Chicago Tribune, July 19, 1935. I really don’t understand this enthusiam–seemingly universal among hacksaw killers–for distributing body parts across the countryside. It only multiplies the odds of your crime being detected. When disposing of a murder victim’s body, it seems preferable to put all your eggs in one basket. And when I say “basket” I mean a well-considered and pre-excavated rural grave site, not a big black trunk in a ditch by a highway. If I found a trunk in a ditch by a highway, I wouldn’t even have to told what was in it: It’s either limbs or a torso, and either way I’m just phoning that shit in without opening the box. But I love how “Jung Moy Gee” is the guy’s “alias”. Hully gee, it sure does sound sinister.
Okay, I can see how the shoes could be made to stay on throughout all the hacksawing, which takes care of the socks too. Plus men wore those complicated little sock garter systems to hold their socks up back then, so maybe the socks could have made it on their own. (A propos of the decedent’s socks, they give the impression that he was a bit of a sport, no?) But how the hell are the pant legs still involved? Unless of course you made your cut above the belt line, which would seem like a really untidy and counter-intuitive option. It would almost outweigh the conveniences of dismemberment.
Man, it’s 1935 and the Chinese are still isolated to the point of ghetto semi-autonomy. I suppose it became a competition between the Tongs and the Triads to see who could serve up the fugitives. Until then, the cops kept busting opium dens to keep the pressure on.
But what’s with Mrs. Blanche Dunkel (whose wonderful name translates “white dark”)? Why is she putting out a hit on the ex-husband of her dead daughter? And how did she come to hire Evelyn Smith and her Chinese husband?