it happened to someone else. Not him. Not the man who was there. It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so violent, so final, could slip away from him so easily.
He’s walked through worse in his life. So many faces, so many days, so many moments lost in the ebb of time. What’s one more death, really? What’s one more body falling in a world already so filled with them? At first, there’s a kind of shock, of course. He’s not supposed to feel indifferent to death, is he? But it settles. It fades into the background like everything else. And when the world won’t even give him the satisfaction of recognition, well, what’s left?
He felt... nothing.
Not in the way they said he should, at least. There was no horror, no tears, no frantic search for answers. It just was. And after it happened, there was only silence. A deafening, empty silence, where the world continued to turn, and he was left behind, still walking, still breathing.
Was it really so bad?
The thing about death... is that it’s so quiet, so final. And yet, there’s this strange peace in it. The boy is gone. That moment is gone. It doesn’t change anything. He keeps walking, the cart still moving, the work still waiting. He doesn’t stop. He can’t. The world needs him to keep moving, and so he does.
But something... shifted, didn’t it? That quiet little fracture in his mind, barely noticeable at first. It grows. Slowly. And he doesn’t even see it happening. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to look at it.
But the more he pushed it down, the more he hid it, the clearer it became. The world? It doesn’t care. The world doesn’t notice what happens to the ones who fall, the ones who get caught. The boy... he fell, and no one cared. Not really. Not after the news had gone cold, not after the blame had been settled, not after the accident had been tucked away neatly into the shadows of the city’s memory.
And he? He was still here. No one even knew he existed, except for his own hollow reflection. The same empty stare he sees every day, walking through the fog.
There’s something strange about being alone with yourself. You start to question. You start to wonder if this is all there is. But it’s not the big questions that shake you. It’s the small ones. The questions that eat away at your edges when you’re too tired to fight them. Why did it matter? Why does anything matter? What does it mean to walk through a world where nobody cares if you’re there or not?
And what does he do with that?
It builds. It sits inside him, pressing against the walls. At first, he shoves it down. He keeps walking. He keeps pretending. But slowly, the walls break down. The hell that was buried deep starts to find a way out, doesn’t it? It twists into something darker. It doesn’t scream, it doesn’t shout... it whispers. You’ve seen death before. It’s not so bad, is it?
No. It’s not so bad.
The boy. The world. The people who pass by, never looking, never seeing. They walk by like shadows, like they’re not really there, like they don’t matter. And the silence grows louder. It presses in until there’s no room for anything else. No room for anything real.
And that’s where it begins, doesn’t it?
It’s not that he wants to hurt. It’s not even that he wants to feel anything. It’s that he stops seeing them as people at all. He stops seeing himself as anything but another shadow, another blur in the street. The walls close in, and the space between the living and the dead starts to shrink. They’re the same, aren’t they? Just more people passing by. Just more empty faces who don’t matter.
And somewhere, deep in the silence, he realizes that what he felt before? It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t horror. It was just... emptiness. The same emptiness he carries, the same hollow space that’s become so familiar.
And it doesn’t matter anymore.
It doesn’t matter who they are. It doesn’t matter if they’re lost or forgotten. All that matters is that, at the end of it all, he’ll be the one who’s seen. He’ll be the one who makes them feel it.
Because he can. And it’s the only thing left to do.



The Baron

[Abby Normal]

A Life Unseen

The air tastes different now, thick, almost suffocating. He walks, but he doesn’t really feel the ground beneath his boots anymore. It’s as though the world itself has become a blur, each step melding with the next, each hour stretching into infinity. He should feel something, shouldn’t he? A weight, a sense of loss, something. But he doesn’t. Not anymore.
It happened. He knows it happened. He saw it. That boy, his body crumpling beneath the cart. He remembers it, but somehow it’s like it happened to someone else. Not him. Not the man who was there. It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so violent, so final, could slip away from him so easily.
He’s walked through worse in his life. So many faces, so many days, so many moments lost in the ebb of time. What’s one more death, really? What’s one more body falling in a world already so filled with them? At first, there’s a kind of shock, of course. He’s not supposed to feel indifferent to death, is he? But it settles. It fades into the background like everything else. And when the world won’t even give him the satisfaction of recognition, well, what’s left?
He felt... nothing.
Not in the way they said he should, at least. There was no horror, no tears, no frantic search for answers. It just was. And after it happened, there was only silence. A deafening, empty silence, where the world continued to turn, and he was left behind, still walking, still breathing.
Was it really so bad?
The thing about death... is that it’s so quiet, so final. And yet, there’s this strange peace in it. The boy is gone. That moment is gone. It doesn’t change anything. He keeps walking, the cart still moving, the work still waiting. He doesn’t stop. He can’t. The world needs him to keep moving, and so he does.
But something... shifted, didn’t it? That quiet little fracture in his mind, barely noticeable at first. It grows. Slowly. And he doesn’t even see it happening. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to look at it.
But the more he pushed it down, the more he hid it, the clearer it became. The world? It doesn’t care. The world doesn’t notice what happens to the ones who fall, the ones who get caught. The boy... he fell, and no one cared. Not really. Not after the news had gone cold, not after the blame had been settled, not after the accident had been tucked away neatly into the shadows of the city’s memory.
And he? He was still here. No one even knew he existed, except for his own hollow reflection. The same empty stare he sees every day, walking through the fog.
There’s something strange about being alone with yourself. You start to question. You start to wonder if this is all there is. But it’s not the big questions that shake you. It’s the small ones. The questions that eat away at your edges when you’re too tired to fight them. Why did it matter? Why does anything matter? What does it mean to walk through a world where nobody cares if you’re there or not?
And what does he do with that?
It builds. It sits inside him, pressing against the walls. At first, he shoves it down. He keeps walking. He keeps pretending. But slowly, the walls break down. The hell that was buried deep starts to find a way out, doesn’t it? It twists into something darker. It doesn’t scream, it doesn’t shout... it whispers. You’ve seen death before. It’s not so bad, is it?
No. It’s not so bad.
The boy. The world. The people who pass by, never looking, never seeing. They walk by like shadows, like they’re not really there, like they don’t matter. And the silence grows louder. It presses in until there’s no room for anything else. No room for anything real.
And that’s where it begins, doesn’t it?
It’s not that he wants to hurt. It’s not even that he wants to feel anything. It’s that he stops seeing them as people at all. He stops seeing himself as anything but another shadow, another blur in the street. The walls close in, and the space between the living and the dead starts to shrink. They’re the same, aren’t they? Just more people passing by. Just more empty faces who don’t matter.
And somewhere, deep in the silence, he realizes that what he felt before? It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t horror. It was just... emptiness. The same emptiness he carries, the same hollow space that’s become so familiar.
And it doesn’t matter anymore.
It doesn’t matter who they are. It doesn’t matter if they’re lost or forgotten. All that matters is that, at the end of it all, he’ll be the one who’s seen. He’ll be the one who makes them feel it.
Because he can. And it’s the only thing left to do.



The Baron

take it to creative writing section