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Hi, it's Alan. Before we get started, I wanted to let you know that this episode discusses suicide and suicidal ideation, and some people might find it disturbing. If you or someone you know is in crisis, call or text 988. Support is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If you're in immediate danger or need urgent medical support, call 911. How many times have you said or heard someone say, I'm obsessed with whatever?
You're trying to say that there's something of which you just can't get enough. It could be anything from a flavor of ice cream to a reality TV show. It's usually just hyperbole and exaggeration. But if we get clinical, obsession can be a form of mental illness.
If we open up the psychology textbooks, we learn that a true obsession is a recurring thought about something or someone. It's always on a person's mind, maybe even 24/7. We're talking thoughts, dreams, urges, and fantasies. These obsessions, this rabid focus, may be intrusive, unwelcome, all-consuming, and dangerous.
A person may end up surrendering themselves to these thoughts, driven to focus on the object of their obsession full-time. Take the case of John Hinckley Jr. He was from a wealthy West Texas family who owned an oil company. But John didn't fit in. He tried going to university but eventually dropped out. He moved to California with dreams of being a songwriter. That didn't work. When he returned to Texas, he had to confess that the girlfriend he said he had out West didn't exist.
Hinckley disappeared into himself with severe emotional issues. Antidepressants and tranquilizers were prescribed. But he also started buying guns and target shooting. And he spent a lot of time watching the 1976 Martin Scorsese film Taxi Driver. If you know the film, you'll know that Robert De Niro plays Travis Bickle, a disturbed loner who plots to kill a presidential candidate. He also runs across a 12-year-old prostitute named Iris, played by Jodie Foster.
Hinkley became obsessed with Foster. When he enrolled at Yale, Hinkley moved to Connecticut to stalk her. He left her poems and love letters and called whenever he could find her number. Hinkley became determined to attract her attention. But how? He thought about hijacking a plane. Or maybe he'd just show up one day and shoot himself in the head in front of her.
Finally, he determined that the best way to get Jodie Foster's attention was to assassinate a president, just like Travis Bickle. He trailed Jimmy Carter for a while, but was arrested. More psychiatric treatment followed, and then Ronald Reagan was elected president.
On March 30, 1981, Hinckley pulled out a 12-caliber pistol and fired it six times as Reagan left the Hilton Hotel in Washington, D.C. after addressing a conference. Reagan survived, but it was touch and go. Others were badly hurt, too. After a trial, he was found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was finally released from custody in 2022. The world of music has had many obsessives, although few as extreme as John Hinckley Jr.,
There is one standout, though. A young loner from Florida who, like Hinckley, was determined to attract the attention of his love, his obsession. In the process, he turned into a murderous hater. I'm Alan Cross, and have I got a story for you. This is Uncharted, Crime and Mayhem in the Music Industry, Episode 8. It's the tale of the Bjork Acid Bomber. This is the story of an obsessive fan who came up with a plan that's so evil...
It just can't be true. But it is. Every word of it. This person was a stalker, but not the kind that lurked around corners in the vicinity of someone. He's categorized as a special sort of stalker, a vengeful, someone who is looking to hurt, punish, or even kill the object of their obsession.
On September 17th, 1996, Scotland Yard intercepted a package at a South London post office that was addressed to the home of Bjork, the Icelandic singer. Inside was a booby-trapped, hollowed-out book designed to spray sulfuric acid in the face of whomever opened it. At the very least, this would have been permanently disfiguring. Blindness would have almost been inevitable.
And had it worked perfectly, it could have turned into something fatal. The parcel had been sent from Hollywood, Florida. Now, who would do such a thing? And why? The sender was a 21-year-old pest exterminator named Ricardo Lopez. This story is crazy, and not everybody makes it out alive. Now, I want to warn you, this is going to get very intense. Suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, and harming others will be discussed immediately.
And this can be very upsetting to some, so please take care. Ricardo Lopez was born in Uruguay and eventually moved to Lawrenceville, Georgia. He seemed to have been a classic incel. Socially inept, highly introverted, zero self-esteem, and lots of body image issues. He had a few buddies, but had no female friends or girlfriends.
He also had a genetic condition known as Klinefelter syndrome. People with this have an extra X chromosome and often end up infertile, with poor motor skills, reading difficulties, and problems with speech. Males often have smaller than normal testicles and may grow breasts. Lopez suffered from that.
Lopez had thoughts about going to art school and becoming an artist, but instead he dropped out, too afraid to try anything lest he be rejected. He retreated into a world of fantasy and celebrity obsession. First, it was actress Gina Davis, after he saw her in the movie Thelma and Louise, a movie he had seen dozens if not hundreds of times. Then, in about 1993, Lopez developed an obsession with Bjork for some reason.
It appears to have begun when he first saw the video for this song on MTV. Lopez began studying everything about Björk, collecting information about her and following everything that she did. He began posting pictures of her everywhere in his pigsty of an apartment. He also kept a diary that detailed some of his thoughts. In that diary, he apparently first considered Björk to be a muse, someone who inspired him on some level, artistically or otherwise.
But as the months passed, he became more than just infatuated. He wrote that he wanted to be accepted by her. Lopez developed a fantasy about finding a time machine that would allow him to travel back to the 1970s so he could meet and befriend Bjork when she was still a child. There was nothing sexual about any of this either. He made it clear that he could never have sex with her because he loved her too much.
Lopez's diary grew and grew and grew. It eventually reached over 800 pages. He wrote about how he felt that he was a failure. There were nearly three dozen references to suicide, and there were 14 references to murder. Bjork herself was mentioned 408 times, and there were more than a few mentions of John Hinckley Jr.'s obsession with Jodie Foster.
He found Bjork's address through a service that sold celebrity information and started sending her letters, artwork, his address, and his telephone number. There was never a response. And he saw that as a tremendous rejection. By 1996, Lopez was living in Hollywood, Florida, apartment A in the Van Buren Plaza apartments. He tracked Bjork gossip for nine months,
The written diary was dumped in favor of documenting his obsession on video using a camera he bought as a birthday gift to himself. Hello, my name is Ricardo Lopez. It is January 14th, 1996. Today is my birthday. I'm 21. Now, yesterday I purchased this camera. Today I purchased a tripod and I will begin a documentation of my life
of my art and of my plans. Okay, comfort is what I seek in speaking to you. Something with a... I don't know. Something that makes me feel better. For a long time, I've been speaking into the mirror and being my own psychologist or whatever. It's a release as many times as my art is or would like to think that my art is. You are a camera. I am Ricardo. We are both the same now.
You are a living part of my brain which is simultaneously, perhaps doing a better job of it, remembering these events which are going to unfold. Björk has been an incredible part of my mind since '93, you know, since I first saw her. I have started with a crush, you know, and ended up with an obsession. I'm not embarrassed to admit now it's an obsession.
It sort of has calmed down at times. I've been okay with it. Other times it's flared up. January 2nd, I believe, I went to Borders. I purchased a magazine, a couple of magazines. And I got enthusiastic about sending for more information about her and all that stuff. Because I did for a while, then I stopped. Now again, I sent. Let me show you. See all these?
these are money order receipts i sent for information all sorts of information where she lived you know again for two different things autograph uh posters uh there's about as much information as i can get about you know and one of which was in the magazine uh spin where i uh learned to my surprise and you know quite happily that there was a hotline of concert dates and lo and behold
Bjork was on there, you know, had her address. One day, he read in Entertainment Weekly that Bjork was in a relationship with Goldie, the British musician. Not only did he feel betrayed that she would see someone other than him, listen, we're not talking about a rational person here, but worse, he was upset that she was dating a black man. That, he said, was the last straw. Her dating a black man was, as he said, unacceptable. And he got angrier and angrier.
He vowed to punish Bjork. And that's completely unacceptable to me. And I'm just going to have to kill her. She's going to die for what she did. She's going to die. Another reason why to kill her? Not another reason, but to unhand her. I can't really explain it good. But to get her to be so interested in me, you know, that she'll sit through 80 hours of footage.
to learn more about me, the man who completely changed her life and will end her life. I am the angel of death for her. Watching this video diary, you can see this guy losing his mind. It's all documented on 11 tapes, each about two hours long. We can see his plan come together.
First, he drew up a plan that included two hypodermic needles that would stick into the hands of Bjork when she opened a package. He wanted those needles to be tainted with HIV-infected blood. He then thought about a booby-trapped audio cassette. Then he came up with the idea of the acid bomb. We'll get to that part of the story next.
Once Ricardo Lopez had decided on the idea of an acid bomb, he hid it in a thick hollowed-out book designed to spray highly concentrated sulfuric acid in the face and all over the body of whoever opened the cover. Many prototypes were made. Lopez filmed himself trying out various versions of the device. When he finally had a design that satisfied him, he started looking for an appropriate caustic substance.
The first choice was hydrochloric acid, but that didn't appear to be strong enough. And that's when he decided his bomb would be loaded with sulfuric acid. To make sure that it got to Bjork, he wrote a fake letter on the letterhead of her record company, saying that the book was being turned into a movie and a producer wanted her to star in the film. The final tape in his video diary, which is now part of the public record, shows him in his apartment, totally naked, working on the final version of his device.
Okay, new tapes. As I was saying, I'm about to put the sulfuric acid inside. I did one major, major, major thing today was that I told Ralph I was gonna, I showed him my, uh, I couldn't resist. I showed him my, uh,
the envelope and the letter and I told him that I'm sending a vehicle package. I didn't tell him, of course, I told him it was not a bomb, I told him it was an artwork, but I'm gonna be sending her to hell. Send that, that my fingerprints are not on it for the FBI, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Of course, I should have told him for the above reason. You know, I shouldn't trust him at all because he's told me before. Nonetheless, I told him not to tell George, but I know he probably will.
I told him that I hold a book and it has an alarm. Maybe he'll tell George, I don't know. But nonetheless, this is being sent off tomorrow, probably. Well actually technically today. If it wouldn't I feel great about it. Let's see how this is. More or less, it's okay. Still a little wet, it's okay. Okay, let me see if I forgot. Before I put the sulfuric acid, what else do I need? Well, I think that's about it.
It's going to be very interesting. Lopez shows the device on camera while Bjork's music plays in the background. As I said, it was housed in a hollowed-out book. He dons thick rubber gloves and carefully loads the sulfuric acid with the skills of an industrial chemist. Now remember, this guy worked in pest control, so he knew a lot about dangerous chemicals. For the rest of the tape, he documents the final assembly of the acid bomb. In the end, it weighed three and a half pounds.
He then turns to the camera and details a few more plans. Maybe I can show a picture on my suicide tape. I can show a picture of a house, you know, or something like that. That way, you know, on my suicide tape, right before I blow my head off, Bjork can help you solve this. What happened in this house? You know, some shit like that, or on the TV, or something, you know, something that they have to...
He then reads a letter addressed to Bjork. And in it, he also threatens Bjork's son.
Okay, let me read this to you. Dear Bjork, everyone's safety principally depends principally on the fact that nobody wishes to kill them. We have come to depend on what has been called the goodwill of civilization. Agatha Christie, murder is easy. It's unfortunate that we live in a world of monsters that wish nothing more than their hearts to strip you of every possible joy in your life. So thus I introduce myself. I must emphasize the fact that I intend...
The fact that I intend no lesson to be taught. I have little insight, no ideas, no solutions that could make any difference. I just want to make you cry. I really doubt any success in this attempt. This was but just my low risk mission. I am though ready to embark on my last attempt. I have a lot of time. Three in the third years.
unrelenting effort and unmeasurable emotion invested with you. I am tired of being ignored and with the final insult to me, really it was a straw that broke the camel's back. Even had my initial mission been completed, your death, as you soon will learn, was not my intention.
What you will give me is your pain in exchange for my family's despair of my suicidal venture. My death is less related to my obsession with you. It's my unwillingness to partake in this world for various reasons. My mission, though, is related to you because it is my last joy.
Honestly, your only mistake was ever having caught my eye. I really should not blame you for not being what I wanted you to be. But human history is filled with accounts of what one should not do. And despite my despise of them, I too shall join them. Life is deliciously unfair to all of you.
You being a mother, there's nothing more I could take from you than your son's innocence. I will jump at the chance of disemboweling his sundry, but of course not before slowly hammering his kneecaps to a bloody pulp. All this is happening in mid-September 1996. He stayed up all night working on his bomb.
Just after 9 a.m., he went to the post office and mailed it. He knew exactly what to do because he'd sent a practice book sometime earlier, just so he had all the details, procedures, and protocols correct.
And to make he didn't look nervous and suspicious, he took some very strong tranquilizers. This is a life and death matter right here. If I don't make it back, that means something happened. I'm a little nervous. Like I said before, regardless, if it's an emergency, or your bills are planned to do, who else can? I am very, very, very nervous. I don't think I've ever been this nervous. Well, I have been more nervous than this.
I took two Braxel, I took the Klonopin, one Klonopin. I'm going to wait a little while for it to kick in. I will walk over there, I have my handgun.
loaded in my sack here. So if I don't return, I just want to say goodbye to everybody. And I'm certainly not going to get arrested. I'm going to blow my head off. I can't be suspicious. That's the number one thing. The thing that scares me half to death
When you shake it, you feel like bubbles. When he got back to his apartment, he waited until his neighbor left and did some artwork to pass the time. He shaved his head. He shaved off his eyebrows. He painted his face red and green and his nipples red. Lopez looked a lot like Marlon Brando's Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. All of this is on tape with him mugging and posing for the camera the entire time and occasionally showing off all the pictures of Bjork he had on his walls.
He also painted a big sign. It read, The 8mm tapes are a documentation of a crime. Terrorist matter. They are for the FBI. Okay, before I can share what happened next, I have a warning. Self-harm will be discussed. This can be upsetting to many people, so please take care.
Ricardo, sitting completely naked with this Bjork song playing in the background and sitting in front of a hand-lettered sign that read, The Best of Me, September 12th, he pulled out a .38 caliber pistol. This is the last few minutes of my life. I feel a little nervous now. I'm definitely not drunk. I am completely amnesia for us.
I know exactly what I'm doing. It is cocked back. It's ready to roll. This death is for you, Bjork. He then put on a Bjork song called "I Remember You." This is the last song after this one's done. At 2:53 p.m., as the song ended, right there on camera, he stuck the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Lopez didn't die instantly. Although he fell out of the frame once he pulled the trigger, audio on the video makes it clear that he's not dead. He's merely bleeding out. It took him some time to die. But what about the package? It was already on its way to Bjork. That part of the story is still to come. At 7:30 in the morning of September 16, 1996, four days after Ricardo Lopez shot himself, the apartment manager smelled something awful coming from his unit.
He also saw what appeared to be blood seeping down the walls. He called the cops. When the CSI team moved in, they found Lopez's badly decomposed body in the filthy apartment. They found Ricardo's drawings of his bomb, but they couldn't find the bomb itself. The neighborhood was evacuated in a one-block radius of the apartment. After four hours of searching, they didn't find anything. Where was the bomb?
But they did find that trove of videotapes, with the most important one still in the camera and pointed at where Lopez had been on the couch. And that's how Bjork was saved from the acid bomb. When they watched that tape, helpfully labeled Ricardo Lopez last day, they saw him hold up a package. It contained the booby-trapped book. It was on camera 11 minutes in.
He held it in front of the camera just long enough for the cops to get the address. That's when they realized that they were in a race against time to prevent a murder. The package was mailed four days earlier, September 12th. It only takes five days for mail like this to reach London. Over the next 24 hours, the police in Hollywood, Florida contacted the Metropolitan Police in London. They then traced the package through the mail.
New Scotland Yard set up a detection system, and they somehow found the parcel at a South London postal station. We still don't know how, because they wouldn't divulge their secrets, but they did get to it just before it was about to be delivered. It was intercepted and safely detonated. And chances are that the package would have never reached Bjork anyway, because all her mail went through her management office. Still, someone could have been terribly injured or worse.
Bjork was understandably shaken, but she sent a card and flowers to Lopez's family in sympathy. They said they had no idea that he was capable of such violence, such hate. A psychiatrist who had been seeing Lopez also had seen no indication that he could do such a thing. Meanwhile, Bjork was terribly shaken. She'd been in London working on a new album, and when the news broke of this assassination attempt, she gave a statement. I just find it very sad that people get in that kind of state.
In 2000, a filmmaker named Sami Saif released a 70-minute documentary culled from the 22 hours of video left behind. It's called The Video Diary of Richard Lopez. It makes for some very chilling viewing.
It's part of the public record. Watch it at your peril. If you or someone you know is suffering from mental health issues, please know that there is help. All you have to do is reach out. You can catch up on all episodes of Uncharted by downloading them from your favorite podcast platform. Please rate and review if you get a chance. If you have any questions or comments, shoot me an email, alan at alancross.ca.
We can also meet up on all the social media sites, along with my website, ajournalofmusicalthings.com. It's updated with music news and recommendations every day. And there's a free daily newsletter that you should get. Plus, there's my other program, The Ongoing History of New Music. There are hundreds and hundreds of those podcasts available. Again, download as many as you want for free. Join me for more stories of crime and mayhem in the world of music with Uncharted next time. Technical production is by Rob Johnston. I'm Alan Cross.