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Due to the nature of this case, listener discretion is advised. This episode includes discussions of murder, torture, and domestic violence. Consider this when deciding how and when you'll listen. When comparing the world's most notorious killers, one metric usually comes up: victim count.
I don't enjoy the idea of turning real people, real victims, into the equivalent of sports stats. But that doesn't change the fact that it's been happening for centuries. So for the purposes of this episode, let's take a look at some famous names and their numbers. Ed Gein had two known victims. Jeffrey Dahmer had 17. John Wayne Gacy had 33, 28 of whom have been identified.
Ted Bundy is a little tricky to nail down. He had at least 30 known victims. But some researchers believe he killed more than 100 people. An inquiry found that Harold Shipman killed at least 215 and as many as 260.
But Pedro Lopez usually tops most lists. He was convicted of 110 murders and is suspected of killing more than 300 people, mostly women. His whereabouts are unknown to this day. Then there's Giulia Tofana, a woman born in 17th century Italy. If the legends are true, she killed around 600 people.
More specifically, 600 men.
I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is Serial Killers, a Spotify podcast. You can find us here every Monday. Be sure to check us out on Instagram at Serial Killers Podcast. We'd love to hear from you. If you're listening on the Spotify app, swipe up and give us your thoughts. Today, I'm joined by the hosts of Women and Crime, Professors Megan Sachs and Amy Schlossberg. They both teach criminology, and we're thrilled to have them with us.
Happy to be here. Thanks so much, Vanessa. Yes, we're thrilled to be here, Vanessa. Thank you for having us. Thank you. After this, Julia Tofana, rumored to be one of the most prolific killers of all time.
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Okay, when you type the name Julia Tofana into Google, these are some of the headlines that come up. Julia Tofana, serial killer or heroine. Julia Tofana, the Italian serial killer who became a legend. Meet the woman who killed over 600 men. The number 600 comes up a lot, but there's also Queenpin of the criminal magical underworld. The angel of death with a vial of vengeance.
Clearly, a lot has been written about Julia Tofana in the centuries since she lived. Had either one of you heard of this story before? Vanessa, I have never heard of this story, I must say. I thought having taught serial offenders and women in crime, I would have, but no.
Okay, I feel a lot better because neither had I. I had never heard of it, but I find it absolutely fascinating. So how about I walk listeners through the story as it's popularly told on the internet, podcasts, and YouTube channels before handing the reins over to the two of you for an examination of the facts. Sounds good to me. Sounds perfect. Okay, so it starts in Sicily, an island just off the coast of mainland Italy at the tip of the boot.
Julia is born in 1620. Before she turns 14, her mother, Teofania de Adamo, poisons and kills her husband, presumably Julia's father. Teofania is put on trial for murder, found guilty, and executed by city officials. But the recipe for her poison passes on to Julia and eventually bears their name, Aqua Tofana.
The recipe is unknown, but it's rumored to be made with an arsenic base that's mixed with special ingredients that mask its taste and make it completely untraceable in death. Its symptoms even mimic common ailments: sore throat, stomach pain, vomiting, diarrhea. After Teofania's death, Giulia flees Sicily with some of her mother's accomplices. She pops up in Naples for a while and ultimately settles in Rome.
That's where she launches the business that eventually makes her famous, selling seemingly ordinary cosmetic and beauty products to women. Creams, oils, powders, most are completely harmless. But for the desperate customer hoping to escape the terrors of a loveless or abusive marriage, Julia keeps tinctures of aqua tofana on hand. ♪
She packages the poison in ornate glass vials that can be inconspicuously placed on any aspiring widow's vanity without raising suspicions from their husband.
Just four to six drops are capable of killing a full-grown man. But with proper dosing, clients can extend their victims' suffering for months at a time, long enough for them to, say, get their affairs in order. Some people refer to these kinds of poisons as "inheritance powders."
Julia doesn't operate alone. She acts as the ringleader of a network of women. They build a booming business with clientele that comes from all walks of life, from the impoverished on up to the social elite. And things carry on successfully for years, until one day, word gets out and everything comes crashing down. Roman officials put a warrant out for Julia's arrest.
She evades capture for a while, finding sanctuary among nuns. But soon enough, a rumor spreads through the city that Julia poisoned the local water supply. Sanctuary goes out the window. Officials rip her away from the convent and lock her up.
Under torture, Julia confesses to killing over 600 men between 1633 and 1651. Like her mother, she's executed along with a handful of her accomplices. But her poison and its legacy endures.
Roman officials post warnings about aqua tofana all around the city. The name enters the cultural zeitgeist and spreads around Europe, eventually evolving into an umbrella term for all kinds of lethal poisons. It actually becomes so widely used that the name aqua tofana starts to appear in medical textbooks by the early 20th century.
But maybe the most famous mention of aqua tofana happens in the fall of 1791, more than a century after Julia's execution. Ahead of his death, renowned composer Wolfgang Abadeus Mozart blames aqua tofana for his failing health.
According to one recollection, he said, quote, I feel definitely that I will not last much longer. I am sure that I have been poisoned. I cannot rid myself of this idea. Someone has given me aqua tofana and calculated the precise time of my death.
These days, most researchers agree that Mozart wasn't poisoned. He likely died from an infection that spread to his kidneys. But the fact that on his deathbed, Aqua Tofana crossed his mind shows the type of impact it had. It stoked fear, mostly among men, for centuries. And to this day, science hasn't been able to replicate anything that rivals its reputation.
Which is one of the reasons people question whether the stories are true. Did a 17th century Italian woman create the perfect weapon? Did her daughter use it to kill over 600 men? Double the victim count of history's so-called most prolific serial killer. Was Giulia Tofana a hero, a villain, or a victim?
Professors Megan Sachs and Amy Schlossberg from Women and Crime are here to help us answer those questions and more. Hello again, Megan, Amy. Hello, Vanessa. Thank you for having us.
Before we begin, nothing we're about to cover would be possible without the research of two scholars, Mike Dash and Craig Monson. They've spent years tracking down historical records to piece together the most complete picture of the truth. Yes, if this stuff interests you, definitely check out their work. Absolutely. I couldn't agree more.
Okay, so where do we begin? Well, I want to start with Teofania D'Adamo, the alleged creator of Aqua Tofana. She was by all accounts 100% real. She was put on trial in Palermo, Sicily in July 1633, found guilty of murder by poison and sentenced to die.
Did she kill her husband? I think that's up for debate. But when I tell you this woman was killed in the most horrific manner possible, Amy, I mean it. Okay, so how did she die? Well, accounts vary. Cicely was under Spanish rule at the time. City officials either stuffed her into a canvas sack and threw her off the roof of the bishop's palace onto a street lined with gawking spectators. Or...
She was hanged, drawn and quartered, which for those who don't know what that entails, she would have been tied to the back of a horse, dragged to the gallows, hanged until she was almost dead, disemboweled and then decapitated before having her limbs attached to four horses that would then be driven in four different directions.
That sounds absolutely horrific. Yes, it's not like the Spanish viceroy doled out these kinds of punishments to the average killer. Her execution was meant to send a message that poisoners were basically the scum of the earth and deserved to be treated as such. Was poison as gendered then as it is today?
Oh, definitely. It was viewed as a weapon employed by women against men. And how was the message received? Teofania was real, but did Aqua Tofana carry on through her daughter, Julia? Well, it's up in the air whether Julia was actually Teofania's daughter. But yes, Aqua Tofana lived on. What can I say? You can't kill innovation. Okay, so let's rewind a bit.
Teofania D'Adamo was real. She was executed in Sicily in 1633 for using a poison that allegedly killed its victims within three days. But she wasn't the only poisoner put to death around this time. A little over a year earlier, a woman named Francesca Lassarda was executed for essentially the same crime. And it's since been assumed that they were accomplices. Who's making these assumptions?
Well, most of what we know about these women comes from a man who investigated their cases much later in 1881. His name was Salvatore Salamani Marino, and he was a Sicilian antiquary, which, as I understand it, is like a historian, an archaeologist and an archivist rolled into one. In 1881, Salvatore got his hands on a bunch of records written at the time of Francesca and Teofania's trials.
Those papers apparently referred to the poison the women used as aqua teofania, which to Salvatore suggested teofania was the mastermind behind it and Francesca the accomplice. I buy that logic. Salvatore is also the person who first suggested Julia and teofania were related. He pointed to the similarity of their names. He claimed that it was common for kids to use their parents' Christian name as a surname.
What do other people say? Generally, people think it's a flimsy connection. But Julia was real? Totally. And chances are she knew Teofania. It's unclear whether she ever used the name Teofania, either generally in life or for her business. What probably happened was some historian gave her the name after she died.
Her father's surname was actually Mangiardi. She's referenced in records and transcripts as Giulia Siciliana, meaning Giulia the Sicilian. Some call her La Stolaga or the astrologer, others simply Donna Giulia. In his book, The Black Widows of the Eternal City, Craig Monson estimates she was born in or around 1581, which puts her at about 50 at the time Teofania was executed.
What else do we know about Julia? Well, her family must have been relatively well off. When she married a guy in Sicily, her dowry included a bunch of cash and two townhouses on a square in Corleone. So it was nothing to scoff at. Notably, when Julia tied the knot, she became a stepmother to a young woman named Gironima Spana or Girolama Spara, depending on which source you're looking at. We're going with Gironima.
By Gironima's own account, Donna Giulia was really a great stepmother who taught her everything she knew, which was a lot. Donna Giulia was what Italians at the time called a wise woman. That was a sage-like figure who peddled secrets and had almost supernatural powers. People went to her for advice, for readings, for medical cures, for all kinds of stuff. Some even dealt in real estate.
Were people afraid of her? While Donna is a term of respect in Italian, like madam or lady, Sophia isn't the right word. But very early on in Sicily, rumors started to follow Donna Giulia. Like when a wealthy bachelor suddenly and unexpectedly died after arriving in Sicily, people suspected Giulia had a hand in it. The police learned the guy's silver and cash were mysteriously missing.
Sounds like speculation to me. To be fair, it was speculation based on rumor. But there were a lot more rumors where that came from.
When did Julia end up in Rome? By Craig Monson's timeline, she didn't wait until Teofania's execution to flee Sicily. He places her and Geronima in Rome by 1624, years before Teofania's execution. What prompted them leaving? Well, Monson says they fled Sicily just steps ahead of the law. They took the recipe for acqua tofana with them?
Yes, evidence suggests Donna Giulia took that knowledge with her and eventually taught others how to make it. Okay, Giulia and Geronimo arrived in Rome in 1624. What happened next?
They got in touch with Geronima's uncle, Andrea, who ran in similar circles. He gave astrological readings, dabbled in fortune telling, and had what Monson describes as a shadowy reputation. He apparently gained a lot of notoriety for predicting the next pope. Okay, what does that mean? Like he told some guy he was going to be pope one day, and that guy, who was a cardinal at the time, became the pope. Pope Urban VIII, to be specific.
So just luck here or maybe something more? When did the family business go from soothsaying to aqua tofana?
While I'm not sure there was ever a sharp transition, it's not like these women had storefronts. Aqua Tefana was always just one of their many products and services. They charged for anything people would pay for. Cookware, perfumes, oils, charms, creams, powders, cures, information, you name it. And their customers generally came to them through referrals. That's how these networks of women kept a low profile. It was all about connections.
Oh.
Okay, so who's this priest? His name was Father Girolamo, and Father Girolamo's brother worked as an apothecary, so he would have sold arsenic. But do we know how Julia and her associates packaged aqua tofana? I'm wondering if that part is true. It is. They bottled it in glass jars and gave them fake labels that said, mana of St. Nicholas on them. That was the name of a real and popular oil sold at the time.
Julia and her wise women claimed it removed blemishes. But obviously, Aquatofana did much more than that. Do we know any of the ingredients besides arsenic? Mike Dash gets into this. It's believed the solution had antimony and lead in it as well, maybe mercuric chloride. But there's been a lot of speculation, specifically around what could have masked the arsenic's metallic taste and made the poison so undetectable.
Different accounts claim it contained toad flax, Spanish fly, snapdragon extract, pennywort, and more. Some even claimed it had the spit of madmen in it. Okay, I get the business. It was all intentionally amorphous and secretive. But when did Julia get caught? What do the records tell us about that? Well, this is where we take our biggest departure. Julia might never have been caught.
In Toxicology in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Mike Dash wrote that she died in 1651, probably in bed without ever being convicted of a single crime, well before any mention of murder or 600 men.
Craig Monson lists an even more precise death date, January 17th, 1651. How old would she have been? If she was born around 1581, as Monson estimates, she would have been about 80, which seems like a long life to me, especially for a 17th century Italian woman who lived through at least one plague a year.
But this is where I pass the baton to you, Amy. You research the next part. The business of selling aqua to fauna didn't stop after Julia's death, did it? No, it didn't. Julia's stepdaughter and protege, Jirenima, stepped in as the new ringleader. She took everything she learned from her uncle, Andrea, and from her stepmother and put it into practice. And she did it.
And believe it or not, for those living in Rome at the time, her reputation eventually overshadowed Giulia's. Rumors eventually spread that she practiced witchcraft, spoke to demons, and could see into the future. Like her uncle, she may have even predicted the election of a pope. And what set Gironima apart from the other women in her industry was the quality of her connections. She married a Florentine aristocrat, which brought her into some wealthy and influential social circles.
I'm talking about duchesses, wifes of senators, and people who wanted to hold public office. Some of Rome's elite even sent carriages to pick her up and bring her to their houses, which is the equivalent of sending a stretch limo today. And by all accounts, Geronima projected an air of the utmost piety. She attended mass and went on religious pilgrimages. She apparently even had a Franciscan friar dedicated to hearing her confessions.
I'm assuming she wasn't totally honest in those confessions. I think that's safe to say. Did Geronima's husband know what his wife did for a living? That's harder to answer. He died before she was caught. So did Geronima poison her husband? Maybe, but probably not. We don't know how far her influence reached, but he died during a plague year, and they weren't in the same town when he passed. He was on the run, hiding from creditors. I'm sorry, what?
Sounds like a decent guy.
As Craig Monson points out in his book, Geronima's marriage might have been one reason why she was so sympathetic to women in similar or worse circumstances. She was definitely in it for the profits, but some accounts claim that she handed out bottles of aqua tofana free of charge to women in especially desperate situations. When did Geronima get caught? 1659.
One of Geronimo's associates was a woman named Giovanna de Grandis. Giovanna was a widow many times over. Hmm, suspicious, but go on. Where Geronimo was from Sicily and catered to the elite, Giovanna was born in Rome and dealt with a more impoverished clientele. And by 1659, Giovanna herself was barely scraping by.
Today, no one really knows how word of Aqua Tofana first reached city officials. By some accounts, a priest might have leaked something he heard during confession. But regardless of how it happened, court records indicate that city officials launched a sting operation to take down the network of so-called wise women. And Giovanna was their way in. In this version, officials played the long game. They found a woman to act as their mole. They gave her an alias and set her up in a house in a nice part of town.
They had her visit Giovanna, asking for astrological readings. But over time, she started to drop hints that her marriage was bad and she was unhappy. One thing led to another, and suddenly Giovanna was bringing up Aquitofana. They settled on a price and agreed on a time and place to handle the exchange.
When Giovanna showed up and handed over the bottle, two witnesses jumped out from their hiding spot under a bed and a police chief and a notary came out from behind a curtain. Giovanna was then arrested and thrown into a prison chamber. It was all very dramatic. And a classic sting operation. Did anyone confirm, though, that it was actually poison she sold? Yeah, unfortunately, they tested it on domestic animals and the animals died. Oh, that's hard to argue with.
And it didn't take much to elicit a confession from Giovanna. As soon as she realized how much information city officials already knew, she caved and named names. She said Father Girolamo supplied the arsenic, Donna Giulia taught her how to make it, before she died, of course, and then there were three other ringleaders besides her and Gironima.
She gave up their names too because Giovanna made it clear she didn't want to be tortured, death she could handle, but she wanted as little suffering as possible. Her life had been unkind enough. Did the other women confess?
Everyone except Geronima. She denied all accusations, no matter what horrors or evidence was placed in front of her, even after her house servant betrayed her by supplying police with details about her criminal activities. And technically, under Roman law at the time, a person couldn't be executed if they didn't confess.
I'm assuming they used torture to extract any remaining confessions? No, not in this case. In his book, Monson suggests that this had something to do with the women's reputations. Officials feared that their supernatural abilities could maybe allow them to withstand extreme pain, and their prospective torturers were afraid of looking stupid.
A powerful tool in this case. But ultimately, it didn't matter that Geronimo never made a confession. The Pope wrote a decree that allowed officials to go around the law and execute her anyway.
the same pope whose rise to power some accounts claim she predicted. And in addition to the five ringleaders, officials rounded up a bunch of their accomplices and dozens of their customers as well. The trial ultimately centered around 46 murders. The five ringleaders, including Geronima and Giovanna, were hanged in front of an especially large crowd in July of 1659.
Six of their accomplices and more than 40 of their customers were given life sentences in prison, but many more, like the arsenic-dealing priest, got off scot-free. It's possible the priest died before the trial and therefore couldn't have been punished, but the Pope had a bunch of names removed from trial records, mostly socially prominent aristocrats. So do we know how the number 600 came about?
This is where things get a little complicated. There are accounts that people have pointed to that could suggest Donna Julia or Julia Tofana didn't die in 1651.
For example, a French Dominican missionary wrote about an old poisoner who was captured and executed in Naples in 1709. Later, the doctor to the Holy Roman Emperor wrote about a poisoner who used aqua tofana to kill more than 600 men, women, and children in Naples. Did either one mention a name? Nope, they only mentioned aqua tofana. Later, secondary sources just attached Julia's name to the accounts.
That said, a German travel writer and archaeologist wrote about an old little woman who was imprisoned in Naples as late as 1730. He called her an infamous poisoner who belonged to some religious sisterhood and claimed that people lined up to visit her in prison. He specifically used the name Tofana. Okay, if that was her, how old would she have been? Like over a hundred, right? At least, yeah.
The explanation that makes the most sense to me is another woman who sold the poison adopted the name Tofana. Probably would have been good marketing given the brand recognition. Exactly. The 1659 trial made Aqua Tofana unbelievably famous. Roman officials plastered notices all around the city warning the public of the threat it posed. Warning, your wives are trying to kill you and steal your money.
Basically, yeah. And given Aqua Tofana's purported properties, everyone will think you died of a perfectly ordinary disease and you won't see it coming. In no small way, a little vial of liquid threatened to upend what was seen as the natural order of things. Men ruled over women who were little more than possessions. Mike Dash compares the evolution of Aqua Tofana's reputation to a moral panic, intentionally stoked by patriarchal systems to send a message.
Was Aquato Fauna as powerful as the rumors suggested? Given that modern science still can't make a slow-acting, tasteless, undetectable poison? Probably not. A knowledgeable coroner probably would have been able to tell their victims had died by arsenic poisoning. Well, it's also not like these women weren't suspected of wrongdoing before the 1659 trial. People gossiped, rumors existed, it just took the law a while to catch them.
Context is also important. As we've mentioned a few times, these wise women dabbled in a lot of different arts, and many of them were well-respected. They were also likely part of a much larger subculture. Mike Dash borrowed the term criminal magical underworld from historian Lin Wood Mollenauer to describe it. He wrote, quote,
The manufacture and sale of poisons was only one small part of activities of an extensive underworld that specialized in the supply of services that could not be offered by the established church and state. This community may have been at least 200 strong in mid-17th century Rome and numbered among its members wise women, astrologers, alchemists, confidence men, witches, shady apothecaries, and backstreet abortionists,
who between them told fortunes and cast horoscopes, sold love potions and lucky charms, cured toothaches, and offered to dispose of unwanted babies and unwanted husbands. In addition to ending them, wise women also brokered marriages.
Wow. I've just been sitting here this whole time listening to the two of you, and all I can say is this strange little slice of history is so fascinating. I'm not sure I'd ever want to be a part of this criminal, magical underworld, but I love that it existed. And I can't believe how much of the story of Julia Tofana changed over time. I do have one question, though. Okay, shoot.
We can confirm these women were killers, yes? Oh yes, there's plenty of evidence that their poisons ended lives. Definitely. So do we know how many? It's basically impossible to estimate because of the plague that hit Rome in 1657 and about 19% of the city's population died.
But we do know that the amount of husbands who died under mysterious circumstances spiked in the years that they were active. That's based on reports made by police informants. I would guess less than 600, but for all we know, the number could have been more. But it wasn't one woman responsible. Julia Tofana makes for a great attention-grabbing headline.
And the real story and the real women behind it are much more interesting than the headline in my book. Oh, that is fascinating. It sounds like we need a lot more time.
I love this. Before we wrap up, if you were to retry these women today, what sentence would you give them? And would you say Julia was a hero, villain, or victim? It almost seems like the wise women, it was vigilante justice. It may seem like what these women were doing was noble because they were helping women who were abused. Even if we see someone doing something wrong, that doesn't give us the right to take the law into our own hands.
And, you know, it's similar to today's the modern hitman. There's actually some states I've seen cases where the person who hires the hitman actually gets a harsher sentence than the hitman themselves. It's very discretionary and it varies by state. Yeah, this can come down to who's willing to talk, who's willing to cooperate. Anecdotally, when I was a federal officer, I worked on a pretty big case that involved
A hitman, multiple murders, and all of the people he ordered to carry out these hits. And in this case, much to my shock, and I just want you to know I was appalled, the person, the actual top of the chain, he cooperated against all of the men he ordered to carry out these crimes. And he received a sentence of eight years while all of the underlings received a sentence of life. So,
There's a lot of disparity in the way we treat these kinds of perpetrators. I do see a little unfairness, the fact that so many guilty parties were able to walk away from this. And you almost see these wise women taking the fall when the women who actually...
handed the poison over to their husbands, it seems like they got away with murder. It seems like the women who provided the poison, they were the ones that were vilified and demonized. But I think that men were more afraid of them. So I think they were the priority to take them down, to kind of immobilize them. Whereas the other women, I don't think were seen as threatening to male society as a whole. Yes, they were only threatening to their partners. Exactly.
You know, if this were to happen today, we would have probably a lot more evidence, more firsthand eyewitness accounts. There's rules around how people can be interrogated. So the interrogations would have looked very different. Sometimes people will falsely confess to avoid death also. If it's a situation where the interrogators are like, tell me what I want to hear, you're going to be quartered. Tell them what they want to hear. Yeah.
I would personally have liked to see some more eyewitness accounts, more importantly, something on CCTV. But again, we're talking about a different time. We certainly are, because I would go with show me the DNA. Where are the fingerprints? I want the forensics, which is definitely not always a part of most criminal cases. But Amy really listed all the evidence that I'd want to see. If there were any forensic evidence, that would also be wonderful. Yeah.
You might liken some of these women and the punishments to, let's say, Charles Manson. So Charles Manson often gets referred to as a serial killer. But Charles Manson didn't actually kill anyone. He just provided the instructions and the commands for others to do so. Yet our system treated him as culpable in the same way that the person or the people who actually carried out the crimes were.
So my opinion is, if they could prove it, these women are as guilty. And I would say that if there's intent, if they are intentionally poisoning their husbands, we'd still be looking at similar to a first degree murder situation.
But let me also just couch that in my opinion here, that I believe most of these women were victims and they had nowhere to turn, no resources, no help whatsoever. So when you ask the question or when we ask the question, are these women heroes? Are they villains? Are they victims? The truth is they're all of them. Most of the female offenders that we study modern day, they have extensive histories of,
Oh my gosh, I love that. That is a fascinating perspective.
With that, I'd like to thank our guests, Professors Megan Sachs and Amy Schlossberg, for joining me on this intriguing historical case. Their podcast, Women and Crime, covers the intersection of female crime and the legal system and dives into profiles of women in criminology. You can hear Women and Crime wherever you get your podcasts. Thanks again, Megan and Amy. We loved having you on the show. Thanks.
Thank you so much for having us, Vanessa. We are happy to come on anytime and share our insights and expertise on female offenders. Yeah, I don't know about you, Megan, but I really enjoyed telling this story and it was really great to work with you and your team, Vanessa. Thank you.
Thanks for tuning in to Serial Killers, a Spotify podcast. We're here with a new episode every Monday. Be sure to check us out on Instagram at Serial Killers Podcast. And we'd love to hear from you. So if you're listening on the Spotify app, swipe up and give us your thoughts.
Again, if you found today's episode interesting, we recommend checking out The Black Widows of the Eternal City by Craig Monson and Mike Dash's writing, which appears in Toxicology in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, and on his website, mike-history.com. It was all extremely helpful to our research. Stay safe out there.
Serial Killers is a Spotify podcast. This episode was fact-checked by Laurie Siegel and sound designed by Alex Button. Our head of programming is Julian Boirot. Our head of production is Nick Johnson, and Spencer Howard is our post-production supervisor. This episode was hosted by Megan Sachs, Amy Schlossberg, and me, Vanessa Richardson.