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(4/5 stars)
Not all serial killer cases are black and white. Especially in the late 1800s, when there was no DNA and nothing of the technology which arms law enforcement nowadays to take down these cold-hearted people.
I heard it once said that the Jack the Ripper case was the first to use what is now called “criminal profiling”, but truly, analyzing killer behaviour was once all detectives had. It’s why I find cases from that era so fascinating. Before Jack the Ripper terrorized Whitechapel in 1888, another suspected serial killer left behind a long string of rumours that would finally catch up to her.
In this book, Martin Connolly diligently traces the life, tragedy, and suspected crimes of Mary Ann Cotton. Connolly, through old census, birth, marriage and death records, takes us back to a time when the only way women could move up in life, financially and in status, was through marriage. With attention to detail and a keen eye for what was clearly a flawed trial, Connolly takes us through Mary Ann Cotton’s multiple marriages and the trail of death that seemed to follow her. She is suspected of killing over 20 people, including her own mother, her children and husbands. She was convicted of the murder of her stepson, accused of poisoning him with arsenic. This is not uncommon in female serial killers – many kill their own family members in their own homes, often posing as caregiver or loving wife or mother, many even using poison.
The evidence produced in this book sheds light on how unfair and ludicrous Cotton’s trial was, but also leaves you asking… did she do it? In a mystery as enigmatic as Jack the Ripper would be 15 years after Cotton’s execution, behaviour analysis becomes critical while still showing a conflict in evidence. While justice was, in the eyes of the law, served, this book leaves the reader wondering if it was, indeed, justice, or if Cotton was a victim of circumstance and the cruelty of rumours.
Normally, when I finish a true crime book, I have a solid stance on the verdict handed down. But this time? I can’t even say. Mary Ann Cotton was mysterious; either a cold, sadistic psychopath, or a woman plagued by tragedy and stigma. While this book was a bit of a dry read at times, I commend the author on his research, attention to detail and objectivity in writing this book. He comes at it from a balanced, journalistic standpoint, leaving it open to whatever opinion the reader might form. A brilliant read for true-crime fanatics who are intrigued by this era of murder.
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