Evil isn't born - Part 3

"Evil isn't born - Intro"
"Evil isn't born - Part 1"
"Evil isn't born - Part 2"

~~~

We are getting more and more engaged in the discussion, John Morris and I, and I find myself forgetting about the coffee - it's almost cold already. Morris sits back in his chair and suddenly asks me a question: ”Now, what did Lizzie have in mind when killing all those prostitutes, what was it that drove her?” I start considering the fact that somewhere in her slight madness, she still wanted that happy life with John.

”I think that Lizzie killed for John, she did it so they could be together” I say. ”Her mind got all twisted by the way others treated her and so she lost it. Abused people are fragile, no one can tell what they'll do or which path they'll choose. Lizzie was trapped in a condemned marriage, ripped of the ability to bare a child and then her very own husband ran off making a prostitute pregnant, a woman who a sells her body for money. Wouldn't that drive anyone to the limits of their sense? Maybe even over the edge...”

I find myself staring out the window and I realize that it's already dark outside, how long have we been sitting here? I look at the big vintage clock above the counter and it has just struck 5.15pm, I should be heading back to the office. ”Thank you so much Mr Morris, this was one of the most interesting interviews I've ever done” I say, right before emptying my coffee cup. ”My pleasure” John Morris says with a smile, ”I'm glad I could help”.

As I'm walking back up Whitechapel Road, snow slowly starts falling down. The shop windows are cluttered with Christmas decorations lighting up the gray and slushy pavement. I'm thinking about Lizzie and can't be anything else than extremely fascinated with her story. Although she ended up one of the most notorious killers of all time, she's just another misunderstood soul who became a victim of terrible circumstances.

That conclusion really gets me thinking. Can we really point out people as victims and villains? Because there's always more to a story than only what we see. ”A villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told”. Even though the things Lizzie did were completely wrong, by knowing what she went though I understand what drove her. I'm not saying she didn't have a choice, there's always a choice, but there's also always an explanation to why someone made the wrong choice and to why they were driven that far.

I always believed that evil isn't born, it's made.

~~~

Detta var sista delen av mitt reportage. Hoppas ni tyckte om det! De som var med och skapade the Women of Whitechapel kan nog se här och där var jag fått min inspiration ifrån och det erkänner jag gladeligen. Återigen har jag Lovewell att tacka! 
Skriv gärna en liten kommentar med din åsikt om texten så blir jag glad! 

Evil isn't born - Part 2

"Evil isn't born - Intro"

"Evil isn't born - Part 1" 

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”What was the catalyst for the murders? What momentous event or series of events could have turned someone into a brutal, serial killer – carrying out horrific murders, almost beyond comprehension.” (Excerpt from Jack the Ripper: The hand of a woman).

”What made you come to the conclusion that Jack must have been a woman?” I ask as the waitress arrives to take our orders. A smirk appears in the outer corner of his lips, I understand that this is a topic he loves to discuss. ”You see, there are numerous clues scattered throughout the crimes which, taken individually, may mean little but when grouped together a strong case for a woman murderer begins to emerge” he said. ”Firstly... none of the five murdered prostitutes were sexually assaulted”. Morris explains all the evidence to me and points out the one significant fact that the wombs were removed on three of the victims and Lizzie Williams was unable to have children. ”There's absolutely no doubt the Ripper was a woman. But, because everyone believes that the murderer was a man, all the evidence that points to a woman has been ignored.”

As the waitress arrives with our coffee I ask him ”What drives a person to commit such gruesome murders?” Morris takes a sip of his coffee and answers without any haste. He explains that murderers often act on personal gain and revenge but most people do have a limit to how far they can go when it comes to hurting another person. There's a missing spare in the mentality of killers and that's why they can accomplish these horrible quests.

”But I also think there's more to it, there certainly must be” Morris says. “If you are treated a certain way for a long time something breaks inside you - if you never learn what's right you will end up doing wrong. Also, you might want to take out revenge on life. Combined with the lack of a mental spare... well, we've seen how that can turn out.”

I sip on my coffee, it tastes quite well and warms me from the inside out. I'm sitting silent as I listen to Morris telling the story about how Lizzie Williams became Jack the Ripper...

In the 19^th century women were expected to marry and have children. Once married she became a chattel of the man and while he enjoyed himself with prostitutes and drinks each and every day, she was supposed to be at home with the children. But Lizzie appeared to be different. She was unable to bare children and therefor of no use to her husband. She was trapped in her marriage with John and as she had recently lost her family fortune also dependent upon him, without him she would be nothing – John knew it and he took advantage of it. All Lizzie ever wanted was to be loved and have a child. Once she realized none of it would ever happen, it made her slightly lose her mind. I guess her subconscious somehow told her; ”you can do whatever you want because no matter what you do, no matter whether it's right or wrong - you will never be happy, no one will ever treat you right”. 

”I can most certainly say that the circumstances created the monster that Lizzie became” says Morris. ”Not only was she verbally and physically abused by her husband, he also had a relationship with the last victim, Mary Jane Kelly, behind Lizzie's back. That's probably why the murders ended after Mary Kelly”. 

Married women were not able to obtain a divorce even though their husbands had been unfaithful, so if Lizzie wanted John's attention she had to find another way.

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Part 3 kommer inom kort...

Evil isn't born - Part 1

Läs "Evil isn't born - Intro" HÄR.

~~~

I'm walking down Whitechapel Road in London's East End. It's afternoon and the sun just started its journey down towards the horizon. I wrap my coat a little tighter around me in a somewhat useless attempt to keep out the biting cold December breeze. As I spot the cafe in the corner where Whitechapel Road meets Commercial Road I speed up my steps, I can't get in to the warmth soon enough.

Inside the cafe, the light is gloomy and the smell of roasted coffee beans reaches me as I step inside and stomp the snow off my winter boots. It's a small cafe with just a few tables and chairs scattered around the big counter. It feels like entering a decade mixed between the twenties and the fifties, a cozy old living room mixed with a classic American diner. At a table in the left corner an old man is sitting looking out the window, I recognize him as Mr. John Morris. He looks kind and reminds me a little bit of my own grandfather with the gray hair, a deeply receding hairline and a couple of deep wrinkles on his forehead. His whole appearance reveals that he's a man of much knowledge and life experience.

I always believed that evil isn't born. People aren't born with dark souls; dark souls are created by the tragedies they face and the circumstances they live under. Some people live with broken hearts and broken souls – and that can make you do unspeakable things. But exactly how far can life drive a person? How far can the circumstances make a person willing to go? 

I sit down in the seat opposite of Mr John Morris and he greets me with a firm and steady

handshake. ”Good day miss, nasty weather today isn't it?” he says with a smile.

I respond that ”yes Mr Morris, it certainly is” and present myself.

John Morris claims that he has solved one of the most notorious mysteries of all times, the one about Jack the Ripper. Many men have been pointed out as might-be-Jack during the years since the murderers but John Morris has his eyes focused in a different direction. In contrast to all other theories he actually thinks the Ripper was a woman, and not any woman... Morris accuses none other than another Ripper-suspect Dr John Williams's wife – Lizzie Williams. I have decided to assume that Lizzie was the killer and use her as an example to indicate how circumstances can create evil.

~~~

Håll utkik efter part 2...

Staden som aldrig sover

Här är en text jag skrev för nästan ett år sedan men som jag bearbetat lite grann i efterhand.

Kommentera gärna vad du tycker.

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Hon går nerför 7^th avenue med blicken sänkt mot backen. Hon ser inte den blodröda solen som är påväg ner över hustaken. Dess strålar reflekteras av skyskrapornas blanka fönster och får gatan att bada i ett romantiskt sken. Det är samma väg som hon går varje dag. Och varje dag är alla New York-bor är på väg någonstans vid just denna tidpunkt, rusningstrafik när den är som värst. Men hon är inte del av den utan lunkar fram i sin egen takt. Christina sjunger med hög volym i hennes öron: ”I am beautiful, no matter what they say”. Plötsligt får hon för sig att stanna, mitt på den överbefolkade trottoaren, och hon tittar upp på människorna som passerar henne. Munnar rör sig men inga ord når hennes öron.

Om hon står stilla här tillräckligt länge kan hon nog få se alla sorters människor som finns i hela världen. Så hon gör det. Står stilla. Folkmassan fortsätter susa förbi runt henne, ett virrvarr av ansikten, färger uttryck och känslor. Tiden runt omkring henne flyter på i samma stressande takt som alltid, men hennes egen stod still. ”Words can't bring me down...”.

Hon blickar ut över Times Square. Dess reklamskyltar som blinkar i alla regnbågens färger täcker nedre delen av de grå blyklossarnas fasader nästan helt och hållet. Där innanför, inuti en av klossarna, pågår en drös människors liv på femtiosju olika våningar. Nedanför - på gatan full av gula taxibilar, i de exklusiva butikerna, och i det sunkiga snabbköpet - pågår en drös andra människors liv. Alla lever parallellt med varandra, sida vid sida i samma värld och i samma tid. Inte tillsammans, men parallellt. Sida vid sida. Utan att ta någon som helst notis om varandra.

Det är ingen som går in i henne eller svär åt henne för att hon bara står där, mitt i rusningstrafiken. Folk är alltför upptagna med sina egna problem och bekymmer som alla är de viktigaste i världen. Allas egna bekymmer är de viktigaste i världen. Det syns till och med på dem. Klädda i gråa kostymer och ett stressat ansiktsuttryck. Som accessoar har de varsin djupt ingrodd rynka i pannan.”Trying hard to fill the emptiness...” sjunger Christina.

Att stanna upp mitt i denna stress, oro och irritation över tunnelbanetrafik och dåliga hårdagar känns befriande för henne. Alla skulle nog behöva bara stanna någon gång ibland, om än bara för en minut. Om alla tog sig tid att göra det skulle nog världen vara en bättre plats. Hon blundar för en sekund och fantiserar om hur Times Square skulle se ut utan alla bilar och alla människor. Tyst. Det har hon aldrig varit med om - faktiskt så finns det nog inte många som har varit med om det, kanske ingen alls. Ingen som är vid liv i alla fall.

Plötsligt får hon en knuff i ryggen och tappar balansen, hörlurarna faller ur. Tillbaka i verkligheten. Hon knuffas runt i folkmassan, sorlet av irriterande muttranden hörs överallt och doften av cigarettrök, rakvatten och dyr parfym ligger som tjocka moln i luften. Lugnet och fridfullheten är som bortblåst. Hon går vidare, följer med folkmassan. Medans hon plockar upp lurarna och trycker in dem i öronen igen, promenerar hon vidare längs 7^th avenue. Gruset knastrar under hennes blå converse. Det var en bra sak hon gjorde, hon känner sig på något sätt starkare, hon har plötsligt fått perspektiv på saker och ting. Det är en bra sak. Nu har solen sjunkit bakom skyskraporna, men i staden som aldrig sover blir det aldrig mörkt. Gatulamporna och skyltfönstrenas dekorationer glittrar.

Christina sjunger:”So don't you bring me down today”.

Av: Josephine Thunell