Lets get Lechmere off the hook!

[Fiver]

It's not Bullshit.

It's carefully crafted deception, designed to derail serious research and debate.

It's deception, but I question the carefully crafted. It's just the same old Mizen Scam nonsense using fancier words.

[Geddy2112]

Found this today in the Baron style, a reply to a Lechmere is NOT Jack The Ripper video...

Yes as I stated OCD does not automatically mean malicious intentions. Rather it can mean working within the rules of the game OCD lending itself to Rules as rituals. Such as specific dates and the such like. Marry that to the idea that Jack the Ripper of course would not have had mere OCD alone but in tandem with other more serious disorders! So that any OCD would have effected those other more serious disorders blending into a complete disorder...I say this as of course I was not suggesting Jack suffered from OCD alone but that it was a factor on top of others. There was also many ritualistic elements to the Jack the Ripper case or as I suggested Rules of the Game. I remember now that when I first looked over that Jack that Ripper book I noticed the single digit dates incorporating the name...

7th GEORGE 8th CHAPMAN

The only two single digit dates. The others being double digits. Also I thought that perhaps when George Chapman met the Annie Chapman whom he married he may have got her to change her name more so to the alias he used rather than him taking her name?

Yet if that was that lady's real name and he met and became obsessed with her years before he eventually married her then he may well have chosen the name George Chapman as an alias years before (around 1888) being obsessed with her.

The George part coming from a title more than a name via a previous address of his...

"...St George in the East; this was also listed as his residence in an 1889 London directory. It is possible that this was his residence during the Jack the Ripper murders in the autumn of 1888". '

And as we know St George is known for SLAYING the dragon. Note SLAYING and the use of a weapon to do so. As I read on in that book I see that inspector Abberline was also convinced George was Jack. He may have reached the same conclusions as myself yet didn't give to much away at the time over a Jack being an ongoing open case.

"The myth of Saint George and the Dragon is about a knight who kills a dragon to save a princess from sacrifice"

Further...

In Poland, the "George and the Dragon" myth is not directly associated with Saint George, but rather with a local legend called the "Wawel Dragon," a fire-breathing beast that lived in a cave beneath Wawel Hill in Krakow, and was eventually defeated by a clever trick..."

Origin Story: According to legend, the dragon terrorized the city, demanding sacrifices until a clever individual (often a shoemaker) tricked it by stuffing a sheepskin with *sulphur, causing the dragon to explode when it swallowed it.

(George Chapman)... "administered the compound tartar-emetic to each of them, having purchased it from a chemist in Hastings, Sussex. Rich in the metallic element antimony, tartar-emetic can, if used improperly, cause painful death with symptoms similar to arsenic poisoning"

"Tartar emetic (antimony and potassium tartrate), used to induce vomiting"

Perhaps a connection there? Thank you so much for your replies. And I hope others get to read this my writing to you.

Thanks again!

No I'm not sure either...

[Geddy2112]

Is there a delete post option on this forum?

[John Wheat]

It's not Bullshit.

It's carefully crafted deception, designed to derail serious research and debate.

Fair point.

[Fiver]

"Constable, there’s a woman in Bucks Row who might be dead or drunk, you’re expected there, best not to lose time."


Read that again. Let it sink in. That one sentence is a masterpiece of deception, a quiet stroke of brilliance.

This isn’t just a man speaking, this is a predator crafting reality itself, molding it to his will.

The Baron

We can always count on you for another humorous post.

Since when is convincing PC Mizen that you have lied to him a stroke of brilliance?

It seems you get your view of serial killers from popular fiction. Back in the real world, serial killers are usually on the dim side. But your fiction is more divorced from reality than any other portrayal of serial killers that I have scene. Your fiction gives Hannibal Lect-mere supernatural powers, assumes Robert Paul has all the brains and spine of a piece of pocket lint, and ignores the actual testimony.

So how was Hannibal Lect-mere able to get Robert Paul to lie for him twice when Lect-mere wasn't even present - once to the papers before the inquest and again when Paul testified?

And how did Hannibal Lect-mere's psychic powers work on everyone the inquest - the coroner, the coroner's jury, the press, the public, and the police - Inspectors Helson. Spratling, and Abberline; Detective-sergeant Enright?

Well, they worked on everyone but PC Mizen, who in a weekend has gone from as moldable as damp putty, to the only person on the planet capable resisting Hannibal Lect-mere's mystical mezmerization.

[Elamarna]

"Constable, there’s a woman in Bucks Row who might be dead or drunk, you’re expected there, best not to lose time."


Read that again.

Would you care to give the source for that Quote?

As the author of Inside Bucks Row, where I have covered the press reports, from London , the Regions and Overseas, with several hundred such reports, I would love to know the source I have missed.

There is no point in debate if we invent and present that invention as Fact.

Steve

[Doctored Whatsit]

"Constable, there’s a woman in Bucks Row who might be dead or drunk, you’re expected there, best not to lose time."


Read that again. Let it sink in. That one sentence is a masterpiece of deception, a quiet stroke of brilliance.

This isn’t just a man speaking, this is a predator crafting reality itself, molding it to his will.

A simple phrase, delivered with just the right mix of urgency and authority, and suddenly, the game is his. Lechmere doesn’t panic. He doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t fumble. He commands. And the fools obey.

Paul? He’s irrelevant. He’s noise. He’s too busy processing the bizarre morning he’s stumbled into to grasp the nuances of language. He hears the words, but he doesn’t hear them. A constable needs to go check the scene.

What more is there to think about? That’s all Paul can grasp, a simple transaction of action. Paul’s a bystander in every sense. A speck in the game. A puppet dangling from the strings of his own confusion. The real action is happening above his head.

But Mizen? Mizen hears the unspoken truth. "You’re expected there." Expected by whom? Certainly not by these two men standing here, obviously. That leaves only one possibility, another policeman.

That’s how law enforcement works.

Officers expect each other. A station expects its patrols. Superiors expect their men. Expectations, obligations, protocol. The moment Lechmere utters those words, he rewrites Mizen’s understanding of the situation.

Bucks Row isn’t abandoned. The scene isn’t unattended. He doesn’t need to rush. He doesn’t need to grill these two men. He just needs to keep walking, keep doing his job, keep believing the illusion Lechmere so effortlessly wove into the morning air.

This isn’t just a clever lie, it’s a masterstroke of psychological warfare. It’s a con so smooth that even with Paul right there, it sails by undetected. There’s no desperate plea, no awkward fabrication, just a nudge, a gentle push toward an assumption Mizen makes all on his own, a push so smooth that Mizen doesn't even know he’s been moved.

And that is why Lechmere wins. He doesn’t need to overpower anyone. He doesn’t need to exert force. He outmaneuvers. He plays the game at a level his opponents don’t even realize exists.

This is why the Lechmere theory isn’t just plausible, it’s devastatingly strong. He wasn’t just another suspect stumbling through the fog of Whitechapel. He was ahead of everyone.

Faster? No. Stronger? No. Smarter? Oh, without a doubt. And in that moment, with nothing but words, he walked away free, leaving behind a corpse, a clueless witness, and a constable who never even knew he’d been played.

This is victory. This is control. This is the cold, unshakable power of the Lechmere theory.



The Baron

You have invented a quote which never happened, and then created a totally unfounded accusation based solely on your invention. The item above is an utterly pointless waste of space intended for constructive discussion.

[drstrange169]

It's not Bullshit.

It's carefully crafted deception, designed to derail serious research and debate.

[John Wheat]

"Constable, there’s a woman in Bucks Row who might be dead or drunk, you’re expected there, best not to lose time."


Read that again. Let it sink in. That one sentence is a masterpiece of deception, a quiet stroke of brilliance.

This isn’t just a man speaking, this is a predator crafting reality itself, molding it to his will.

A simple phrase, delivered with just the right mix of urgency and authority, and suddenly, the game is his. Lechmere doesn’t panic. He doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t fumble. He commands. And the fools obey.

Paul? He’s irrelevant. He’s noise. He’s too busy processing the bizarre morning he’s stumbled into to grasp the nuances of language. He hears the words, but he doesn’t hear them. A constable needs to go check the scene.

What more is there to think about? That’s all Paul can grasp, a simple transaction of action. Paul’s a bystander in every sense. A speck in the game. A puppet dangling from the strings of his own confusion. The real action is happening above his head.

But Mizen? Mizen hears the unspoken truth. "You’re expected there." Expected by whom? Certainly not by these two men standing here, obviously. That leaves only one possibility, another policeman.

That’s how law enforcement works.

Officers expect each other. A station expects its patrols. Superiors expect their men. Expectations, obligations, protocol. The moment Lechmere utters those words, he rewrites Mizen’s understanding of the situation.

Bucks Row isn’t abandoned. The scene isn’t unattended. He doesn’t need to rush. He doesn’t need to grill these two men. He just needs to keep walking, keep doing his job, keep believing the illusion Lechmere so effortlessly wove into the morning air.

This isn’t just a clever lie, it’s a masterstroke of psychological warfare. It’s a con so smooth that even with Paul right there, it sails by undetected. There’s no desperate plea, no awkward fabrication, just a nudge, a gentle push toward an assumption Mizen makes all on his own, a push so smooth that Mizen doesn't even know he’s been moved.

And that is why Lechmere wins. He doesn’t need to overpower anyone. He doesn’t need to exert force. He outmaneuvers. He plays the game at a level his opponents don’t even realize exists.

This is why the Lechmere theory isn’t just plausible, it’s devastatingly strong. He wasn’t just another suspect stumbling through the fog of Whitechapel. He was ahead of everyone.

Faster? No. Stronger? No. Smarter? Oh, without a doubt. And in that moment, with nothing but words, he walked away free, leaving behind a corpse, a clueless witness, and a constable who never even knew he’d been played.

This is victory. This is control. This is the cold, unshakable power of the Lechmere theory.



The Baron

Bullshit.

[The Baron]

"Constable, there’s a woman in Bucks Row who might be dead or drunk, you’re expected there, best not to lose time."


Read that again. Let it sink in. That one sentence is a masterpiece of deception, a quiet stroke of brilliance.

This isn’t just a man speaking, this is a predator crafting reality itself, molding it to his will.

A simple phrase, delivered with just the right mix of urgency and authority, and suddenly, the game is his. Lechmere doesn’t panic. He doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t fumble. He commands. And the fools obey.

Paul? He’s irrelevant. He’s noise. He’s too busy processing the bizarre morning he’s stumbled into to grasp the nuances of language. He hears the words, but he doesn’t hear them. A constable needs to go check the scene.

What more is there to think about? That’s all Paul can grasp, a simple transaction of action. Paul’s a bystander in every sense. A speck in the game. A puppet dangling from the strings of his own confusion. The real action is happening above his head.

But Mizen? Mizen hears the unspoken truth. "You’re expected there." Expected by whom? Certainly not by these two men standing here, obviously. That leaves only one possibility, another policeman.

That’s how law enforcement works.

Officers expect each other. A station expects its patrols. Superiors expect their men. Expectations, obligations, protocol. The moment Lechmere utters those words, he rewrites Mizen’s understanding of the situation.

Bucks Row isn’t abandoned. The scene isn’t unattended. He doesn’t need to rush. He doesn’t need to grill these two men. He just needs to keep walking, keep doing his job, keep believing the illusion Lechmere so effortlessly wove into the morning air.

This isn’t just a clever lie, it’s a masterstroke of psychological warfare. It’s a con so smooth that even with Paul right there, it sails by undetected. There’s no desperate plea, no awkward fabrication, just a nudge, a gentle push toward an assumption Mizen makes all on his own, a push so smooth that Mizen doesn't even know he’s been moved.

And that is why Lechmere wins. He doesn’t need to overpower anyone. He doesn’t need to exert force. He outmaneuvers. He plays the game at a level his opponents don’t even realize exists.

This is why the Lechmere theory isn’t just plausible, it’s devastatingly strong. He wasn’t just another suspect stumbling through the fog of Whitechapel. He was ahead of everyone.

Faster? No. Stronger? No. Smarter? Oh, without a doubt. And in that moment, with nothing but words, he walked away free, leaving behind a corpse, a clueless witness, and a constable who never even knew he’d been played.

This is victory. This is control. This is the cold, unshakable power of the Lechmere theory.



The Baron

[FrankO]

Hi Frank,

I agree with that, and would add that the closer Paul gets to Cross, the better he can describe him. So Cross would want to increase that distance.

Quite so, Lewis.

[Kunochan]

...Buck's Row Trigonometry Festival...

I laughed out loud. I'm stealing this.

[Lewis C]

Hi Lewis,

My question would be: what would Cross do when he thought Paul was on the brink of being able to see Cross when he first heard him? If he would have walked away, he would have remained out of Paul's visibility range. If he would have stayed, he could only have assumed that Paul saw him from that moment on.

Hi Frank,

I agree with that, and would add that the closer Paul gets to Cross, the better he can describe him. So Cross would want to increase that distance.

[FISHY1118]

Fair enough Fishy.

Cheers.john

[John Wheat]

Yes correct, Im merely pointing out to the Lechmere brigade just how less important he is and was in the scheme of things.

Fair enough Fishy.