The next day the medical students attending Dr. Knox’s lecture and dissection laboratory were a little stunned by the dead beauty that lay under the doctor’s knife.
But the game could not be played much longer. When a neighbor ran across the corpse of an old lady, which was all tucked neatly away in Burke and Hare’s chest ready for transport, the entire matter nearly exploded in their faces. Only Hare’s quick action in moving the evidence saved the day.
The thorough Edinburgh police had been moving in on the dealers in corpses ever since the first missing-person report had come from that sector of the city. McLaughlin had come to the police reporting the disappearance of Mary Paterson, and subsequent questioning of medical students, who had seen her beautiful, cold body on Knox’s dissection table, had made the officials suspicious of Burke and Hare.
The police made arrests at Hare’s inn and simultaneously raided Dr. Knox’s laboratory where they found the body of the old lady, which had recently been delivered. Although neither of the Burkes ever opened their mouths both Mag Laird and William Hare confessed, telling how the victims were lured to the inn, then suffocated. Even though Dr. Knox claimed that he had known nothing of the murders and was never brought to trial, the grisly publicity ruined his reputation and he faded into obscurity.
Of the four ghoulish grave robbers only William Burke paid with his life. Helen Burke, who had only circumstantial evidence against her, was released. Probably because they had so readily confessed to their roles in the crimes, both the Hares were set free. Mag died seven years later in France, but William lived to the age of 80 and died a beggar in London.
Burke himself remains with us to this day—a skeleton in the Edinburgh anatomy museum. The placard placed beside this stocky structure is decorated with a small skull and minces no words. It reads: William Burke, The Murderer.
Chris Holly, who is today a respected paranormal investigator, learned a dreadful truth when she was a teenager—that there are things beyond the ken of mortal men that prowl the darkness for their victims. In fact, it appears that the “thing”—vampire, ghoul, zombie, or reptilian monster—that pursued her, could well have ended her career as a researcher before it had a chance to begin.
The following account is presented in Chris’ own words:
I was 16 years old and had my junior driver’s license, which meant I could drive until dark. It was summer and dusk came late—around nine o’clock. When we planned our days well and were lucky enough, we would arrange with the 18-year-olds who had full licenses to follow us home to drop off our cars before nightfall. They would then take us out in their cars for the rest of the night.
On a typical evening we would all hang out at the McDonald’s in town. As dusk approached we would try to find the 18 year-olds willing to follow us home before the night took hold and the police sorted us out. Anyone caught driving with a junior license after nightfall would lose his or her driving rights altogether. Consequently, the hours between seven o’clock and nine o’clock became critically important each evening. If we did not have our “after nine” pals lined up by then, we were home for the night by nightfall.
Paranormal investigator Chris Holly became a believer when she was a teenager and met a real ghoulish being.
It was a Saturday night. My parents were off visiting my grandparents. I was allowed to drive my mother’s convertible around with my pals until nightfall. I was to return the car to our house by 8:45—or else.
I was out with my two friends, Sally and Sara. We were hanging out with our other pals at McDonald’s. My friend Sally’s older brother agreed to pick us up at my house at 10 o’clock that night—after I had taken my mom’s car home. He agreed to take us for pizza in town. It was a big deal to us at the time as my friend’s brother was a 20 year-old. Being seen at the pizza place with him was a feather in our 16-year-old caps.
Time came for us to take the car home and so we headed to my house to meet Sally’s brother. I drove the car home and parked it in the driveway in front of the house.
We all rushed to my front door as a few hours of cola drinking at McDonald’s left us all in urgent need of the bathroom. The three of us ran to the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom and laughed as we yelled at each other to hurry up and swore off all additional cola drinking during future McDonald’s visits. I was last in line and rushed into the bathroom as my two friends stood brushing their hair in the mirror.
My friend Sally stood straight up, turned completely white, and said to Sara and me, “I have a horrid feeling—we are not alone in the house. I think I heard something.”
We all froze and listened. I thought I heard a sort of bump, too. I stood up and said, “Let’s get out of here!”
The three of us blasted through the bathroom doorway, down the hallway, and out the front door. I slammed the door and locked it. Luckily, I had placed my keys into my pocket, but I left my pocketbook inside the house. We ran to the car and I backed it into the street. We quickly closed the convertible top and locked all the car doors. We were all in the front seat. We sat there terrified. I could feel my heart pounding with a fear I knew was real and warranted.
After a few minutes we thought maybe we were just suffering from “boogie-man” syndrome. I thought I should at least go back inside and get my pocketbook. Then I could call my parents and have my license and money with me as well. I was getting out of the car to go back to the house when something caught my eye.
As I lifted myself from the driver’s seat and stepped outside the car, I thought I saw the front porch light flicker. My friend Sara stood beside me in the street as we looked up at the house. We watched as the light over the front door turned on and off—again and again.
I felt a fear I had never before known. Somebody was definitely inside the house and playing with us as well.
We jumped back into the car and locked the doors again. I started the car so we could go call the police and my parents. As I turned the ignition key with my trembling hand, I continued to watch this person inside our house proceeding to light up the living room.
As we pulled away, my friend Sally said, “Oh God, he is in your room! He turned on your light!”
I felt sick and angry all at once, knowing as I drove for help that someone was in my home, intentionally toying with us.
We reached the end of my street just as my friend’s brother turned the corner on his way to pick us up. I blew the horn and told him to pull over. We all started screaming at once. He had brought two of his football pals with him and so we all decided to return to the house for one more look.
We both parked in the street and everyone watched as lights inside the house kept switching on and off every few seconds—first the kitchen, then the den, and then over to the living room. The front porch light was apparently turned on and off every time this intruder passed the switch inside.
The boys watched this taking place and clearly felt the same fear we did. My friend’s brother decided we needed to call the police. He sent one of his friends in his car to call 911. We stayed locked in my mother’s car—the three of us girls, Sally’s brother, and Sally’s brother’s friend.
I decided to keep the motor running. At this point I was scared out of my mind. We watched as the light show continued. We sat silently waiting. The air was still. The only sounds we heard were the light chirping of summer crickets and the light hum of the car motor. Nobody said a word. We