clues.
A little over a month later, another grocer—this one German—was attacked along with his mistress in the living quarters behind his shop. The attacker used the grocer's own hatchet to bludgeon the victims, but this time the victims survived. Their testimony was confused and contradictory, and while leading to several arrests, proved ultimately useless in finding the real attacker.
Another assault on a woman in early August had proved unsuccessful for the Axeman. But just a few days after that, he struck again.
An elderly Italian living with his two nieces was hacked with an axe as he lay in bed, the commotion drawing the attention of his nieces who ran to his aid. Both girls claimed to have seen the attacker leaving through the window, and described him as a dark, heavy man in a black coat and a slouch hat. The uncle died two days later from massive brain trauma.
The police had no solid leads, and the public howled for justice. The last murder set off a wave of hysteria in New Orleans with reported sightings of the Axeman flooding police headquarters and the entire populace gripped with a sort of frantic paranoia. A retired police detective speculated that the murderer could be the same man responsible for a string of similar murders in 1911, but no evidence of that theory ever presented itself.
As panic over the murders reached a fever pitch, the Axeman seemingly vanished.
Miles scanned the newspapers, looking for references to the killer, but as 1918 wore on, there were no new attacks, and gradually the Axeman dropped out of the headlines until March of 1919. Another Italian grocer, Charles Cortimiglia, along with his wife and two-year-old daughter, suffered a brutal attack in their beds. Cortimiglia and his wife survived, but the child was not so lucky.
The mother had been sleeping with the child in her arms when the attack came. The girl was killed instantly by an axe blow to the back of her neck. The mother suffered multiple skull fractures.
Cortimiglia himself was found in a pool of blood. A back panel on the door had been chiseled out. A bloody axe still rested on the back porch. Nothing was stolen.
Upon her recovery, Mrs. Cortimiglia accused their neighbors of the attack, despite her husband's protests. The neighbors, an elderly father and his hefty son, were arrested and tried, and the son was sentenced to death. Almost a year would go by before Mrs. Cortimiglia would retract her accusation, and the father and son set free.
And then came the letter, the infamous letter, sent to the newspapers on March 13.
It read, in part:
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman ...
... Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:
I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of you people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe ...
... I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fancy.
The Axeman
That night, it seemed not a single home or dance hall in New
A little over a month later, another grocer—this one German—was attacked along with his mistress in the living quarters behind his shop. The attacker used the grocer's own hatchet to bludgeon the victims, but this time the victims survived. Their testimony was confused and contradictory, and while leading to several arrests, proved ultimately useless in finding the real attacker.
Another assault on a woman in early August had proved unsuccessful for the Axeman. But just a few days after that, he struck again.
An elderly Italian living with his two nieces was hacked with an axe as he lay in bed, the commotion drawing the attention of his nieces who ran to his aid. Both girls claimed to have seen the attacker leaving through the window, and described him as a dark, heavy man in a black coat and a slouch hat. The uncle died two days later from massive brain trauma.
The police had no solid leads, and the public howled for justice. The last murder set off a wave of hysteria in New Orleans with reported sightings of the Axeman flooding police headquarters and the entire populace gripped with a sort of frantic paranoia. A retired police detective speculated that the murderer could be the same man responsible for a string of similar murders in 1911, but no evidence of that theory ever presented itself.
As panic over the murders reached a fever pitch, the Axeman seemingly vanished.
Miles scanned the newspapers, looking for references to the killer, but as 1918 wore on, there were no new attacks, and gradually the Axeman dropped out of the headlines until March of 1919. Another Italian grocer, Charles Cortimiglia, along with his wife and two-year-old daughter, suffered a brutal attack in their beds. Cortimiglia and his wife survived, but the child was not so lucky.
The mother had been sleeping with the child in her arms when the attack came. The girl was killed instantly by an axe blow to the back of her neck. The mother suffered multiple skull fractures.
Cortimiglia himself was found in a pool of blood. A back panel on the door had been chiseled out. A bloody axe still rested on the back porch. Nothing was stolen.
Upon her recovery, Mrs. Cortimiglia accused their neighbors of the attack, despite her husband's protests. The neighbors, an elderly father and his hefty son, were arrested and tried, and the son was sentenced to death. Almost a year would go by before Mrs. Cortimiglia would retract her accusation, and the father and son set free.
And then came the letter, the infamous letter, sent to the newspapers on March 13.
It read, in part:
Esteemed Mortal:
They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman ...
... Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.
Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:
I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of you people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe ...
... I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fancy.
The Axeman
That night, it seemed not a single home or dance hall in New
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