This is exactly right. This story contains adult content and language, listener discretion is advised. We know people do evil things, but we don't really understand the many faces of evil. In 1871, it took journalist Hamilton Freeman just a few minutes to figure out that Edward Rudolph was not a spiritual man.
The journalist told himself, This man prays to science, not God. Freeman was sitting next to me with a killer who had ignored so many tenets of the Bible for decades. But Edward Rudolph did believe in one biblical theme. Vengeance, his real troubles began almost 30 years earlier when he was still a member of the Scutt family.
In the spring of 1845, there didn't seem to be a need for vengeance yet because Edward Rudolph was actually happy for once after a year and a half of marriage. He and his 18 year old wife, Harriet, weren't fighting quite as much as they used to. They had bigger priorities. On April 12th, Harriet gave birth to a little girl they named Priscilla after his mother, Edward, had made up with his brother in law.
After their last argument over Dr. Henry Bull, William prayed that parenthood would somehow give Edward some peace, maybe more grounding. He might actually be a good father. And there was more promising news. Edward planned to move his little family out west to Ohio for a new start. He had been offered a position as the principal of a prestigious boys academy there. It was a step toward the distinguished academic career he coveted. It meant professional prestige, but with little financial gain.
Historian H.W. Brands says that being a professor in 1845 wasn't particularly lucrative.
Professors were poorly paid in those days, and you pretty much had to do it for the love of learning.
And within a particular college towns, there was a kind of deference and respect paid to you.
Luckily, Edward never wanted to be wealthy, just independent. He demanded respect from everyone in his life. The money actually didn't matter. He craved the notoriety. Shortly after Priscila was born, the rule was brought her to visit Uncle William and Aunt Amelia and Ithica Williams wife was pregnant and their little girl was due in two months. The men had been growing closer thanks to more frequent visits between the two families and fewer visits from their amorous cousin, Dr. Bull.
But today was different.
Dr. Bull was expected to visit, and William saw signs of Edward's dangerous paranoia. Once again, Williams said, Rohloff sat at the window looking out and took up the child and told Harriet to go with him.
He didn't want her to meet Dr. Bill. Edwards insecurities were exhausting to everyone around him. Freeman listened as Edwards complained constantly about his wife and her cousin. Edwards said, Dr. Bull, an ass was always lolling around the girls for no good purpose. I smothered my rage. Harriet was young and a giddy, light headed girl. She was easily influenced. Ham watch Edward closely, he could turn so vile so quickly, particularly when Ham asked about the Scots, he wouldn't stop insulting them.
Journalist David Greene wonders why Harriet didn't just leave Edward and returned to her family. Wouldn't that have been easier than living with such a horrid man with her?
It reminds me today, how could she not be terrorized by him, you know, when he was in that sort of rage, did she really love him? And I'm thinking perhaps because they had this child, which, of course she adored, but staying with him must have been like being on ice with no skates.
Williams Scott pleaded with Edward and he threatened to eject him from the family farm once again, Williams said, I said I was tired of hearing these troubles and if he couldn't omit the subject, I didn't want him to come. He was so tired of giving his brother in law second chances. William issued Edward an ultimatum. If he couldn't resolve his problems with Dr. Bull, he would no longer be welcomed inside any scutt home ever. He would be banished, not their cousin.
Edward Lookdown, angry, quiet. William Scott's declaration was a significant turning point in the family's history, his relationship with Edward would never be the same. Hamilton soon learned that all of Edward's anger seemed to originate from one brutal lesson from his youth and that he had been lying to the Scots ever since he stepped off that boat in 1842.
Edward Roelofs, real name was John Edward, Howard Wolfson, and he was from Canada, not Germany, 10 years before Edward stared down at his younger brother, whose given name was actually Rohloff. Of course, that's the name Edward would later use as his own last name, the first of many lies he told. 13 year old Roloff was lying on the bed with his eyes screwed shut. He was bloodied and bruised from a severe thrashing. Six year old Edward wept from fear and rage and perhaps regret.
He was the eldest of the three boys. William and Rudolph both looked up to him. Edward was the one tasked with protecting them. And he had failed. The three brothers all attended an exclusive private academy in St. John on the eastern tip of Canada. Edward had already graduated with honors, a huge accomplishment. Rudolph was just three years younger and they were extraordinarily close. Their other brother, William, was five years behind. Each of them was gifted.
While he was in school, Edward took a lot of classes like advanced mathematics and Bell letters, that was the art of writing beautifully, artistically.
But his favorite classes were the language courses. And by 16, he had mastered Latin and Greek. These were essential languages for any serious academics in 19th century America.
Cornell University linguistics professor Michael Weiss says Edward was certainly ambitious.
He says at one point that his goal was always to be top class from a very, very young age. And I think he decided that somehow this language investigation would be his ticket to being really great or famous. But the school they attended was challenging in even brutal, the professors believed that public humiliation would mold boys into men. The rule of son brother sat for hours listening to strict instructors who used severe teaching techniques like rulers on knuckles or lashes on backs.
Edward had already endured his public examinations and actually conquered them, but today it was Rudolph's turn at first rule off calmly responded to complicated academic questions.
But when the boy didn't answer quickly enough, a particularly harsh teacher stepped forward, the instructor began viciously beating Rohloff with closed fists. And the team was left limp on the ground. He had to be carried home. Edward was incensed. He spent weeks convinced that his little brother would die. He tended to Rudolph's wounds, never leaving his side. The teacher later came to Roelofs bedside, threw himself on the floor and begged for the boy's forgiveness. Edward looked at the man.
Pathetic. He thought the trauma made Edward and Rudolph even closer. They were brothers and now best friends. So Edward Rudolph did indeed cherish family, his own family. He would never forget that vile teacher. Never had Edward witnessed that measure of violence. Or power. City dwellers can't be trusted, no, because they're their ne'er do wells duplicity was distressing to most people in Victorian America, at least in rural villages, people in the countryside held a widespread belief that a man's good character was synonymous with innocence.
A strong handshake, an earnest eye contact were good enough.
Really, the impression I get is that it was it was a time period where you shook a man's hand and his word was was all you really needed. Yeah, actually, I'm going to take a little bit of issue with what you said. His handshake wasn't necessary all you needed, but it was all you got.
H.W. Brands means it was difficult to verify a stranger's story in the 19th century. So it was easy for Edward Wolff to rewrite the narrative of his life and no one would ever know the truth. You know, if you look at his history, he was constantly trying to change who he was. This was a time when it was not particularly uncommon for people to carry on double lives. John D. Rockefeller, his father, William Rockefeller, had two families in towns that weren't that far apart.
Bill Rockefeller was a traveling salesman and he would tell wife number one and family number one, okay, I'm going to be gone for the week. And he disappear into the other town and hang out with wife number two and family number two. Edward Rudolph had a promising start in life. He was born on July 9th, 1819, on a farm in the British province of New Brunswick, Canada. His father, William role of son, was a well-to-do farmer and his mother was a homemaker named Priscilla Howard.
Edward described his father as a respectable, honorable man, but he was ordinary, particularly compared with his mother. She was a brilliant, clever thinker, and Edward absolutely worshipped her. Both of his parents were members of the Episcopal Church and the boy spent eight years in the Sabbath school learning the lessons of the Bible, Edward even became a Sunday school teacher after graduation. But as luck turned after his father died when Edward was just five. The boy's mother was left to raise her three sons alone.
Although his uncle would sometimes offer some financial advice, Priscilla Rollison was perhaps the most potent influence on Edwards life, the person who cultivated his love for academia and his ego. Edward remembered her fondly. She was a woman of more than ordinary intellect, he said. And I presume that whatever genius for study that any of us boys ever had, we inherited from her.
When Edward returned home to the farm during vacations, he devoured books. At night, he actually only slept when his mother extinguished his lamp.
Books were the only entertainment he could afford. He had few friends, just his younger brothers. When he became an adult at 16, he still attended church, but it was simply as an intellectual study.
The Bible fascinated him and he worked on translating it from its original language. He studied the Greek testament, marveling over its beauty.
He viewed all languages as works of art. He believed they were perfected by men who could command means and time and who had the skill and industry to study and perfect the philosophy of language.
Edward envied those men, and as a young student, he fell in love with philosophy, with words and ideas.
He left school at 16 with a certificate but not chosen career. He dreamed of publishing the etymology of every word in the Greek testament. He believed he was destined to be a student at a prestigious university. Edward requested a meeting with his uncle, the person who would dictate where the family's savings could be used.
The teenager requested some money for college tuition. No was the response. If Edward refused to commit to a conventional profession like printmaking, then he would have to fund his own college tuition. His uncle accused him of having impractical dreams. Edward was crestfallen. He wallowed in self-pity. He said, I should have gone to a university had I had the opportunity. My father was dead. I was alone in the world. I wanted to be a gentleman. What else could I do?
And now he faced life with no real direction, dangerous circumstances for a driven young man with no role models, his intelligence earned him a job as a clerk in a well-known legal office in St. John, and he paid special attention to books on criminal law. Edwards soon moved on to a job as a dry goods store clerk. But as he watched wealthy customers come in and out of the store, he felt bitterness. And that's when troubling episodes began the start of a lifetime of problems for Edward Rohloff.
In 1839, when he was 20, someone set fire to the dry goods store. The store moved to a new location and soon after another fire burned down that store. He was never a suspect. Why would such a bright young man ever do that? The store was moved once more and then items began to go missing, including expensive cloth. And then the merchandise spotted Edward wearing a posh suit made from the stolen material. And he was convicted of theft.
Edward was sent to prison, the first of many future visits, and it seemed like the trajectory of his life had suddenly shifted. Linguistics professor Michael Weiss says Edwards seemed almost doomed from childhood. I think it goes back to his starting social status. His father died when he was very young. He doesn't seem to have had access to, you know, the institutions of the time which would have made him into a kind of respectable professor type. I think if if he had come from a slightly different socioeconomic background, he could very well have become professor at Chapel Hill.
Edwards spent two years in prison, and when he was released in the fall of 1841, he left his family in New Brunswick and traveled to America.
Perhaps he should have stayed in Canada close to his family.
He might have actually saved enough money for university tuition, but his life had taken a new direction. Of course, there were no passport requirements back then. It was time for a new identity. John Edward Howard Wolfson, the promising young student, was dead. In his place was Edward Rohloff, arsonist and thief.
And eventually killer. Soon, he traveled upstate, penniless and hateful, desperate to reinvent his life and become a different man and historian, H.W. Brands says there was one innovation in the 1400's that helped Edward and many others reinvent themselves.
Now, this is the beginning of the time when railroads make it possible to move around more than had been possible before.
There was still great difficulty in tracking down somebody and checking on the story that they told. And so it was a great age for snake oil salesmen and for con men of various sorts.
Less than a year later, Edward Rudolph stepped onto that passenger boat moored in Syracuse and introduced himself to Harriet's brother.
And soon the feud with his wife's family, which turned deadly for so many of the Scotts. The noise was appalling, a guttural, violent cough that seemed to drag on for hours. Amelia Scutt was a petite, meek woman.
Today, she sounded like a wounded animal, begging for the suffering to end.
And she was frantic over her newborn daughter, Amiel, who was born just a few days earlier.
It was June 1845 and Harriet Roelofs, eldest brother William, was desperate, sickness and death in the late 19th century were mysterious. Childbed fever, as they called it was actually a common bacterial infection. It was a dreaded and often fatal affliction of new mothers. He raced on horseback toward Dryden to Brookfield Farm, searching for his mother, Edward, Harriet and little Priscilla were there for a three week visit. Despite their problems with Edward, the Scotts were trying to remain optimistic about Harriet and her daughter's future with him.
William flung open the farmhouse door and grabbed Edward's hand. Come help them, he begged Edward. Remember that Edward was a botanical physician and a really well respected one. Edward smiled at his brother in law and agreed. William's mother assured him that she and Edward would come to Ithaca tomorrow on horseback. He seemed so relieved. William actually believed that their problems were behind them now. Hannah Scott eyed her son in law, she didn't trust him and really she loved him.
Her daughter's misery with her marriage was hard for a mother to ignore. Hannah said, I saw that she was unhappy, her husband, John, said little as his wife complained about Edward Rohloff, and she apparently complained loudly. Hannah Graham seems to be a spitfire, it seemed to me like she might have worn the pants and maybe it was more like 10 more little more laid back.
Despite her feelings, the next day, she and Edward traveled together on horseback to help her son's sick wife. Edward tried to make small talk. Hannah said he supposed that I felt anxious for her to get well, but she squirmed in her saddle. She was not easily intimidated, but he had always made her really uncomfortable. After a bit of silence, Edward leaned over to his mother in law. She recognized the look on his face anger. And then he said something horrible about William's dying wife.
It was wholly indifferent to him whether she got well. William had misused him about Dr. Bill, and that thing would yet amount to the shedding of blood. It was clearly a threat, Edward didn't care if William's wife died and he was about to treat Amelia and her newborn as their doctor. But here's the odd part. Hannah didn't seem alarmed. I guess it was because she had grown accustomed to Edward's mellow dramatics. She had little reason to believe that he would harm a weak, sick woman or her baby.
So Hannah just ignored him and they continued on to Ithaka. When they arrived at Williams home, Amelia was nearly unconscious, Edward quickly pulled out his bag of botanical medicines and fed them to her. Suddenly, a meal made noises, the baby convulsed, her little body jerked, and Edward fed her some herbs to both mother and daughter quickly became sicker.
William was frantic, but Edward told him to keep calm.
They began to slip away. The baby died on June 3rd, and then her mother passed away two days later, Edward Roloff, the petty criminal and habitual liar, was now a killer. The grief was just too much for William. He was inconsolable.
After a few days, the reality of their deaths settled. And Hannah told William about the disturbing conversation she had had with Edward on the way to Ithaka. Then she confronted her son in law searching for answers. Craig Scott describes another upsetting conversation between Edward and Hannah. He told Hannah that she was going to cry over many of her children before he was done. Pretty strong threat against the whole family. It's a very cold. Planned to take out a woman and a small child killed them like that poison, they had been ill and he was doctoring them and but they just kept getting worse until they died.
But incredibly, the Scots, including Harriott, still didn't suspect that Edward had poisoned Amelia and a meal in the 19th century, mothers and infants died in great numbers, murdered, just didn't seem feasible. Hanna watched him closely as Edward wondered aloud why she hadn't lost any children at her age. William's wife and child have gone. Edward told her with a sneer. Who will go next? Harriet and her baby Hugo next. No one took him seriously.
And now Edward was threatening to murder his own wife and daughter. Most of us would have intervened somehow, but that didn't happen. And Craig Scott explains why they really didn't suspect him right off the bat.
They might have just said, oh, he's just, you know, just a blowhard. He's just blowing off steam. He's not going to do anything. You wouldn't act on that.
Imagine how theatrical life must have been with Edward of the Scots. Figured he was just trying to provoke them, as usual. But it was likely more than that because in the 1980s, people in rural communities leaned on a man's appearance to reveal his personality. Historian Gerald Smith says that a killer looked like a killer.
The evil stranger, the one who had to be wary of the one you don't embrace, must be different somehow. If it's different, it's easier for our brain to accept it, you know. Oh, he doesn't dress right. His frock coats got full of holes. He's dirty, he smells. That's somehow, I think, easier for us to accept than a charming, dressed, regular man, well groomed, seemingly intelligent.
And because villagers depended on one another so much, they trusted people more than neighbours in big cities. Might Craig Scott and Cathy Chadwick say that's been the case in Dryden for decades.
People then were more welcoming to strangers than we are today. There's a fear that they have bad intentions. Don't you think a lot of that change at the time of the Harris murders? I could be I think people became a lot more cautious and suspicious because that was such an awful thing.
Kathy and Craig are talking about something much more recent. Edward Roloff would not be the only killer to haunt Dryden. Almost 150 years later, the area endured a series of horrible murders, 10 killings in seven years. Outsiders call it the village of the Damned. It's a nickname the locals really dislike. And actually, many of the murders happened just outside of Dryden. But for almost a decade, the residents did seem cursed. In 1989, four members of the Harris family were killed inside their home just three days before Christmas.
The murderer had simply knocked on the door asking for help. The whole family was killed. Other father, two children were killed. That was the. So that was just down the road. You know, if you go to the other end heard round, it's an incredible story. And you turned the corner.
After the Harris murders, residents began dead, bolting their doors. Applications for gun permits dramatically increased and people began buying more security systems. The killer died just a few days later in a shootout with police, leaving the community stunned and frightened. But there was almost no time to mourn because the next tragedy came just two months later. In February of 1990, a young mother claimed that her toddler was kidnapped after a massive search. Investigators discovered that she had killed her two year old daughter and buried her in the nearby woods.
And then, four years later, a high school student fatally stabbed a teenage friend over a lover's triangle. In 1994, another high school student shot to death his ex-girlfriend, her father, the high school football coach. Two years later, a man killed his supervisor at work. People are like, what's going on here? Little drug.
But perhaps the most shocking event came in the next month of October 1996 to Dryden High School. Cheerleaders were kidnapped, sexually assaulted and dismembered. The suspect was a neighbor and he killed himself in prison before he could stand trial. Craig Scott's daughters went to Dryden High School and they were friends with both girls.
One of my daughters actually had lunch at school the day before with one of. It was awful. They'd come home from school to flip on the TV, and that's all there was on it took a lot of those students childhood away. Mm hmm. They had to grow up so fast, they became very suspicious and they still are to this day. What does that tragedy due to a village or small town?
Oh, it had it had a big impact here. And like I say, it's not a huge school. So everybody knows, you know, they were cheerleaders. They were popular girls. It had it had a profound impact.
I would say those tragedies compounded over the years, leaving many residents of dried and shaken and mistrustful of strangers.
And that includes Kathy Chadwick, especially if one shows up at her door, I might call the police or whomever and say, you know, you can go out on or something of that nature, but I don't think I would welcome them into the house.
But back in 1845, the scouts in their neighbors were more trusting. So when Edward Rudolph showed no signs of a guilty conscience, they believed him. Even the most skilled alienist, a 19th century psychiatrist, would have struggled to label him as guilty or innocent. And accidents involving inept physicians happened a lot. In the eighteen hundreds. Edward Rudolph might have been blameless or a psychopath. Craig Scott says he was certainly not innocent and absolutely calculating the charisma that man had.
He had everybody for a long time, a sort of like a Ted Bundy. On June 23, 1845, Edward Roloff watched his wife Harriet as she tidied up their house in Lansing. There were loads of books stacked in every corner, the personal library of a genius honing his craft. Edward's two month old daughter, Priscilla, cooed nearby. The 26 year old braced himself for yet another argument with his young bride as she was still on edge because her sister in law and niece had died less than three weeks earlier.
Edward felt like he had always been an outcast, treated like a common peasant when it suited the family. He complained that he was languishing in a sad little town with no prospects for academic work. Harriet stubbornly refused to leave New York's countryside and abandoned her 10 brothers and sisters and her elderly parents. Edward glanced beneath the diaper line, draped across the kitchen, Priscilla was lying in a crib, wiggling around. He took a breath and told Harriott about leaving New York for Ohio.
He was so pleased about his new job as principal at a prestigious academy.
He explained that he wanted to stop practicing medicine and to become in time either a college professor or a lawyer. He suggested that she stay behind with Priscilla and keep the house and then he would return for them later, his young wife glared at him. She seemed exasperated. No, she Harriet would never go to Ohio with him or anywhere else, for that matter.
If he left, she would not wait for him. She threatened to pack up their things and borrow a horse and cart. She and Priscilla would return to her family's farm in Dryden immediately. This was the night their marriage would end. It was a remarkable story for any journalist confession of the wife murderer Hamilton wrote in pencil as he raced himself for the horrible story. This would certainly be the climax of his tell all book. At least that was his hope.
But it was more of setting than him expected. Edward told him she was tired of living with me anyhow. Her mother was anxious for her to return home. Edwards stared at Harriet. He was enraged. He didn't know what to do, how to stop her from leaving. He tried to make her realize that his medical career amounted to nothing, and he hated quack medicine. He told him I was poor and too proud to have the neighbors know how poor I really was.
They screamed at each other. He accused Harriet of having an affair with Dr. Bull. His face turned red. He let loose a string of horrible profanities. Then he glanced at his daughter and turned to Harriet. Edward told him I said she might go to hell if she chose to, but that she should not take the child that I would take care of.
That Harriet snatched up Priscilla and backed away from her husband.
He lunged at her and tried to strip the baby from his wife's arms, but she clung too tightly. Priscilla was wailing. Edward frantically looked around and spotted a heavy marble parcel. He flung it at Harriet. He told him, I must have struck her very hard.
The vessel broke her skull and sunk into her brain. She never spoke a word after she was struck. Ham watched Edwards face as he described the murder, sweat dripped down his forehead. He stopped talking suddenly and then something changed.
Edwards seemed to realize that the journalist was now a witness of sorts. Ham sat back in his book. Ham wrote, He fixed upon me a fiendish glare which made me shudder and wish that I was a mile away from him. Perhaps no one knew Edward Roloff better than Ham Freeman. He spent hours telling the journalist about his life, his crimes, all to try and draw him closer to him, to recruit him for help later on. Ham was gullible, a hometown boy who rarely left upstate New York, and unfortunately, he was falling for Edwards charms, just like so many others.
The journalists listened as Edward described how he looked at Priscilla, who was crying over her mother's body, now soaked in blood. Edward told him, I took the child and lay it upon the bed. I gave it a narcotic to stop its crying. The humble house was silent now. Edward could hear the ducks on the pond nearby. He sat on his bed all night and fretted he could call the neighbors or he could take his own life.
He closed each of the shutters in the house, cutting off all sunlight. Edward resolved to die. He wrote a letter detailing what happened that day.
He stood up and fingered the vials of various poisons he kept for his medical practice. He stirred up his deadly concoction, brought it to his lips and then paused. No, suicide was not the solution, Edward told him I had my reasons for not committing suicide as I intended. I had ambition to live for and responsibilities. And Edward Rudolph's life was valued in the 19th century because he was so intelligent. As America continued to develop its large cities, the farmers that Edward called Rube's were all being left behind.
These were the folks of the past. These were the values of a bygone era. Farmers had long considered themselves to be the pillars of American democracy, the pillars of the American republic. But they increasingly saw evidence that they were being scorned, that they were being looked down upon by the city.
Edward Roloff began to plot. He looked around the bedroom and pulled out his largest chest.
An hour later, he knocked on his neighbor's door, requesting the loan of a horse and timber cart. The farmer agreed, though reluctantly.
It was a sweltering day and he was concerned about the health of his horse. But Edward was a fine neighbor, so he agreed to meet him at his house in the early afternoon.
Soon, he was pushing the chest through the front door, trying to drag it onto the wagon. Shall I help you load it? Ask the farmer. The men struggled.
The farmer guessed that the trunk weighed more than 100 pounds. Edwards soon snapped his whip and the horse pulled away from the house.
He drove slowly, listlessly toward the southern shore of Cayuga Lake.
He could hear metal clank in the back from the heavy flatirons inside the trunk. He took winding routes that seemed to make no sense. He imagined that everyone he encountered knew he was a killer. He would later tell him I was so completely confused and overcome by the horror with which I was filled that had anyone charged me at the time with the crime or arrest me, I would instantly have confessed all. That is ridiculous. I spent years researching Edward Rohloff and never once did he express remorse for anything he had done, but he was gifted at manipulation and I believe he hoped to convince him, Freeman, that he was a victim of circumstance and we're told lies to his closest friends and then others told lies about him.
One of the most complicated things about Edward Roloff is that his history is riddled with lore tainted by all these unconfirmed rumors. Historian Gerald Smith told me one of them, and you'll recognize a phrase that many people used to describe Edward Rudolph. In a way, he sort of like a Ted Bundy type, the audacity of offering boys a ride on the wagon while he's taking the bodies over to the lakeside. Come on. You know, don't mind the smell.
It's a horrible story and probably not true. Edward was brazen. Yes, but certainly not stupid.
When he finally reached the shore of Cayuga Lake just before dawn, he hopped down from the wagon and opened the trunk.
Within 30 minutes, Edward Rudolph was rowing a small stolen boat toward the middle of the lake. He was sweating. He was red faced. He could hardly control his breathing, he told him. Freeman I rode a long way until I found a spot where I thought the water was deepest. I then carefully placed what I had with me in the water. It sank rapidly to rise no more. And now he began to panic. He needed to quickly get back to Lansing so he could return his neighbor's horse and wagon and were climbed onto the driver's seat, snapped as well, sped back to the house and soon thanked the farmer for his help.
And then he did something audacious and psychotic.
Eat breakfast at William Scott's home the next day, Jane was there, Harriet's sister, she handed Edward a pile of baby clothing that little Amelia wore. Williams said that Priscilla should get some use out of them. Since his daughter had died, he had no idea that Edward had just killed Harriet and the little girl, Edward pulled out one of Harriet's rings from his pocket, a ring her brother had given her. He asked William if he wanted it, and his brother in law seemed confused.
No. Give it back to your wife, he told him. Edward was so odd. And William was becoming nervous. Where have you been? William asked pointedly. Between the lakes, Edward calmly replied, That's how locals described the area between Cayuga Lake and Seneca Lake. Harriet's brother stood closer. Where's your wife and child? Edward smiled. Between the lakes and within hours, Edward Rohloff had vanished. On the next episode of Tenfold More Wicked, he's very hostile to people who don't appreciate his own genius, he's a scary, scary person.
He destroyed their view of their quiet little city and brought some level of violence to it that they'd never really seen. And I think they just yeah, they demanded quick and just retribution. It was a terrible tragedy.
It's something and totally over. No, I don't know. If you love historical true crime, be sure to order my book, American Sherlock. It's about a real life Sherlock Holmes who solved some of the most gruesome murders in the 1920s. This has been an exactly right and ten fold more media production producers Jason Whaling and Laura Sobell, sound designer. Eric Friend, composer Curtis Heath artwork. Nick Todger, executive producers, Georgia Howard Stark, Karen Kilgariff and Danielle Cramer follow us on Instagram and Facebook at tenfold more wicked and on Twitter at tenfold more.
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