Originally posted by The Baron
View Post
The same ever repeated, eternal question, Why didn’t he run?
Because, apparently, in the world of anti-Lechmere logic, murderers are either Olympic sprinters or cartoon villains who vanish in a puff of smoke the second things go south.
They conveniently forget, or perhaps deliberately ignore that the Ripper, the emotionally engaged killer of the night, wasn’t some stealthy ninja plotting an escape route, he was deep in his “work” when the unexpected happened, someone in a hurry approached, who could ruin everything.
A shadowy figure, entirely lost in the twisted emotional release of his actions, he wasn’t scanning the horizon for witnesses, he was fully absorbed. And then... BAM! Footsteps. Heart racing, mind spinning, he suddenly realized he’d been caught mid act.
By the time he realized this, it was far too late to sprint without looking guilty as sin.
What’s the play here? Run and practically shout, “Yes, I’m guilty!” to everyone nearby?
He might as well have screamed “Don’t mind the body! I was just leaving!” if he’d tried to run..
Might as well throw in a loud “Catch me if you can!” while he's at it, just to really drive the point home.
Nothing screams innocence like bolting from a murder scene at full speed, right? He’d have been better off waving his arms wildly and yelling “Don’t look over here! Mind your business!” to the first constable he ran into.
He might as well have hung a sign around his neck reading “Ask me about my recent stabbing spree!” Running would’ve been like signing a confession letter, complete with a detailed map of the crime scene, it wasn’t just risky.. it was basically self incrimination.
Staying put, on the other hand, gave him the only chance to save the night, It was the only play he had left after losing track of his surroundings and the best option that didn’t end with him looking like a suspect caught red handed, or, well, red everythinged, considering the situation..
So he stayed, pivoting to his “friendly neighborhood passerby” routine with the precision of someone who’s no stranger to improvising. Bluffing was the only move left in his playbook, and he executed it like a seasoned actor in a life or death performance.
By the time the passerby arrived, Lechmere had no choice but to switch to Plan B, rope him into the situation and drag him into his alibi web.
Leaving with company.. what a stroke of cunning! Suddenly, he was now a guy who stumbled across the scene with someone else. If a constable showed up, he’d have a built in witness to back up his story. That’s not innocence, that’s survival instinct.
Dismissing the idea that the Ripper was emotionally invested in his actions is naive. He was completely absorbed in his twisted mission and certainly wasn’t waiting for a passerby with a PowerPoint presentation titled “Why I’m Definitely Not Jack the Ripper.”
He was cornered, improvising, and relying on his ability to smooth talk his way out of trouble.
For those clinging to the idea that running wouldn’t have made him look guilty, I’d suggest you go stand near a body.. alone.. in a dark alley.. and see how fast you think running feels like a viable option. It doesn’t.
Real life isn’t a gothic novel where killers dissolve into the mist whenever someone inconveniently appears...
He didn’t run... But don’t mistake that for innocence. It’s just the only play he had left. And frankly, it’s a pretty convincing one, if you ignore the glaring trail of suspicion he left behind.
The Baron
Because, apparently, in the world of anti-Lechmere logic, murderers are either Olympic sprinters or cartoon villains who vanish in a puff of smoke the second things go south.
They conveniently forget, or perhaps deliberately ignore that the Ripper, the emotionally engaged killer of the night, wasn’t some stealthy ninja plotting an escape route, he was deep in his “work” when the unexpected happened, someone in a hurry approached, who could ruin everything.
A shadowy figure, entirely lost in the twisted emotional release of his actions, he wasn’t scanning the horizon for witnesses, he was fully absorbed. And then... BAM! Footsteps. Heart racing, mind spinning, he suddenly realized he’d been caught mid act.
By the time he realized this, it was far too late to sprint without looking guilty as sin.
What’s the play here? Run and practically shout, “Yes, I’m guilty!” to everyone nearby?
He might as well have screamed “Don’t mind the body! I was just leaving!” if he’d tried to run..
Might as well throw in a loud “Catch me if you can!” while he's at it, just to really drive the point home.
Nothing screams innocence like bolting from a murder scene at full speed, right? He’d have been better off waving his arms wildly and yelling “Don’t look over here! Mind your business!” to the first constable he ran into.
He might as well have hung a sign around his neck reading “Ask me about my recent stabbing spree!” Running would’ve been like signing a confession letter, complete with a detailed map of the crime scene, it wasn’t just risky.. it was basically self incrimination.
Staying put, on the other hand, gave him the only chance to save the night, It was the only play he had left after losing track of his surroundings and the best option that didn’t end with him looking like a suspect caught red handed, or, well, red everythinged, considering the situation..
So he stayed, pivoting to his “friendly neighborhood passerby” routine with the precision of someone who’s no stranger to improvising. Bluffing was the only move left in his playbook, and he executed it like a seasoned actor in a life or death performance.
By the time the passerby arrived, Lechmere had no choice but to switch to Plan B, rope him into the situation and drag him into his alibi web.
Leaving with company.. what a stroke of cunning! Suddenly, he was now a guy who stumbled across the scene with someone else. If a constable showed up, he’d have a built in witness to back up his story. That’s not innocence, that’s survival instinct.
Dismissing the idea that the Ripper was emotionally invested in his actions is naive. He was completely absorbed in his twisted mission and certainly wasn’t waiting for a passerby with a PowerPoint presentation titled “Why I’m Definitely Not Jack the Ripper.”
He was cornered, improvising, and relying on his ability to smooth talk his way out of trouble.
For those clinging to the idea that running wouldn’t have made him look guilty, I’d suggest you go stand near a body.. alone.. in a dark alley.. and see how fast you think running feels like a viable option. It doesn’t.
Real life isn’t a gothic novel where killers dissolve into the mist whenever someone inconveniently appears...
He didn’t run... But don’t mistake that for innocence. It’s just the only play he had left. And frankly, it’s a pretty convincing one, if you ignore the glaring trail of suspicion he left behind.
The Baron
Comment