My interests have usually been bizar. While most students in college went to house
parties and handed back tequila shots, my friends and I stayed in to play
with the Wuiji board, tequila shots optional. Of course, I don't believe
in ghosts religiously or anything like that, but the idea of the unknown has
always been exciting to me. So it probably won't come as a surprise when
I tell you I love creepy unsolved mysteries. What can I say? I'm
a sucker for stories with a twist. Sometimes when crimes go unsolved, they
get this sort of cult following where average citizens make it their personal lot in
life to solve the unsolvable, creating the wildest conspiracy theories imaginable along the way.
And although these theories are usually utter nonsense, they still get the gears
of my mind turning. Now, today's crime was solved, and as or
as I can tell, there are no conspiracy theories out there that argue against
the man's guilt. What makes this crime so bizarre, however, is how
simple minded the murderer was and the legacy his victim left behind. So settle
in and joined me, Skyler Fastene, for your first ever deadtime story.
I don't know about you, but some members of my family long to leave
behind a legacy. That's fine and dandy, But nobody listening to this will
have any idea who my family is. I mean, none of us have
discovered cures for rare diseases, nor we world famous performers, despite the fact
that I live in Los Angeles and pretend like I'm going to be successful in
entertainment just as soon as that one agent discovers me. But the reality is
I'm a corn fed Ohio boy who gets road rage while sitting in traffic on
my way to a nine to six job. Not very exciting, right,
But other people make a more lasting impact on us. Take John Landis Mason
for example. In the early eighteen hundreds, home canning was a messy,
tedious process, and if not done right, could lead to deadly bacteria growing
inside the jar. Personally, I'm not about that batulism life. When John
Mason invented a screw top lid, the art of at home food preservation became
a lot easier. Now, instead of wax, all you had to do
was screw on a piece of tin with a rubber ring and voila, you
had an air tight seal. If you haven't figured it out yet, John
Landis Mason invented what we now call the Mason jar. Of course, today
nobody I know uses these jars for preventing bacteria. Instead, I find them
in overpriced cafes which serve drinks out of them because they want to be hipsters
or something. Unfortunately, John Mason wouldn't see much success from his jar.
After the pounded expired in eighteen seventy nine, he wasn't able to make much
of a living and died in poverty in nineteen o two. His demise,
however, was much more peaceful than little Fanny Adams. Less than ten years
after Mason introduced his jar, Fanny Adams would make her own impact on the
world on a peaceful August Day in eighteen sixty seven. Alton was a quiet
town in Hampshire, England. It was one of those places where nothing bad
ever happened. Now, if you're a fan of horror movies like I am,
then you know this is the perfect setting for a brutal murder. Aside
from being a peaceful place to live, Alton was known for its abundance of
hops, a crucial ingredient in beer. This will be important later, trust
me. In the meantime, let's meet the Adams family. That's Adams with
one D. By the way, I don't want anybody to think we'll be
visiting Gomez and Mortisia during this podcast. Instead, say hello to George and
Harriet. They live on Tanhouse Lane with their seven children, Ellen, George,
Walter, Fanny, Lizzie, Lily, Ada, Anne, Minnie.
Next door lives Fanny's friend and Minnie Warner, not to be confused with Fanny's
youngest sister. I've never met a many in my life, but apparently that
was the hot name in the eighteen hundreds. Fanny was a mere eight years
old with the face of a cherub surrounded by long dark locks. Local said
ship heared older and always had a sunny disposition. It's the happiest ones that
meet the worst demises in these types of stories. Being a hot August day,
Fanny, Lizzie and Minnie, the friend not the sister, decided to
cool off outside. Mummy, Minnie, Lizzie and I walked to flood Meadow.
Well, there is a lot of what to do around the house,
but I suppose it is a rather nice day, code for I have a
lot to do and needs you kids out of my hair. Flood Meadow was
just up the lane. I so I suspect there sha'n't be much chance for
trouble. That was around one o'clock in the afternoon. The girls hadn't gone
very far when they bumped into Frederick Baker. Now, I'll be honest,
this guy was a real piece of work. He worked a the solicitor's clerk,
a glorified accounting in turn, if you will, and it had only
been living in town for a few months. Frederick was twenty nine years old,
clean shaven, and on this particular day, was dressed respectfully in a
frock coat and top hat. Personally, I think it'd be way too hot
to wear any sort of coat, but Frederick probably didn't care given his current
state of mind. Now, as you might recall, Alton had an abundance
of hops, which meant the town naturally had several pubs and breweries. Frederick
had paid at least one of these a visit and was totally drunk when he
ran into the girls. What followed was nick exchange all too familiar to the
police in today's day and age. Hello, young ladies, here, what
to say? I'll give you two girls three appends to run along and play
elsewhere. You can buy some sweets if you like. And you, young
little girl, I'll give you an appense to come with me. Minnie and
Lizzie happily obliged and ran off. Maybe it was because nothing bad happened in
town, or or maybe they had seen Frederick at church and assumed they could
trust the man. Either way, when a child is offered money to buy
sweets, who could possibly refuse that. Fanny, however, was a bit
wiser. Thank you sir. She took the money and ran where are you
going? As hard as it is to believe, the eight year old could
not outrun the twenty nine year old, Frederick scooped her up and went off
to a nearby hop field. Lizia Minnie returned home from an afternoon of playing
when a neighbor, Missus Gardener, noticed them. Hello, girls, Oh,
where's your friend? Wasn't there third this morning? She went off with
the man who gave us money. Missus Gardner was obviously very anxious about this
and went next door to get Harry Adams. As the two women headed in
the direction of the hot field. They came across Frederick alone and perhaps a
little less drunk. Now you there where it's little Fanny. He's been gone
for hours. What did you do to her? Nothing? Two little girls
said, you gave them two halfpence threepence three halfpence to run along while their
friend was left alone with you. I didn't do that, mum. Sure
I've seen them girls, and I gave them money too. Well, that
money was for sweets. What business have I got bribing gaels to follow me?
I have half a mind to call the police on you. You can
do what you'll like. That last bit was reportedly a direct quote from Frederick.
The guy really wasn't worried, and it seemed he had no reason to
be. The two women just let him walk off. He did have an
air of respectability about him, and he was a solicitor's clerk after all.
Surely he was telling the truth. But by the time seven o'clock rolled around,
Harriet was getting worried. Nobody had seen Fanny since she left to play
six hours to go. A search party was formed, but none of them
were prepared for what they found. A word to the wise, This next
bit is going to get extremely graphic. Those with weak stomachs may want to
skip ahead, but remember this is a true crime podcast, and true crime
is rarely filled with rainbows and happiness. The search party made their way to
the hot garden, Frederick was reportedly headed. Towards here they found Fanny,
well part of her at least, Oh my god. Thomas Gates was the
first to discover bloody shreds of Fanny's dress, and a little further away was
her head, covered with dirt and stuck on two hot poles. Her face
had been hideously cut from mouth to ear in a fashion later seen in the
Black Dahlia case. One of her ears had been slashed off and both her
eyes plucked out. Around the poles lay pieces and parts of her body.
And it wasn't just torn off limbs, no, whoever. The murderer was
cut out Fanny's organs and scattered them everywhere. After Frederick, oh wait sorry,
Frederick said he gave Fanny money for candy, then left. After the
murderer had cut apart her body, they took it upon themselves to cut open
her chest and empty the contents around the field. Her heart liver and other
internal organs had been sliced open as well. Fanny's body was so mutilated that
it took the town days to find and collect every piece scattered in the field.
Some bits, like her eyes, were later found in the nearby river.
Whenever these parts were found, they were sent to the coroner's office and
placed in a package labeled parts of a child and hopes they could somehow sew
her back together. Now, Harriet Adams, being a part of the search
party, had to see her daughter like this. And as for her husband,
George Adams, well, he was reportedly out playing cricket with some of
his friends. It's Fanny, so what is late Fanny? The cricket game
was cut short as George ran home to grab his shotgun and kill fred Sorry,
there I go again, kill the murderer somewhere along the way. However,
George was talked out of bringing a weapon along. During all of this,
the police Superintendent William Cheney was notified of the murder and hearing Frederick Baker
was the last scene with the children hunted down. The man Frederick was found,
of all places, working late at the office. I'll say this much
for him. At least he stayed to make up for the unscheduled time he
took off. All you, Frederick Baker, Yes that I am. I
need you to come with me. Say, what's this all about the murder
of Funny Adams. I'll know nothing about it. Despite his protests, Frederick
was dragged through town to the Alton Police station. Where travels fast in small
towns, so I can only imagine the mob that had formed by this point.
Some sources say William snuck Frederick out the back door to avoid a second
murder. Others say he was dragged through the angry mob. Whichever story is
true, all sources agree that Frederick constantly protested his innocence along the way,
but there was some pretty damning evidence on him. Yeah, I told you,
I don't know nothing about the girl's murder. Yes, yes, I
heard you, But there was something that I couldn't help. But notice,
mister Baker, what's that the coast on your trousers? Why are they wet?
I have an abbot of stepping in water when out walking. That won't
ang me, will it. Yes? Frederick's alibi was that he liked to
jump in puddles, and I can let that slide. I suppose having wet
clothes doesn't mean you murdered anybody. And I personally liked the thought of a
smartly dressed adult man hopping through puddles like a child. And it seems William
could look past this odd behavior too. The part that really screwed Frederick,
though, is that blood on your shortcuffs? That part why? So it
is how'd that get there? Frederick wasn't going to be able to talk his
way out of this one, and these knives cared to explain them. William
sat before Frederick two small knives that had been found on him earlier. One
was clean and the other stained with blood. Is that blood strange? I
don't have any cuts on my hands? How'd that get on there? Frederick
was floundering by this point, and it will come as no surprise to anyone
that he was locked away until further evidence could be obtained and a trial could
get underway. Remember this is the eighteen hundreds, so DNA evidence wasn't exactly
a thing. The only way to prove Frederick was guilty was through eyewitness testimony,
and nobody had actually seen the act committed. The closest they ever got
was through a young boy who said he witnessed Frederick washing blood from both his
pants and a knife in the river. With eyewitness testimony mostly out, William
had to retrace Frederick's steps. This was how he wound up back at the
clerk's office. Another solicitor's clerk named Maurice Biddle offered some disturbing news. Sure
I know Frederick, though I can't say whether he was gone during the time
of the Muda. I was out to lunch myself, but he had come
back to the office around six and mentioned he had been with the children.
He said that if the little girl happened to be killed, it would certainly
put him in an awkward situation. I mean, that's the first thing I
think about whenever I get my morning coffee. Gee, if I'm the last
person this Burris has served before they're killed, that would be awkward for me.
But believe it or not, the best was yet to come. From
Maurice's story, Frederick and I went out to a pub, the Swan.
I think he was so shaken he needed a drink. He mentioned he wanted
to leave town, and when I told him it'd be hard to find a
new job, he mentioned he could always become a butcher strange in it.
William had heard everything he needed and searched the office for any potential evidence.
Despite literally everything pointing towards him, Frederick still retained that he was innocent.
Some even argued that such small knives couldn't possibly kill anyone, not even a
small child. It wasn't until a painter named William Walker found a large stone
in the hot field that they realized there is still more to this story.
The stone you see had blood, hair, and flesh stuck to it,
Fanny had died from a brutal blow to the head, and the knives,
well, those were more for the after party. An initial trial was held
just a few days after the incident occurred. The jury was handed all of
the evidence against Frederick, including testimonies from Lizzie, Harriet, Missus Gardner,
and Minnie the Friend not the Sister that will Never get Old. When asked
if he had anything to say a handcuff, Frederick replied, no, sir,
only that I'm innocent. The jury quickly came back with a verdict of
guilty and Frederick was sent away to Winchester Prison until he could have a formal
hearing. This next trial wouldn't be held until December, a long three and
a half months after the murder. For Frederick's sake, this agonizingly long time
would give him the chance to come up with a better defense than nah man,
I didn't do it. In December, Minnie was carried into the courtroom
to provide her testimony that Frederick was in fact the man she ran into that
fateful day in August. The defense naturally challenged the memory of a child and
still insisted the knives were too small to cut a human so thoroughly. At
this trial, however, they made sure to mention something critical nobody had yet
to discuss. Insanity. According to the defense, mental illness ran in the
Baker family. Frederick's cousin had been sent to asylums four different times, his
sister died from a brain fever, and Frederick himself had attempted suicide after a
love affair ended on a bad note. Oh and there was one more thing.
Frederick's father was abusive to the point that he could have killed his own
children, thus indicating Frederick either wanted to return what was dealt to him or
that his father had passed along his own mental illness. Despite this new evidence,
the jury deliberated for a mere fifteen minutes before returning with the not so
surprising verdict of guilty. At eight in the morning on Christmas Eve eighteen sixty
seven, a crowd of more than five thousand people gathered to watch the hanging
of Frederick Baker. Contrary to his verbal please of innocence throughout the whole affair,
Frederick knew he was guilty between his trial and execution. He wrote a
letter to the Adam's family. I'll deeply regret what I did in an unguarded
hour, and I beg for your forgiveness. I may have been enraged by
a crying but it was done without any pain or struggle. I want you
to know that not once did I ever sexually violate that child, nor did
I make any attempt to him. I guess killing a child is fine,
but killing and raping one, well, that would be absolutely heinous. Frederick
left his mark on history by being the last person hanged in public at Winchester,
and as for Fanny, well as promise so. The bizarre part of
this crime came into play two years after the murder, all thanks to British
sailors with a wicked sense of humor. I suppose, when you're out at
sea, your rations may not be the most appealing meal in the world.
These sailors were given mutton preserved in tin, not mason jars, and the
meat was so disgusting to them that they agreed it could be nothing other than
the remains of Sweet Fanny Adams. Pretty appetizing right. Over time, the
term evolved to refer to anything that was worthless, which I suppose is a
little less and sincere to Fanny Adams. Sometimes the term was shortened to Fanny's
initials sweet fa, which some people say was the cheeky way to say fuck
all in the eighteen hundreds. Time may not have been too kind to Fanny
Adams, but the town of Alton. Her headstone still remains on display at
Alton Cemetery and was even recently renovated to keep her memory alive. The headstone,
erected completely by volunteers, includes a nice description for Frederick. Fear not
them, which killed the body, but are not able to kill the soul,
but rather fear him, which is able to destroy both body and soul
in hell. Matthew Chapter ten, verse twenty eight. If this crime isn't
bizarre enough for you, then I'll leave you with this. In the end,
it wasn't DNA evidence that sank Frederick, nor was it the numerous testimonies.
Frederick's demise was his own doing. You see, when William Cheney searched
the solicitor's office after speaking to Maurice, he found in the drawer of Frederick's
work desk at journal and inside this journal was an entry from the day Fanny
died on August twenty fourth, eighteen sixty seven. Frederick wrote two simple sentences,
killed the young girl. It was fine and hot. This episode was
written and edited by me Skyler fasten Ow, Shane A. Hammer voiced Minnie
Warner, Fanny and Harriet Adams. Ryan Pig voiced Frederick Baker, Alec Nielsen
voiced Missus Gardiner, and Craig sever voiced George Adams, William Cheney and Maurice
Biddle. I want to extend a huge thank you to you the listener.
If you liked what you heard today, feel free to subscribe wherever you download
your podcasts. You could also send me a tweet at Schuler's Underscore day off
until next time go and enjoy. Some can meet and write about it in
your journal, right next to the entry about your latest victim. It might
sound strange, but dead time stories usually are