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Welcome to the Serial Killer Podcast. The podcast dedicated to serial killers. Who they were, what they did, and how. Episode 190. Tonight, I bring to you a true The Serial Killer Podcast classic episode.
We cover a serial killer with a fetching nickname, whose murderous activities are both brutal and depraved. And this time, the saga is shorter. Only two episodes. I had not heard of this serial killer until I came across his name while researching Australian serial killers in general. Australia is a fascinating country, and the land down under...
has not been featured on this show very often. That does not mean there are few and far between serial killers there. Far from it. But, unfortunately, in the West, the owners of the media tend to be crimes happening in North America and Western Europe only. Only occasionally are we faced with serial killer superstars from Australia, such as Ivan Milat.
But tonight is different. Tonight, we take a deep dive into the life and crimes of none other than William MacDonald, a.k.a. The Mutilator. Enjoy.
As always, I want to publicly thank my elite TSK Producers Club. Their names are...
The Dougletons Trent, Val, and Vanessa
You are the backbone of the Serial Killer podcast, and without you, there would be no show. You have my deepest gratitude. Thank you.
I am forever grateful for my elite TSK Producers Club, and I want to show you that your patronage is not given in vain. All TSK episodes will be available 100% ad-free to my TSK Producers Club on patreon.com slash the serial killer podcast. No generic ads, no ad reads, no jingles. I promise.
And of course, if you wish to donate $15 a month, that's only $7.50 per episode, you are more than welcome to join the ranks of the TSK Producers Club too. So don't miss out and join now. Imagine, if you will, dear listener, Sydney, Australia, in the early 1960s. Australia back then was a very different place than it is today.
It had been only eighteen years prior that the country gained independence from the British Empire with the passing of the Statute of Westminster Adoption Act on the 9th of October 1942. The 1960s Australia saw the birth of the civil rights movement, greater moves towards equality for women in the workplace,
and the beginnings of legal recognition for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. A U.S. president visited for the first time, and an Australian prime minister disappeared, and just like in the U.S. and Europe, Beatlemania swept the nation.
It was also the 1960s that saw the birth of a lovable TV character like Skippy the Bush Kangaroo. The country's largest city, Sydney, was in the early years of this decade gripped by fear. A homicidal maniac was prowling the streets.
The killer would attack unsuspecting victims in dark alleys and other places out of view of street lamps and violently stab them to death. Then he would mutilate the corpse in abhorrent ways. Like so many other serial killers, this one preyed on the weak and defenseless. Homeless and down-and-out men were being targeted, and no one could figure out why.
The killer left each victim with a calling card, a signature. Each body left in his wake had had their genitals removed. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Let us wind the clock back even further and cross several oceans as well. 1924, England.
The man who would later in life be nicknamed the Mutilator was born and given the name Alan Ginsberg in Liverpool. As a child, he was viewed as odd, and if not directly antisocial, then definitely withdrawn and quiet. He made very few, if any, friends, and he very much enjoyed simply walking alone at night for hours at a time.
alone with himself and his thoughts. As a young man during World War II, he volunteered for military service at the age of 19 in 1943. His unit, the Lancashire Fusiliers, was an armoured unit using tanks. While deployed in continental Europe, Alan experienced an event that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
While inside an air raid shelter, Alan was anally raped by a larger and older corporal. The corporal threatened to murder Alan if he told anyone what had happened. Although Alan had felt humiliated by the rape, he had quite enjoyed the physical aspect of it. He realized that he was attracted to men. He was a homosexual.
I have tried to find some details regarding Ginsberg, a.k.a. McDonald's, service record, but I have been unsuccessful. In 1947, two years after the war ended, he was discharged from the army. His discharge was probably due to medical reasons, as he was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and his own brother had him committed to a mental asylum in Scotland.
This was no modern psychiatric hospital with a focus on therapy and modern ways in helping patients live a good life. Far from it. This was a mental asylum as if taken straight from a horror movie. Overcrowded cells full of shrieking and screaming men. Shit and piss on the floor and even the walls.
The cells had almost no heating, and the patients were treated like lab rats. Ginsberg was daily given electroshock therapy, without anesthetic. For six months he suffered in this hell on earth, before his mother took pity on him and got him out and took him home. Now, being a somewhat less known serial killer, Allen Ginsberg, a.k.a. William MacDonald,
is difficult to find detailed information about. But what we do know is that being gay in the 1940s England was illegal. If you were gay, it was also viewed as you being literally insane. And placing perfectly sane homosexuals in awful mental asylums was commonplace. It is my belief that while Alan might have had mental problems,
The reason he was put in a mental asylum was due to his sexuality. As he got into his twenties, Alan became more and more comfortable with his own sexuality. He openly solicited men for sex in public toilets and bars, and was an active part in the small gay community. Not unjustly, Alan increasingly felt persecuted, and it was taking its toll on his psyche.
Being quite open about his homosexuality made life very difficult for him, and getting and keeping a job was proving impossible. Disillusioned and convinced that his surroundings were to blame for his problems, Ginsburg emigrated to Canada in 1949, and then to Australia in 1955, where he decided to start a new life completely.
Once, in Australia, he changed his name to William MacDonald. From here on out, I will refer to him using this name only. Australia, in the 40s, early 50s, was no different from Britain when it came to the legality of homosexuality. MacDonald was actively cruising for random sexual encounters with other men.
Subtle body language and or usage of certain key words often resulted in him having sex with men in public restrooms. Sometimes, however, things did not go as he planned. Standing at a urinals in a public restroom, MacDonald was next to a man in civilian clothing. He looked down at the man's penis and liked what he saw and after a brief moment started fondling the man's penis.
the man turned out to be a police detective who in no way appreciated being touched by another man in such a way macdonald was promptly arrested for indecent assault since it was his first offence he got off with a two years suspended sentence he next moved to ballarat in the neighbouring state of victoria but his life always seemed to be dogged with trouble
While he was working on a construction site, his workmates gave him a hiding for being a quote-unquote poofter. He retaliated by buying a very sharp knife and slashing the tires of their bicycles. I did not find any information about how his colleagues reacted to this,
and if they found out MacDonald had slashed the tires of their bikes. But he did quit this job, and moved away to another area yet again. MacDonald held jobs only until the taunts became so strong that he had to move on from state to state, and all of the time the urge to kill his tormentors was building up inside him.
"'Fact or paranoia, it seemed that no matter where he went, people would talk about him and make fun of him behind his back. And a corporal who had raped him and made him the source of his amusement was never far from his mind. And so it was that William MacDonald's career as a murderer began.'
It all started in the beautiful city of Brisbane, the capital of the northern Australian state of Queensland. It lies just north of the city of Gold Coast, famous for its long golden beaches. It was the year 1960, and MacDonald had managed to befriend a much older gentleman named Amos Hurst.
He was fifty-five years old, and the pair met outside the Roma Street railway station. Amos was a vulnerable man who had little or no money, and he was an alcoholic. MacDonald found him handsome, and after having several drinks together, he managed to lure the man back to Hearst's hotel room. Something happened in that hotel room.
both physically and mentally. Something snapped inside MacDonald's mind. The rage and frustration and dark desires he had harbored for so long finally broke through. At a certain point during the evening, MacDonald sat on top of Amos and put his hands around his neck and started squeezing.
The aging alcoholic was dead drunk and offered little to no resistance. As he was being strangled, Amos Hurst hemorrhaged and blood spurted from his mouth all over MacDonald's hands. MacDonald was furious at this. He had, as so many others, been persuaded by media depiction of strangulation as a quiet and bloodless affair. The truth,
is often far worse than fiction. Furious at the innocent man, Macdonald punched him in the face, and Amos fell to the floor. At this point, he was dead. Macdonald then undressed Hurst and put him onto the bed. He washed the blood from his arms, quietly left the building, and returned to his apartment in South Brisbane.
As he got home, the adrenaline and elation he had felt during the murder wore off. This was soon replaced by abject terror. He was certain that police at any moment would come bursting through the door to arrest him. For days he had trouble sleeping and was constantly on the lookout. He read all the newspapers he got his hands on, searching for any news relating to Amos being killed. No story appeared.
Five days later, when he found Hurst's name in the obituary column, he could not believe his eyes. It said the man had died suddenly of a heart attack. Amos Hurst's post-mortem showed that he had indeed died of a heart attack. However—and the newspapers never bothered to report this detail—the post-mortem also revealed severe bruising on his neck.
Further, the medical examiner noted that there was a possibility of death by strangulation, but under the circumstances it could have been bruising from a fight or some other drunken misadventure, and the case was closed. This summer, Instacart presents Famous Summer Flavors, coming to your front door.
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$45 upfront payment equivalent to $15 per month. New customers on first three-month plan only. Taxes and fees extra. Speeds lower above 40 gigabytes. See details. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. As a family man with three kids, I know firsthand how extremely difficult it is to make time for self-care. But it's good to have some things that are non-negotiable.
For some, that could be a night out with the boys, chugging beers and having a laugh. For others, it might be an eating night. For me, one non-negotiable activity is researching psychopathic serial killers and making this podcast. Even when we know what makes us happy, it's often near impossible to make time for it.
But when you feel like you have no time for yourself, non-negotiables like therapy are more important than ever. If you're thinking of starting therapy, give BetterHelp a try. It's entirely online, designed to be convenient, flexible, and suited to your schedule. Everyone needs someone to talk to, even psychopaths, even your humble host.
Never skip therapy day with BetterHelp. Visit betterhelp.com slash serialkiller today to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash serialkiller. The fact that he had gotten away with murder so easily made McDonald feel, perhaps for the first time in his life, powerful and strong.
The killing of Amos had given him a thrill better than anything other in his life, and he wanted more. Strangulation had been less than ideal. If there was to be blood, MacDonald reasoned he might as well use a proper murder weapon. He bought a sheath-knife and went looking around the wine-bars and sleazy hotels of Brisbane for another easy victim to kill.
He found a man fitting his preferences soon enough in a dingy wine bar. He bought a man a drink, and the pair got to chatting. According to MacDonald himself in later interviews, the man's name was Bill, but we have no way of knowing if this was true or not. When MacDonald deemed the man to be drunk enough, so that he could easily be overpowered, the pair left the bar and headed to a nearby park.
They had bought a couple of bottles of sherry on the way, and continued to drink until the man passed out from being dead drunk. MacDonald sat on top of Bill and produced his knife. But looking down at the sleeping drunkard, the urge to kill suddenly just evaporated. He left the world's luckiest alcoholic in the grass and went home. Brisbane soon lost its luster to MacDonald.
He was taunted at work, and he felt persecuted everywhere he went. He needed new environs, and moved to Sydney in January of 1961. In Australia, January is the middle of summer. He found accommodation in East Sydney, and took a job as a letter-sorter with the postal department, under the assumed name of Alan Edward Brennan.
Now, dear listener, I do not know for certain why MacDonald changed his name so often. He was a convicted criminal, so he might have given the postal department a false name in order to get the job. Before long, he was well known around the parks and public toilets that were the meeting places of Sydney's homosexuals.
One chilly night, filled with fog, the 4th of June, 1961, Macdonald earned his nom the crime as the mutilator. Alfred Reginald Greenfield was 41 years old. This night he sat alone on a bench in a park and had just emptied his last bottle of wine. To Macdonald,
"'The man very much resembled his old corporal. He sat down next to Alfred and struck up a conversation. He could be very charming if he wanted to. MacDonald offered Alfred, a homeless unemployed blacksmith, a drink from his bottle of beer, and lured him to the nearby domain baths on the pretext that he had more bottles in his bag.'
but there was more than beer in the bag. MacDonald had bought a brand-new, long-bladed, razor-sharp knife, especially for the occasion. By day, the Domain Baths was a popular public swimming spot situated on Sydney Harbour. By night, the Domains and Vines were the haunt of derelicts.
there were many alcoves to conceal the drinkers from the winter chill macdonald and greenfield chatted away as they shared another bottle of beer on the half-hour walk to the domain where they settled into a secluded corner the need to kill alfred had by now become overwhelming but macdonald controlled his urge until the man had drunk all of the beer and had fallen asleep on the grass
William MacDonald removed the knife from its sheath as he knelt over the sleeping derelict. He brought the knife swiftly down and buried the blade deep into his victim's neck. Alfred, even though he was very drunk, probably woke up as a result of this attack. The poor man had no chance to defend himself, as MacDonald wasted no time in continuing the assault.
He struck the knife into Alfred's neck again and again and again and again until Alfred stopped moving. The ferocity of the attack had severed the arteries in Greenfield's neck. Blood was everywhere. But MacDonald had come prepared. He had brought a light plastic raincoat in his bag and had put it on before he attacked the unsuspecting Alfred.
The mutilator then removed his victim's trousers and underpants, lifted the testicles and penis, and sliced them off at the scrotum with his knife. In his eyes, it was the penis and testicles of the corporal who had raped him that he removed. The mutilator then threw Alfred Greenfield's genitals into the harbour,
wrapped his knife in his raincoat put it in his bag and walked home feeling better than ever this time the newspapers did not ignore the death of a vagrant alcoholic the following day all the evening papers had the story of the murder of alfred greenfield on the front pages
The gruesome details of the murder made sure MacDonald got his nom de crime right away. From then on, the papers called him the mutilator. This was the early sixties, and the press could not print the most graphic details of the crime. All the press did say was that he had been violently stabbed at least thirty times,
and certain parts of his anatomy were found in the harbour by police divers who were searching for the murder weapon. Police were certain they would find the mutilator fast, even though they had no motive and very few leads. They thought the murder was a crime of passion, and that a scorned lover would soon be found. But no such luck. The trail was cold.
the New South Wales Government offered a reward of one thousand pounds for information leading to the arrest of the elusive killer. It did not help, and Alfred's killer, William Macdonald, revelled in the fact that he once again had gotten away with murder. As a typical psychopathic serial killer, Macdonald did feel satisfied after murdering Alfred for several months.
but then when masturbating to the memory of slicing off alfred's genitals no longer gave him the pleasure and release he craved the urge to kill grew once more on the morning of saturday the twenty first of november nineteen sixty one
William MacDonald had purchased a knife with a six-inch blade from Mick Simmons' sports store in Sydney's Haymarket district. He told the man behind the counter that he was going fishing. What he did not say was that he was going fishing for a man he could murder and mutilate. That night, MacDonald walked down South Dowling Street, where he eyed fifty-five-year-old William Cobbin.
MacDonald lured his victim to Moore Park and drank beer with him in a public toilet. Just before the attack, MacDonald put on his plastic raincoat. The scene reminds me eerily of Patrick Bateman in the book and movie American Psycho. He too dons a light raincoat before brutally murdering Paul Allen with an axe.
"'Ernest was, however, not in a fancy apartment "'next to Central Park in New York. "'He was sitting drunk in a public restroom on the toilet seat "'when MacDonald, using an uppercut motion, "'struck Ernest in the neck with a knife. "'The stab severed his jugular vein. "'Blood splattered all over MacDonald's arms, "'face, and his plastic raincoat.'
Ernest tried to defend himself by raising his arms. Even after his victim had died, MacDonald continued to stab his victim multiple times. By this time, the toilet cubicle was covered in blood. Once the victim had finally died, MacDonald began to pull down his victim's pants, lifted the victim's penis and testicles, and then sliced them off.
Then he put the victim's genitals into a plastic bag, along with his knife, and departed the scene. On the way home, he washed the blood off his hands and face. Back at his apartment, the mutilator washed the bloody contents of the plastic bag in warm water, put them in a clean plastic bag, and took them to bed with him.
The following day, the mutilator wrapped the plastic bag and its grisly contents, the knife and a brick in newspaper, tied them with string and threw them from the Sydney Harbour Bridge into the deepest part of the harbour. This time, there would be no evidence left lying around for the police to find.
Monday morning, MacDonald went back to his job of sorting letters under his alias of Alan Brennan, as if nothing had happened. He felt powerful, in control, lethal. Meanwhile, the headlines in the newspapers continued with large capital letters, and I quote, "'Mutilator strikes again,' end quote."
The police had received a phone call at 5.30 a.m., and a hoarse man's voice had said, and again I quote, There's a murdered man in the toilet in Moorpark, opposite the Bat and Ball Hotel, end quote. The caller then hung up, never to be identified. Considering Ernest had been killed late at night, it is not inconceivable that MacDonald was the unknown caller.
However, I have doubts about this. It is unlikely that MacDonald waited around the public toilet for several hours before calling the police. More likely is that another man who was cruising for some anonymous gay sex came upon the corpse and, not wanting to be registered by police, did not leave a name. The sight that the police saw the next day was grisly."
When reading articles about the case, the term unimaginable is often used. I think this is a bit silly. Of course we can imagine such a scene. The scene of the murder is a public restroom stall. The lighting is harsh, perhaps yellowish. Next to and partially on a toilet lies the semi-nude body of Ernest Cobbin.
His pants are pulled down around his ankles, and there is a massive red gash, an open wound, where his penis and testicles ought to have been. His entire body is soaked in blood, which has by now dried and turned a dark, almost black color. His neck is almost hacked through, and he stares with open, empty eyes into the ceiling.
Blood has spurted all over the stall. The floor is sticky with it. Ernest had been stabbed a total of fifty times. Police detectives were certain that if anyone had walked in on the mutilator as he went about his business, they too would have been stabbed to death. A madman was on the loose. No one was safe.
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Luckily, their captain had an idea. She used the smart buying tools on Amazon Business so they could work more efficiently and get back to doing what they do best. I know, right? Amazon Business, your partner for smart business buying. And with that, we come to the end of part one in this two-part episode about The Mutilator. I hope you enjoyed listening to me telling it to you.
Next episode will feature the final episode in this expose. So as they say in the land of radio, stay tuned. What follows is a message to my dear Norwegian listeners in Norwegian. I remind you that my Norwegian-language podcast, Serimordepodden, is available to listen to both on Spotify, Apple Podcasts and all other places you listen to podcasts.
We're nearing the end of the series about BTK. As they say in Radioland, follow along.
