High Crimes and History

The lovable rogue, a trope in pop culture today. Break the law, charm the audience. But most historical rogues were not good, nor were they lovable. John Hawkwood, an English mercenary in the 14th century Italian Wars, was such a rogue. As the head of armies he committed multiple atrocities, extorted sums of money greater than entire nation-states, pillaged, burned, dismembered, and raped his way across the countryside. Yet so charming was his persuasive skills that he convinced leaders he would never stab them in the back, even as he stood holding the bloody knife.

How does history help us identify mass shootings and solve the epidemic? On August 14th, 1903 in Winfield, KS, Gilbert Twigg shot nine shots: eight indiscriminately into a concert crowd, and once to take his own life. The first well documented mass shooting in American history fits into our understanding of the psychology of mass shooters today, and can tell us 116 years later the direction we need to head to solve the problem of mass shootings.

WARNING: This episode contains disturbing description mass shooter’s of diaries written by mass shooters containing strong language, violent imagery, and distressing themes. Please use discretion before listening.

All names of mass shooter perpetrators, with the exception of the Caman Band Massacre, having been withheld to prevent notoriety. If you believe there to be a possible threat of a mass shooter, call the FBI tip hotline call your local authorities or the FBI tipline at 1-800-CALLFBI. If you or someone you know is considering harming themselves or others, please call 1-800-273-8255.

In our very first bonus episode we look back at Gilles de Rais and his trial records to ask an important question: was Gilles de Rais innocent? We examine possible theories of Gilles’ psychopathy, the disturbing problems with his trial records, and the confession that ultimately convicted him. Trevor discusses defining historical narratives and rants on the role of professional historians versus the public in creating historical narratives. By the end no one is satisfied. Such is the nature of history.

Note: It is strongly suggested to listen or relisten to “The Evilest Man in the World” before listening.

Victorian London – a grim-dark, pre-noir city of violence and murder. Except it wasn’t. London was safer than most first-world countries today, yet newspapers and broadsides sensationalized every murder, gruesome or not, and the public consumed them all. However, without the entertainment of murder London’s Scotland Yard would have never been created. This is that story.

To refuse to fight for one's country is often seen as cowardly, treasonous, and un-American. But what happens when a whole religious community practicing nonresistance is forced into the draft? As the Amish and Mennonite populations of Holmes and Wayne County found out in 1917, refusal to serve branded them criminals by military law and traitors by public opinion. Those that did serve disobeyed their congregations and God Himself.

Every person's will has a breaking point. But what happens when it's not one man, but a whole army? In 1917 the French army had reached the limit of their morale. Ordered into the trenches, entire units mutinied, and the fate of the war suddenly hinged on the relationship between commander and recruit. The result almost cost the Allies the war.

How well do you think you could recognize a person in a society with only your memory to recall someone’s identity? In sixteenth century France, peasant Martin Guerre returned after almost a decade away from his village and family. He looked the same, talked the same, and even recounted the same memories, but something was off. It was almost as if he was a different man.

If a crime against humanity today was not a crime back in history, how do we approach those events? Case in point: Thomas Thistlewood, 1700s Jamacian slave owner, engaged in torture, murder, and sexual violence against his own slaves. It is undeniably evil, but this wasn't a crime. It was the norm.

What if you were born into the profession of executing people? For the Sanson family of Paris, this was their occupation for 200 years. As headsmen they executed some of the most famous people of French history, and they taught their descendants the ropes so they could teach their sons the same. This is the story of those men, the people they executed, and the toll it took on all of their psyches.