Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 347 - The Lonely Hearts Killers

Episode Date: May 8, 2023

In the late 1940s, troubled lovers Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck, ran a scam using dating services commonly known as Lonely Hearts Clubs to con and kill women. Their trial became the most sensationalized of the decade.  Today we break down how these dating clubs operated, and get to know these two weirdos and killers in another true crime, deranged lovers edition of Timesuck. Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp tickets are ON SALE!  BadMagicMerch.com Get tour tickets at dancummins.tv Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/ykHMrKh1cIcBad Magic Charity of the Month: The DNA Doe Project is a non profit with a simple humanitarian mission: to identify John and Jane Does using investigative genetic genealogy. Our donation amount is currently TBD. To learn more, please visit dnadoeproject.orgMerch: https://www.badmagicmerch.comDiscord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89vWant to join the Cult of the Curious private Facebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" in order to locate whatever happens to be our most current page :)For all merch related questions/problems: [e-mail] (copy and paste)Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcastWanna become a Space Lizard?  Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcastSign up through Patreon and for $5 a month you get to listen to the Secret Suck, which will drop Thursdays at Noon, PST. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch. You get to vote on two Monday topics each month via the app. And you get the download link for my new comedy album, Feel the Heat. Check the Patreon posts to find out how to download the new album and take advantage of other benefits

How careful are you when you're meeting someone in real life who you've only previously met online? In this day and age, I think most of us are pretty cautious when it comes to interacting with strangers. If you go on a tender date, you might send a close friend or family member the location of the place that you're meeting, give them the time you're supposed to be back, the user name of who you're meeting, etc. You do this so hopefully, hopefully, if something happens, there's at least someone who knows where you are, someone who can help you or can direct law enforcement to go help you, but as always, there are some people who don't take precautions like these. Sometimes maybe because they're not street smart, but also maybe because they're ashamed of online dating for whatever reason in this example.

They don't want their families to know that they're trying to meet someone, or that they're hooking up here and there just for sexy fun. Maybe they don't want whoever else they're dating to know. Any number of factors could lead them to wanting to keep their online entanglements private and that can be dangerous, even deadly and it's not a new phenomenon. These exact same dynamics were at work 80 years ago back in the 1940s. Of course, there wasn't Tinder back then or Grindr or any other hookup apps. There wasn't the internet or even Craigslist,

but there were lonely hearts clubs. A lonely hearts club was essentially the 1940s version of Tinder. Just like Tinder, your autobiography of yourself included a picture. Unlike Tinder, your profile was distributed in the form of a book of eligible people to the club's other members,

typically members of the other sex. And if another member liked you, they might write to you. In the middle of the 20th century, it was so many more people widowed in the US than now, thanks to war and diseases that didn't have modern medicine to cure them. Yet, these clubs were extraordinarily popular. And they were especially popular among women. In an era where women were still expected to be prim and proper ladies and follow all kinds of so-called respectable courting rules,

lonely hearts, clubs, a lot of women the chance to more aggressively put themselves out there on the slide. Instead of just waiting for some dude they ran into to ask them out or waiting for a friend or relative to set them up with some guy they might not even like. Maybe in an era where financial opportunities for women were a lot more scarce than they are today, they could also even find someone who could provide for them. Or maybe they would end up getting Like, maybe in an era where financial opportunities for women were a lot more scarce than they are today, they could also even find someone who could provide for them. Or maybe they would end up getting murdered. When Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez began communicating via a lonely hearts club, they formed a chaotic connection that would eventually lead to the deaths of at least three people,

they may have murdered many more. Fernandez had been running scams and probably committed at least one murder before he met Martha Beck. With Beck, he would pursue his scams more aggressively. The two would perfect a scheme to build women out of their cash and assets by having Fernandez contact them through a lonely hearts club. He would charm them with the help of Martha, posing as a sister, to lower their guards, making the women feel like Fernandez was a devoted brother and gentleman. A well-to-do New York gentleman. How could this sweet man possibly have any bad intentions? But of course he did have bad intentions, the worst.

The Lonely Hearts killers would take at least three lives before being apprehended in Michigan and the trial the father would become a national media sensation, a sorted story of sex, lies and murder. The Lonely Hearts killers, right now on another true crime, murderous lovers edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. You're listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday, Meet Sucks.. Welcome to the cold to curious. I'm Dan Cohen's the master

sucker. And that's it this week. Okay. Sorry. Nah, sorry. I said a bad tone. I should have yelled at you. That wasn't fair. I hope it's not weird now. One last chance to see me do stand up this spring when this comes out. I'll be at comedy on state and Madison, Wisconsin May 11th, 12th and 13th, such a good club. And then focusing on podcasting for the summer outside of maybe one weekend in Spokane, still locking that date down and excited to do so to focus on podcasting. Our charity The Months for May is the DNA Doe project. The organization I came across in the Bible belt strangler episode just recently.

The DNA Doe project is a nonprofit with a simple humanitarian mission to identify John and Jane Doe's using investigative genetic genealogy. We wanna help give some healing to those who have suffered such significant losses. Our donation amount is currently TBD. To learn more, please visit dnadoeproject.org. And now for this week's merch announcements,

are you positive your dad is an ambitious murder? Move along. Are you certain that your father was present in account of four? For all the time frames of your life, now so stop listening. If not, this is important. Every year, thousands of fathers, millions of fathers, go golfy or take business

trips, low too often. The same fathers are often unaccounted for when people are murdered. Coincidence? We think not. And that's why we're introducing some new official merchandise for America's most important vigilante club. Dads are disappearing where all the corpse is hiding. Otherwise known as DadWatch. If you're thinking of joining your local chapter, please be sure to gear up for that first meeting. The official collection includes multiple shirt designs and color options, spiral bound notebook for important investigative notes, an official time-sub chapter DadWatch sticker keychain and mug,

all stuff that will come in handy on late night's takeouts. Head on over to badmagicmerch.com. Before it's too late. That was a dramatic merchant announcement. That was a serious one. With all that importance, I've added the way now on to another story evolving around the true crime, sex, and money of today's tale. Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez were different than some of the other serial killers or killer couples. Excuse me, we've looked at. They were not young, right? People thought to be on top of the world like Paul Bernardo and Carla Humolka. Do

you remember the raw talent of deadly innocence? Fucking Paul's alter eco. How could you forget? God just robbed the world of of somebody great, great rhymes. These are his words if you remember. You think I'm innocent, but behind this, I'm packing a lot of deadliness. So come at me, come at me. I gotta fucking nice face. I looked like a pretty boy.

Why don't you come at me, man? Yeah, he wrote that down. He wrote, he was like, God, it's just gold. This is great. This is great. Paul was sent to prison for murder. He killed all of our chances to watch and listen to the rapper with the most natural talent ever, developing to an artist that today would be more commercially successful, more critically respected than two-pock, biggie, M&M and Jay-Z combined. Anyway, Raymond and Martha, not as young or as bright as Paul and Carla, not saying that Paul and Carla were bright by the way, just comparatively, Raymond and Martha, less bright. Nor would they degenerates to the level of Rose and Fred West, murdering not only young

women for sexual satisfaction, but even their own fucking kids. They didn't keep people alive as sex slaves and torture them. To the outside world, even after they were caught, Martha and Raymond seemed fairly average. I almost wanted to use the word normal. Not normal, but maybe more relatable seeming, at least until all the trial details began to come out than some of these other monsters. Martha Beck was a nurse, mother of two, who hadn't had the easiest life. She'd gotten pregnant out of wedlock, had a divorce, couldn't find any romantic prospects that seemed to work

out, but she held a steady job and most people seemed to find her really somewhat likeable. Similarly Raymond Fernandez was a father of four who had a string of shipping jobs before moving to New York to live with his sister. He was a war veteran and if he was a little bit of a deadbeat, he could also be pretty charming and most people who met him would say that he sure seemed like a nice person. Both of these worthless fucks did completely abandon their children like only a soulless sociopath can but most of the world did not know that until towards the end of the trial. Before those revelations to most, they didn't seem like the kind of people who could do that The way the world saw them of course, you know would change drastically following their arrest as a trial went on

The detectives in Kent County, Michigan who apprehended the couple were shocked by the brutality of their crimes and the stone cold Way in which they would describe them Perhaps it was so stone cold because at the end of the day for these two it was all about money Maybe a little bit about sex for Raymond, but mostly about money. Raymond and Martha committed their murders in the hopes of attaining their victim's wealth. That's what drove them to develop elaborate schemes to make the families of their victims think

that they were still alive in some cases, to be able to get away with taking that money. But after they killed their last two victims, too many people would grow too suspicious, friends and neighbors, and would alert the police. And the lonely hearts killers were then caught practically red handed. But though the crimes may have been primarily about money, the story that Martha and Raymond told to authorities was a complicated one, not just about dollars, but about love, jealousy,

and a weird level of devotion. It was a story that often conflicted, often changed, and it was entertaining to learn about it this week. I hope you like it too. So let us begin. We'll start by setting a scene in the decade in which the story takes place, the 1940s. Then we'll look at Lomi Harts Clubs, which provide the backdrop for this story. Then we'll walk to the lives and crimes and trial of our killers in the timeline.

For whatever reason outside of World War II, the 40s are not a decade we visit or discuss very often. So for the average non-military person, what were things like in the 1940s? Well, they were stupid. They were super fucking stupid. All people did was complain about how stupid they were. So much so the 1940s, still known as the stupidest decade in the history of stupid shit

No, that's not true at all. Despite a big fucking war going on for a good chunk of the decade It was a great decade from those people living in the US overall who didn't die or who weren't horribly injured in that war Or who didn't have family members die or become horribly injured World War two catapults of the US out of the great depression leading to an unprecedented amount of economic growth. By the mid 1940s, the country's economy was prospering. The majority of men who wanted jobs, even non-white men, could not only find them, but find jobs that paid well. This would change for non-white men heading into the 50s, but things were still way better than they had been earlier in the century. Families were growing with the baby boom underway, the following and following the end of the

war in September of 1945. People began buying things that they may have had to forget about purchasing during wartime. Homes, cars, not just practical family sedans, but also hot rods, electrical appliances, other former luxuries were now purchased in mass. People began vacation more often, going into places like Las Vegas Nevada, the new gambling capital of the country, or spending spring breaks and sunny locales like Miami or San Diego,

all in all the decade returned an air of optimism to the American people that had died with the stock market crash in 1929 and the World War that followed. And a sense of whimsy and romance was back and encapsulated everything from songs to fashion. Lucifina deemed much more sex for the country. In the 1940s gave rise to the very first women's two-piece swimsuits, beach boners, back-and-style!

Okay, maybe not like in style, but they were back in numbers not seen in years, I'm sure. So what's any of this have to do with Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez? Well, if one thing it may help explain the popularity of lonely hearts clubs that allowed them to find their victims. With a much more candid attitude about sex on the rise and a cultural return of romance, after the dreary days of the war and the depression, many people were looking for the kind of fairy tale romances that they saw on the big screen in movies like Casa Blanca. And there's also a more direct connection that was unverified. Our main source

could not attest to it. Different sources did claim that Martha Beck found escapism in romantic Hollywood narratives. Spurred on by a culture where romance was at the forefront and eventually she imagined herself as the heroine in these scenarios. She wanted her knight in shining armor so fucking badly. She was willing to do anything to find him and stay with him like anything at all. And badly she was willing to do anything to find him and stay with him like anything at all. Her decisions, ooh, gonna be super cringey. Also the 1940s focus on and fascination with Lonely Hearts Clubs made the Lonely Hearts killers a much more sensational story than they would have been otherwise. Also like now true crime stories were hot back in the 40s.

Did you know that the 40s were a huge decade for true crime? There was an explosion in cheap true crime media, the likes of which the country had never seen before. Pulp novels with covers featuring a blonde or brunette, coofta, model wearing a low cut top along with some line like too many lovers meant murder or common. Raymond and Martha were a bit like a real life version of these stories.

The pages inside these stories featured sexy women and gowns leaning in a way that allowed for maximum cleavage or with their butts protruding or their bare legs stretched out in front of them. Hey, I'll lose the fina. I love sexy pin-up type photos like this from this era. Much hotter to me than modern nude images for reasons I will probably never fully understand. These pulps provided readers with a rare opportunity to go where a few dared venture. For a mere 15 cents, the reader could eavesdrop on the CD world of true crime.

He or she could escape into a fantasy world where people behaved deviantly and then go about their day like a normal law abiding citizen. And now for many of the people that eagerly read about the Lonely Hearts killers and even went to their trial in New York, the Lonely Hearts killers were again, these pulp novels brought to life. So before we get to the Lon killers were again, these pulp novels brought to life. So before we get to the lonely hearts killers, take a look at lonely hearts clubs, what they were, how they operated and how things got out of hand. Americans use matrimonial advertisements

for decades prior to the lonely hearts killers. serial killer bell gunners. I mean, give me a new. Who we covered here a few years ago, began placing marriage ads for victim after victim back in 1905. Luring would be suitors to her Laporte Indiana murder farm. Albert Fish, arguably the oddest motherfucker we have ever covered. Mr. Shobius, Mr. Pino Bata himself, beginning back in the second decade of the 19th century. He, uh, the 20th century, excuse me, second decade of the 20th century.

I went, uh, wrong century there. He bought membership into an earlier version of the Lonely Hearts Clubs. Uh, they referred to them as matrimonial agencies and you could either as a woman submit your address and basic info about yourself for a small fee to these agencies or as a man you could buy a list of addresses and info of women looking to get married. Albert bought these lists and then started old correspondences that would start innocently then get pretty fucking kinky as he sussed out what his lady targets might be willing to do. You know what? Let's take a quick trip down memory lane. I'll read just a snippet of one correspondence. Albert

here talking about a son he doesn't actually have and what that son needs but really what he wants. I forgot how fucking great this was. Bobby does not wed or must his clothes of the bed. He will tell you when he has to use the toilet number one and number two. For number one his pants may be unbuttoned at the crotch and his monkey taken out. His pants and drawers are all made with a drop seat. All you have to do is loose three buttons in the back and down they come. Save a lot of undressing. Handy when you want to spank him, just drop a seat of his pants and drawers. You don't have to strip him except at night for bed, or to give him a bath, or switching. The doctor says three or four good spanking

today on his bare behind will do him good, as he is a nice and fat nut spot. It will be an aid to him. behind. We'll do him good. As he is a nice and fat in that spot, it will be an aid to him. When he don't mind you, then you must strip him and use the cat and nine tails. Say you won't hesitate to use the paddle or cat and nine tails on him when he needs it. Fucking love it. His doctor demands. He gets fat bottom spanked. And then a couple letters later with the same correspondence. He's writing shit like this. Do you know that I feel that in part time to blame for the condition Bobby is in my conscience says it for being careless I should be whipped in the same manner and place you will whip Bobby Someday I hope you will be able to accommodate me and pretty soon taking a further few letters later

He's pretending to be a big-time Hollywood producer now talking about how everyone is spanking everyone else's bottom And it's totally not a big deal. You shouldn't feel weird about it. It's a good thing to do. I don't know Hollywood. A Laurel a plant came in my office dressed up in a birthday suit and sat in my lap. We have an old Roman Romani Gypsy woman who tells all the girls that if they catch a man naked in his home, whip his bear behind with switches and then kiss him. She will surely marry him.

Now they all carry switches. I forgot exactly what he wrote. He wrote so much of this shit and it gets even crazier I'm always to ask what my favorite episode of time suck is and I think it is probably out of her fish It's just the stuff he wrote it's gonna be so hard never top Anyway, these marriage advertisements would soon morph into what we're called lonely hearts clubs And they became wildly popular in part thanks to the women's temperance movements lonely hearts clubs. And they became wildly popular in part thanks to the women's temperance movements. When the women who crusade crusaded for prohibition and freedom from their abusive and drunk husbands shunned dance halls and bars they created the need for a new space

where single women can meet men. Potentially much more dangerous new space. Sometimes lonely hearts clubs were called love brokers, cupids, shatchins, fucking no idea what why I was called that. A full page expose about cupid clubs published by the Detroit Free Press in 1929, described customers as essentially falling into one of two groups. Middle-aged people who were overlooked by Dan Cupid

and youths anxious for the responsibilities and joys of marital life. And what joys of marital life are they referring to? Sex of course. Hey, there's the phina Like I said before these clubs were essentially the first version of Tinder But unlike today's Tinder populated by people of various levels of desirability Little in the hard clubs found particular affinity with people who were deemed at least somewhat societally undesirable

Especially widows and older unmarried women. The women who use these services, we're hoping that through getting a husband, they might achieve things that were otherwise unavailable to them. Greater financial stability, more social status, getting out from a family that may have viewed them as something close to a domestic servant

or an open liability, a burden. Let's look at a Lonely Hearts Club application letter written by one of a quote, pair of middle-aged spinsters. Their words from Kansas. We are twin sisters living out in the country. We have never had a fellow and have no money. We are 43 years of age and are sending you a quarter. All the money we have in the world, Jesus Christ.

Please send us lots of men to write to. We want to get married awful much. And they added a post script. We want to get your letter ourselves and not have Pa find it out. My God. Being 43, living with Pa, still worried about Pa, 43. Holy shit.

I love how being 43 this time was being a middle-aged spencer. Now there are so many 43-year-olds with sexier bodies than probably almost any woman alive back in the 1940s. And with youthful, gorgeous faces, it can be so easy to focus on so much negativity today. Thanks 24-hour news cycle, but we do live in such an amazing time in so many ways. Still wasn't as easy with these clubs as simply putting yourself out there and then fucking bam, you're all hitched up. Like Tinder, the most matches went to the most attractive applicants. For example,

the proprietus of what was called the widows and widowers lonely hearts club conducted a survey of 2000 customers and found that her gentlemen clients preferred constancy, aka being faithful and good looks above all else, even above financial stability and disposition or personality. And by the 1940s, these services had become wildly popular. Each year, the love star of sent 50,000 letters to Detroit's widows and widowers love club alone, with a population around a million residents in the city hosted several such clubs. And the rest of the nation's cities did the same. By the end of the decade, love clubs across US boasted a clientele of more than a million people. Men and women burdened by the toil of the soil

wrote Theodore Dilevine of the Free Press, stopping the daily round of chores to send out a hopeful note from an unhopeful chant of a drab existence to ask the goddess of the Pandora box with the PO number, please to send a boyfriend or vice versa to make life less lonely. Man, some fucking flowery, flowery language for an article about dating services, Theodore. Sounds like he was a frustrated poet.

A Theodore interviewed John B. Stackpool, the superintendent of mail and Detroit, who said that one particular Lonely Hearts Club brings to the box out there in the sorting room, between 400 and 500 letters each day. There are two others that run from 100 to 300 letters daily and perhaps a dozen others that haven't such a large business. A lot of dating business was being done. The cover charge for entry into your average dating club was around a quarter, that 25 cents, for which you might get a four or so page pamphlet containing snap shots and brief biographies of clients looking for mates.

Gentlemen received a booklet containing information about marriageable ladies and a booklet, oh excuse me, and ladies, a booklet containing information about eligible bachelors and widowers. Three dollars, sorry, it's fighting to sneeze there. For $3, members of the ultimate dating club received a year subscription,

but that was where the oversight ended. The correspondence and whatever came after it was a sole responsibility of the people putting themselves out there. As you can expect, many of these lonely hearts fell for scams. In 1930, an exposé recounted the story of a Colorado minor who was duped out of 5,000 bucks by his love letter, Mistress, who said she was a 42-year-old New York widow, but was actually according to the article, a squat little man with an agile pen. That prospector done did got got cashed. The expose warned that thousands of men and women have lost their life savings

in similar circumstances and for sending their names and photos into some sweetheart or matrimony club. At best, it is a dangerous business, no matter how carefully bureaus are conducted. Some think that the number of people who were scamming or otherwise lying and lonely hearts advertisements probably greater than the number of people who didn't. Journalist Wenzel Brown pointed or pulled 32 men who were members of these clubs and found that 18 had successfully gotten money from their pen pals, even though nine already had wives when they joined the club. Line cheating, stealing, it was ever present

in these clubs. Despite the risk, the popularity of these clubs did not wane until long after the dark stars of today's tale were dead and gone. That popularity would make finding victims easy from Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez. When they went to scour the pages of Lonely Hearts Club publications for potential victims,

they quickly found hundreds and hundreds of names. Now that we know a little bit about the world they lived in, hunted in, let's tell their story in today's Time Suck timeline. Right after today's sponsor break, and we're back at the story and it is now actually timeline time. Raymond Martinez Fernandez, born in the territory of Hawaii to Spanish parents on December 17, 1914. Shortly thereafter, the family moved to Bridgeport, Connecticut, where they lived from

1917 until 1932. Not a whole lot is known about Ray's early life. Five and a half years after his birth on May 6, 1920, Martha Beck, born as Martha June Seabrook, and Milton Florida. Her life wasn't a happy one from the start. Probably not. Her story changes quite a bit from one interrogation to the next after her rest and she reads as an extremely manipulative person so I'm not gonna you know be sure about all this shit since it comes from her. But according to her, she was overweight, teased for being so and undowent puberty prematurely, which she said brought on a fair amount of early sexual attention. At her trial, she would claim to have been raped by her brother and subsequently beaten by her mother for it. Who said she blamed Martha for the incident? Horrible if true. Again, not sure I believe

it because she said it. And she saved that info for trial when her lawyer was throwing anything at the wall to try and save her from the death penalty. And this info reads a bit to me, like proven habitual liar Casey Anthony's shit when she was saying that her dad molested her when she was trying to her dad molested her, when she was trying to get a jury to let her get away with murder in her fucking kid. As a teen, Martha said she ran away from home to join a traveling circus,

and that actually seems to be true. Famed a true crime writer, Truman Capote, later claimed to have briefly toured with Beck when he was 10 years old in the circus. How I wasted some specific details existed regarding Martha's circus days. What she shot out of a cannon, did she wash the acrobat sparkly outfits,

feed the lions, clean the elephants, jerk off the clowns, what did she do? We don't know. Raymond Martinez Fernandez, his first love would occur in 1932 when he relocated to Cadez, Spain, to work on his uncle's farm. There at age 18, he met, courted and married, Agnesia, Robles Alonzo, whom he referred to as

Nkar Nkarnasiong. After the birth of their first child, a son named Ralph in 1932, Raymond returned in New York and then motivated supposed to make money to support his family. And maybe that was the reason. He seems to have been a different man compared to who he later became. His work would abruptly end six months later when he heard about

his son's illness, he would return to Spain, planned to head back to New York the first chance he got, but that chance wouldn't come for years and years. Because of the hostilities of the Spanish Civil War, Raymond would remain by his wife's side until 1947. He would fight with Franco's forces, serve eight months of combat duty from 1938 to 1939 1940 he and his wife had a daughter Francisco and from 1940 to 1942 Raymond would later say that he worked as a spy for the British intelligence supervised by a shadowy character. He called captain Wood That to me sounds like bullshit, but it is actually true

Those who met him say that Raymond had a quick wit, sharp sense of humor. He could loose, you know, loose and tight lips, who to especially spend time with the shipping yards and dockside taverns, getting passing sailors to reveal their secrets, getting good practice here for sweet talk and women out of their shit later. He passed along sensitive information, such as enemy plans to sabotage British assets and the movement of contraband munitions and explosives across the border between Gibraltar and Spain to Captain Wood. All in all, he performed his counter espionage duties well and received generous payments from the British government. And at this point in his life, it seemed like he was a law abiding family man.

Another daughter, Gloria Fernandez born in 1945. His fourth child, with in Karnassione, there is no name or birth birthday assigned to their third child, but court records will later attest that he did have four children in Spain. Also in 1945, Raymond worked as a seamen aboard the Empire Jewel, an oil tanker, in route to Curacao. But all would not go according to plan. Shortly after getting his job on the oil rig in December of 1945, a steel hatch fell on him, fracturing his skull and severely injuring his frontal lobe. The damage caused by this injury may well have affected his social and sexual behavior.

It's unclear, but he didn't seem to be the same dude after this incident. We've been to this before. A lot of the serial killers we've covered have suffered frontal lobe injuries, right? The night stockerer Richard Ramirez knocked out when a dresser fell in his head when he was two three years later got knocked to fuck out in a swing accident at the park mr. showbiz Albert fish suffered concussion after falling off a cherry tree at an early age led to severe headaches dizzy spells a stutter and maybe a whole bunch of poop eaten terrible ice cream driver, Fred West went to a serious personality change after

fracturing his skull and a motorcycle accident when he was 17, put him in a coma for a week and have a steel plate attached to a skull. And there are so many other examples. As I said in the Fred and Rose West suck, portions of the front to low play a primary role in regulating overall moral behavior, impulse control, and sexual behavior. After Ted Wound, Raymond spends four weeks in a Curris-House hospital. Afterwards, he works on the American Oiler USS Mission Santa Clara. For just two months before the brand new Ray is caught stealing 53 bucks in linens and

mobile Alabama. A few months after that, early 1946, Ray's convicted theft of government property and spends five months in a federal prison in Tallahassee, Florida. He would later say that it was during this time that his cellmate converted him to a belief in voodoo and black magic. Fernandez later claimed black magic gave him irresistible power and charm over women. Uh-huh. I still hatch, really shook his noodle up.

Or, you know, I guess who knows? Maybe he was a dark wizard. What if that was a real thing with a lot of these serial killers? Like you look deep enough into all these stories and research starts to come up proving that they're just a bunch of dark wizards. Masters of the occult. There's a bunch of powerful voodoo witch doctors. If that were true though, I would think there would be

a lot more than breaking out of prison. I would think that they would use their dark powers to escape from their cells instead of just sitting and then waiting to die. Whatever happened Raymond would leave the prison and return to New York where he'd move in with his sister. In 1947, once again in New York, Raymond begins corresponding with lonely hearts through these love clubs. To increase his allure, he creates an affluent alter ego.

He calls Charles Martin. Charles Martin had an MO. He would wine and dine women, then steal their money and possessions. Most were two embarrassed to later report their crimes. Sounds like Ray Charles Martin had a little bit of Christian girl heart striters. There we go. Clark Rockefeller and him. I want to simply grind time, darling, a real peach male, but kind of night. On September 18, 1947, Raymond and a new friend, probably more than a friend, 50 year old Jane Wilson Thompson, departing New York for Spain. Jane was a high school home economic teacher who had been living with her mother, Pearl

at 565 West 139 street in New York. And they arrived in Grenada, October 10th 1947. For the next five days, they would stay at the hotel universal in Grenada as Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Fernandez. Someone bizarrely Jane would even meet Fernandez's actual wife. Last time he supposedly ever saw her. And then on November 7th, 1947, Jane mysteriously passes away. Records would say she died of a stomach ailment.

Fernandez said Jane had a heart attack, but to her mother Pearl, he said that she had been killed in a train wreck. Why would a story change if nothing nefarious happened here and changed drastically? Making things look more suspicious, Ray took possession of Jane's property with what sure looked like a forage will when investigators examined it later.

The will contain the preface, I make this statement to clear any misunderstandings with reference to my friendship and voyage to Europe with Mr. Raymond Martinez Fernandez. Yeah, that sounds legit. That sounds like how will starts. The statement detailed three loans, totally in $2,500 that Fernandez allegedly made to Thompson in verification that she had subsequently provided credentials and tidling him to the contents of her residence and her stock portfolio to be sure that he was repaid. A second document deprived Pearl, her mother of any right to interfere in this case.

But even though he had this second document, oh so generously Fernandez splits the life insurance with Pearl. Well, what a saint. He'd do this because he was a nice guy, or to increase the odds that Pearl would not look further into all of this. On November 29th, 1947, Raymond returns to New York, alone, and moves into the apartment at 565 West 139th Street. He's now living with the elderly mother of the woman he very likely murdered, and now our two timelines will converge.

In late 1947, Charles Martin makes contact with an interesting nurse from Florida, 27-year-old Martha Beck, what she went off to. After finishing school, she graduated seventh in the Milton High School class of 38 out of a class of six Beck studied nursing. And I don't know how many students went to her class. I just felt like throwing her some random shade. I think she's actually a pretty good student. She graduated from nursing school, received her nurse's registration on March 8, 1942,

but had difficulty finding a job as a nurse. So she took a job as an undertaker's assistant, preparing female bodies for burial. She's getting a real fucking weird resume, traveling circus, something, and undertaker's assistant. Eventually, she was able to find work as a nurse in July of 1942 She left Florida for Vallejo, California She'd gotten a job at the Vallejo in general hospital But then she got sick, lost her job, ended up hospitalized in San Francisco for an undisclosed amount of time in September of 1942 It was around here. She met a man named F.J. Carmen. A man she would quickly become intimate with

Outside of marriage. My God. She'd moved to Norfolk for Virginia with him. Then she would return to California thinking her long distance relationship was steady and rock solid. She would maintain that relationship, moving to Pensacola, where she was named the superintendent of Pensacola maternity hospital on January 7th, 1944. Around this time, Mr. Carmen gets her pregnant and then tells her that he does not want to marry her or be with her at all and he bounces. The beginning that we know of anyway, of a romantic pattern that will keep repeating itself

for the rest of her life before she heads to prison. Now, single and pregnant and undoubtedly facing a lot of social stigma, Martha is hospitalized for a suicide attempt, March of 1944. She will combat this social stigma She is getting by telling people that her baby's father had died in the Pacific campaign She was looked upon now with pity instead of scorn She takes her lie so far about this, you know veteran husband of hers that did not exist

Or, you know, yeah father of her child that she even had an article written up in a local paper about the war hero husband that she never had. The beginning of Martha being a documented liar. She will resign from the hospital at the end of May and June. Things turn around. She started stating a bus driver named Alfred Willard Beck, who was apparently okay with her being the third trimester of pregnancy with another man's baby on September 26, 1944. She gives birth to Willardine Carmen, less than three months later, December 13th, 1944, she marries Alfred Beck. And within just a few months, she will

be pregnant again, giving birth to Anthony Beck, December 5th, 1945. Then a few weeks after that, she files four divorce from Alfred Beck. And now she's single again, with two kids, more stigma. It has thought that she returned to her war widow story now. By January of 1946, she's working at the crippled children's home in Pensacola. And those crippled kids loved her. She played all kinds of fun games with them, like hide leg brace and pin the tail on the crooked spine. Now she didn't do that.

Just fucking absurd to me that she worked in a place literally called crippled children's home. Different times. Different acceptable lingo. Martha played alonely hearts or playstay lonely hearts at an early 1947 and Raymond Fernandez answered. And they'll correspond from April to December of 1947. He's corresponded with a lot of different women. After a torrid exchange of letters, Raymond travels though to Pensacola

to meet his sweet new lady, December 9th 1947, the lovers spent the weekend together most sources say heaven. Lots of crazy sex which culminated in a successful marriage proposal. Must have been real good sex. Raymond now returns to New York three days later to prepare for their nuptials, but then two weeks later, December 23rd 1947, Raymond sends Martha a breakup letter, and the marriage is off. What's going on here? She knew how to get a man to fall for her real heart real quick, and then lose him just as quickly.

Maybe this is because she was incredibly mentally and emotionally unstable. I'm guessing. Crazy in bed, that led some guys to stay around for a little while, but then the crazy outside of the bedroom becomes too much and they're running for the hills. Bashing this off of some info that is coming down the pipe. Immediately after receiving her letter, letting her know she's been dumped on December 26th, Martha attempts to do the unthinkable. She tries to gas herself and her children to death using the kitchen stove.

Some sources state that she put the kids and herself in the stove somehow. I doubt it. Highly doubt she would have a stove. They'll be big enough to do that, but whatever. Exact details don't matter. This is just obviously super fucked up whatever she did here. She's not well. She's really, really not well.

A neighbor finds her, thwarts the attempt, saving her life in the kids' lives. And then this neighbor sends a suicide letter Martha wrote to Raymond. I'm sure Martha's be Hest, who then calls Martha up and the two decide now to get back together. And for Martha to move up North. Oh boy. That is, that is not a great way to get back into a relationship. So what is you and Martha's story, right?

Well, it's a good one. We met through a lonely hearts club and after writing back and forth for weeks, I took a trip down to Florida. We fucked each other's brains out. It was so good. We made quick plans to get married. Yay!

And then I went back to New York and I thought about some of the non-sex stuff, like she how she said she would kill me if I ever tried to run away or how she threatened to burn the kids alive in the yard if they walked in the bedroom and interrupted us again. And I got cold feet and I broke it off. But then she tried to turn her kitchen to a gas chamber and murder her self and her kids because they dumped her So you know not one that I'm a conscience. I said I was just kidding about the breakup and here we are so Yeah, oh and and a sex you know sex is good everything everything's on the table literally everything the Rest of it though. Oh, I've a lot of crying in the shower

Martha would arrive in New York a week later, January 2nd, 1948. Just a day after that Jane Wilson, Thompson's mother, Pearl Wilson, is, uh, she's moving out. She heads out of the West 139th Street apartment after Fernandez buys her one-way ticket to Wilmington, North Carolina, where she will live with relatives. Rand Martha now have the house to, uh, themselves, maybe sources don't indicate that the kids are company and mom and this trip are not. Honeymoon, though, not gonna last. They would quickly break up again after just a week.

On January 10th, Martha returns out of Pensacola, where she discovers that the crippled children's hospital has replaced her. Yeah, that's the kind of shit that employers do when you suddenly stop doing your job for over a week. They'll find someone else to, I don't know, let cripple kids in and out of their cages, or washing out with a fire host or whatever they would do there. Sorry, that fucking name again just conjures up horrible mental pictures for me. Martha was officially notified of a termination on January 17th, 1948.

Oh, well, Raymond and Martha start talking again and another week later, life moving so fast for these two, Martha's traveling back to New York. They're back on. Definitely with her kids this time, January 23rd, 1947. But then two days later, they break up. And Martha now abandons her children, dropping them off at a Salvation Army, and attempts to throw herself in front of a subway, another suicide attempt.

Maybe, I mean, did you really try and throw herself in front of a subway, or did she just want people to think that she tried that? Not to be overly cold here, but how do you fuck up throwing yourself in front of a subway or did she just want people to think that she tried that? Not to be overly cold here, but how do you fuck up throwing yourself in front of a subway? If you're serious about taking yourself out, I have it on the subway a ton of times over the years and it seems pretty simple. You just go over where the train first pops out of the tunnel, you look down the tunnel, you wait till you hear and see it coming, you back up, you go running start, you fucking

jump and then bam. Even if you slip and fall, try to jump, you'll probably still make it far enough to have the train at least like clip your head or something. You know, dent you all the shit. Or if you're super unethical, just hop down and then just walk out in front of the train. Martha didn't do any of that. She was not even injured.

Seems like a desperate attention grab more than an actual suicide attempt to me. Somehow after this, she and Raymond reconciled again and she moved into his apartment after not trying to get her kids back, so she just fucking abandoned his kids. Some sources say that Ray didn't want to be burdened with her kids, so she was like, well, fuck them. And now around the time of this reconciliation, she learns how Raymond actually made his living and agrees to become part of his con.

Martha agrees to masquerade as Charles Martin's sister, or ultimately sometimes sister-in-law, in exchange for a promise that the scheme will remain business and not pleasure. Sexually and romantically she said Raymond Fernandez belonged to her and her alone around Valentine's Day 1948. Charles Martin and Martha Beck traveled to Pennsylvania where Raymond had wooed an unsuspecting teacher named Esther Hen or Henny with a bunch of lonely hearts club correspondents. Esther was 40 years old. She married Martin in Virginia on February 28th, right?

Things are moving along. And afterwards, the two returned to his apartment in New York. The same apartment once owned and occupied by Jane Wilson Thompson and her mom Pearl. Esther soon wises up to the condo. Sometime after marrying Fernandez, Esther hears rumors about Jane Thompson's sudden and unexpected demise in Spain. Also hears from her new husband's sister, Martha, that he still has a wife in four kids in Spain, making him a bigamist. These rumors terrify her. Then, Tade 10 days after they're married, she discovers that someone had taken her diamond

ring and wristwatch. But whoever it was, they hadn't been very discreet. She found a receipt for a pawnbroker in her car. It seems like they used her car to take these things down to the pawnshop. Investigators traced the receipt back to Martha Beck and the shop returns to jewelry. After the incident, Fernandez changes. He starts yelling at her, saying vulgar things that on two occasions she suspects

that Martha has given her sleeping pills. And she's starting to doubt that Martha is who she says she is. Raymond had given her some confusing story about Martha being his brother-in-law, sister-in-law, some shit, but Esther thought they acted way too lovey-dovey. Also, is he not fucking his new bride? What about the no romance deal? Are they not sleeping in the same bed?

According to what Raymond says later, he did not honor the no romance deal as much as Martha thought he did. So I guess they were sleeping, but maybe that's why Martha is telling me about the wife in Spain. It's messy. Esther Hennie leaves Raymond, mate, March 31st, then with the help of a lawyer, recovers a decent chunk of the money that Ray had stolen from her. She'd lost $4,000, but later that seemed like a small sum compared to what she could have lost her life. And she was glad that she had never given him what he wanted most, her teacher's pension. Later, she would characterize Charles as a charming man, up until

they tied the knot, then he quickly turned into something else. She would say to investigators, throughout our marriage, I was afraid of him. He continually carried on like a raving maniac and kept yelling and screaming at me. He wanted my insurance policy and money, but I refused to turn them over to him. Raymond and Martha leave New York soon after his con does not work out here as hoped after wandering around for a while Moshe down south Breastoffs Miami, Florida Havana Cuba where they may have murdered some women they end up settling in Chicago in May of 1948 Where they both take jobs Martha working for the circuits again as the bearded ladies backwax her this time or as a nurse

at St. Luke's Hospital. From Chicago Raymond corresponds with an Arkansas widow now named Mertel Young, another lonely heart's woman with assets. Mertel lived in green forest Arkansas was 42 years old owned and operated a hotel. With Martha to side Charles Martin marries Mertel now in August of 1948. She'd sold the hotel for $6,000 headed Chicago to marry her new love, and on August 12th, she'd transferred her money from a green forest bank account to a joint account she opened with Martin. Oh boy.

Also about a new car for $2,000, that is for him. After stealing $3,600 and a new car from his bride Fernandez talks her into taking a bus to Little Rock Arkansas somehow and gives her some fucking poison to drink as she leaps. He told her it was by carbonate or by carbonate soda and or by carbonates, excuse me. And it would keep her from getting car sick. And by the time her bus pulled into the station,

Springfield, Missouri, Mertle felt woozy and nauseous. She wobbled off the bus, mumbled, mumbling inquiherently, and as soon taken to the state hospital in Little Rock, where she dies on August 26 after spending a week in a coma. Since she was overweight, suffering from numerous physical ailments, including a cerebral hemorrhage, she had suffered a few weeks earlier. Her death didn't surprise anyone. By the time she died, the only hearts-killers are long gone. No one knew who

Raymond and Martha were or that Ray had very likely probably just poisoned her. Mid-August right after murder left for Little Rock, Beck told Fernandez that she was pregnant with his baby. I don't think based on what happened soon that Ray was excited by this news. He doesn't dump her not right away. He later admits to greatly enjoying how completely devoted to him she was. She would do anything he asked, anything at all. These two leave Chicago together, meet more lonely hearts in Tennessee, more women they may have killed who will never be named, and then head to visit Beck's sisters in North and South Carolina. In late August, they relocate to Bridgeport, Connecticut. From there, they traveled to another target, a woman named Irene

Dela Point, who lived in Springfield for Mont. Irene seemed immediately taken with Raymond, but their relationship would be tumultuous, probably because Martha was always hanging around. A letter from Irene to Raymond dated on October 15th containing the inigmatic line, I guess we are just two foolish people. What is your solution and decision?

Martha was jealous. She worried Ray was going to leave her for Irene so in September she tried to overdose on sleeping pills. Suicide attempt number four now. Later that month, Beck and Fernandez moved back to New York City from Springfield and around that time Irene calls it off. She wrote, I've come to the conclusion that our plans had better be called off. As I find, I just can't have faith in you. I called you Sunday and thought I'd proven certain things, and sure enough, as I expected, you weren't in and not expected until very late. Where were you?

I already know. So long and good luck. Raymond wrote, back to Irene who promptly sent this reply, I am always so happy to hear from you. Somehow I seem to imagine Martha would be writing by now, telling me how happy you and she were together. But I was very pleasantly surprised to receive a short note from you. In the letter Irene would reveal that Martha had even told her about Jane Thompson attempting

to scare Irene away. But even though she'd broken up with him, Irene didn't seem that scared. She wrote, true there would always be doubt between us after all those hideous things Martha told me. Even implied you intended to do away with me, as you did with Jane, after you succeeded in getting what I had. Then you would go away and enjoy yourself with her, your only true love. I re-inc concluded, you skunk, but I love you, darn it. Well, darling, so long. It's weird the way she writes this. It's not like she might have believed that Ray was

going to kill her after taking all her money, but that she wasn't like that mad about it. Oh, you skunk you, you rascal. You don't have to lie to me anymore love. I know you're going to kill me after taking all I have and running away with another woman. I'm no fool. I knew the whole time, but darn it. I love you, you stinker. Dagnavitt, I sure wish you weren't so cute. You'd not to slip my throat, my sleep, and have me waking up, bleeding out, but still not be upset with you. Oh heck, you could pop my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon. And I'd only be sad I couldn't see your handsome face anymore.

You'd not be little bunny. Now it was just beckin' for an end is again. And things were still not surprisingly little rocky with these two. I've been arguing about Irene beck attempted to shoot herself. I'm not trying to be cool, but did she, did she attempt to shoot herself? She's constantly supposedly attempting to a side. Did she attempt to shoot herself or did she want Rey to think she was going to shoot herself? She's fucking really bad when it comes to taking herself out.

This is five supposed attempts now. Like I picture her screaming and crying, don't you dare take another step towards me Raymond. Oh, do it. I'll shoot myself But while she's saying this she's holding an unloaded gun backwards against her head I'm serious goodbye cruel world and then when Raymond doesn't do anything she's furious How dare you not try to save me? Oh, baby? You have the pistol pointed over the face. You know finger wasn't even on the trigger and we don't have any bullets for that pistol This attempt does not keep Ray around.

She moves in with her sister in North Carolina arriving there in November 1st, but just two days later, it's a phone call from Ray. He said he wanted her back. These two. So on November 3rd, she meets up with him in his New York apartment, my god. Oh, also, she's no longer pregnant. She induced a miscarriage in North Carolina. And I strongly feel even though it's not stated in explicitly in sources, that this is how they got back

together, right? Didn't want kids, right? So no big whoops. She just gives herself an abortion and begs Raider to take her back. Anything for sweet baby Rae, anything for her precious angel. And now these two get right back to scamming.

Two months later, after maybe killing a few more women here and there on January 1st, 1949, the lonely hearts meet Janet Faye. The 66-year-old New York widow, a little older victim here, topped Raymond's list of potential victims. While Martha remained behind in the hotel, Charles Martin visits Faye to try and ascertain if she really has the money he thinks she has. Convince she does, in part by a large diamond ring she wore, Raymond lured a faye to a residence he had and he had rented, pretended he had owned, in Valley Stream, little town on Long Island. But the scan doesn't go as hoped. Martha will later

recount what went down. She said to prosecutors, much later, she came to New York City with us, and on January 4th she seemed to be getting suspicious. So we had decided that we had better get her out of the way. I hit it with a hammer and then Fernandez strangled her with the silk scarf. We placed the body in a trunk and took it over to his sister's house, but the sister knows nothing about this crime or any other. We left the trunk and body there until January 21st when we rented a house. I don't know where the house is, but could take you there if we were in the New York area. Fernandez and I then moved the trunk over to the rented house.

Fernandez dug a hole in the basement and we buried the body in the hole, and I believe he refinished the basement floor with plaster of pairs. We went back to the house every day to check on the hardening of the floor and the basement and to create the impression in the neighborhood that we had moved in. So there you go. Irene got wiped their scam, So she got the hammer. We'll go over a lot more details about this murder. Once we get to their trial and Raymond and Martha both give some versions of how and why Janet was murdered. Just days later, it's on to

the next target. January 12, 1949, 31 year old widow, Delephine Downing, wrote a letter to the allegedly affluent New Yorker Charles Martin. Delephine was the youngest daughter of rancher Martin Van Buren Price, grew up alongside her three older sisters Zora, Zella and Esther on a 3,300 acre ranch near Palisade, Nebraska. She had graduated in the class of 1934, a pie-faced girl with curly brunette hair, parted on the side, beaming a wide grin. Friends and family described her as rather old-fashioned. And funny to me to hear that term used to describe someone who graduated high school in 1934.

Delafine wasn't some typical modern and wild 1930s girl. No, she was old-fashioned. If a man took her out on a date, she expected him to show up on a horse. If she asked for a glass of water, she expected you to walk past the sink and go draw a fresh water from the well. Here's why they really said that. She didn't use makeup and dress like a schoolgirl and she never wore pantyhose, silk stockings or guards. After graduating the 17 year old, taught at a prairie school near home for years then in the summer of 1942. She visited her sister in Los Angeles

and fell in love with a dashing young GI named Roland Downing. They would write each other for almost two years before marrying in October of 1944 during one of his furloughs. After his discharge from the army, the newlywed settled in Roland's hometown at Grand Rapids, Michigan. They lived with his parents while House Hunten eventually settling into a five-room bungalow at 34 35 Byron center road and Wyoming township, large suburb of Grand Rapids, South of the city. Roland took a job as a truck driver until he could save enough money to start his own auto shop.

On June 6, 1946, the couple welcomed a daughter, Raynail, but then the fairy tale would end. Just a little over a year after Raynail's birth on a dreary November morning, a passenger trans smashed into Rollins truck throwing him 90 feet into the air and killing him. Man, fucking 90 feet. The accident left DelafiN to raise her daughter alone on nothing more than a monthly life insurance payment of $125. She was devastated. She told friends and families she would never marry again. But secretly after about a year she did join a lonely hearts club His 1948 turn into 1949 she was lonely living a thousand miles from her hometown But optimistic when it came to a second chance for love and then she got a reply to one of her lonely hearts club letters in the form of Charles Martin

They'd made contact before Christmas Delphine was thrilled to be talking to a man claiming to be a wealthy New Yorker. She didn't bet an eye when Martin requested a recent photograph and a lock of her hair. Hair part. That's fucking weird, right? Can you imagine honoring your quest like that on Tinder? Oh, thanks for swiping right. So excited to meet up. Before we head out for drinks, is there any way you could send me just a lock of your hair to the dress I've listed below? Not a big lock, of course, not a maniac. Just a little taste of what I'm going to get to sniff when I get to see you. Ray replied with the Christmas card. Then on January 12, she sent him another letter and

some pubes he'd requested. Mostly from the front, a couple of little guys from the back. Nothing crazy. Nothing crazy. Maybe three, four dozen front but locks, five or six lone lady butt hairs. And also a vaginal smudge. You know those little perfume and clone sampler test strips you can get from a lot of stores? Picture a bigger one of those that a classy lady just pushes her vagina down upon, just make a little smudge.

Harmless little moisture stamp. Think of it as a fingerprint for a labia. Just a little taste. So Chuck knows where he's getting into. Oh, and then just one more thing. Charles also requested a brush, he'd worn on a hot day. When she really worked up a sweat in, just send him over on wash.

No big deal. Just want to know, you know, how that titswits niffs. Titswits. Damn, titswits niffs. Titswits. Just get a little titswits. Now, a little titswits. Not a big deal. And of course, along with the broad, a few dirty tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, tits, Thank you for your thoughtful Christmas greetings. Christmas was busy, but the little afterwards

gives me such an empty lonely feeling. New Year's Eve, I kept the neighbor's children so they could go out and they were sleeping peacefully. The only noise was when the dog held it midnight. I've been having trouble with my old car. Maybe I should have bought a new one. But I hate to spend so much when it could be used for Rain L's future.

Do you like children, Charles? I hope you do, because if we continue to correspond, I will mention Rain L's future. Do you like children Charles? I hope you do, because if we continue to correspond, I will mention Rain L often. I have a nice two-stall garage, and it is still full of my husband's tools. But I am getting many things sold. I live outside the city limits in a nice section. I hope I don't break the rules of friendship correspondence by writing you before you have time to consider my last letter. Sincerely, Delafine Downing. And this is clearly just so fucking sad, right? Delafine seems like a good person.

Good mom who had been dealt a cruel blow when her husband died so young. Soon Delafine will get a response, not the one she'd expected. Charles informs, he'll be coming out to visit instead of just continuing to correspond from afar. January 23rd, 1949, Delafine waits anxiously. This is the day that Charles said he would arrive and then, sure enough, he dies. He's at the door. When she opens it, she sees a skinny ball. He manned with a fedora in his hand. And there was a larger

woman next to him, reintroduced her as his sister, Martha Martin, though Delafine didn't think there was much resemblance. They were the same height, but Martha was pasty white and portly, while Charles was skinny and tan. They were staying. He said at the same height, but Martha was pasty white. Importantly, while Charles was skinny and tan, they were staying. He said at the row hotel, Delafine invited the men. Then a few days, Charles really buttered Delafine up and she invited the two of them to stay with her

in one of her five bedrooms. And then by February 2nd, Delafine Downing has agreed to become Mrs. Charles Martin. She would proceed to stun friends and relatives by telling them that the marriage had already occurred. No one was more shocked by that news than her best friend, Mrs. Lawrence Sullivan, who had been Delafine's shoulder to lean on during the death of her husband. Mrs. Sullivan smelled something fishy. He just didn't look or act the part, she would say later. And she didn't like the way that Delafine had started ignoring her friends when the Martins were

around. The isolation was starting to look purposeful. The neighborhood wives led by Mrs. Elevin carefully jot it down the license plate. Good for her. O'Charles Martin's car called Kent County Sheriff Hugh Blacklock, who telephone New York authorities and discovered that that car belonged to a man named Raymond Fernandez. Now she is obviously much more suspicious

and worried who the fuck is this grifter. Then Mrs. Elevin contacts the FBI. I love Mrs. Sullivan. And they say they didn't have anything on Raymond. Delephine hosted a wedding party on February 2nd now to celebrate with friends and neighbors. Mrs. Sullivan attends. And we'll later remember that it wasn't a very jovial party

though she didn't know why. Delephine didn't seem to want to discuss the supposed marriage ceremony. The one that actually hadn't happened. Mrs. Sullivan suspicions. Further peak now. So she phones Delephine's former father-in-law Ralph Downing says that she is worried about Ray Nell's welfare. Meanwhile, Delephine and Charles are on their way to her hometown of Palisade, Nebraska to share the good news. There, Delephine will

explain to family how she met Charles, spending an elaborate lie about the, uh, true nature, you know, disguising the true nature of their introduction. Upon hearing of her sister's visit, Zora travels to the family homestead. During the two days she spent with the honeymooners, she heard all about Delefine's fairy tale romance. Delefine told Zora that Mrs. Martha Martin trained a nurse, assisted at the birth of Ray Nell, the remained close, and when Dele began to yearn for companionship, months after Roland's death, the nurse introduced her to her brother Charles. That bullshit story seemed plausible enough, and Charles went out of his way to seem like a friendly, uh, a family-friendly man.

He would tell Raynail to come give daddy a kiss all the time. Delabie's family thought this was a nice show of affection. Tell his father, thought that she had found herself a fine man. After two week visit, the trio heads back to Grand Rapids, making a slight detour, so the Delabie can introduce Charles to another sister, Esther. Charles charmed Esther as well. I'm wondering, what are these people think that Chuck did for work? How does he have all this fucking time just to galvanize around the country?

I think he told him he had family money or let them assume that, but also why the fuck is Delus supposed to nurse friend Martha, a woman that no one had ever heard of before? Why is she tagging along for all this? How was she able to suppose to take all this time off? Always so much easier to point out problems in situations like this when you're not involved and not in the middle of it all and just, you know, looking at it from way in the future. I do get that. Uh, when they all got back to Grand Rapids, Delafine started making plans to move to New

York. Martha and Charles helped Delafine pack her things, load and trucks full of linens, carpets and drapes. In the meantime, Deleb begins to liquidate her assets, assets, which included the Byron Center Road home in three lots of land. She agreed to sell her house and informed the buyers that they could move in any time after March 1st. Now her real estate agent Leo Id smells a rat. He later recalled Fernandez seemed very anxious and showed his disappointment when the down payment amounted only to $275 With the down payment DelafiN received from the sale of her home She and Martin established a joint bank account into which she deposited $1300 and he deposited $2700 Then they have a fight when DelafiN wants to take out two big withdrawals of money for

her sisters, one for $800, another one for $1,500. And I will say that does seem like a lot to pull out right away. That's a big chunk of the pie. She figured that since she would soon be the wife of a wealthy New Yorker, though, she could afford acts of generosity like that. But Charles Martin disagreed. And then sometime on the afternoon of Saturday, February 26, not long after this fight,

Delephine Downing and her daughter disappear. At same date, Charles and Martha Martin head into the South Belt Line hardware store and buy several dozen one pound packages of plaster paris. Saying that Martha recently bought a house in Wyoming township and needed to do some cement work for renovations. So, you know, not a good look when this comes out later. By the evening of February 27th, Mrs. Sullivan had not heard from her best friend over 24

hours and she's getting worried. She'd seen her on Friday evening, talked to her on Saturday afternoon, but after that, Nada. When she dialed her friend's number on Sunday, Martha answered, said in an abrupt dead pan tone that Delephine was not home and gave no details as to where she might be or you know, when she would head back. As Sunday passes into Monday, Mrs. Sullivan grows more and more worried. From her kitchen window, she notices Martin and his sister stuffing Dele's new car with suitcases.

She relates her concerns to Ralph Downing, Dele's former father-in-law and to Evelyn Burt, another friend. Burt promptly telephoned to Kent County Sheriff's Department while downing contacts to the Wyoming Township Police Department. Both departments immediately dispatch a team of officers to the Downing Bungalow. For all four men, the simple missing person case would quickly become a career-defining moment. Wyoming Township Police officers Elmer, Al Boss and John Vanderbando, along with Kent County Sheriff's deputies Clarence Randall and James

Tuay. Arrived at the Downing Household at 3435 Byron Center Road at about 10 p.m. the evening of Monday, February 28, 1949. City Police Department itself wasn't even 10 years old yet. It had begun in 1941 with the force of only seven officers, three working full time. Vanderbond, who was 35, had a day job as a carpenter before he joined the forest, 31-year-old Elmer, a boss, and joined the department in 1948. Most of the time they were busy with nothing more than traffic violations and drunk drivers. But not tonight. When they arrived at the Downing Bungalow, Vanderbanned and Boss searched the 1949 Model

sedan with the New York tag, packed suitcases were crammed into the backseat, and the glove box contained registration in the name of Raymond Martinez Fernandez. After studying the car, Vanderbannon boss joined deputies Randall and Tui and walked up to the front door. The door opens to reveal a man wearing a three-piece suit. A man with a long indentation that ran down the right side of his forehead. What looked to be a healed school fracture, right, that accident was a bad one. A woman stood next to him wearing a dark blue dress stacking a column of suitcases. The man identified himself, identified himself as Charles Martin, asked Martha to get his ID from a dresser drawer in one of the bedrooms, and then he stumbled trying to explain why the name on the car's registration was different. Also said the Delafine had left on an e-spawn train the previous Friday, asking them to watch over

her home while she took Raynail to visit some relatives and Detroit. All of this didn't explain the stack of suitcases in the four-year though. The police now quickly suspect that they have caught Charles Martin in the act of skipping town with some of the elephant's property, maybe her money too. Looking around the house down in the seller van der bandenbaus making a disturbing discovery. Patch of wet concrete with a pipe jutting out of the center. Pipe was not connected to anything. It looked like someone tried to make it look like they were doing a home renovation project. Vanderb

station officers, Fritz Charles and find a bankroll containing $4,230 in his pockets. Real suspicious. And also a list containing 17 names and addresses. Four of them had a pencil check mark in the margin next to them, including the first name on the list. Janet Faye. Suspissions are raised further. Investigators don't know what's really going on yet, but they know that something shady is going on. Within an hour, a platoon of investigators are at the house. Officers Van Der Band and boss chief lay slater, his counterpart Kent County Sheriff, Hugh M. Blacklock Kent County corner, Paul W. Blocsum and Grand Rapids herald photographer Keith

Strofal all crowded into the basement. The clear enough space they shove aside a US Army footlocker with the name Downing stentled on his lid as well as a large stainless steel washbin or washbasin which was filled with muddy brown water. Source of the muddy water was clear. The area had a high water table meaning the basements flooded periodically. Whoever dug the hole had probably used the basin to bail out water before filling it with cement. But the cement was still soft. Guys had a real bad feeling about this. Vanderb pond now. The end of the cane struck something solid. Strofal leans over to capture the moment on film, but there was still not enough light to see what was truly in the hole. Meanwhile,

on the floor above, Randall and Tui are searching the rest of the house. They rife all through a bureau drawers empty suitcases packed by Martin and sister. One suitcase had in it a 45 automatic pistol matching the description of a service pistol that rolling down and brought back from the war. In the early hours of March 1st, 1949, investigators now pull the mud streaked, freshly dead body of Delafin downing wrapped in a blanket from the watery grave in her basement. Also in the blanket, a blood stain pillow with a neat hole in the center. Crimson patch, large pair of tongs apparently used to lower the bundle into the hole, blocks

a made a cursory examination on the spot. He cut the rope around the bag, gently unfurled the canvas to reveal Downing's body clad only in her undergarments, doubled over like a diver in a jackknife position. Her hands have been bound in front of her with another length of rope. The corpse contained no marks of violence other than the hole in the center of her forehead, made by a bullet from a large caliber weapon like a 38 or 45 caliber handgun the apparent cause of death. Black lock and boss searched for the fatal bullet in the watery grave but failed to find it. Based on the condition of the body she had died late Saturday afternoon or early Saturday evening. So where was little right now? They keep looking around the house.

Meanwhile back at the station investigators now informed Charles Martin that they have found Downing's body. Up until that point, Martin had been vigorously maintaining his innocence, right? But now he required his body slumped the wind had been taken out of his. I still might get out of town sale. His smile evaporated. His shoulders rolled forward. When they asked him where Rayna was, he replied in a horse whisper in the little green box. Vanderbanner boss race back to 3435 Byron center road joined by other investigators. They form a circle around Roland Downing's foot locker at about 18 inches square. The box seemed too small to hold a 21 month old body. Block some lifts the lid and the Grand Rapids herald reporter would later describe the scene. A pink baby blanket on top wrote the last chapter

of the sorted story. The body had been jackknifed into the tiny box and it was bound cruelly with wire. Corner blocks him so that it was still limp and warm when he received it. Jesus. The condition of the body indicated that Rainelle had died sometime late Monday afternoon or early Monday evening, just a few hours before officers arrived. Rain-Elz murderer had smashed her in the head either just before or just after she died, but the absence of bruising suggested it was just after, as if her murderer had battered her with a blunt object to ensure that she had died or more gruesome to force her remains into this tiny footlocker.

Rain-Elz cause a death with this fixation from inhaling some mud at the bottom of the wash basin. She'd been drowned in the same water her mother had just been buried under. The killer had forced her head either into the flooded hole or the wash tub and held her under water. Then she had been beaten into the box her father had brought back from the war. Back at the station Charles Martin is now ready to give it all up. He admits his real name is Raymond Fernandez and his sister is actually his lover Martha Beck Randall and two. He tucked both Beck and Fernandez into the backseat of a cruiser drive them to downtown Grand Rapids now where they walked through the doorway leading into the Kent County jail. Gertrude Van Den Bosch 21-year-old veteran jail matron began her was beginning her last week on the job and her success were mildered bellows escorted back to the women's cells on the third floor.

Raymond Fernandez joined the general population on the second floor. It will be a short night for both. While the two suspects sweated it out in jail, reporters from across the Midwest raised to be the first to break this story at 9.30 a.m. March 1st Kent County prosecutor Roger O. MacMayan addressed back in Fernandez in the corridor outside of the conference room where the interrogations would occur. He allegedly made them a promise he would have a hell of a time keeping in the following weeks. By this time everyone including the suspects knew the had been caught red handed.

There was no beating those charges, but MacMayan didn't just want a confession about the downing murders. He had heard that Martha Beck had been saying for the last couple of hours that these murders were just the latest in a quote string of murders. She had mentioned a name Janet Fay, a widow who had disappeared in January. McMahon also heard about the list they'd found with Janet's name on the top, and now he wants a full story. According to both Beck and Fernandez, McMahon made them a promise they could not refuse. If they confessed to all of their crimes, then they and their sign

confessions would remain in Michigan. Fernandez later recalled in his typically rambling fashion, he said he told us that he didn't know anything. But according to the picture of what had happened in Michigan, he assumed that something else had happened in different states or even in Michigan, that we were going to be punished in Michigan, that if we are to make a clean slate, when we did leave prison, assuming that we were to be punished there, that if we can fast everything we did, all the records will be cleared. And he promised that nothing would be held against us, but just clear the records. All right.

McMahon may have known when he made this promise that it was an empty promise. There was no way that Michigan could win an extradition battle with New York where Janet Fay died. Either way, Tobacco and Fernandez seemed like the deal of a lifetime. They thought they could avoid sing-sing and the electric chair in New York, trading it for the Michigan State Prison, right? And the maximum penalty in Michigan was life with the possibility of parole after 20 years. So they took this deal, Fernandez could maybe walk out of prison as a free man in his 50s

and beck could be out before the age of 50. So they agreed to tell everything. And now in separate rooms, they recount a litany of crimes. Beginning approximately 10, 30 a.m. the interrogations ensued the rest of the morning, most of the afternoon. Lula Parks, McMahon Secretary, and the county's chief stenographer took rigorous notes. McMahon also allowed a small audience of reporters to sit in and listen to the bizarre story. He described the reason behind his unconventional tactic, telling AG Troi Times writer, 10 years from now, I don't want anybody to say that these confessions were beaten out of these people.

This way, there are plenty of witnesses to prove that nobody laid a finger on them. All right, I like it. Both Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez would make full confessions to the murders of Delephine and Janet Faye. Raymond would say that it wasn't theft with Delafi and it was a crime of passion. He said they'd begun arguing on Saturday afternoon due to the money the Delafi wanted to withdraw from their account for his sisters and also due to another very different factor, a $150 to pay that Raymond had purchased in downtown Grand Rapids that afternoon.

Delafi said she didn't like the way it looked on Raymond. Seriously, this way he says, he said she became hysterical and began to hurl silverware at him. What? Did that fucking happen? I mean, I get her not liking Ray's new hair piece, but going full here comes the spoons motherfucker over a wig. What were you thinking, Charles?

Do you want people to think I've married a circus clown? Is that it? Did you want everyone to think that you've skinned a poodle and stapled its pelty or head? Why are you doing this to me? I wish I knew what that wig looked like. At that point, his confession, he also added that Martha Beck didn't know how to take a hint that he didn't love her anymore and that she was too clingy. He'd say, I liked her, but she wouldn't go away. She said when I was really settling down, she would go away, but she didn't. This last one, Delafi was the nicest. She really was a very nice woman. She was the one I wanted, but I didn't love Martha.

I couldn't get her off my system. I tried to make her go away, but whatever she wanted, she would whimper and cry and make me do what she wanted. I mean, he could have gotten rid of her, but I don't think he's lying about the whimpering to cry. I mean, he's a piece of shit, but she also sounds like she was a clinging nightmare. He said that Martha was jealous of De La Fiend, talked her into downing 14 Fino barbatale tablets, but the non-lethal dose of downers just put her into a deep slumber.

At that point Raymond said he realized De La Fiend would make a beeline for the nearest police station when she woke up. So, you know, he had had to he had to shoot her by wrapping her late husband's army issue 45 and a baby blanket Then shooting the widow at point blank range as renail watched from a corner of the bedroom. What Why would you do that in front of a little right now? Maybe because he was a consciousless predator who did not care who he hurt He said that he and Martha then hauled the corpse to the basement. And now at this point, McMahon interrupted with the question. He asked, if they didn't plan the crime, why did Raymond have a pickaxe and several packages of concrete on hand? Raymond said that he had recently constructed a new bathroom in Delafin's house.

Hmm. The answer sounded canned to McMahon. After bearing the body, Raymond proceeded, then took Raynell out for, proceeded to take Raynell, excuse me, then took Raynail out for a, proceeded to take Raynail, excuse me, out for dinner in a movie. Uh, totally. As one does, after shooting to kids mom in the head in front of them, he said he tried to be nice to the little girl, but by Sunday, she wouldn't stop crying for her mother. So loudly, Raymond thought the neighbors were going to hear. In an attempt to shut her up, he said, now they took her out for a Sunday drive.

How sweet. And what a great idea. A Sunday drive. How could that not get a toddler to stop crying for their just murdered in front of them? Mother, when that seemingly foolproof plan didn't work, they now took her to a local pet store and bought her a Cockerspanial puppy. And that worked for a little bit. But when the puppy scratched her, they immediately returned it and she started crying again. Uh, totally that makes a lot of sense. You get a puppy to stop a girl from crying about her dead mom. It works.

She does stop crying. But then the little cocker spaniel puppy scratches her. So thinking clearly, you know, take away the girl's brand new comfort animal. These two, self-fucking smart. I can't believe they didn't get away with uh, crimes forever. Now shockingly, Rain Hell's crying keeps them up all night Saturday. So on Sunday morning they discuss putting it down with its murder, not her it, but neither wanted to do the deed. In the meantime, they went to the bank

withdrew all the money from the joint accounts when they went back to the house, Raymond said Martha had made up her mind. For net is explained, when we came back, Martha's head she was going to drown the baby and took her down into the basement. And a little while I heard crying and ran down and said, let her be. Don't let her suffer anymore. God, what a saint. Never fun to be killed by an insane pair of lovers. But if you're going to be killed,

you'd be so lucky to be killed by these gems, especially Ray. I wonder how many people asked Ray if he'd been named after a ray of sunshine. So bright, so warm. Rayman's at the side of Beck holding little girl up by the legs and forcing her head into the wash-bation scared him, so he ran upstairs Martha Beck taunted after him. What's the matter? Why don't you come back down?

Gotta feel terrible for Ray. He didn't want any of this even bully this whole time Somehow so the grace of God Ray regains his composure while not a horrible Martha finishes killing a toddler He then heads back down to the seller Mixed up a batch of cement, Martha now ties up Rainiel's body with wire shoves it into her, uh, into her father's full locker and encases it with a thin layer of cement. Then they head upstairs, wash up and go to another movie. And sure, you know what? At first glance, that might seem cold and a bit sociopathic. But when someone told a young Raymond once, there was no use crying over spilled milk.

By God, he took that to heart. He listened, you know, and Carpideam, he always liked that one. I bet he read a lot of books written by Einstein, another geniuses too, and used their wisdom to guide his life, like the Einstein quote, life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving. Don't look back what's done is done.

Enjoy that movie. Raymond said when they got home from the movies, they began packing, and that's when the police interrupted them. Martha Beck offered a slightly different version of events. Like Raymond, she said that the catalyst for the murder came when Delafene reacted to the new two pay at about 2 p.m. But on Sunday, not Saturday, like Raymond had said. And I gotta say, I was not expecting the two pay

part of this story to be true when I first went over all of this. The hairpiece, which he had bought from the bossy hair shop, made him look younger, and Beck said the Delphine got suspicious as to his true intentions with this wig. Was he using it to try and pick up someone else? She said that Raymond decided to take drastic action after Delo wigged out over the wig. She said Fernandez asked me if I had had enough sleeping pills to put her out of the way for good.

I thought I had. I had 14, uh, one and a half gram or one and a half grain phenobarbital pills. Mrs. Downing didn't want to take them, but did and quickly became drowsy and fell asleep in the back bedroom. About 6 p.m. She became restless and apparently wanted to wake up but just couldn't. Raymond said I had better shooter. He took a gun, wrapped it

up in two baby blankets and shot her. The sound was very muffled and if I had not been looking for it, I wouldn't have heard it. Then she said Raymond darted into the backyard to make sure no neighbors had heard. Then he came inside, went down to the basement and began digging a hole while Martha rolled the body into a blanket. When he got through, she continued, he came upstairs and helped me carry the body to the basement. The hole was pretty full of water and I bailed out two tubs of water before we could put the body in. Then we wrapped the body in a blanket, placed a bloody pillow under the head, and placed it in the hole. Raymond filled the hole up with concrete and we cleaned up and took the little girl to a movie and he gets something to eat. The whole

job took about four hours. He's fucking dumb monsters. They really took that little girl to a fucking movie after that. Sorry about your mom. Let me make it up to you. You like popcorn? She said it was Raymond's decision to kill Ray now. At first Martha explained we decided to keep a little girl and take her back to New York We decided that Fernandez would write Mrs. Downing's parents from time to time on the tie-priter and enclosed pictures of the baby and sign their daughter's name We felt this would allay any suspicion for a long time. Martha said that seemed like a good plan, but then Raymond realized he would have to explain to his family why he had a random kid all of a sudden. When he couldn't come up with a credible story, he decided, well, we just got a killer.

And he made Martha do it after they got back from the bank. She said she undressed Raynell, carried her to the basement, then thrust her head into the wash basin. Holding the child by the heels, Martha leaned forward using her body weight to keep the thrashing child from coming up for air, holy shit. She said without a hint of emotion, the baby struggled so much I could hardly hold her, so I wrapped it in a blanket and held it all the way under for 15 or 20 minutes, then Ray cemented her in the box.

The listeners in the room, as she is saying this this apparently all winced at her transition from her to it Yeah, I bet At some point afterwards Martha said she had bashed rain nails head in with a heavy object just to be sure she was dead Like the others John Vanderbanner listened to the confession in stun silence He said later that he balled up his fist so tightly as he's listening to this his knuckles turn white and he said after hearing about the baby He whispered another person in the room. It makes me want to smash them Yeah, it would be bad not to feel that way

The interrogations last the most of the afternoon and that is the sun began to set then Martha and Raymond will return to their cells After watching their confession the four key characters the investigation, Randall, Tui, Vanderbam and Boss returned to 3435 byron center road, Delafin Downing's house to look for her additional evidence. Chief Slater had ordered that the home be sealed and posted an arm guard to prevent any tampering with the crime scene, so when the four officers entered the scene, it appeared exactly as they had left it. One unopensed case they had an examine to carry the mysterious shipping label from Janet J. Fay to Mrs. Lester Hubbard, 13 Providence Place, Aubrey, New York. It appeared that the case filled with clothes supposed from Janet Fay and addressed her sister

was a red herring that Raymond intended to drag across the trail leading to his New York victim. Even as he fleeced, Delafine Downing, he continued to cover his tracks by sending some false proof of life in the form of personal items to Janet's sister. Maybe it wasn't quite as dumb as I was making him out to be a little bit ago. Now they found something else, a list of 132 names

from the list of Raymond's favorite love clubs. At the time, reporters assumed that most of these women had to be dead. Martha Beck's suitcases contained several items of jewelry, including a pair of gold earrings. The earrings would become a major piece of evidence against her as they belong to Janet Faye of New York or excuse me a New York newspaper would later nickname them golden handcuffs Officer Randall also noted that the serial number of Raymond's typewriter jotted that down Hoping that the information would help connect Raymond to different crimes That night deputies would also escort Martin Price, Delapene's dad, to the Byron Center Road, bungalow. Got that poor bastard. Martin had traveled up from

Palisade, Nebraska to claim the bodies and bring them home for a funeral. He went into the house to find clothes for the bodies to be buried in. Jesus, what a terrible thing to have to do. He also booked a sheriff or also excuse me asked to sheriff if he could visit Raymond and Jail and Sheriff Blacklock turned him down, which makes sense. Nothing good was gonna come from that visit. I mean, I imagine he wanted to beat that dude to death or more sad wanted to just ask the guy why he fucking did it.

Wanted to tearfully ask Ray why he killed his daughter and granddaughter. While Price searched for suitable funerary funeral dresses for Delefine and Raynell, Vanderbaine discovered a satchel crammed correspondence, including a trove of letters Fernandez had received from various lonely hearts across the country. The sheaves of paper included what appeared to be a last will and testament of sorts, signed

by Jane Wilson Thompson, along with several blank sheets containing curiously nothing but Thompson's signature. Thompson was the lonely heart whom he seriously died while on a honeymoon with Fernandez in Spain. A lot of names keep track of him. died while on a honeymoon with Fernandez in Spain. Lot of names to keep track of Her will had left everything to Fernandez. Meanwhile at the courthouse prosecutors were figuring out how they would be charging their suspects Prosecutors wanted them to face the death penalty But that was a tricky subject in Michigan at the moment where it was currently illegal

There was a big push to reinstate it, but it hadn't been reinstated The last legal execution performed under Michigan law had occurred before statehood over a century earlier. Steven Simmons, who murdered his wife in a drunken rage, went to the scaffold in 1836. Wayne County Sheriff Thomas Napt didn't want to conduct the hanging if there was going to be one. So the job would go to Uncle Ben Woodworth, the county corner and a local hotel operator, if it were to occur.

I love this. I picture this guy being a corner and checking guests into a local hotel operator if it were to occur. I love this. I picture this guy being a corner and checking guests into a local hotel. Right. And he's going to have to hang someone. Sorry about that. Hope you were waiting long. Head to step away from the desk for a bit longer than I thought I would to hang a fella and his girlfriend. Check it in. Less than a decade after Michigan became a state in 1846, lawmakers outlawed the death penalty for state crimes while retaining a death penalty in cases of treason. Federal authorities also maintained the power to execute prisoners for federal offenses,

which did lead to the 1938 hanging of a convicted bank robber, Anthony Chibitoris, inside the walls of a Michigan correctional facility in Mylon, Michigan. So I guess I hadn't been that long since someone had been killed in Michigan, just not executed by the state. Now many state legislators legislators legislators want to bring the death penalty back They almost will but they won't get quite enough votes Back at the prison on Tuesday night still on March 1st Raymond Fernandez will now describe where to find Janet phase hidden grave To a detective on the phone in Nasa or yet Nasa County, New York He said that after the murder of Janet Faye,

he and Martha had trust up the body in a knees-to-chest position, Jack Knife, as the paper described it, and tried to fit it into a trunk. But the body wouldn't fit, so they stuffed it into a closed closet instead. They returned later with larger trunk from the apartment and valley stream.

They took the trunk, corpse inside, to a residential building in the Bronx, where Raymond's sister lived. They hauled the trunk to a storage area behind a first floor restaurant and left it there while Raymond managed to secure a more permanent location His sister, Lena Kano, had no idea what was inside the trunk Soon Raymond would find the final location. It would be in South Ozone Park where he rented a house from James and Lily and Lloyd for 110 bucks later Lily and would remember that Raymond was so eager to move. He personally helped her transport some of her things to her mother's place. Once they were alone in the house, Raymond and Beck dug a hole, then mixed a 25 bag of cement. They removed Janet's corpse, dumped it into the hole, covered it with the

layer of sand and capped it with concrete. Then Raymond used a trial to shape the cement until it looked indistinguishable from the rest of the floor. Two days after moving in, Raymond gave James Lloyd back to keys, said he decided not to rent it at all. Strangely, he also insisted that James do a top to bottom inspection to make sure everything had been the way it was. And James evidently missed the fresh patch of concrete in the basement when he did that check. So a little flex here.

So confident in his hiding-to-body concrete work that he wanted to show it off a bit maybe. Over the phone, Raymond gave the New York police directions to the ozone park house within a few hours, detectors would storm the property with pickaxes, trying to figure out where to dig up the basement. And evidently, Raymond really had done a good job. They could not tell where the hole had been dug. The detectives had to call back and have him guide them to the precise location of the body. Following Fernandez's directions to the spot against the basement wall, by the oil furnace, detectives managed to find a crescent-shaped patch of fresher than the rest cement by a hair-thin outline. Two officers broke through the patch, began digging, while assistant medical examiner Jacob were unwashed. Four feet down under a thin layer of sand lay the body of Janet Faye, clad in a bathrobe and folded into a Gany a Jackknife position. Her hair was covered with mattes of sticky red blood and a cursory

examination of her scalp revealed trauma caused by a blunt instrument, like a hammer. Bruton around her throat was consistent with trauma caused by someone strangling or guaranteeing her from behind. On Wednesday, March 2nd back in Michigan, the Grand Rapids Herald now runs a story with a photograph and headline, Crime in cement, picture story of two slains. Raymond and Martha's pictures would quickly be featured in newspapers across the country. Also that day, Dr. Jacob Wern performs Janet Phase post-mortem. The forensic evidence showed that Janet died from strangulation, not blunt force trauma. Back in Michigan, Martha Beck and Raymond Fernandez appear in front of circuit court judge Willard McIntyre. Both face two separate charges for the murders of Delafine and Rainell Downing. A crowd of spectators squeezes into

the small courtroom. They see Martha Beck and her new change of clothing, a coat and a black dress, her lips purged as she listens to the Raymond. Raymond standing beside her seems utterly dejected and he has a reason to be. That day, requests was made by Michigan Attorney General Stephen L. Roth, or excuse me, Stephen J. Roth, who asked for a delay in corporate proceedings long enough to give New York authority time to extradite Beck and Frantinus. Ah, shit! McMahon, agreed to the request.

Kent County prosecutor Roger McMahon, done, did double cross these two phony fucks with his earlier promise. The state is considering the possibility of saving the Michigan taxpayer some money by sending the killers to New York to burn McMayhand told the press, but also he prepared for a Michigan trial, sending both defendants to get psychological examinations. I just in case the extra edition didn't work, they will be found legally sane. Judge McIntyre remanded the two to the Kent County jail, where they would remain wall officials from Michigan, in New York, figured out where the criminals would go first. Report to the day's court activity, quickly spread to national papers. They were depicted

in the sensationalized press as twisted and perverted souls. Fernandez, a demonic leader, Beck, his dopey sidekick. Detroit free press staff writer Kenneth McCormick described Fernandez as a balding male order Romeo and Beck, as his quote, fat paramour, ouch. Most writers peg Beck as the one with more blood on her hands. Detroit Times staff writer Jack Pickering reflected this widespread belief when he described Beck in his page one story from the March 2nd, 1949 edition, as the woman who killed indiscriminately by hammer, drugs, or drowning, while referring to Fernandez as her spend-thrift Paramore. Paramore was a word a lot more popular back then than it is now, kind of like a Jackknife.

Accounts often describe her as a cold woman devoid of feelings made a lot of a facial tick that pulled up one corner from mouth saying that they're her smile, her crooked smile was a clear sign of sociopathic. Look at that crooked smile. Clearly she has no conscience. I said, so show, that word always fucking throws me. I think I know it. I know sociopath, sociopathic, sociopathic, I think so. Clear plan soci social pathy.

I don't know. They made a big deal that she was a twice divorced mother of two, right? She's a single mother for God's sake. Of course she would kill. She has no morals. Others emphasized Raymond's cast novel-like behavior, how he charmed women oftentimes, much older women as he led them to their deaths.

She and nobody really knew or cared who was a dominant, who was a submissive, both made for outstanding and good-selling stories One journalist even suggested that the key to understanding Fernandez was the size of the victims he chose This brilliant journalist wrote in a Detroit Times piece Some were plump others heavier But in every case weight was a characteristic common to all the women who joined the Lonely Hearts clubs looking hungrily for happiness and found murdering Raymond Fernandez instead. Was it their plump, generous natures,

which drove them to look in the blind ads of periodicals or newspapers for the road to happiness, or were these women overweight because they tried to satisfy their appetites for affection by stuffing themselves with food. Jesus Christ! Can you imagine that in the newspapers today? This guy seems like a huge fucking asshole, right? Just what were these fat bitches thinking when they started trawling for dick in these slut clubs?

They should have stayed where they were safe and where they belonged. Like, oh, you can even have a phase and don't have nice cream shops. This guy has some fucking asshole. The journalist wrote further, continuing to suggest that the women's craving for food correlated to craving for attention,

making them easy marks. And of course, these women would kill just like a lion will kill the slowest gazelle. A murder of a man will look for the heaviest lady. These women's friends and families man, they're reading this shit. Some journalists blamed the lonely hearts clubs that proliferated across the country for the murders. An anonymous editorial published in the March 3rd edition of the Detroit Times, characterized the clubs as an abominable racket and called for stronger laws that would allow postal inspectors to go after them for mail fraud.

One way or another, the editorialists wrote in all caps, the lonely heart's flimflam should be wiped out. At best, it is a shoddy device, a sort of cheap marriage lottery. At worst, it can be the instrument of stuck tragedy and crime as in the Fernandez case. Oh boy, over act much. A few women were killed in this nasty sex-filled dating club, so let's not let anyone date like this ever again. I know what that writer would think of Love is blind to these other kind of shows. Back at the jail, when the interrogations continued on Wednesday, March 2nd, the killer showed themselves to be much more complicated than their media caricatures.

Fernandez admitted that he wasn't really a playboy in the traditional sense. He knew he didn't have good looks or excessive charm. Instead, he said, I asked the women about their hometowns, what they were like, what their hobbies were, and so on. You won't believe it, he said in the soft voice. But I'm a kind man. Ah, you're right. I don't believe it. He said in the soft voice, but I'm a kind man. You're right. I don't believe it Raymond. He explained that when he met a woman through an advertisement, he lavished all of his attention on her, but he never made a move.

He said I gave them all my attention, but I never made love to these women first. I would rather just have a good time swimming dancing or going to the movies. But he did admit that he would sleep with most of the women that he did meet up with in person. His affection is extended to pretty much everyone in this interrogation, except for Martha Beck. He denied loving her at all, depicting her more as a business acquaintance. He said she knew so much about me. I didn't dare leave her. He said that he tried to sever ties several times, you know what you did, but she always made her way back. Meanwhile, in the other interrogation room, Martha Beck also admitted that Fernandez wasn't all that good looking.

So the cast and over image didn't really fit. When she was asked what did draw her to him, she said, I've often wondered. Pretty funny. Maybe desperation was the word that she was looking for. That's what drew her to him. She was so fucking desperate to have whoever she quickly fell for, stick around and just not leave her. She also said she wanted to take the wrap for their killings.

She said somehow I felt as soon or later all of this would come to light. I'm guilty and I'm not asking for another chance. And interrogators then asked her if she felt any remorse. And she said how can you say that? I haven't had a good night's sleep since Mrs. Fey died. She said she wanted to take the blame, be found guilty of the murders, but also let Raymond walk free because she still loved him. But she denied killing anyone out of jealousy.

She added, I'll always be in love with him. The only reason Ray and I remain together until the end is because we love each other. Clearly, she didn't know that he was talking a lot of shit at the same time. How fucking sad are these two? As she spoke, she stroked the three rings on her fingers, a wedding ring and engagement ring and a promise ring. Detectives would find out later that the two of the rings belonged to Delafine and the third belonged to Janet Faye.

It appeared that Martha Beck was living in the fantasy world. In a jailhouse interview conducted between reporter Margaret Russell and Martha Beck, that Wednesday Martha's undying devotion to Raymond was further showcased. Numbers time, she finished her thought with, I love him and always will. Like an exclamation at the end of a sentence. At one point she declared, I just wish I could take all the blame and he could be out of it all. I love him in a, that's a weird thing to end sentences. I mean, yes, and then we walked to the end of the street and we had to go with some groceries.

I love him and I always will. I was in North Carolina at that time. If I recall, I believe that was March 7th. I love him and I always will. I was in North Carolina at that time. If I recall, I believe that was March 7. I love him and I always will. It's fucking lunatic. Back into the interview with the sharp rebuke of lonely hearts clubs and matrimonial bureaus. She said the law ought to close them all up. I've read in the papers about frauds and basements and even murders coming out of them. All of this came from them. I don't know how she starts off saying that she read about like swindles and murders. Yeah, you were fucking part of a con and murder multiple murders that came out of them. You didn't read about it. Also,

she's acting like the Lonely Hearts clubs there to blame for all that she and Raymond did. Like as if they would have been great people otherwise, you know, as opposed to she and Raymond being fully responsible for all this shit. I mean, while with the news of the killings on news stands across America, tips and inquiries began pouring into the Kent County Sheriff's Department from fellow sheriffs, looking for missing women. However, these investigations will not be very fruitful. Authorities from Indiana asked MacMayhand to ask Beck and Fernandez if they visited Virginia, French, a 25 year old mother of four who had gone missing. They denied it and police eventually did find French unharmed. Chicago police learned that the

pair had occupied a small home in the city during the summer and fall of 1948. At some point since, a new concrete floor had been poured into the basement. They dig into that. No bodies are found there either though. Still, Prosecutor Roger McMahon remains convinced that their confession was incomplete, that there are more than three bodies out there. After all there was a list of around 100 names, 17 of them with checkmarks and annotations found in Fernandez pocket. These were those names and notes. Jenna J. Faye 40, 108 Southern Boulevard, Albany, New York, $6,000. Myra Alderman, R, number one, Mendenhall, Mississippi, $8,000. Hazel Hardy, box 60-52, Yermo, California,

Owns Property, Mrs. Ruby Davis, 119 Color Street, High Point, North Carolina, Widow. Mrs. Edith Johnson, box 63, Wakefield, Nebraska, Owns Home, and has $7,000. Agnes Diner, 8319 Lawler Street, Detroit, owns home and has $10,000. Nellestone, R2, Mansfield, Pennsylvania, Savings & Car, Jane Mason, 1067 Wilson Avenue, Columbus, Ohio, 5,500. Mrs. Myra Olson, 205 North to Coma, to Coma, Columbus, Ohio, 5,500. Mrs. Myra Olsen, 205 North to coma, to coma, Washington,

home and savings. Any Salansky, eight Maider Street, Dorchester, Massachusetts, or Dorchester, I think it's how you say, $5,000. Alice Jackson, 304 East, 22nd Street, Fremont, Nebraska, home and savings. And a B Myers, Box 109, R4, Niles, Michigan, $5,000. Martha J. Scrawdham, 622, West Jefferson, Misha Waka, Indiana, Mrs. Thomas Green, Cold Brick, New York, 1000, Mrs. Prudy Gardner, Hooks, Texas, 3500, Ollie Mitchell, Hayes, North Carolina, owns home, and finally Grace Van Lovyn, 74-gar filled Detroit $4,000. That's all these people are, it's just numbers. What can I get from these people?

But then police immediately locate Myra Alderman, second name on the list, and she denies ever answering a lonely heart's advertisement. Since entry for Alice Jackson had the same notes as the one for Janet Faye, investigators also word that Alice is buried somewhere under layers of concrete.

There was even a missing woman in Nebraska where Alice Jackson was from at the time, but after law enforcement agencies discuss it, they realize these are two different women. And a myers whose name is on the list belonged to a lonely hearts club, but never got a letter from Fernandez supposedly. And probing the list of names, police became convinced that from Wyoming township, Beck and Fernandez planned to travel southeast to Mansfield, Pennsylvania, where they planned to connellos stone at a her savings in car. And for Mansfield, they would Fernandez planned to travel Southeast to Mansfield, Pennsylvania, where they planned to con Nellostone at a her savings and car.

And for Mansfield, they would then have returned to Michigan to con Detroiters, Grace van Lovyn, 34 and Agnes Deer, or, or, yeah, Denure, 36 out of their life savings. Detectives found both women alive and well at their respective addresses. Both admitted to belonging to a lonely hearts club, but insisted they had never corresponded with Fernandez. Leaving investigators to figure out how he learned about their net worth. Well, I think maybe they did correspond with Fernandez

but now didn't want the media attention that might come down on them if they admitted to doing that. Maybe they didn't want to be publicly linked with that creep. Weirdly, Fernandez noted about Daniel. She had $10,000 but she was out for a good time. I didn't like her attitude. Uh, but of course, Daniel was alive.

Uh, if there were bodies, they weren't appearing as quickly as law enforcement had hoped, but there was one cold case that popped up that of Myrtle Wilson, though Fernandez and Beck claimed that they hadn't poisoned her and that she had left willingly, McMayhan, very suspicious. Thursday, March 3rd, 1949, now on this day, both halves of the Lonely Hearts duo will give a statement about their New York crimes to assist in district attorney Edward Robinson, Jr. from Nassau County, a third admission that

fleshed out the details of Janet phase demise. That would lead to a fierce legal debate about the upcoming trial. As we get with Martha Beck, her confession will become people's exhibit 57. She agreed to sign a written confession about the murder of Janet, inner confession. She said that she had slept in the same bed as Janet the night she was murdered. Maybe a little weird, but I guess people do that back then, right?

You go meet up with some man who brings his supposed sister like a gentleman and then a night the girl sleep together, keeping it classy while the man beats off alone in his bed like a gentleman. According to Beck, Janet began to panic about her money that night. Beck allegedly pleaded with Fernandez to give her back the money and get out of here.

About Fernandez, she claimed refuse. Beck said she tried to calm Janet by telling her that people were asleep and she should be quiet and they'll settle things in the morning. What she said, Janet replied, did you get paid for that remark? An argument quickly ensued. Beck accused Janet of being jealous. Janet said, as soon as we were married, you'll not, as soon as we are married, you'll not live with us.

And then Fernandez, who now enter the room, spoke Martha, keep her quiet. I don't know how that he left the room. At this point, Beck said she went into some kind of days. Well, how convenient. It wasn't me. It was a days I was in a damn you witchcraft. She said the next thing I knew, I had the hammer in my hand

and hit her. I hit her and she kind of fell sideways and she was still moaning and I said, Ray and I hit her again. Then Fernandez came in, choked her with his hands. When that didn't work, he fashioned a Garrett or a grot. That was her confession and a grot is an instrument usually a cord or wire with handles attached at the ends used for strangling a victim, mostly used decades ago. Not a word that shows up as much now. You might know what that is, but I always forget. Did investigators believe all this?

No, not really. Has become clear to Clarence Randall, the deputy and others that Beck just like to talk to detectives. She talked about letters, raised to pay, books and delafines house, clothes, the military footlocker, anything at all. She just seemed to like having people who would listen to her She also said that she wouldn't fight extradition even though she had said earlier that she was scared of the electric chair But by the end of her third interview she just seemed tired. She said I won't try to fight extradition I don't want to see a lawyer on my family. It would only make things harder. My life is ended whatever happens

I'll sign whatever they want me to sign and just let events take their course So what was Fernandez up to? Still thinking he would never be extra-guided to New York He proceeded to give an account of Janet phase murder that was virtually identical to Martha Bex He told investigators. She was crying and she sobbed. I want to be with you I told her to go to bed because she was waking up to people downstairs and she went to bed But she came back to ask me about her money. She asked me, is my money safe? I said, it is.

I have it in my pocket. I heard her whimpering and I was angry. I got up and she was kneeling down beside her bed. I asked Martha, what happened? Did you tell her anything? And she said, I don't know, she just wants her money. I said to Martha, see how you can keep the woman quiet, no matter how.

And when I got back, she had kept her quiet by hitting her on the head with the hammer. I could hear the blood dripping and she was moaning at the time. She dropped down in Martha was there and she called me and I came running and turned around and the bottle of whiskey was there and I drank all of it. But then he refused to sign a written statement saying he would be signing death warrants.

By the end of the day, despite the New York Confessions, McMahon felt like they had a legal obligation to try the killers for the crimes they had committed in Michigan. Governor Williams now decided to hold a public hearing the following Tuesday to determine whether or not to grant extradition. Phillip Huntington, assistant to ADA Edward Robinson planned to present the case on behalf of New York and promised that if extradited, the pair would face first degree murder charges in the killing of Janet Faye.

To succeed, Huntington would have to answer the question as to whether or not New York would return back in front of and is for trial in the Downey murders. Should they be found innocent in a nasa court room, Huntington scoured the New York law books, could find nothing that would prevent their return in such a scenario, but he could not guarantee the back in front of and is wouldn't use New York courts in an attempt to fight extradition back to Michigan. This is all going to be tricky. In the day before Tuesday, March 8th, Robinson and Huntington got to work proving that Raymond Amartha would be found guilty of first degree murder of Janet Faye, if sent to New York to be tried.

They scoured the correspondence between Fernandez and Delephine, prowling for evidence they could use in their trial. On Thursday night, the four men sat at a table and shared a black locks office. They would work through the night and into the next morning sifting the contents for clues and dissecting the words of every letter. By the time they'd finished the next morning, piles of paper covered the table, ass trades, heap of cigarette butts, acted as paperweights. In the early hours of March 4, 1949, the New York Attorney's presented their evidence.

They had what appeared to be an official birth certificate that named Raymond Charles Martin, born in 1910 in Bridgeport, port Connecticut son of Joseph Carl Martin and Francis Marie Martin. Seedin approved that he'd stolen his identity from a real person or you know, having to be a, well, I guess I definitely proved that was a good forgery, but no, it'd be proven that it was taken from a real person. The cash adocuf, it's also contained a marriage certificate that looked like it was issued in the state of Illinois, uniting, uniting Raymond C. Martin and Mertle Young, apparently a forgery.

Several sheets of stationary contained a single word surprise and Janet phase handwriting, along with phase signature at the bottom of each page. The word surprise had been bleached out, but was still faintly visible. During one of his statements, Fernandez said that he told Fay that he would play a little trick on their friends and family by sending a note announcing their Nupshools with a single word, surprise, and then signing it. This is how he tricked her into signing him mostly blank paper that he could later use to conduct business in her name. He could even fabricate a proof of life letter that would be sent to relatives to prove that Fay was alive as her cold body sat below a thick shelf of concrete.

There was also a sequence of letters that hinted that Fernandez may have committed a murder long before meeting Martha Beck, letters from Irene that referenced Jane, aka Jane Thompson. Authorities in Spain would later confirm that two days before Thompson's demise, Fernandez had purchased a bottle of digitalis from a local pharmacist. Digitalis is a drug prepared from the dry leaves of Foxclub that contains substances that stimulate the heart muscle. The attending physician who had certified Thompson's cause of death would admit that digitalis could mimic the symptoms she experienced in her final hours. Unfortunately, advanced decomposition of the body would prevent that from being confirmed. And conclusion while they could not prove it 100% strong likelihood that Fernandez had killed her. March 6, 1949, Sunday, as the

lawyers used the weekend to prepare their brief for the upcoming legal battle, Beck and Fernandez spent the weekend in the respective cells in Kent County, jail. Fernandez occupied a cell in the second floor, not allowed to socialize with other prisoners, spend his days reading magazines, lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling, Martha spent her days reading magazines as well. Guards kept close to him-in both them making sure they didn't attempt suicide especially Martha with her history The two grand Rapids lonely hearts killers the nickname given to Beck and Fernandez by the press had not spoken to one another Since a brief conference with mayhan just after their arrest Except for a fleeting moment when guard discarded Beck pass Fernandez's cell during one of the myriad of the interviews they gave

They had not seen each other either Excuse me, but now they decided to try and change that they asked clearance Randall the Kent County Sheriff Deputy if they could exchange notes and heal out it They would send four or five notes to the prison walls only two of them remained intact and made it into the historical record and the first was Martha's Dearest Ray just to notes let you know that I'm okay. As you likely heard a few days ago, I tried to take my own life and hang myself myself. Fortunately, the knot didn't hold. You know too well how it uses like a beam when it comes to knots. I only slightly maybe bruised myself.

You probably also heard how two days ago, again, try to take my own life. It's true. I did in fact slip my wrists and I'm sorry to scare you. But alas, I did not bleed nearly enough to expire. I did this not with a razor, but with an envelope. Technically, I paper-coded my wrists. They did bleed kind of, but I am fine. You also may have had yesterday's suicide attempt brought to your attention. Yes, I did in fact attempt to jump to my death, but only thanks to Lord in heaven from the top bunk in myself.

I may have sprained an ankle, but I'm otherwise fine, darling. I'm okay, I'm still yours, and I'm still here, even after another suicide attempt this morning that I'm lucky to have survived. It's true, I tried to burn myself alive. Fortunately, I did not have any gasoline or a lighter, or even matches, only a magnifying glass. Luckily, it wasn't that sunny today and direct sunlight barely enters myself. I did seem to warm my hand up a bit

where I was focusing the light and I feel I may have one of those blisters you can't really see but you can feel hand of course this is bullshit. Sorry, I found it very funny when it's working on the notes thinking about someone who has no intention of killing themselves, but instead just, you know, definitely wants attention and then just makes like the weakest, most obvious fake attempts to gain sympathy. So stupid, I know. Here's the real letter.

Dearest Ray, just a note to let you know that I'm okay until you please try not to worry too much. This would have happened sooner or later. So I guess it's for the best that this has happened. My greatest desire is that you will not change your thoughts towards me. But even though you do, I will understand, yeah, but even though you do, okay, yeah, I will understand,

and it will never change my love for you. Nothing you do or say will make me love you less. I have been told that before long, you and I will be permitted to see each other. And I hope that you are being treated as nice as all the officers have been to me. They have been swell. There is no reason why I should tell you that I love you. as all the officers have been to me. They have been swell.

There is no reason why I should tell you that I love you. You know that, but believe me, darling, no matter what the future holds in store for each of us, I will love you until I die. Please take care of yourself, Ray. And who knows? Maybe we will be together again sometime. It may be when we are both old and gray, but even then, you will still mean the same to me.

Remember my dear, I love you more than anybody or anything in this world. Yours now and forever, Martha. Wow. My first thought I'd have to read in this was, just for a second, I was like, oh, it's really sweet. But is it sweet? Yeah, it's fucking crazy.

This is someone she killed a toddler with. Someone she killed at least two women with. Someone who, at least according to some sources, pressured her to abandon her kids. Someone who abandoned his own four kids, not romantic to keep romantically, someone who abandoned his own four kids, not romantic to keep romantically, you know, talking to someone like that. It's fucking sick and pathetic.

Ray replied, I imagine when Ray got that letter, he was like, fuck. Oh my god. He's obsessed. But he replied beginning with Dearest Martha. Actually, he might have been just a, is into her. I don't know, it's just weird. He's so hot and cold. He says, Dearest Martha, I love you. I'm being treated very well with much respect. I miss you more than I ever dreamed I would. Although I'm feeling much better after I have confessed everything. Also,

I've been prepared to give myself to God and hope you will also pray and you will feel much better too. I only hope that I get to see you again and be with you either here on heaven. I love you think of me and God Don't worry about me. He signs it right. Oh, that's great. Now. He's got guy now. Who fucking cares what he did That's perfect. He has got it. Doesn't matter And so weird again, I thought he couldn't wait to get rid of her both these fuckers are so nuts The attempt to communicate from behind bars leaked to the press who now had new juicy tidbits to share with the public a from behind bars, a leak to the press who now had new juicy tidbits to share with the public. A press photograph published in numerous papers including the Detroit Times on Tuesday, March 8, 1949 shows deputy clearance Randall wearing his signature for Dora standing between

back and Fernandez and the jail holding their love notes and with a just the facts man expression he quizzes them about the exchange. So weird. It was a sensational photo, the lovers who had killed with letters, now trying to send letters themselves on the eve of the day that would determine whether or not they would face the death penalty. Following the love note, Fiasco, Beck apparently tried to follow Fernandez's advice to pray and allow the Baptist minister to sit with her. But he wanted more than just a savor soul. He wanted her guaranteed that she would confess to all of her sins.

Martha, though, not about to give away more than she already had, even to a man of the cloth. She dismissed the preacher and later complained that he wasn't even the right to nomination. She said, he wanted me to sign a statement that I confessed to all my sins to him and I give him my heart to God. I wouldn't do that. Back told the press, I'm not a hypocrite. Besides, I'm a Methodist. That's good. That's good that she's a godly word. Now is time for the extradition battle. Roger McMahon would hold would make several comments using me to the press that morning outlining his theories about what was to come next. He said that Beck and Fernandez had agreed to waive defense council for go a legal battle and plead guilty to first degree murder in a Michigan courtroom.

On the other hand, he said if the killers were extradited to New York, prosecutors would have to find them guilty for the murder of Janet Faye to give them the electric chair. So that would be hard to do for both of them, given that Martha Beck had admitted to swing in the hammer herself to kill Janet. They meant that Fernandez, not quite as guilty, unless he could prove he ordered the murder. McMahon announced that he planned to ask the judge to give them each two life sentences to run successfully. They would serve a minimum of 34 years each and potentially longer.

Excuse me, but both the Michigan officials and the New York officials would have to make their cases before a judge, not the public. A six car convoy brought the lonely, hard killers to the Capitol and Lansing, Michigan, 59 officers flanked the prisoners as they headed inside, inside the Capitol, reporters and civilians crowded to watch the proceedings, all eyes focused on the prisoners who gave no outward sign of emotion during the entire session. They did not request counsel or speak while Philip Huntington outlined as one reporter described it. There's 60 day cross county murder or G, they were supposed to be country, 60 day cross

country murder or just a little misspelling in the source there to governor Williams legal advisor Clark J. Adams. Huntington from New York who wanted the expedition gave him passion plea. They have admitted cold blooded sorted mercenary killings for the sake of obtaining money from two of the victims and trying to cover themselves with the slain of that little child. In this case, the the exact of the extreme penalty is in accord with the ends of justice. Huntington noted that should governor willing to deny the extradition request, these state of Michigan could become known as the safe haven for felons fleeing capital punishment

from other states. He said, the eyes of the criminal world are upon this state. Michigan should not be made the sanctuary of killers. He also noted that logic dictated that New York should be first since the Janet F. A. murder came before the Michigan murders. After brief moment of deliberation, Governor Williams decided to let them walk free. He gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, get out there, you fucking little love birds, have a great life.

Now he decided to grant New York's expedition requests. The lonely hearts killers would be headed to the Empire State to face trial. Only condition was that if they were found innocent. You know, in this case, with Jan. F.A., they'd be sent back to Michigan, tried for the other murders. On Thursday, March 10th, Governor William officially signs the expedition warrant, same morning, back in Fernandez, a rain by Judge Dale Souter. They said they both now want to counsel as well as a formal hearing to challenge the extradition warrant. Right. They'd acted for a while.

They're like, they deserve whatever they're going to get, but now deaths on the table and they change their tune. Judge Souther proposes the hearing until Monday morning, he knows it will be important to do his research. If he sends him to New York without an airtight case and they're found guilty, it will be possible they could launch appeal after appeal based on his decision. Friday, March 11th, Martha Beck drops another bomb. Now she wants to amend her confession regarding Janet Faye. If she had originally confessed to hammering the woman to death in a moment of passion with Fernandez finishing the act by twisting a scarf around her neck in a new confession.

Fernandez brought the hammer to phase house early that day with the intent to use it. Huh. She wants to make sure he's going to get the death penalty to now. She said he put the hammer on the ice box and said to her, we may have trouble tonight and have to use this. She said that Fernandez manipulated her by essentially telling her that if she loved him, she would kill Janet with the death penalty on the table. Martha suddenly cares a lot more about all this. This was not a good thing for Fernandez. He might have evaded the electric chair or been found not guilty, you know, previously,

but now there's this new evidence now, back saying that he's part of it. He helped plan it. Fernandez stuck with his original statement. Monday, March 13th, Beckham Fernandez applied for a writ of habeas corpus through their court appointed attorney, the killer's lawyer, Adrian Vespoor, looked like he had in slept in days. In between planning to make his case,

he'd been receiving a barrage of phone calls threatening him for defending baby killers. And the end judge, Souter, denies the request. Then it's kind of crazy back then when it was easier to get people's fucking numbers. They're looking over the phone book. Just call this guy all day at night. The Lonely Hearts killers, you know, go to New Yorkers planned on Tuesday, March 14th. They go out, get on a flight and route to LaGuardia, leaving Grand Rapids.

As soon as they land, they begin saying to anyone who will listen, like members of the press waiting their arrival, that the Michigan court system was bogus. The McMayhan had made them a fake promise. It was a dirty trick. They were taking the police headquarters in a miny old in New York, where they were booked, Martha would land in the house of corrections for women. And apparently she liked the facilities, better in Michigan. Because on May 24, she wrote a letter to the women supervisor back at the Kent County

jail. Mrs. Mildred Bellows, Matron, Canne County Jail, Grand Rapids, Michigan. My dear Mrs. Bellows. So we're at the Shearothis. At long last, I've been transferred to where I'm allowed to write a letter to the outside world. Ever since I told you, goodbye, March 15th, I've been thinking of you and wanting to let you hear from me.

Words cannot express my appreciation for everything you did for me. I will never forget it. If it hadn't been for you and your untiring efforts, I am sure I would have had many a miserable hour. Please tell Mrs. Van Dyke that I will never forget how she too helped me find what I have been seeking for a period of years. Peace. My future has been gotten tense, and I am not afraid. Please extend my greetings to Sheriff Blacklock.

Mr. Pigorsh, Captain's Randall and Tuy. Also to the girls, I have often wondered about Babe, how did she make out, good or bad. Also Dorothy J. Did she make a return visit? I would enjoy hearing from you, and also Mrs. Van. Closing with Love, yours, Martha Beck. What fucking personality disorder or attachment disorder? Or some other diagnosed full mental affliction that Martha have. Her behavior just so fucking socially off. She acts like the people that's other jail were like good old buddies to her. It's long time friends or co-workers or something.

I wonder how many of those people that she missed were just thoroughly disgusted by her. Also writing this letter will come back to haunt her in her trial. And we're finally getting to that trial. In an interesting twist, a lawyer named Herbert H. Rosenberg would end up defending both of them. Beck somehow paid for his services, but the state voted the bill for Fernandez since he claimed to be broke. So they didn't try to get the same person, ended up with the same person. The trial would take place in the Bronx.

Monday, June 27th, the people of the state of New York versus Raymond Martinez Fernandez and Martha Jewel Beck began. Both lawyers, prosecutors, Edward Robinson, Jr. Defense attorney Herbert E. Excuse me, Herbert E Rosenberg outlined their cases in the opening statements. In his opening, Robinson provided the backstory of the crimes before describing a graphic detail to slain, a murder that had come after years of manipulated women purely for profit. Robinson relied heavily on Martha Beck's supplementary statement on March 11th when he described phase murder. He described how they squeezed Jen and spotty into a trunk dumped it in an apartment building

basement before they put in the ground under a layer of concrete. Herbert's Rosenberg's opening and comparison consumed far less time, but we just as impassioned. He said his clients were victims of a corrupt system that was held bent on the death penalty. Give me a fucking break. Victims by ass. He said he would prove that Fernandez wasn't even present at the time of the murder and knew nothing about it. While Martha Beck was legally insane

and therefore not responsible, but she wasn't legally insane, legally insane. If there were any crime committed here and the prosecution must first prove that there was a crime then it was manslaughter. I intend to show that there was no premeditation and no dangerous weapon was used in the assault. Then Rosenberg pointed at James N. Garrick, the Nassau County District Attorney, seated next to ADA Edward Robinson. I will also show that Mr. Garrick is an electric

chair-minded conviction-happy district attorney, and that the District Attorney's Office of Nassau has engineered this whole trial. It's conspiracy, everybody. Everyone's out to get these poor two lovers. They said a fucking bad day and maybe kind of killed somebody and hit the body in a basement. And now they're supposed to fry. What kind of world is this? Robinson immediately objected. Jugs, Judge, Prokora, sustained it. That only meant that Rosenberg could now target another group, Michigan law enforcement officers.

He says clients were victims of deceit and trickery. The state of New York now tried to prove its case by bringing in evidence from Janet phase possessions and items recovered from Delephine Downing's house to show a pattern of behavior wherein Beck and Fernandez targeted women stole their money and killed them. Herbert Rosenberg would do his best to counter these claims, but he did have a big roadblock in his way. The killer's recorded confessions. To get rid of that roadblock, Rosenberg tried to argue that the confessions were coerced and thus inadmissible, which meant he needed to discredit the detectives. The proceedings crawled on as Rosenberg tried to throw

everything he could to destroy the prosecution's case. As at the same time, a heat wave in Gulf of city and turned the Bronx Supreme Court into a sauna. One of his attempts included calling Roger McMahon to the stand, whom he labeled a hostile witness. Judge didn't agree. McMahon spent most of June 30th on the hot seat, literally a very hot seat in the Bronx, explaining how he managed to get the confessions about Janet Faizmer. He said he had promised to keep the confessions in

a safe, not telling him what about them, but didn't promise not to make copies of the confessions and send the copies to New York. It's pretty funny, Lupo. McMahon would be ordered by the judge to produce the signed confessions. The originals of trial would be suspended until July 5th to give him time to get those from Michigan. Rosenberg had a plan for how to use the confessions. He wanted them to bolster his insanity defense now.

So life fifth, Rosenberg would continue his question to if McMahon. McMahon denied the killers were ever beaten or abused at the hands of Michigan law enforcement. There was a lot of debate about why or why not certain copies of the confession were signed and who was present when the confessions were made and why Rosenberg said he wanted to know why Martha's court appointed lawyer wasn't at her second confession on March 11th. And unknowingly by bringing that up, he fucked up. He got himself in his clients in hot water. Under examination by

Edward Robinson, McMayhand would say that her lawyer wasn't there because he had personally told Martha in front of witnesses not to make further statements. If she did, she was practically convicting herself of first degree murder in New York, but she made the statements anyway. Now the jury can hear every word of the confession made of her own free will and against advice of legal counsel. Also, in addition to the confessions, there was physical evidence, right? The blood-street hammer. A big part of that evidence found in Fernandez's car. One of the last people to take the stand, called by Rosenberg, would be Fernandez himself.

He testified he didn't have any food or water during his marathon confession on March 1st. He said in his jail cell, he was nipped by rats and mice, and he resorted to drinking toilet water. He's a victim! Most of all, he said he was exhausted and had no idea what he was saying when he confessed. He said he made all of his statements out of a desire to protect Martha Beck, not because they were the truth. But in these statements, he said he didn't care for clinging back. He's looking more and more like a liar than more he talks. Just some dude trying to save his ass, who will

say anything. Things heat up further when Robinson begins his cross examination of Fernandez, July 12th, answering Robinson's ruthless questions. Fernandez admits that he had a wife and four kids in Spain. He admitted that he signed Jane Thompson's name to several papers after her death. He admitted to a victim pearl her mom from her own house. Spectators then enjoyed a juicy scene when Robinson made a faux pas by asking if Mrs. Fernandez, meaning Jane Wilson Thompson, was dead or alive when Fernandez forged the will. Martha Beck didn't care for that. Couldn't stand the implication.

And she blurted out Mrs Fernandez is not dead. Mr. Robinson seeming to feel that she was the real Mrs Fernandez. Robinson proceeded getting Fernandez to admit that he had met Martha through an advertisement and the two of them proceeded to Fairfax Virginia where Fernandez married Esther Henney bigamously. On their marriage application, Fernandez indicated that he had never before wed, which was an outright lie, the jury beginning to see how many lies Fernandez had told now how many lives he had lived.

Maybe not murder, but how many shady situations he connected himself to by putting his name on various marriage applications and so forth, by putting his name on various marriage applications and so forth, such as his marriage to murder young, and crazily, Fernandez would even admit straight up to shooting and killing Delefine downing. By the time Raymond Fernandez finished his cross-examination, he admitted to being a bigamist, to forging, to stealing and to murdering. Not the best look. Rosenberg tried one feeble attempt to counter this, asking Fernandez why he married Esther Henney. Fernandez said that it was to protect Martha Beck. Martha had attempted suicide twice, he said, but somehow swore that if Fernandez was

happily married, she would stop doing that and return to her life in Florida. The marriage to Esther then failed. Fernandez continued because she complained, I ignored her sexually. He just loved Martha too much. He was a good romantic guy, a sweetheart. The new confession would be accepted into evidence July 12th, becoming people's exhibits number 55 and 57. Robinson read both statements and their entirety as he described the attack on Janet Faye, Julia Seabrook, Martha's mom sobbed in the courtroom. During the last day of the prosecution's case, July 15th, Edward Robinson introduced into evidence the Bloodstained trunk used to transport Janet from the murder scene to Queens. Evidence showed that Fernandez had tried to cover the bloodstained trunk lining with a coat of lacquer and pink wallpaper, showing again his guilt. Fernandez, who largely

remained unmoved by the large exhibit, became visibly agitated when Robinson displayed a graphic picture of FaZe body, doubled over in her grave. Even Martha, who had been smiling and giggling at most the trial again, she's fucking nuts. Sounded with her hands folded in her lap now, staring glumly at the ground. One more object would be entered into evidence, a smaller olive color color trunk down. The killers that attempted to stuff Janice body into this trunk, but it was too small. Attempts to shove her body inside the left blood spatters on the lining. As one of his final witnesses, Robin called Fred Jay Letter. Or I'm sorry, excuse me, Fred Jay Jetter. Fred Jay Jetter. Okay. A document expert for the New York State Police Bureau of Incremental Investigation. On the stand,

Jay Jetter, Freddie Jetter. Examined several letters, letters that were apparently authored by Janet Fey, which had her signature, but were found among Fernandez's papers in the Downing Home. One letter, day to January 11th, the week after Janet's murder, an address to her stepdaughter, contained a message clearly intended to make

Janice's daughter think her mom was still alive. I'm sure my prayers have been answered by sending this wonderful man to me. Jeter testified that the author of the letter used Fernandez's typewriter to type letter. And Janet Faye also did not have a type. Additionally, under ultraviolet light, you could finally make out the word surprise next to Janet signature.

There were three other letters, supposedly written by Janet Faye, that actually matched Martha's handwriting, handwriting that they got from the letter that Martha had tried to send to the Kent County Jail Supervisor. That letter had been legally confiscated. So both were clearly in on it. Both had participated, both tried to cover it up. Game set match. Rosenberg moved for a direct dismissal of the case of Miss Trial and immediate acquittal. All three were denied. These are just fucking Hail Mary's it's throwing. Now Rosenberg's only tactic is to convince the jury that Fernandez hadn't been present for the Faye murder, and Martha Beck was insane. He would once again call Fernandez to the stand, who denied knowing anything about Janet

Faye's murder until it was too late. Also provided a new reason for the killing. They're getting fucking desperate. Now they talk about how the night before the murder, Fernandez says that he and Janet Faye had made love in Faye's one-room apartment while Martha stood on a bed across the room. Creepy. Next night, the three stayed in the Valley Steam apartment that Fernandez had rented. While Phased showered, Beck asked Fernandez to make love to her.

When he turned her down, he said she went to bed upset. She and Phased then shared this bed in the bedroom while Fernandez slept in the couch. Then he said, Phased came to him in the middle of the night in an amorous mood. When he told her to go back to bed, she started sobbing and Fernandez asked Beck to keep her quiet. When he returned from the bathroom, Beck had killed Fey. That was not what Fernandez had met by Keeper Quiet. He then tied a scarf around her neck to staunch the blood flow to try and save her not to strangle her. This is pathetic. Prosecuting would quickly point out that her injuries were on her fucking head, not her neck. So nice try, dipshit. Then Fernandez gives

an account of his affairs that is so salacious and that several women in the gallery leave or use their hands to shield their faces. Oh my, oh he's talkin' about sex. Oh, oh, I could faint. He talked about his relationship with Martha Beck. I said he was unhappy with Martha sexually. She failed to climax during intercourse and it bothered him.

This is what is making people literally leave the the courtroom. Like I love how fucked up people are where they can come to this courtroom. They have to hear grizzly details of a murder. And then they hear about a female orgasm and they're like, Oh, yeah, someone help me outside. Fernandez explained yeah, he's unhappy with Martha's actually failed to climb X turn and her course it bothers him even center to a doctor to help her learn how to come and despite that though he said he left her fuck is happening in this confusing relationship Martha Beck would be called to stand on July 5th 1949 Monday morning one long Island star journal reporter described Martha's grand entrance onto the stage saying a faint smile played across her roly-poly face, Jesus Christ, as she raised her right hand and took the oath.

And reporters back in the 40s love to fuck at fat shame people. My God, at least women. It was a 28th day of the trial now. Rosenberg's plan was to prove that she was mentally unbalanced, roaming across the country, watching her lover meet new women had unhinged her. Martha opened her testimony by loudly declaring, I can come.

Oh, how I can come. I could drown everyone in this courtroom with the dick as rights. I just can't come with that cervix, poking little pencil dick. Who could? Not me, not Janet, not all the other women he's killed. She didn't say that. She talked about how she was a long time victim of sexual abuse, beginning in her early adolescence when her older brother molested her twice.

Afterwards her mom blamed her eventually closed down young Martha's social life. That insult to injury Martha said her mom only allowed her to go to her senior prom if she was shaperoned by the same brother whom molested her. And then he wouldn't let anyone dance with her. Then back described in instant that if true highly convenient for her insanity defense. She said that just after graduating from nursing school she fell in the shower and really hit her head pretty bad. She testified well in the hospital. I fell out of bed while trying to strike one of the nurses. They told me I was not in my right mind that I was delirious. I picture

her really selling that, like looking around delirious, aka insane. She said she had just lost another job when a physician tried to or then she then lost another job. What a doctor tried to assault her and she slapped him. Excuse me, meanwhile, she said her mother forcibly moved in with her and then forced her to relinquish her entire salary to her. I mean, I guess this is possible. I don't know how her mom forced this grown woman to do this. Her mom's the only person that's shown up the courtroom. By the way, I mean, not that that means she couldn't have done what she's saying here, but again, I think Martha's full of shit. Martha described the entire process of meeting Ray, how he said that he'd marry her, then he broke up with her, then she attempted suicide,

then he called her up, she moved to New York, abandoned her kids in Salvation Army, and attempted suicide again. And tears she confessed, I've never seen them since. Yeah, because of fucking what you did, something you didn't have to do. I hate to want people, just will not take any accountability for horrible choices.

And instead, try and flip it around and make themselves the victim of their own choices somehow. That's some seriously gross shit. So manipulative, right? You abandoned your kids. Then later, you tried to get people to feel sorry for you because you abandoned your kids. She said that the reason she went on with the lonely hardskam so long is that Fernandez told her he just needed enough money to divorce his wife in Spain. Okay? That's new. Among other spicy tidbits, Beck offered. She described a strip poker game between herself and Esther Henny. At the time, Mrs. Fernandez.

The winner would have the right to bed Fernandez, she said. And Beck said she won. Because of winning the game, she testified. I was permitted by Mrs. Henny due to the fact that she was a loser to have sexual relations with mr. Fernandez This happened. This is so fucking weird Lindsey might literally murder me if I even asked for that

Hey, baby He was saying trying to know hey listen fight one of your single friends over tonight and maybe play I don't know monopoly strip poker. Maybe maybe strip poker and check this out. Oh, this would be the best part. Whoever wins gets to fuck this guy. Now, while the loser watches, I mean, what's that fun about? July 27th, 1949. Beck gives new testimony about the night of Janet Phase murder. Story keep changing. Now Beck explains that she and Janet Phase slept on the double bed in the apartment's lone bedroom while Fernandez slept in the couch. That part's the same. Sometime between 3.30 a.m. and 4.00 a.m. Beck testified Fernandez came to her in the bedroom, complained about phase behavior. Fade come over to the couch and he didn't like what she was up to,

that part's the same. He said that he would go into the bathroom while Beck went to the couch and brought Fade back to bed. Beck now found Fade. This is a new part, new and spread eagle on the couch, nude and spread eagle on the couch. The sight of phase legs, splayed, shocked her to her core. Failure to alarm, too, she had been expecting Martha and Martha now flew into a jealous rage. Either just fits the insanity thing they're going for. Next thing she knew, Raymond had his hand on her shoulder and was shaking her and Janet

Faye was dead on the floor. And somehow she had a bloody hammered hand. Who handed me this bloody hammer? What's happening? I'm crazy. By the close of the trial, both Beck and Fernandez testified that despite the medical examiner's conclusion that Fay died from expixiation, she had died directly from Beck's hammer blows. Their bullshit testimony now didn't match the Michigan confessions or the medical testimony. They're fucked. Martha would say she was lying when she gave her statement of Michigan under duress by authorities there. Prosecutor Ed Robert say it would quickly prove that she was a habitual liar. That she lied about being F.J. Carmen's wife. That she lied about the

conditions at the Kent County Jail being poor. She lied about having this fucking veteran husband. They got a pregnant who died in the war. She lied about statements that she made as far as what she did to Janet to save her life that those would actually go against her training as a nerd, just a bunch of stuff. And he would examine Beck's neighbors in Pensacola, all of whom would say that her suicide attempts were quote, a joke, a cry for attention, not evidence of mental illness. I fucking knew it. I formed my previous opinions before I heard that part.

So who would the jury believe? As the trial came to an end, Rosenberg tried a last ditch in Sanity Plea for Fernandez, which was just as quickly with Tron as the one he had tried for a Beck, he just grasped in anything. And he even had it the very final, like in the final minutes, just because why not? He had Rooster Bogle delivered part of his closing argument.

Hey, Jerry, it's me. Rooster Bogle, don't mind that guy on the keyboard. Yeah, he, it's me. Roozerbuggle. Don't mind that guy on the keyboard. Yeah, he even follows me into courtrooms to play that music. I'm kind of a lawyer. Sometimes, people confess to killing people. But what they really meant to say was, sorry about that, accents happen. Have you ever done something that was an accident?

Do you think that you should be killed for that? Neither should sugarate and what the heck back? Accidents happen, even when it's done on purpose. And another thing, how fun it would be to get away with murder. Come on a minute, wouldn't you want to get away with murder? If you accidentally on purpose murdered someone, just let them off, just let them off. You know they're guilty, I know they're guilty.

But that don't mean they need to be cockin' to do it or do! And if you need a lawyer, when you're guilty, look up the rooster and call 1-800-GILTI, with two wives. Sorry, rooster didn't help either. Of course, rooster's from a few episodes ago. If you just hopped in this pond for the first time and are thoroughly confused, by the way, I just love thinking about rooster. After rooster never did any of that, both lawyers gave closing statements.

They finished giving them. Robinson spoke last. He made clear his intentions to send both criminals to sing sing to fucking fry in the chair. August 17, 1949, Judge Pekor instructs the jury to make their decision. They go into the room at 7.56 pm. Excuse me, after a 13 hour deliberation, they return to announce their verdict. There would be no sentencing finding them guilty of first degree murder would send them both to the chair at At 43 days, just past eight in the morning, Fred D. Yobbs, the foreman, would deliver the news.

Martha Beck guilty of murder and first degree. Raymond Fernandez also guilty of murder in the first degree. It was best case scenario for the prosecution. They filed out of the courtroom, not only did Martha not seem that upset. She turned and waved to Raymond like everything was fine as she's leaving. She is so fucking weird. He did not wave back. Back in Fernandez arrived at the death house on Sing Sing on August 22nd, 1949.

Their execution date was set for almost exactly a year later, August 28th, 1950. Weeks before their dual execution, early August, 1950, two entertainment events occur. Fernandez makes a legal effort that leads to a stain execution and he and Beck have a kind of divorce. What happened was a year after they arrived in the death house Fernandez enters a petition of habeas corpus and federal court said he was involved in a quote, sadistic death house triangle. According to Fernandez, an unarmed guard had become enamored with Martha Beck. He wooed her through her cell bars, making suggestive comments loud enough for Fernandez

to hear from his cell. The guard, according to Fernandez, liked to kiss and tell by boasting about his amorous, albeit non physical relationship with Beck. Fernandez expressed his angst and a letter to his new lawyer, William Richter. He would rather waive the rest of his appeals and go to the chair than listen to the lute courtship for another day. The plan was by acting as though he was willing to go to the chair. It was to make him appear again insane. Beck apparently didn't like these allegations and a letter to her mom dated Sunday, September 24th, 1950. She called for an end as a skunk writing, I hope the prison officials realize he is putting on an act to be cleared insane. So as to beat the chair, he hasn't got the guts to commit

suicide nor could he walk to the chair. He'd be dragged all the way fighting and screaming. Oh, yes, he's brave when it comes to talk and hurting others. He can kill without batting an eyelash, but to hurt himself, he'd never do it. It takes a man to kill himself. That's how she ends that. It takes a man to kill himself. She is so strange. Herb or E Rosenberg Raymond and Martha's lawyer is in on this last itch insanity attempt and says there's enough evidence to warrant a full investigation of the death house triangle. Acting Warden, Denno does investigate, finds it Fernandez, has just heard Beck laughing with the Warden who is switching shifts and that's it.

And that's what made Fernandez become enraged. The press loves this story, dozens of national papers report on it and 25 million Americans tune in to hear about it when Walter Winshall discusses it on his 9 p.m. radio show. Fernandez's efforts would not work. Not well. He would delay his death, but only by a few months. The Supreme Court denied his attempt at being declared insane. And the New York court state of appeals sets a new execution date. Lonely hearts killers would now die the week of March 5, 1951. new execution date. Lonely, hearts killers would now die the week of March, 5, 1951. Warden, Denno and his 24 available spot has 24 available spots to witness the execution.

Kent County Sheriff's Office requests for these spots. None of Delafine's relatives applied. Her mom, Bertha Price did send the scathing for pay to letter to Denno, requesting that he read it to the killers and he did. The letter included what Bertha wished she could do to Martha, put you in a large tank of water and hold you down and down until you die. Yeah, that's fair. On the eve of her execution, March 7th, Martha puts in a last request that her final hours be spent in quiet meditation, not to be spoiled by harassment from the two

prison matrons. And Denmo or Denno denies that request. Ah yeah, good. Should deserve peace. She sure as fuck didn't give a little rain ale peace when she drowned her. Yeah, fuck her. March 8th, 1951, the day the lonely, hard killers will both finally face electric chair. They've been trying to avoid for two years.

It appears that despite their occasional animosity and the fact that they couldn't communicate, they still wanted to telegraph their love for each other and did in twin statements submitted through Rosenberg. Martha would say, My story is a love story, but only those tortured by love can know what I mean. I was pictured as a fat, unfailing woman, but if that was a crime, how many of my sex would be guilty?

I am not unfailing stupid or moronic. The prison in the death house have only strengthened my feelings for Raymond, and in the history of the world, how many crimes can be attributed to love? My last words and my last thoughts are he who was without sin cast the first stone. Oh boy Your sins we bit bigger than most of ours Martha of course you would play the victim until the bitter end almost all these killers do Fernandez keeps his simple. He says I'm going to die as you know that's helped And I've been prepared for since 1949. I'm going to die like a man The public wants to know if I love Martha. He continued of course. I do. I want to shout it out

What the hell does the world know about love? He's fucking dramatic piece the best news I've had is that Martha still loves me that makes me want to burst with joy He's a wonderful guy. What a great guy The eighth or last meals around 5 p.m. but not together. Beck had Southern fried chicken with a side of French fries and a dinner salad, top with tomatoes. Gotta get a healthy salad in there. Fernandez ate an onion omelette, sliced tomatoes and almond ice cream for dessert. He didn't give a fuck about salad. It's fine on me. Then at 6 p.m. one of the matrons shaved a ball patch on the top of Beck's head for a placement of an electrode and electrode and soon the witnesses

would arrive 32 guests, 30 reporters and two enforcement officers attend the executions at night. The enforcement officers are Clarence Randall and James Tui from Michigan. They sat in the front row. Raymond Fernandez walked into the death chamber at 11 12 p.m. He would make a theatrical gesture that led to a lot of speculation. The next morning's papers, as he sat down in the chair, he pulled up his pant legs to report to the audience. It read as though Fernandez was mocking the solemn occasion by attempting to maintain a crisp crease in his trousers. All right, I feel like they're kind of reading into the jethere, but the guards fastened the leather straps, electric leads, and the hood.

The well rehearsed process took less than three minutes. And then, no one expected this. Martha is walked in. Now, this is going to be the craziest electric chair situation you have ever heard about. There was a problem with the transformer near the prison that week. And there was not enough juice to perform two separate electricutions that day, but also legally, they could not delay either of the executions now that the day had been set. So what did they do?

Well, they improvised. Martha agreed to be electrocuted simultaneously with Raymond, who also agreed. After Ray was fully strapped in, Martha was walked in and was led to sit down on his lap, because only had one chair. Long strap secured her legs and arms over his to the chair, then another strap strapped their fucking heads together after her head was also slipped inside of a hood. Then before the current is surged into the room,

the crowd gasps. When these two skunks, these stinkers, start dry-humping. Whoa! Martha, grinding her ass with all her might into Raymond's thrusting crotch, making things even more obscene. These two skunks mowned loudly with all this going on.

And then rooster bogal somehow shows up behind them out of fucking nowhere and yells out these two are cockin' doodle doodle. It's a bazillion full suddenly served through their bodies so much like Tristy literally blows their fucking heads up blood goes everywhere then credit starts to roll in a weird who's watching this fever dream movie ending I just wrote. No, of course Martha did not sit on Raymond's lap in the lecture chair. But I don't know why that visual though.

I wish I was the real story. Ray was lit up first. His body jumped slightly when the first shock of electricity served through the electrodes into his body. Three shorter bursts followed and he was dead at 11.16 PM. Beck flanked by two matrons, now walks into the death chamber. It just five minutes, just five minutes later, at 11.21 pm, and that's true.

And that is pretty weird for me to hear about them, you know, her coming in so quickly after him because she had to just smell the man that she loved right before she died, right? Like smelled his cook body. Reverend quietly resided a prayer while the attendance fast on the straps. The next day, some members of the press

who attended could not resist the opportunity for one final jab at her weight. Probably sounds like I'm making the weight stuff up. Uh, I am not, uh, daily news correspondence, Martin Kibble and James Desmond, the following morning wrote, the electric chair was a tight fit. Martha had to wriggle slightly to get her more than 200 pounds between the fatal arms. Why are they doing this? Beck's eyes drifted around the room before her face was covered.

She glanced up as the death mask was lowered and their face disappeared. Her body strained and jerked as the first shock hit. At the second shock, her body jerked forward two more shocks and she was dead. The morning after her mom would claim that the mom would claim the body and have it sent to Pensacola for burial. Raymond had signed over his eyes to the eye bank for a site restoration and they were taken. His sister claimed his body from the prison morgue. And now let's get out of this timeline. Good job, soldier. You've made it back. Barely. The lonely heart's killers.

What a couple of weirdos. Raymond, it does seem that a massive head wound, right on a ship really did scramble his brain. Got arrested for the first time that we know about shortly after that head wound, left his family and started scamming not long after all after the head wound. Had his skull fractured at the end of 1945 by late 1947 less than two years after he recovered. He likely killed one of the women he scammed, Jane Wilson Thompson still less than two years from his head wound. He met up with the very emotionally

unstable Martha Beck after meeting her through some lonely heart club correspondence and then they were often scamming in 1948 and likely had killed a woman by that August and definitely killed Janet Faye in January of 1949. Before all of this, by all accounts, Raymond was a hardworking veteran, father of four, live in Spain, seemed to live an honorable life for years, you know, building a family. What if one bad blow to the head really did turn him from a good dude into a heartless scammer and a murderer. That is a scary thought. That any of us could be one blow to the head away from being a contributing and even honorable member of society and then become someone willing to have an innocent toddler drown just to increase the odds that we wouldn't be caught for killing

our widowed mother that we had been scamming. And Martha Beck, again, what undiagnosed mental illness did she have? Is there a mental illness that makes you really pathetic and so desperate that you'll help murder people just so that the man you love, the man who is constantly fucking other women he is scamming that you know about, maybe even in front of you, just so that man won't leave you. I mean, pathetic is the word that keeps popping up in my head when I think about her. Oh, and that's all I got on these skunks. And now let's head to our takeaways, our fifth takeaway, the funniest one I can remember,

maybe just ever. Time suck, tough, five takeaways. Number one, the lonely hearts killers were Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck, who for sure killed three people together, Janet Faye, Delafine Downing and Little Rain L. Downing, probably killed at least one other person, Mertle Young, and highly likely that Raymond at least murdered one other person, Jane Thompson in Spain in 1947, bringing their combined death total to probably least five people. Investigators couldn't find any other names on Raymond's list that matched murders, but it is possible that the pair committed many more murders.

Some of the time were convinced they killed up to 17 victims. Number two, Lonely Hearts Clubs proliferated across America in the beginning of the 20th century. And abundance of scams and also some other murders I didn't touch on were committed via these Lonely Hearts Clubs, but the Lonely Hearts killers remained the most infamous criminals connected to this old dating service. Number three, sex, sex, and more sex in many ways, this would become the crime of the 1940s because how much sex it featured. In an America that was just returning to its horned up state, post-war, and for many people who delighted in sexual crime fiction that featured busty pinup models, the case of the

lonely hard killers became famous for how much it had to do with sex. Martha alleged that she found Janet Faye naked on a couch waiting for Raymond, which led to phase murder. Raymond claimed his marriage with Esther Henney didn't get off the ground because she complained to ignore her sexually. He would also say that Martha couldn't climax which led to relationship troubles. All that doesn't read very scandalous to me today. Luciferina said she finds it all pretty fucking boring, but back in the 40s, that was some

seriously juicy shit and the public ate it up. Number four, the murder case of Janet Fay against Raymond and Martha Beck back in New York might have been a lot harder to prove if it wasn't for Michigan's Kent County prosecutor Roger O. McMahon's promise. Had Ray and Martha thought they could be tried in New York and sentenced to death for Janet's murder, they may have never confessed to killing her. And number five, new info. Oh boy.

Uh, marital advertisements and lonely hearts clubs were not just a thing in the US long before never confessed to killing her. And number five, new info. Oh boy. Marital advertisements and lonely hearts clubs were not just a thing in the US long before the internet. They also existed in Madaracha. At least as far back as 1906. The most popular marriage publication in Zara's Russia was cleverly called, this is so Russian, marriage newspaper.

Brock Naya Gazeta published between 1906 and 1917 in huge numbers. To ensure privacy for their clients, the editorial office was very discreet. They sent the newspapers and envelopes, kept names, addresses, and subscribers private. Bylines pretty funny. Here are seven of the men. One man wrote, I have nothing, but the kind soul, decency, and an urldom. Young, 30, secondary education, hard working, want to marry wealthy lady and appreciate her for her support, won't

respond to anonymous replies. Here's another guy. If I were rich, I would marry only poor girl, but I am poor, intelligent with a degree, a grown-amist Polish, 35, offer myself for a husband, only two rich girl, no less than 100,000 rubles capital. If you agree, you'll never regret choice. I don't answer to anonymous replies. And here's a guy willing to marry a rich woman, any rich woman of any age.

He writes, young, very handsome, intelligence, Georgian, teacher, tall, healthy, strong, musician, specializing in violin wants to marry a rich lady who would give him opportunity to finish musical education age doesn't matter I love it. Please. I fuck any pussy if it let me learn violin better. I'm okay. I put nick and any hole Please, let me keep learning scales Next I want to verge with no family. A widower, 42 wants to marry a young woman without a past, educated with knowledge of music and the fine voice.

Mother-in-law is undesirable. Maybe, I think I want to sex life. And there's a couple of women's. This first woman sounds like a lot. Beautiful, with mermaid eyes, all woven from nerves and the originality. He is calling an intelligent and very rich mister, whose capable of a strong, bright feeling to a feast of life, goal, marriage.

She just wants some fucking rich guy, who's poetic, you know. This next young woman who wants a rich guy too, and hold rich guy to, and hold rich guy with a limp dick, she writes, educated young lady, 20, is looking for a million-year husband, has to be senior to prevent adultery. And finally, this next lady is already rich.

She just wants some dick, some big dick. These are real, apparently. A very interesting lady, blonde with dog guys, with capital, wants to get married. Only two men who has at least one feature, a well-endowed one. Well, hello, Safina. And finally, my favorite one. This poor guy. I don't know if they used to write joke entries back then.

If this is really probably too many probably didn't, too many replies. But this one, it's very simple. I am poor and ugly. I'm looking for the exact opposite. Woman, respond. Kind of love stories from Russia. Ha ha ha. Overall my favorite country to learn about.

Fucking kills me. Time suck, tough five take away. The lonely heart skillers have been sucked. Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help making time suck. Thank you to Queen of Bad Magic, Lindsey Cummins. Thank you to the suck Ranger Tyler C for producing and directing today and to the art warlock for helping with production. Thanks to Biddlelixir for upkeep on the time suck app, the art warlock Logan Keith again, createin' the merch at badmagicmerch.com

and help run socials with the suck ranger and a team led by our social media strategist, Ryan Halesman. Thanks to producers Sophie Evans again for the initial research. Extra thanks, findin' me these old Russian merid jets. God made me so happy. And thanks to the all seen eyes moderating the quality curious, private Facebook page, the mod squad,

making sure Discord keeps running smooth, and everyone over on the time sucks subreddit and bad magic subreddit. Next week on time suck, we go cult, cult, cult. Once again, did a deep dive, and we got an obscure but a great one. When you hear the words wisdom, knowledge, faith, and love, what do you think of?

Maybe some generic values taught at an elementary school, perhaps a wall hanging in someone's suburban house like, you know, live, laugh, love. What I'm betting you don't think of is a little known cult that roamed the hills outside of Los Angeles for almost a decade in the middle of the 20th century. But that's exactly what the fountain of the world, aka WKFL, fountain of the world, aka the fountain was. In many ways, the Col will be similar to ones we've talked about here before. Like in many Colts, there was a central figure, the self-named Christian of Entha, a strange

man with long hair and a beard who dreamed up the idea to be a, you know, have a Colton between Stinson Prison for petty theft and vagrancy. His message began with love, and once his followers gave him all their power, I.E. let him rename them with biblical names, make all their decisions from what they wore to who they married, he began to abuse that power, both financially and in other ways I bet you can imagine. But the fountain also unlike any cult we've ever covered before. Christian evented told his followers an insane backstory, happening to his spaceships, coming down from heaven to Tibet, how he was actually Jesus, actually pretty much every single profit,

and oh yeah, there was going gonna be a coming race war, and the Russians were going to enslave all of humanity. So it's gonna be fun. And this group would come to a very dramatic end. Find out exactly what that was and a whole bunch of other insane shit next week on TimeSuck. Right now, heading on over to this week's Time Sucker Updates. Let's start with a selfless shoutout.

From a finally-drank-to-cool-aid sucker, the show, to me, I couldn't get hooked. How fucking dare you! No, however, as soon as I heard some of the history sucks, I was hooked for life. Okay, cool. Forever grateful for you for keeping the content flowing and also grateful to my girlfriend, Emily and her brother, John, for turning me in on to TimeSuck. John is a mega fan, the great guy all around.

He's listened to you, religiously, since 2018. His love in the sucks as he finishes up his master degree in accounting from New Mexico State University and studies for his certified public accountant. CPA exams. It would mean the world to him if you could possibly give him a shout out as motivation to get through the last push of school and study. He has worked so hard to get through this program and we could not be more proud of him. Thanks again for all you do. Keep in the three of us sucked in Eric. Well, thank you Eric. Grateful you have stuck around and John. Thanks for continuing to listen and now I think you should drop out.

There's no future in accounting. The robots will soon enslave us and currency will be meaningless. Only guns, clean water, ammo, jerky, bucking berries and stuff are going to matter. Maybe gold. No kidding, of course. You have a great career. Full of consistent employment. How do you do and shit the makes lives easier

and businesses run smoother, so go get it, John, and hail them run. Next, a Cummins Law victim and just a sweet story from a sweet man sack, Chef Sam, who writes, Dear proprietor of peanut butter, Dan been listening to Time Sucks in 2018, he does 19, can't quite remember, started with Richard Ramirez. I was a fan of your standup before discovering the pod and just went from there.

My family owns a restaurant at Lake Arrowhead, California, Stone Creek, Beast Row. We've been open since 2013. I'm the chef. I do the book of the prep in the morning, which leaves me plenty of time to listen to podcasts. And late February this year, our community was rocked with the worst snow storm in 50 plus years. Yeah.

Read a lot about that. Nine feet of snow. This is unheard of. Anyway, we were closed for about a month because of this snow removal, et cetera. It's been trying, especially since we just got over the pandemic. That fucking sucks. Today, while I was prepping a guest walked into the dining room while I was listening to the Irish mob episode, specifically during the Whipple ad, specifically the fuck you fuck your family part. Poor woman's eyes were as white as saucers. I couldn't turn the pot off fast enough. It goes out saying I was a bit embarrassed.

Why did the nice older woman stop by while we were closed? Well, she asked if I was chef Sam, I said, sure, M, what's your name? Tells me her name gives me a, and then says, how, how can I help you ask? And she replies, I just have to say you're a gift to this community. You run the best restaurant on this mountain. And within a hundred mile radius replies, I just have to say you're a gift to this community. You run the best restaurant on this mountain and within a hundred mile radius and I just wanted to thank you. Nobody can even remotely do what you do and we are lucky to have you. Thank you again and she hands me 80 bucks.

I'm a complete shock, profusely thank her for her kind words, beg her to take back the money. She flat out refuses, begs me to never close our restaurant and then leaves. Since I'm a man, I shed no tears because I'm dead inside. No, I totally teared up and promptly put the money into our vacation fund. That is fucking awesome. Thanks Dan for all you and the rest of the bad magic team do. My 69 year old dad is a huge fan and loves that you were born in the same hospital he

was. Small world. Sorry not sorry about the length of this email. Hope you catch you live some time. Do some goddamn so-called dates on a Monday or Tuesday. Please, restaurant folk work every weekend. Well, thank you, Sam. I am so glad that she gave you that tip. That is so cool. Good on her. And I'm going to talk about how good your restaurant appears to be in a second. I love that your dad was also born in Grangeville, Idaho. Not many can say that. Little Saringa hospital that has a general surgery now.

I read on their website at one surgeon. A dude named Barry Smith, Dr. Barry Smith, who lives in tiny S. Wiper. Around a hundred people live there. When I visit, feels like most of them are drunk. I hope Barry's not one of the, one of the drunk ones. Anyway, I hope your restaurant, Stone Creek, Beastro in Lake Arrowhead, California is fucking slammed

all summer and I bet it will be. Your Yelp reviews are off the charts. Fantastic. Four and a half stars out of 750 reviews. Black and shrimp, poboise, charred Thai, barbecue, bon mise, duck fat fries, cheeseburgers, braised short rib, free range roast chicken, beet salads, and more. Man, good on you. It looks delicious.

Glad your patrons love you. Good on you chef, Hill Nimrod. Quick shout out in comments, law message now from an Italian Osaka, Razi Bangerino. Razi writes, I prayed that this day would never come, but I suffered from comments, law of the other day. For reference, I'm a plumber and HVAC technician from North Shore, Massachusetts.

I was catched up on the second part of the Kirtland cult while working on an AC unit. I was not wearing headphones while you detailed the horrors that poor poor skidmark endured. Apparently ductwork conducts sound throughout the home very clearly. I went upstairs to check in with the customer when they asked what was I listening to. Tough one to explain.

If you end up reading this, it would mean a lot if you could give a shout out to my manager, Gator. He got me into time suck and has helped me learn so much about our trade. The three out of five stars would not change a thing. Rossi, wow Gator, thanks for taking Rossi under your dirty, dimented wing and showing him the way that leads to Skidmark. I bet that was a hard episode to explain. Thank you for sharing your pain, Rossi.

And last one, oh my gosh, this made me laugh so hard I was fucking crying. Strange family moment. Fantastic father, James McRory writes, hello, almighty king of the suck. I'm writing this to tell you of a story of how you helped me piss my wife off. That was changing our 21 month old diapers. She began to mess with her privates. My wife told her to stop messing with it. She asked me what she should call it, like her privates, you know, for the baby.

I said front butt. With a shock look on her face, she told me not to say that. So like a grown man with a 15 year old brain, I asked, oh, you mean front butt? She once again told me to stop saying that. At that moment, my daughter points to her privates and says front butt. I started moment, my daughter points to her privates and says, front butt.

I started laughing while my wife was horrified. My daughter then gets up, runs around naked, yelling front butt, front butt, front butt, front butt. I'm laughing harder. My wife doesn't know what to think of this point. When it was all over, she asked where I even came up with that. And I said, I learned it on time, so I can, she said, of course, she did. Thanks so much for the great laugh and the new inside joke in our house.

Three out of five stars wouldn't change a damn thing. Hug those kids extra tight and give the Queens front butt some extra attention to night. James McCroery. Well, thank you so much, James. I was laughing. Yeah, it's so hard. When I read that message that Lindsey asked me, what the hell was going on? Such a funny scene to imagine.

I hope you get laughs out of that story for years to come. And I did give this from but some attention. Hey, how's it, Fena? Thanks everyone for the messages. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did.

Thanks for listening to another Bad Magic Productions podcast. Scared to death. Time suck each week. Secret suck each week for you space lizards. Please don't swipe right. Just so you and your fake kind of not really suicidal sister can scam someone and maybe kill them this week. Instead, just keep on sucking.

I am poor and ugly, I am looking for rich and hot. Tired of drink homemade vodka, a london winter hermit cabin. Sick of eat cold beet soup for dinner sometimes snack on all shoelace. Tired of jerking to snow and stared dead eye lonely into middle distance. What vagina to help erase thought of death? Tired of living existential crisis? If you not date, please send cyanide. It's a place, the Sennsignite.