Dark Stories True Crime Blog - Page 2

William Casey: The Soldier Accused of Robbery in the Park

William Casey is barely out of boyhood when military life delivers him into the world of violence and accusation that defines his story. Enlisted at fifteen into the Guards by his own soldier father, Casey serves in Spain and returns to London carrying the restless habits of a young man raised among regiments; Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals captures his brief, troubled trajectory in vivid detail.

His is a case where the line between righteousness and brutality blurs beyond recognition. It is the kind of true crime account where competing versions of events leave the reader suspended between sympathy and suspicion, uncertain who is the aggressor and who is the victim.

In the shadows of a London park, a confrontation takes shape that will drag a young soldier before the full machinery of Georgian justice. The full account lives in Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals; settle in now and let it unfold in your hearing.

William Casey: The Soldier Accused of Robbery in the Park

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Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

The past speaks its own dialect; here is what to listen for in this episode.

Fray: today we mostly encounter this word when fabric is coming apart at the edges, but in the eighteenth century a fray was a brawl, a sudden violent scuffle between individuals. It carries a sharper edge than ‘fight’; it implies disorder, chaos, something erupting without warning in the dark.

Prosecutor: in Georgian England this word did not mean a government lawyer standing at a podium. The prosecutor was the victim themselves; the person who brought the complaint and pressed the charge. John Stone is called ‘the prosecutor’ because he is the one who set the legal wheels turning against Casey.

Neck-cloth: a strip of linen or muslin worn tied around the throat, ancestor of the modern necktie. In the early 1700s it was a standard item of a gentleman’s dress, and stealing one counted as a meaningful theft; clothing had genuine resale value in a world before mass manufacture.

Swear sodomy upon him: to accuse someone formally of the crime of sodomy, which in this period was a capital offence. The threat to ‘swear sodomy’ on a man was not merely social ruin; it was a threat to have him hanged. It functioned as a devastating weapon in disputes, and false accusations were not unheard of.

Viz.: short for the Latin ‘videlicet,’ meaning ‘namely’ or ‘that is to say.’ It appears in Casey’s written statement and was common legal and literary shorthand of the era. You can think of it as the eighteenth century version of ‘i.e.’ or ‘specifically.’

Ignominious: meaning deeply shameful, bringing public disgrace. The word still exists today but was far more commonly deployed in this period, particularly in connection with public punishment, where the shame was considered part of the penalty itself.

Discharge his conscience: to relieve the burden on one’s soul by speaking the truth before death. This phrase carried heavy spiritual weight; the belief was that dying with a lie on your lips endangered your immortal soul. When Casey chooses to ‘discharge his conscience,’ he is making what he considers a sacred final act.

About This Series

Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals is one of the earliest works of true crime writing in the English language, nearly 300 years old, covering murderers, thieves, highwaymen, forgers, coiners and worse.

The book is entirely in the public domain and every word of it can be read today for free. But if you would rather listen, this podcast does exactly that: one criminal at a time, every week, read aloud.

True crime was not invented by podcasts or streaming services. Eighteenth century readers were just as fascinated by outlaws and killers as we are today. They just consumed their dark stories by candlelight.

The voice you hear is David Dark: crime researcher, theatre script writer, producer of live immersive experiences, and audiobook narrator and voice artist. This podcast uses an AI voice model trained on David’s own voice, built using the maximum available training data to faithfully represent how he actually sounds. To hear David’s real voice in human generated form, visit him on Audible, Online Stage, Voices of Today, Spoken Realms, and Internet Archive.

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John Wigley: The Lone Highwayman of Finchley Common

by Davros Dark

A plasterer by trade, John Wigley abandons honest work early and slides into what Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals calls ‘felonious methods of getting money.’ His is a solitary brand of criminality; he rides out alone onto the dark roads around the commons north of London, trusting no one, convinced that gangs always betray themselves in the end.

This true crime story from the early eighteenth century carries the smell of damp hedgerows and cheap brandy. Wigley drifts between a woman who sells spirits on the common and a life spent prowling the highways, always alone, always suspicious of companionship.

The roads he haunts are patient places, but the justice of Georgian England is not, and something is closing in on the lone highwayman who refuses to trust anyone but himself. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals tells his story in full; listen now and walk those dark roads beside him.

John Wigley: The Lone Highwayman of Finchley Common

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Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

The past speaks its own dialect; here is what to listen for in this episode.

Bred: today we might say someone was ‘raised’ or ‘trained,’ but in the eighteenth century to be ‘bred’ to a trade meant you had been apprenticed in it from youth. It carried weight: your breeding was your destiny, and to abandon it was a moral as well as a practical failure.

Ill courses: a phrase that sounds almost gentle to modern ears, but it meant a sustained pattern of criminal or immoral behaviour. Not a single mistake; a chosen path, walked deliberately and repeatedly.

Benighted: today this word means ignorant or unenlightened, used as a metaphor. In this text it is purely literal: to be benighted was to be overtaken by nightfall while travelling, stranded in the dark. On the roads around London, being benighted could be fatal for reasons that had nothing to do with weather.

Confederacies in villainy: a wonderfully heavy phrase for criminal gangs. A ‘confederacy’ implied an organised alliance, almost a conspiracy. The text uses it to describe the very partnerships Wigley despised, believing that sworn oaths among thieves always crumbled when their lives were at stake.

Receded from: to recede from a resolution meant to abandon or retreat from a decision you had made. It carries a sense of weakness; Wigley’s whole philosophy rests on working alone, and the moment he recedes from that principle, everything changes.

Rapine: a word that has all but vanished from everyday English. It meant the violent seizure of property; plunder by force. It is distinct from mere theft; rapine carries the connotation of aggression, of taking things at the point of a weapon.

Malefactor: a criminal or wrongdoer, drawn from Latin roots meaning ‘one who does evil.’ It was a common courtroom and literary term in the eighteenth century, carrying a solemnity that the word ‘criminal’ sometimes lacks. When you hear it in this episode, imagine it spoken by a judge.

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John Meff: The Housebreaker Who Could Not Stay Away

by Davros Dark

John Meff is the son of French Protestant refugees who fled persecution under Louis XIV, raised in London with great care and bound apprentice to a weaver. He serves faithfully, marries, and then finds himself unable to keep his family alive on honest wages; it is poverty, not wickedness, that first pushes him toward housebreaking, a trajectory recorded in Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals with the unsentimental clarity that makes it one of the earliest works of true crime writing we possess.

What follows is a life of compounding misfortune: narrow escapes, broken resolutions, and a restless drift across oceans that never quite carries Meff far enough from the world he is trying to leave behind. His story belongs to a London where the line between desperation and damnation is thinner than anyone cares to admit.

Every road Meff walks seems to curve back toward the same dark gravity, and the law of Georgian England is not a patient institution. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals holds the full account; hear it now, read aloud in all its grim detail.

John Meff: The Housebreaker Who Could Not Stay Away

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Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

The past speaks its own dialect; here is what to listen for in this episode.

Transported: in modern usage this word simply means moved from one place to another, but in eighteenth century criminal law it carried a very specific and dreaded meaning. To be transported was to be shipped to the colonies as punishment, forced into years of hard labour far from home. It was considered a mercy compared to hanging, though those who endured it might have disagreed.

Marooned: today this word is used loosely to mean stranded anywhere, but its origin is steeped in pirate custom. To be marooned was to be deliberately abandoned on an uninhabited island, usually with little or no provisions; it was a death sentence disguised as exile, a punishment pirates inflicted on those who refused to join their crew or who broke their code.

Springes: a word now almost entirely extinct. A springe was a snare or trap for catching birds and small animals, typically made from a loop of cord or wire attached to a bent branch. In this account, the castaways fashion them from the horsehair of an old wig; desperation breeds invention.

Fluxes: in the eighteenth century a flux was a violent and often fatal bout of diarrhoea or dysentery, the kind of illness that could reduce a strong person to helplessness within days. The word had an urgency to it that its modern medical equivalents have lost; aboard ships and on desolate islands, flux killed as readily as fever.

Ill-courses: a polite eighteenth century way of saying a life of crime. The phrase carried a note of moral judgement baked right into it; one did not simply commit crimes, one ‘addicted’ oneself to ill-courses, as though lawbreaking were a sickness of the will.

Impeached: today impeachment belongs almost entirely to political language, but in this period it meant something closer to informing on or betraying one’s accomplices to the authorities. To impeach a fellow criminal was to give evidence against them in exchange for one’s own life; a survival tactic with a very short shelf life.

Act of Indemnity: a parliamentary pardon extended to certain classes of offenders, wiping the slate clean for specific crimes committed before a given date. These acts were political tools as much as legal ones, and whether a particular criminal fell within their scope could be a matter of life and death; in Meff’s case, the question is raised at trial with everything hanging in the balance.

Put in the cart: the condemned were loaded into an open cart and paraded through the streets to the place of execution. The phrase sounds almost mundane, but for the person sitting in that cart, surrounded by crowds, it was the last journey they would ever take.

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John Winship: The Young Highwayman of Covent Garden

by Davros Dark

He is seventeen, an apprentice carpenter in Covent Garden, and he has just noticed a young woman standing in a doorway. In Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, the story of John Winship begins not with violence but with infatuation; a boy whose idle upbringing leaves him entirely unprepared for the cost of courtship, and who drifts toward the road when honest wages fall short.

There is something quietly inevitable about Winship’s slide from lovesick youth to mounted robber, a trajectory that feels as urgent now as it did in the 1720s. His is a piece of true crime from an era when the line between a restless boy and a desperate outlaw could be crossed in a single reckless season.

The dark roads outside London are waiting, and John Winship is about to learn what the night demands in return for its silver. Hear his full account read aloud from the pages of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals; let the words of 1735 carry you back to the world he once rode through.

John Winship: The Young Highwayman of Covent Garden

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Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

The past speaks its own dialect; here is what to listen for in this episode.

Footpad: a highway robber who works on foot rather than on horseback. Where the highwayman had a certain theatrical glamour, the footpad was considered the meaner, more desperate breed; closer to a mugger than a mounted outlaw. Winship is called both, which tells you he took whatever opportunity came his way.

Pistoles: not pistols, though the words look similar enough to confuse. A pistole was a gold coin, originally Spanish, widely circulated across Europe. When the Frenchman loses a hundred and twenty of them, the sum is enormous; this is serious money taken at serious risk.

Caressed: today this word suggests gentle physical affection, but in the eighteenth century it meant to treat with favour, to flatter, to welcome warmly into a group. When the gangs ‘caressed’ Winship, they were not being tender; they were courting his agility and daring for their own profit.

Chariot: not the ancient two-wheeled war vehicle. In Georgian England a chariot was a light, enclosed carriage for one or two passengers, often privately owned. It signals wealth; if you are riding in a chariot, you are worth robbing.

The Ordinary: the chaplain of Newgate Prison, whose official duty was to minister to condemned prisoners. He also had a sideline that would raise eyebrows today: publishing accounts of their confessions and lives for public sale. When Winship refuses to confess to the Ordinary, he is refusing to feed both the man’s spiritual office and his printing press.

Suffered: in modern English, to suffer is to endure pain. In this text, it simply means ‘allowed’ or ‘permitted’; youths are ‘suffered to live’ in idleness means they are let alone to do nothing. The word carried no implication of agony, only of passive tolerance.

Divers: nothing to do with swimming. This is an old form of ‘diverse,’ meaning various or several. When Winship is said to have been concerned in ‘divers gangs,’ the word paints a picture of a man drifting between criminal circles, never settling, always available.

Run distracted: to go mad, to lose one’s reason from grief or shock. It is a vivid phrase; the mind does not simply crack, it runs, as if sanity were a thing that bolts from the body and cannot be caught again.

Dark Stories True Crime Blog - Page 2

Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

About This Series

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

About This Series

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

About This Series

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

Dark Lexicon: Old words. Dark meaning.

About This Series

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

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