true crime

19 cases tagged “true crime”

Jodi Arias

Convicted: Jodi Ann Arias

When Travis Alexander's friends broke into his Mesa, Arizona home on June 9, 2008, the smell told them everything before their eyes could. He had been missing for five days. Inside the master bathroom, they found him crumpled in the shower: twenty-seven stab wounds, a throat slashed nearly to the spine, and a single .25-caliber bullet in his forehead. He was thirty years old. Within days, investigators had a name: Jodi Ann Arias, his ex-girlfriend, an aspiring photographer with a smile that charmed everyone she met. She would eventually confess to the killing, but not before telling two other stories first. What followed was one of the most-watched murder trials in American history, a 64-day courtroom spectacle broadcast live to millions, fueled by explicit text messages, recovered photographs of the victim alive in his shower just hours before his death, and a defendant who took the stand for 18 consecutive days and insisted she acted in self-defense. The jury didn't believe her. Neither did much of the country. She is serving life without parole. From a Nevada convention hall where two ambitious young people first locked eyes, to a prison cell in Goodyear, Arizona where Arias now sells artwork and writes a Substack blog, this is the full story of a killing that America could not look away from.

Jodi AriasTravis Alexander

closedConvictedHistorical

Valerie Jean Solanas

Convicted: Valerie Jean Solanas

On the afternoon of June 3, 1968, Valerie Jean Solanas rode an elevator to Andy Warhol's Manhattan studio, pulled two firearms from a paper bag, and opened fire. She shot Warhol three times, hit art critic Mario Amaya in the hip, and attempted to execute Warhol's manager before her gun jammed. Then she walked out, hailed a cab, and waited. That evening, she surrendered to a Times Square patrolman, handed him both weapons, and offered nine words of explanation: 'He had too much control over my life.' Warhol survived, barely, after five hours of surgery during which he was briefly declared dead. He never fully recovered. Solanas, a woman with an IQ of 131 who authored one of the most provocative feminist texts of the twentieth century and held a psychology degree with honors, spent the rest of her life cycling through psychiatric wards and welfare hotels. She died alone in a San Francisco flophouse in 1988, her body undiscovered for days. What drove her to The Factory that afternoon, and what her life reveals about genius, mental illness, and the violence that festers at society's margins, remains as unsettling now as it was then.

Valerie SolanasAndy Warhol shooting

closedConvictedHistorical

Karla Faye Tucker

Convicted: Karla Faye Tucker

When Houston homicide detectives arrived at Jerry Lynn Dean's apartment in the predawn hours of June 13, 1983, they found a pickaxe still lodged in Deborah Thornton's chest. Both victims had been hacked to death in what investigators later described as one of the most savage double homicides they had encountered. The woman who swung that pickaxe was twenty-three years old and weighed barely over a hundred pounds. Her name was Karla Faye Tucker. Fourteen years later, she would become the first woman executed in Texas since 1863, and only the second woman executed in the United States since the reinstatement of capital punishment. By then, Pope John Paul II had pleaded for her life. So had Pat Robertson, Newt Gingrich, and the brother of one of her victims. Governor George W. Bush said no anyway. The story of Karla Faye Tucker is many things at once: a portrait of catastrophic childhood neglect, a chronicle of breathtaking violence, and one of the most polarizing death penalty cases in American history. It is a story about who we decide deserves to die, and whether a person can become someone genuinely new behind bars. It has no clean ending and no comfortable moral. But it begins, as these stories so often do, with a girl nobody saved in time.

female death rowTexas executions

closedConvictedHistorical

Doris Marie Payne

Convicted: Doris Marie Payne

She was 86 years old, wearing an electronic ankle monitor from her previous arrest, and she was shoplifting $86 worth of merchandise from a Walmart near Atlanta. That is the last chapter, so far, in the seven-decade criminal career of Doris Marie Payne, a woman who once walked out of a Monte Carlo Cartier boutique with a half-million-dollar diamond hidden in the seam of her girdle. Born in the coal-scarred poverty of Slab Fork, West Virginia, in 1930, Payne became the most prolific jewel thief in American history: over $2 million stolen, 32 aliases, nine passports, ten Social Security numbers, and an FBI file reportedly six feet long. She wore designer clothes into the finest jewelry stores in Paris, Rome, Geneva, and Tokyo, charmed the clerks with a smile, and walked out richer. Judges called her "the Terminator." Interpol tracked her for decades. She expressed no remorse, ever. Now approaching 95, she lives as a free woman in Atlanta. A documentary about her life won an Audience Award at Tribeca. Halle Berry is reportedly attached to play her in a biopic. And through it all, Doris Payne has remained exactly what she always was: the best-dressed thief in the room.

jewel thiefserial thief

verdict reachedAcquittedContemporary

Casey Marie Anthony

Subject: Casey Marie Anthony

On July 15, 2008, Cindy Anthony called 911 in a panic, telling the dispatcher that her daughter Casey's car smelled 'like there's been a dead body' in it. Her granddaughter, two-year-old Caylee Marie Anthony, had been missing for thirty-one days. Thirty-one days Casey had spent partying with friends, sleeping at her boyfriend's apartment, and getting a tattoo on her shoulder that read 'Bella Vita': Beautiful Life. She had told anyone who asked that Caylee was with a nanny named Zenaida Fernandez-Gonzalez. The nanny did not exist. When Caylee's skeletal remains were found in December 2008, less than a mile from the Anthony family home, duct tape near the child's skull, the case exploded into a national obsession. What followed was one of the most polarizing murder trials in American history: a courtroom battle over chloroform, swimming pools, family secrets, and the limits of reasonable doubt. On July 5, 2011, the jury delivered a verdict that left much of America stunned. Casey Anthony walked free. The question of what really happened to Caylee Marie Anthony has never been answered in a court of law, and it likely never will be.

casey anthonycaylee anthony

closedConvictedHistorical

Vera Renczi

Convicted: Vera Renczi

Thirty-two men lay in zinc-lined coffins in the wine cellar beneath a Romanian chateau, each one poisoned with arsenic by the woman who had loved them. Or so the story goes. Vera Renczi, dubbed the 'Black Widow' and 'Chatelaine of Berkerekul,' is one of history's most notorious female serial killers: a wealthy beauty who allegedly confessed to murdering 35 people during the 1920s, including two husbands, dozens of lovers, and her own son. According to the legend, she laced their wine when she feared they might leave her, then kept their bodies in the cellar so they never could. Police reportedly found her sitting peacefully among the coffins. But here is where the story fractures. When the Guinness Book of World Records investigated in 1972, researchers found nothing verifiable: no arrest records, no trial transcripts, no regional newspapers, no prison files. Every account traces back to a single 1925 dispatch by an American journalist who cited no primary sources. Photographs circulated as Renczi's have been identified as a Russian actress dead since 1910. The Daily Mirror once published a photo of a living Spanish fashion model and called it Renczi, later apologizing unreservedly. Was Vera Renczi a monster, or a myth? The answer, it turns out, is more unsettling than either option alone.

serial killerblack widow

closedAccusedHistorical

Enriqueta Martí Ripollés

Accused: Enriqueta Martí Ripollés

On the morning of February 10, 1912, Barcelona police broke down the door of a ground-floor apartment on Carrer de Ponent and found something that would haunt the city for generations. Behind a locked interior door sat roughly fifty jars and basins arranged with terrible precision: congealed human blood, rendered fat, hand skeletons, bone dust, and small glass vials of finished elixirs, each one labeled in elegant calligraphy. Cowering in the front room were two children, one of them a five-year-old girl named Teresita who had been missing from the streets of El Raval for only days. The apartment's tenant was a woman named Enriqueta Martí Ripollés. By day, neighbors knew her as a ragged beggar who shuffled through Barcelona's poorest quarters with a child at her side. By night, she was something else entirely: wigged, jeweled, and dressed in silk, moving through the parlors of the city's wealthiest families and selling them preparations she claimed could cure tuberculosis, reverse aging, and treat venereal disease. Preparations made, authorities alleged, from the bodies of the city's most vulnerable children. She became known across Spain as "The Vampire of Barcelona." She was never convicted. She never stood trial. And the full truth of what happened inside that locked room may have been buried, deliberately and permanently, by the very people she served.

serial killerchild murder

closedConvictedHistorical

Patty Hearst

Convicted: Patricia Campbell Hearst

The grainy black-and-white surveillance image from April 15, 1974 remains one of the most startling photographs in American criminal history: Patricia Campbell Hearst, granddaughter of publishing magnate William Randolph Hearst, standing inside a San Francisco bank with an assault rifle, a beret on her head and a new name on her lips. She called herself Tania. Seventy days earlier, she had been a nineteen-year-old UC Berkeley sophomore, engaged to be married, asleep in her Berkeley apartment when armed radicals dragged her screaming into the night. What happened during 57 days of blindfolded captivity in a closet, and what it produced in a young woman's mind, became the defining psychological mystery of the 1970s. Was she a victim coerced beyond the breaking point, or a willing revolutionary who found the cause intoxicating? A jury took less than two weeks to convict her. Jimmy Carter freed her. Bill Clinton pardoned her. Fifty years later, no one has fully agreed on who Patty Hearst really is. She weighed 87 pounds at her arrest. At booking, she listed her occupation as 'Urban Guerrilla.' The case that followed would rewrite how Americans understood the human mind under captivity, introduce a new term into the cultural vocabulary, and raise questions about identity, coercion, and justice that no verdict has ever put to rest.

kidnappingSLA

closedConvictedHistorical

Judias Anna Lou 'Judy' Buenoano

Convicted: Judias Anna Lou 'Judy' Buenoano

At 7:08 on the morning of March 30, 1998, a correctional officer at Florida State Prison threw the switch on the electric chair. The woman strapped into it, asked moments earlier if she had any final words, had answered only 'No, sir,' and closed her eyes. She was pronounced dead at 7:13 a.m. Her name was Judy Buenoano, and she had spent the previous evening watching a hunting and fishing show, eating chocolates, and reading a Mary Higgins Clark murder mystery. The neatness of that detail feels almost unbearable: a woman convicted of poisoning her husband, her son, and her boyfriend with arsenic, spending her last hours absorbed in fiction about someone else's crime. Prosecutor Russell Edgar had a name for her. He called her the Black Widow, a woman who 'fed off her mates and her young.' The evidence bore him out. Across nearly two decades, Buenoano is believed to have poisoned at least three people and built a life on their insurance payouts. She never confessed. She maintained her innocence to the end, eyes shut, silent in the chair. This is the story of how she got there.

serial killerblack widow

closedConvictedHistorical

Griselda Blanco Restrepo

Convicted: Griselda Blanco Restrepo

On the afternoon of September 3, 2012, a gunman dismounted from a motorcycle outside a butcher shop in Medellín, Colombia, and shot a 69-year-old woman twice in the head. He was gone before anyone could stop him. The woman was Griselda Blanco Restrepo, and the method of her killing was one she had invented herself. In the 1970s and 1980s, Blanco built a cocaine empire that shipped 1,500 kilograms of product into Miami every month, generated an estimated $80 million monthly, and left dozens if not hundreds of people dead on both sides of the Atlantic. She mentored Pablo Escobar. She pioneered motorcycle assassinations. She named her youngest son Michael Corleone, after the Godfather character, because she saw the parallel and felt no shame in it. She was convicted of federal drug trafficking in 1985. She beat a capital murder case when her star witness was caught having phone sex with prosecutors' secretaries. She served nearly two decades in prison, suffered a heart attack, was deported to Colombia, and allegedly became a born-again Christian. None of it was enough to save her. The killers who found her outside the Carnicería Cardiso that September afternoon were never identified. She was buried at Jardines de Montesacro cemetery in Medellín, in the same ground as Pablo Escobar. The Godmother of Cocaine, who had ordered the deaths of husbands, rivals, and at least one two-year-old child, ended her life on the same streets where she had built her legend: in Medellín, violently, by surprise. This is her story.

drug traffickingcocaine

closedAccusedHistorical

Arizona Donnie Clark Barker (Kate 'Ma' Barker)

Accused: Arizona Donnie Clark Barker (Kate 'Ma' Barker)

On the morning of January 16, 1935, fourteen FBI agents surrounded a lakeside cottage in Ocklawaha, Florida, and opened fire on a sixty-one-year-old grandmother. The gun battle lasted nearly six hours. When it ended, Kate 'Ma' Barker lay dead from a single bullet to the head, a Thompson submachine gun at her feet. J. Edgar Hoover would declare her 'the most vicious, dangerous, and resourceful criminal brain of the last decade.' There was just one problem: she had never been arrested. Not once. Not ever. Her surviving criminal associates were blunt about it. Alvin Karpis, the actual architect of the Barker-Karpis Gang's operations, put it plainly: she 'couldn't plan breakfast.' So who was the real Ma Barker? A ruthless criminal mastermind? A devoted mother who looked the other way? Or a convenient legend, constructed by a powerful federal agency that needed to justify killing an old woman in a Florida cottage? The truth is stranger, darker, and far more human than any of those answers.

Ma BarkerBarker-Karpis Gang

closedConvictedHistorical

Debra Lynn Baker

Convicted: Debra Lynn Baker

In June 1990, as Jerry Sternadel lay dying in a Wichita Falls hospital, he did something extraordinary: he told doctors and family members exactly who had killed him. He named two women. One of them, his bookkeeper Debra Lynn Baker, would eventually be convicted of first-degree murder for poisoning him with arsenic administered in his cran-apple juice. The other, his wife Lou-Ann, was never charged. Baker's trial ended on the fourth anniversary of Sternadel's death with a verdict that stunned the courtroom: guilty of murder, sentenced to just ten years' probation and a $10,000 fine. No prison time. Not yet. The case of Debra Baker is a story of loyalty twisted into something lethal, of a privileged life built on a dead man's money, and of a justice system that the victim's own family condemned as a catastrophic failure. His daughter called it a terrible injustice. His first wife wrote a book about it. And Debra Baker, who refused to implicate her best friend even at the cost of a life sentence, walked out of that courtroom a free woman.

arsenic poisoningfemale killer

appealedConvictedContemporary

Sharee Paulette Kitley Miller

Convicted: Sharee Paulette Kitley Miller

Two days after her husband Bruce was shot dead at his junkyard in rural Michigan, Sharee Miller was spotted dancing at a nightclub. Within weeks, she had moved a new boyfriend into her home. She was twenty-eight years old, newly widowed, and utterly unbothered. The murder itself had been methodical: Sharee had spent months in AOL adult chat rooms, crafting a persona designed to ensnare a man named Jerry Cassaday, a former homicide detective. She told him Bruce was abusive, that he had mafia connections, that he had forced her to abort their babies. None of it was true. But Cassaday believed every word, and in November 1999 he drove nearly eight hundred miles to put a shotgun to Bruce Miller's back. When it was over, Sharee simply vanished from Cassaday's life. He died by suicide three months later, leaving behind a briefcase stuffed with printed chat logs, hotel receipts, and an airline ticket that told the whole story. What followed was something American courts had never quite seen before: a murder trial built almost entirely on digital evidence harvested from the early internet. This is the story of how a woman from a Flint, Michigan trailer park turned an AOL chat room into a weapon.

internet murderonline manipulation

closedConvictedHistorical

Amy Duggan Archer-Gilligan

Convicted: Amy Duggan Archer-Gilligan

Between 1911 and 1916, forty-eight elderly residents died inside the Archer Home for Elderly People and Chronic Invalids in Windsor, Connecticut. The Jefferson Street Home in Hartford housed seven times as many residents and buried a similar number in the same period. The math was damning. The woman behind those numbers was Amy Archer-Gilligan, known to her congregation as 'Sister Amy,' a woman who donated a stained-glass window to St. Gabriel's Church and whom neighbors described as compassionate and devout. She was also a poisoner of breathtaking audacity. She had purchased more than ten ounces of arsenic from a local drugstore, enough to kill over a hundred people. She had forged a dead man's will. She had taken out life insurance policies on her husbands and encouraged her elderly boarders to name her as their beneficiary. When Connecticut state police exhumed five bodies, every single one tested positive for poison. The case scandalized the nation, inspired one of Broadway's most beloved dark comedies, and forced Connecticut to overhaul its elder care laws entirely. It also left behind questions the courts never fully answered: how many people truly died at Amy's hands, and how long had she been killing? This is the story of Sister Amy.

serial killerfemale serial killer

Sante Louise Kimes (née Singhrs; also known as Sandra Louise Singhrs, Sandra Chambers)

closedConvictedHistorical

Sante Kimes

Convicted: Sante Louise Kimes (née Singhrs; also known as Sandra Louise Singhrs, Sandra Chambers)

When New York City police stopped Sante Kimes and her son Kenny on an unrelated bad-check warrant on July 5, 1998, they expected a routine collar. What they found inside the car rewrote the definition of premeditation: two loaded pistols, plastic handcuffs, wigs, fright masks, syringes, a date-rape drug, an empty stun gun box, thirty thousand dollars in cash, a forged deed to a $7.7 million Manhattan mansion, and fifteen notebooks in which Sante had carefully practiced forging an 82-year-old woman's signature. Irene Silverman, the socialite who had rented a room to Kenny just weeks earlier, was already gone. Her body has never been found. It was the ending of a story that had begun decades earlier in the dust of Oklahoma City, wound through con jobs and slave-keeping and a White House party crasher and insurance fires, and arrived at last at the feet of a woman a judge would call 'a sociopath and a degenerate.' Sante Kimes was 64 years old and had not yet finished.

serial killercon artist

closedAccusedHistorical

Laren Renee Sims (alias: Elisa McNabney, also known as Elisa Redelsperger, Elisa Barasch, Shane Ivaroni, and 34+ other aliases — total 38 documented aliases)

Accused: Laren Renee Sims (alias: Elisa McNabney, also known as Elisa Redelsperger, Elisa Barasch, Shane Ivaroni, and 34+ other aliases — total 38 documented aliases)

On Easter Sunday 2002, a jail officer in Brooksville, Florida found a woman dead in her cell. She had braided strips from her pillowcase into a rope and fastened it to an air duct in the ceiling. She was thirty-six years old, and she had been, at various points in her life, at least thirty-eight different people. Her FBI criminal rap sheet ran to one hundred and thirteen pages. Her real name was Laren Renee Sims. Most people knew her as Elisa McNabney, the glamorous, horse-loving wife of Sacramento trial attorney Larry McNabney. In the fall of 2001, she and her twenty-one-year-old legal secretary administered horse tranquilizer to Larry at a show in Los Angeles County, stored his body in a garage refrigerator for three months, buried him in a vineyard, liquidated over $500,000 in assets, and fled across the country in a red Jaguar. She was a former straight-A student with a reported IQ of 140. She was a mother who kept her teenage daughter by her side through the whole gruesome flight. She was a con artist, a forger, and a fugitive. When detectives finally traced her to a Florida beach, she looked up and said simply: "I'm the one you're looking for." This is the story of Laren Renee Sims: a woman who spent thirty years constructing false identities, fell into a marriage that may have saved her and ultimately destroyed her, and chose suicide over a courtroom. It is one of the most bizarre, cold-blooded, and strangely human cases in California criminal history.

poisoninghorse tranquilizer

closedConvictedHistorical

Aileen Wuornos

Convicted: Aileen Carol Wuornos (née Pittman)

Her last words from the execution chamber stopped the witnesses cold. "I'd just like to say I'm sailing with the rock, and I'll be back like Independence Day, with Jesus, June 6, like the movie, big mothership and all. I'll be back." Moments later, at 9:47 a.m. on October 9, 2002, Aileen Carol Wuornos was pronounced dead. She had declined her final meal. She accepted only a cup of coffee. Between November 1989 and November 1990, Wuornos shot and killed seven men along the highways of Florida, each of them a middle-aged motorist who had stopped for a woman working the roads. She took their money, their cars, and their lives. She was a highway prostitute operating under multiple aliases, a drifter with a .22 and a history that read less like a criminal file and more like an indictment of everyone who had ever failed her. She was raised by alcoholic grandparents after her mother abandoned her at age four. Her father, whom she never met, was serving a life sentence for raping a seven-year-old child when he hanged himself in his prison cell. She was pregnant and living on the streets by fourteen. She told police, and later the courts, that every man she killed had attacked her first. The jury in her first trial deliberated for less than two hours before convicting her. She received six death sentences in total. The tabloids called her America's first female serial killer. The more precise truth: she was the first woman formally profiled by the FBI as a serial killer. The distinction hardly seemed to matter by the end. What mattered was that seven men were dead, and Aileen Wuornos had spent a lifetime arriving at that outcome.

serial killerfemale serial killer

appealedConvictedHistorical

Virginia Gail Larzelere

Convicted: Virginia Gail Larzelere

At approximately 1:00 p.m. on March 8, 1991, a masked gunman walked into a quiet dental office in Edgewater, Florida, and fired a sawed-off shotgun through a wooden door. Behind that door, cowering against the wood, was Dr. Norman Larzelere. His last audible words were a name: his son's. Witnesses heard him call out 'Jason, is that you?' before the blast tore through his chest. On the other side of the door stood his wife, Virginia, who promptly called 911 and performed CPR on the man she had allegedly just arranged to have killed. She had spent the preceding months taking out seven life insurance policies on Norman totaling $2.1 million, and prosecutors alleged she had forged his signature on every one of them. What followed was one of Florida's most tangled criminal sagas: a death sentence, fifteen years on death row alongside Aileen Wuornos, a defense attorney later convicted of sixteen felonies who was allegedly consuming a liter of vodka and methamphetamine daily during her trial, and a son who was acquitted of the very conspiracy that sent his mother to the electric chair. Virginia Larzelere has maintained her innocence for more than three decades. The legal fight is still not over.

female killerdeath row

verdict reachedConvictedContemporary

Susan Leigh Smith

Convicted: Susan Leigh Smith

The lake was quiet when Susan Smith let her car roll in. With her sons, three-year-old Michael and fourteen-month-old Alexander, still strapped in their car seats, the 1990 Mazda Protegé sank 122 feet from shore at John D. Long Lake in Union County, South Carolina. It took approximately six minutes. Then Susan Smith ran to a nearby house and told a lie that gripped an entire nation: a Black man had carjacked her vehicle, her babies still inside. For nine days, America watched her weep on television while a manhunt consumed Union County and innocent Black men were stopped by police hunting a suspect who never existed. The lie collapsed on November 3, 1994, when Smith confessed and led divers to the sunken car. She was convicted of two counts of first-degree murder. Thirty years later, she sat before a parole board via video link and said: 'I know what I did was horrible.' The board voted unanimously to deny her release. Her next hearing is in November 2026. This is the story of Susan Smith: her shattered childhood, her calculating deception, her infamous trial, and the question that still has no satisfying answer. What made a mother choose a man over her sons?

filicidematernal filicide