Aaron Kozminski was a Polish Jew chased by oppression, bigotry, and pogroms from his native country. His father had long since died and at least one older brother had already left. Aaron was 15.
He fled to England, ending up stranded in the largely Jewish ghetto on the east end of London called the Whitechapel district, where he most likely lived with one of two brothers, off and on. He crops up in public records once he is committed to a work house and later an asylum. This happens more than once, and he ends up being committed for good in 1890, very likely a paranoid schizophrenic.
Was he Jack the Ripper?
Robert Anderson and probably others high in Scotland Yard thought so but could not prove it. Not enough to satisfy an indictment and court of law. Once he was put under surveillance — which happened unfortunately only after Mary Kelly’s horrific indoor demolition — the murders stopped, the conventional wisdom goes.
We’re not sure he was watched. Someone was, probably Kozminsky, but no one’s sure these days. Files have been lost and stolen. We’re not even entirely sure the murders stopped; depends who you ask.
Roy Hazelwood, who wrote the preface to House’s excellent book, finds Kozminsky the perfect candidate. He is one of the original FBI agents who developed profiling at the Behavioral Sciences Unit made famous by SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. Given that we are all hobbled by the scarcity of solid facts about Kozminsky or, for that matter, the police investigation of the Ripper murders, he feels Kozminsky “fits like a glove” the profile of Jack the Ripper. His opinion is certainly to be respected.
Robert House, for his part, does a superb job of placing the murders, and Kozminsky, into historical and sociopolitical context. He brings to bear masterful research and careful reasoning, and presents us with a vivid tour of what it must have been like there on Whitechapel’s dark, dank streets.
House writes well in a poised, professional tone that manages to avoid both academic stiffness when addressing brainy matters and breezy discursive chattiness when his own voice emerges to discuss logic or bemoan the near-impossibility ever of solving the case to a certainty. His book is sober, serious, and scholarly while remaining readable and engaging.
This is one of the best books about Jack the Ripper I’ve encountered, and I’ve got a groaning shelf full. He makes his case, as had Scotland Yard, it seems.
There are three photo sections included, and a good notes section, along with an index. Altogether a top-notch work, well presented and worth the price asked.
Recommended strongly for anyone who wants a clear-headed examination of a baffling, significant murder case that kicked in the modern serial killer media frenzy.
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