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Vierte, überarbeitete Fassung (Engl.)

Aus dem Deutschen von Elisabeth Rödle und Annemarie Stephan

Herstellung und Verlag:

BoD – Books on Demand GmbH, Norderstedt

ISBN: 978-3-7534-2856-7

autopsy

/

αὐτός ὄψις

see with your own eyes

Whitechapel, located in London's East End, was the slum of the metropolis. At the end of the 19^th century, tens of thousands of English migrant workers and immigrants from all over Europe lived here in abject poverty. They had fled their homeland from misery only to find themselves in despair again. Anyone stranded here had no hope of escaping.

In this hell on earth, a stranger committed five gruesome murders in 1888. His victims were street thugs who sold their bodies for a cheap accommodation or a glass of gin.

The killer became world famous as Jack the Ripper - and has never been caught.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Officers from the London Police and Scotland Yard

The Ripper's Victims

The suspects (excerpt)

George Chapman aka Seweryn Kłosowski

Montague John Druitt

Michael Ostrog

John Pizer aka Leather Apron

William Bury

Joseph Carey Merrick

Sir William Gull

Joseph Barnett

George Hutchinson

...

Further

Prologue

Abberline alone. Holding a folded newspaper, intently reading out:

Abberline, looking up:

"It has come to an end. After years of doubt, there can finally be hope that the horror will fade away. The Ripper's phantom dangles in a lonely prison cell."

He - a voice from the audience:

"It almost sounds like you're mourning Jack's destroyed magic!"

Abberline straightens up, looking for the voice in the dark:

"Who said that?"

Silence, Abberline turns away:

"Jack was a beast. What could be admirable about his deeds?"

In one of the front rows a man rises and comes onto the stage. He:

"You hunted him for so many years. You were in his mind. You tried to think like him. You tried to be the one step ahead of him. The one-step necessary to bring him down.

During such a long time you inevitably get close to the demon you're chasing."

Abberline, resigning:

„Not close enough!"

He:

"You congratulate Godley on taking the Ripper. But what you mean is that it has been yourself who finally unmasked Jack. Even if you weren't able to catch him.

Modesty sounds different."

Abberline:

"You may think what you want. You weren't there. How do you want to understand what happened back then? Call it arrogance. But you will not take the satisfaction out of me knowing the monster being seized."

He:

"No - of course not. Kłosowski was executed 15 years after the Whitechapel murders; the murders attributed to Jack the Ripper. This is a long time to close a case."

Abberline:

"There were good reasons for this!

But I regret too, that we weren't successful earlier."

He:

"You died 25 years after the execution of Kłosowski. Have you deliberately given yourself up to this deception for the rest of your life to ... to find something like peace?"

Abberline, eyeing him suspiciously:

"You doubt that Kłosowski was the Ripper?"

He:

"It doesn't matter what I think. The decisive factor is whether you are as convinced of his perpetration as you pretend to be."

Abberline:

"You allege that I have fooled the public by writing to Godley?"

He:

"No – you just fooled yourself.

Nevertheless, for the sake of completeness: Explain to the audience why you think Kłosowski was Jack the Ripper.

And we can all end this evening rather quickly."

Abberline, repellent:

"I've carried out my considerations comprehensively and many times. You can read it everywhere on your own."

He, pointing to the audience:

"Inspector Abberline - it doesn't have to be every tiring detail. But I think these people here would like to be able to understand ... to see for themselves."

Abberline, hesitating:

"All right then.

Kłosowski is ... was a convicted woman killer, a serial killer - even if this concept of repeating murder just started to form at that time."

He:

"And we're looking for a serial killer; maybe even the very first in history."

Abberline:

"Jack the Ripper was certainly not the first criminal to continue murdering. But his actions were the first to generate this tremendous public response."

He, nodding:

"Back then modern media, the daily newspapers available everywhere ... they were able to create this unprecedented proximity. Jack was the star of the press. He was notorious ... famous.

Rather, he still is. Ultimately, he has never been caught ..."

Abberline, a little gruff:

"Shouldn't I explain why I think Kłosowski is ...?"

He:

"Yes of course. Please excuse.

But allow me one question upfront - may it sound naive to your ears, since I am not an expert in such matters:

Isn't it unusual for a serial killer to change his modus operandi? Jack's victims' throats were slit, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition.

Kłosowski murdered with poison. That doesn't sound like a good match for me."

Abberline, defensive:

"I was a policeman and not a psychologist. My job was to catch the murderer, not to understand or explain his behavior."

He:

"Now you're pretending, Abberline. You were very busy trying to understand him. You always resisted accepting his actions easily as insane. Not because they weren't. But because you saw it as your chance to catch the beast by trying to understand it.

Don't tell me now, that it won't rise doubts in you, if the murderer should have exchanged so ... uninspiringly the knife with the poison."

Abberline is silent, gathers himself and continues with a sober voice:

"Whitechapel was not a nice place. Poverty and misery dulled people. Violence and even murders were not uncommon.

But it was my district. I had spent most of my professional career there. I knew the people.

In autumn 1887 I was transferred to Scotland Yard as an inspector."

He:

"Congratulations! Certainly not a career to be taken for granted."

Abberline:

"Jack's murders started in August the following year. As the level of public concern increased, I was transferred to the investigations."

He:

"Jack had stepped out of the darkness of the London mist and dragged you back to the Whitechapel slums."

Abberline:

"He didn't step out! He never became tangible – at no time.

And we tried so hard!"

He:

"August to November. Three months, five victims - the entire realm on the verge of turmoil. Even the Crown watched the murders with an uncertain mixture of contempt and concern.

Concerned that the senseless murders might pose a threat to the establishment itself. The living conditions of the workers literally demanded the spark of revolution.

Contempt ... all of London's upper class looked down on the East End and its residents - if they were willing to notice them at all.

But that was exactly what Jack forced them to do."

Abberline:

"Then, after the murder of Mary Jane Kelly on the night of November 8^th to 9^th, it ended as suddenly as it started."

He:

"Well, other bodies were found afterwards. Some showed similarities …"

Abberline, defensive:

"Murders have been committed before and after. But Jack's inhumane work ended with the killing of Mary Jane Kelly!"

He:

"I don't want to argue with you about this for now. You were ... you are the investigator. I'm just making my own simple thoughts.

But we were disputing about Kłosowski."

Abberline:

"Kłosowski came to London shortly before the first murder."

He:

"Polly Nichols? The night of August 31^st?"

Abberline, nodding.

"Indeed. Kłosowski lived and worked in Whitechapel. When he later emigrated to the United States with his wife, the series ended, too.

So the myth is quickly disenchanted: a woman killer who had the necessary local knowledge. The timing of his departure goes hand in hand with the end of the murder series. If there haven't been two independent serial killers living during fall 1888 in Whitechapel, Kłosowski is the man."

He, in a calm but disturbing voice:

"We really should be terrified if evil manifests itself more often than we are willing to admit."

Abberline irritated, not able to find a suitable answer. He:

"Is this thought really that strange to you?"

Abberline:

"Can you imagine how many theories and alternatives we examined at that time? Over and over again - all night long. Have we been obsessed while hunting him? Maybe. But one feeling was even stronger than this obsession: fear! Afraid to be called to a crime scene in a foggy morning again. To see another body, that reminded us that Jack was not the haunt we sometimes hoped he would be."

Abberline turns away, rather speaking to himself:

"There was no name on the list anymore. We had been able to exclude everyone else.

Kłosowski was the only one left."

He:

"You'd be surprised how the list of suspects grew after your death. But I agree with you: none of these theories or more arbitrary accusations came close to resolve the case.

But Frederick Abberline, Inspector of Scotland Yard, had already started to ask the right question: What caused him to kill?

Perhaps there is some posthumous pride if you know that in the following hundred years after Jack, a science of its own developed. A science that deals exclusively with the phenomenon of the serial killer. Many of your approaches, chosen purely by instinct, are now firmly anchored in police work.

And there is another import question dealing with the end of the series. In the rarest cases, the murder drive simply stops. The opposite is true. The desire grows, making the killer forget any initial caution. Jack's behavior showed this pattern too. His murders became increasingly destructive, fueled by the certainty that state violence was powerless against his activities. Then Jack's rage ended as suddenly as it started. Why did he stop? You pointed out that Jack would not give this up voluntarily, indeed would not be able to do so even if wanted to.

Maybe he died? Or became a victim of a crime himself? Perhaps he had been arrested for another crime so that he could no longer pursue his instinct? Maybe he left the country ..."

Abberline, harrumphing:

"As I already mentioned in the case of Kłosowski …"

He:

"Which doesn't fit! Kłosowski emigrated to America in mid-1891. After the crescendo of his death dance in autumn 1888 within three months, he would have to have abstained for three years. This explanation provides more questions than answers. I cannot imagine that it convinced you. Neither at that time nor today."

Abberline is silent. Then he adds quietly:

"There was no other name on the list.

I got to the point where I had to admit having no idea where to look for Jack."

He:

"Thereby you've already thrown your attention on Jack! He sat opposite to you, you interrogated him.

It was a pity that you removed him from the circle of suspects so easily."

Abberline:

"What are you saying? That cannot be true!"

He:

"Leading us to the last and most important question:

Why did Frederick Abberline fail? You stated yourself that Whitechapel was your back yard, that you knew the people there. You knew how to handle them so that they would talk to you. You searched the patterns in the murders to show you the way to Jack. To me, it seems you did everything right. Nevertheless, you failed.

Tell me, Frederick Abberline: why?"

Abberline turns away, doesn't want to hear anything more. Then he approaches Him again. Abberline:

"You mean the name is on the list? ... that I know him?"

He:

"Yes. Unambiguous, complete."

Abberline:

"So we only need to go through the suspects again, evaluate the arguments for and against ... and we will find Jack?"

A hesitation, He:

"Generally, yes ..."

Abberline:

"Paw! It can't be that easy! That's exactly what we did. Over and over again."

He:

"You made the same mistake over and over again too."

Abberline, now suspicious:

"How do you know all this?"

He:

"I closely monitor, think about and ... suddenly it's easy."

Abberline:

"I don't trust you!"

He:

"You have no reason to trust me."

Abberline, after a moment's thought:

"Be it as it may. I'm in!

Who do we want to start with?"

He:

"It is your list. Pick a name!"

Abberline:

"All right. Let's start with ... John Montague Druitt!"

He:

"You never really believed it yourself! One of the suspects surrounded by an almost mystical aura. Even his name wasn't known for a long time, little more than a rumor: Jack the Ripper committed suicide after the murder of Mary Jane Kelly. He drowned himself in the River Thames.

You dropped the suspicion against Druitt quite fast due to the lack of any serious indication."

Abberline:

"Maybe that has been my mistake?"

He, smiling:

"As you like. We start with Druitt.

What did you find out about him back then?"

Scene 1

He is off, only a vague silhouette is visible. Abberline alone in the spotlight.

Abberline:

"The truth lay at the bottom of the River Thames. This one statement legitimized suspicion of John Montague Druitt. Assistant Commissioner Sir Melville Macnaghten had mentioned it years after the Whitechapel murders ...

... but without knowing the details about Druitt comprehensively.

Druitt was 31 years old in 1888. He came from a distinguished family, had studied law and worked as a teacher. Educated, anchored in society, a bourgeois future in mind. If anything was true of Druitt: he was definitely not part of the East End milieu."

He, from the background:

"Which doesn't relieve him yet."

Abberline, spicy:

"Neither does it accuse him."

He:

"Macnaghten certainly had reasons to associate Druitt's name with the Ripper."

Abberline:

"There were shadows in Druitt's life. One is founded in the history of his family. Mental illness, presumably hereditary, occurred in the maternal branch. His aunt went mad, as did the grandmother. She even committed suicide. Druitt's mother was sent to an asylum after her husband's death. Druitt himself wrote in private records that he was afraid of … 'becoming like mother'."

He:

"This would serve the public expectations that the Ripper could only be a madman."

Abberline:

"... with a general interpretation of madness - maybe. But there was more to Druitt. While continuing study law, he worked as a private tutor at a prestigious boys' school. This employment ended unilaterally in November 1888. The reasons could not be determined even when the school management was interrogated. But the rumor of pedophilia quickly spread."

He:

"Which turns our young lawyer into a mentally ill pervert with a sexually abnormal disposition. I can well imagine that this pattern was a good match for the Ripper's phantom at the time - and not just in the imagination of the simple man in the street.

But was that really all?"

Abberline: