2023-08-31 01:05:00
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PODCAST. Her name is Polly Nichols. Soon four other street girls will in turn be brutally murdered by the never-identified killer.
By Frédéric Lewino and Gwendoline Dos Santos
Published on 08/31/2019 at 01:05 – Modified on 08/31/2023 at 01:05
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Night of August 31, 1888. We are in the sordid district of Whitechapel, it is cold enough to put a prostitute outside… To believe that winter has got the wrong season. Lightning keeps streaking the sky. A smog as thick as a Christmas pudding makes it impossible to see more than ten meters. Yet, braving the elements, a man pulls a small cart. It’s about Charles Cross looking for goods to transport. At 3:40 a.m., the pale glow of his lamp illuminates the body of a woman lying on the ground, dead. He stops, startled, signals to another carter passing by to approach the woman with her skirts up. Blood everywhere. The face and hands are cold; on the other hand, the legs are still warm. She must have had a malaise, an attack…
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