My mental state is clinging by a thin thread of sanity. To wit: I am nursing a sick man back to health.
So is it any wonder that I find myself captivated [again] by the subject of serial killers? No. No wonder at all.
Dr. Oliver C. Haugh was born on this day in 1871. He grew up to become a serial killer whose life has all of the fascinating horror that The Devil in the White City gave us. Ultra-religious parents and a slow-witted brother, along with bullying from classmates (that seems to know no generational boundaries) and copious amounts of heroin and cocaine (perfectly legal in Victorian times, necessary for women, no doubt, to the requirement of wearing corsets) combined to turn an otherwise run-of-the mill asshat, who married his fiance for money, into a full-fledged serial killer. He was a bigamist (possibly trigamist) to take advantage of additional family funding. The more, the merrier. At least for men.
He didn’t get caught for any of his nefarious activities until, after finding out he was OUT of his father’s will, he poisoned the rest of his own family and burned the family house to the ground. He was convicted and sentenced to death. At age 36, he was electrocuted on April 19, 1907, the 26th person to be executed in Columbus, Ohio.
The take-away from this story?
Coe should be very grateful that this is not Victorian times, requiring me to wear a corset and take heroin and cocaine.
He should also be very grateful that I am drinking a mellow Malbec, imparting to me a mellowness not otherwise part of my true nature.
Because my true nature? More than borders on murderous.