Deception

Poland several years earlier. A quiet and reliable, Fink operated the local laundromat. He always paid on time, never caused trouble, and didn't have visitors, which made the noise, especially late at night, highly unusual. Smith listened intently. To her knowledge, her neighbor always locked his door even when he was home alone, and never opened the windows. When the scuffle stopped and the gunshots began, she called the police, certain

that someone had broken into his apartment. Patrolman capt'n Maine responded to the call at ten thirty that night. No one answered. When he knocked and called out. He tried the door and found it locked, and the windows were all shut tight. Even if they had been unlocked, the openings were far too small for any adult to pass through. Cap'n Bane began to suspect that Fink may have killed himself, and by this time the neighbors had come out to

see what was happening. One noticed the transom window above the front door had been broken. Like the other windows, the transom was too small for an adult to squeeze through. Too small for adults, maybe, but not for one of the neighborhood's children. A couple of men hoisted a boy up and he climbed through. He quickly ound the key on a hook near the door and let Paton Maine and the two men inside. In the next room, they made the grizzly discovery Fink had been shot three times

at close range. One of the men mentioned suicide, and though that had been Officer Captain Baine's first thought, he noticed a glaring problem. He didn't see a gun. He also noticed that the iron sitting on the ironing board was on, but apparently hadn't been on long enough to scorch the shirt Fink had been ironing. Equally unusual was that one of the shots had been through Fink's wrist. More patrolmen and detectives were summoned, and although they conducted

a thorough search, no one found a gun. The only fingerprints in the apartment belonged to Fink. Nothing had been taken either, money in a pocket watch satin plain sight. Whoever killed him hadn't done so as part of a robbery. They thought that perhaps a local gang had tried to extort a small business owner, a common practice at the time, but the neighbors couldn't provide any details to solidify their theory.

In the end, they were left with a dead body, no motive, no suspects, no witnesses, and no obvious way in or out of the lock department. Armchair criminologists and sluts have been trying to solve this locked room mystery ever since. After all, appearances and perceptions are often deceiving. I'm Lauren Vogelbon. Welcome to American Shadows. The weather in

New York City was mild in the spring. Of people packed the Coney Island boardwalk, and the well off who hadn't been hit during the Great Depression sunbathed on Long Island speeches. After a long winter summer seemed like it was just around the corner. Though things were still tight and many families were being in debt, the people took time first roll outside, a day in the park, or other free activities. By April, baseball was in full swing.

A young player named Babe Ruth made an impressive first appearance with a home run and a single in the Boston braves Ford to win over the New York Giants. On the radio, your Hit Parade debuted. Think of it like a billboard top. Forty listeners everywhere sang along with

Bing Crosby. Frederick Gross couldn't afford a trip to the beach or a baseball game, but he did enjoy sitting on the front step of the housing project where he lived, listening to music coming from the open windows, and he especially liked talking with his neighbors as their kids played nearby. Though he had lost part of his leg in an auto accident and wore a prosthesis, Frederick never complained, Always

pleasant and cheerful. His neighbors had grown fond of him ever since he and his wife, Katherine had moved there. In he had found work as a bookkeeper at an importing firm. Katherine had been a telephone operator back in Philadelphia, but now took care of the children Freddie Junior, Catherine Junior, Frances, Leo, and Barbara. Frederick's mother in law, Olga, also lived with them in the cramped apartment. With so many mouths to feed,

things were more than tight for the family. During the Depression, the importing firm Frederick worked for had reduced his salary from thirty five dollars a week to just twenty. The money wasn't enough to keep him and his wife well fed and sheltered, much less five children and another adult. Even before the Depression, Frederick's income was barely enough for the basics. Now, with his pain nearly halved, that sunk far below the poverty line. They had no hot water,

no light, and no heat. Like many families during the depression, they were sinking in debt that would be hard, if not impossible, to pay off. And then Catherine announced she was pregnant with their sixth child. It meant another mouth to feed, much less all the doctor's bills that incur The situation would have pushed many people beyond the breaking point, but not Frederick. As poor as they were, he remained oddly happy. And always had a smile and a kind

word give. The neighbors noticed that he wasn't like the rest of his family. They were less cheerful and often rowdy. Frederick seemed more kind hearted and gentle. The neighbors marveled at his eternal optimism. At the firm, his personality remained equally positive. His coworkers could rely on Frederick. He was hard working and pleasant. Everyone knew him and he was well liked. Every day Frederick went to work, and each

week he brought home his easily paycheck without complaint. Twenty dollars didn't stretch far, and the family often went without much food. The kids were thin, too thin. They all were really On one particularly sunny day, Frederick arrived home toward that nine year old Freddie isn't well. Kids often picked up a bug here or there, and the couple figured it was nothing to be concerned over. Frederick lovingly scooped his son up into his arms and tucked him

into bed to recover. Freddie didn't recover is expected, though, and the next day he was worse, much worse. He seemed thinner, frailer, His eyes appeared dull and listless, his hair began to fall out in clumps. Frederick took a fitful nap in a chair next to his son's bed. He awoke hours later to Freddie's desperate gasps for air. By the time the doctor arrived, little Freddie was dead. After a thorough examination, the doctor concluded he had died

from bronchial pneumonia. Just days later, while families enjoyed picnics and parks, and Frederick and his family attended Freddie's funeral at Saint John Cemetery in Queen's the next day. The birds still sang and the sun still shined, but the family stayed inside. Morning. They barely had time to begin the grieving process, though, because that's when three year old Leo fell ill. Frederick kept a close eye on Leo. He showed the same symptoms as his older brother, and

the couple determined had caught whatever Freddie had had. It would be hard not to inside their shoe box apartment. After a fit of convulsions, Leo died a couple of days later. Again, a doctor had been summoned, but arrived too late, and just like before, because of death was listed as bronch field pneumonia and reported to the Department

of Health. Catherine Sr. Fell ill next, though she at first thought it was just morning sickness, she became so ill that the care of the household and children fell on Olga and Frederick. Considering the deaths of their two children and her pregnancy, she went straight to the hospital. It seemed that whatever had killed Freddie and Leo was now spreading through the rest of the household. There wasn't anywhere to send the remaining children, and quarantining in such

a tiny space was impossible. All they could do was hope for the best. By now, I'm sure you're wondering whether something wasn't right. I'm sure illness can spread unpredictably, But why wasn't the whole family sick or any of the neighbors. Why had the few cases been so severe? Was foul play at hand? Here's a wrench. The doctors diagnosed Katherine with encephalitis, not bronchial pneumonia. Unlike Freddie and Leo,

she hadn't lost her hair either. Doctors concluded that the two boys might have died from encephalitis instead of pneumonia. Encephalitis is an infection that pauses inflammation of the brain and can share similar symptoms with the flu. While such infections are serious, they aren't always fatal if caught in time. While doctors worked to stabilize Mrs Gross, seven year old Katherine Jr. Five year old Frank, and eighteen month old Barbara fell ill, only Olga and Frederick remained well. Olga's

other daughter came over to cook for the family. Unable to afford to sit her, she brought over her own children while attending to her sisters. Oddly, though all the children interacted with one another, hers stayed healthy. Frederick's children grew steadily worse. They followed the same pattern their siblings had fever, convulsions, and hair loss. Months earlier, Katherine Sr. Had proudly shown off eighteen month old Barbara's full head

of gorgeous brown curls. Now the toddler had become completely bald. By the month's end, Katherine Junior and little Barbara both died. Doctors believed that had encephalitis like their mother. The couple had lost four children in a matter of weeks. Then Catherine Senior died in the hospital. Once a family of eight, only three remained, Frederick, Olga and five year old Frank. A day later, Frank collapsed and had to be rushed to the hospital, and doctors thought he had chicken pox.

Not a day later, Olga joined him with similar symptoms, and that left just Frederick in the apartment. Neighbors commented that things couldn't get much worse for him, but they were wrong. As you might imagine, the doctors had grown rather suspicious of Frederick had remained completely healthy while everyone else got sick or died. Tissue samples from two of

the deceased children were examined. Doctor Edward Gall had recently acquired a spectroscope, an instrument that can identify the chemical makeup of a sample by precisely measuring the wavelengths or colors of light given off when the sample is heated. Different elements give off different colors. In the end, Gall determined that the family had been poisoned. I'm sure that's not exactly shocking news. Poison was easy to come by.

It was practically everywhere. Aside from the barbiturous people took the handle stress and the poison like alcohol in circulation of poisons could be found in many household products. Though the consumer safety organization that would become The FDA had been around for nineteen years. At that point, it lacked meaningful authority in corporate liability was practically non existent, allowing dubious materials and anything from cleaners to cosmetics. Wallpaper contained arsenic.

Cyanide was used in pest control, killing more than just mice and insects. It would have been easy for Frederick to obtain enough of either to kill his family. The police arrested Frederick on suspicion of murdering his wife and four children. He denied it, insistent he wouldn't have heard any of his family, much less poison them. Authorities remained unconvinced and escorted him to the waiting patrol car. Neighbors

watched and stunned silence. Arsenic was the easiest poison to come by and the most commonly used in poison related murders. There was a problem, though, After more tests, Dr gall noted something unusual, the tell tale green flash of thallium. The true it was a poison, and one of the deadliest at that but it wasn't easy to come by and was more costly than arsenic or cyanide. That left one question, how could a poor bookkeeper afford such an

exotic poison. The New York Times headline became the talk of the town. Five killed by rare poison. The district attorney ordered two of the deceased children exhumed. Tissue samples were sent to Dr. Gall He ran the tests and found the same tell tale green flash with the spectroscope. It left little doubt that they had died of thallium poisoning. Most people had never heard of thallium, much less knew

how to use it or where to get it. The substance is so deadly that even touching it is dangerous. The victims experienced nerve damage, hair loss, and a host of symptoms suggestive of various diseases and conditions. In some places, it's been used as rat poison and ant bait. Before its toxicity to humans became widely known, it had been used for hair removal. Odorless, colorless, and tasteless, thallium was called the poisoner's poison for its slow acting and painful

manner of death. French chemist Claude August Lammy had been the first to voice concerns about thallium in the late eighteen seventies. He studied the effects of the compound on chickens and ducks. The birds experienced severe weakness, tremors, difficulty breathing, and often paralysis. Every bird died within days. Sure afterward, Lamby's own health began to fail. Despite his warnings, companies

continued to use vallium in products. In the nineteen twenties, California painted grain with the poison to deal with squirrels. While effective, it also killed any animal that ate the poisoned squirrels, including foxes, birds of prey, and household pets. And the squirrels weren't the only animals eating the grain either. Everything from songbirds to livestock died. A large group of field workers came upon an unmarked back of the grain and cooked it for their supper. Seven died and a

dozen others were paralyzed. In California banned excuse and nothing. Authorities turned up answered how a poor bookkeeper in New York had managed to get the poison. For forty eight hours, detectives interrogated Frederick. No matter how many times they tried to get him to confess, he maintained his innocence. He had no idea how his family had come across the poison.

After days of questioning, and with all but two of his family members dead within a month, authorities tossed Frederick in a jail cell, still wearing the only good suit he owned, a blue one. He still owed seventeen dollars on he fell asleep. Exhausted, detectives scoured the apartment. The kitchen turned up little in the way of food, except for cans of cocoa. Frederick told them that they had been living off the coco as a sort of emergency

staple for months. He admitted that he hadn't drank any of it, preferring to give as much as he could to his children. His employer imported lots of goods, and coco had been one of them. Ultimately, they had decided not to add the coco to their distribution list and had sold it to their employees for twenty cents a can. Frederick had purchased four half pound tins. He said the cocoa was sweet and filling and helped supplement their meager

grocery budget. The detectives were certain had laced the tins with thallium, knowing it would kill his family, but why. The only motive was how poor they were. The police reasoned that Frederick might have thought that if he poisoned his family, he'd be a free man, no more hungry mouths to feed. But Frederick boggedly insisted he would have never hurt his family, no matter how bad things got.

His demeanor had a few detectives questioning his guilt. They still couldn't figure out how he had purchased the poison, and they hadn't had an insurance policy to collect on since his employer imported so many goods. The search continued there. Finally they discovered that the company kept thallium self aiate on hand to reduce the warehouse's rat population. They questioned the other employees, but no one had anything bad to say about Frederick, and no one had seen him mixing

anything into his hands of cocoa. Police called in tooxychologist Alexander Getler, who ran tests on the family's tissue samples and the cocoa found in the apartment. He saw a flash of green, but further tests showed that it was from copper from the tin that had leached into the cocoa powder. The case took on a new twist when Getler concluded that there was indeed, ballym present in the tissue samples, but none in any of the tins of cocoa. The police searched the home once more, and this time

they came up with a surprise. They finally had a new suspect. The evidence, it seems, had been written down for them. They found several notebooks along with medical books on poisons. The handwriting in the notebooks belonged to Katherine sr. Oddly, the books were initially dismissed as unimportant. The notebooks may have belonged to his wife, but certainly the books had to have belonged to Frederick. No mother would do such a thing. She had no motive, and she had been

a victim herself. But after reports from the neighbors began to trickle in, the district attorney couldn't ignore the picture they painted. A woman who lived two doors down from the family signed a statement that she had once had an unsettling conversation with Mrs Gross. Catherine Senior had just found out she was pregnant and broke down in a moment of despair. She had said that she planned to kill her own children with rat poison. Shocked, the neighbor

had asked if she was serious. The neighbor stated she had dismissed Catherine Senior's inconsolable reply that the poison she had wouldn't let them suffer, that it would be as sure and quick death. It sounded so illogical, so heat of the moment that the neighbor let it go. Detectives poured over Catherine's notebooks and unraveled the truth. She had wanted to free her husband from the burden of a large family. She hated the idea of her children growing

up in extreme poverty. If she killed her children, Frederick could get back on his feet financially. However, they found no evidence indicating Katherine had planned to kill herself, and Frederick insisted that he had known his wife for twenty years and that she was incapable of harming anyone. The bodies of Katherine Junior and Barbara were exhumed along with their mother. Tissue samples were taken for further analysis. The toxicologist determined that all of the children had died of

thalium poisoning, but surprisingly, Katherine Senior had not. It turns out she really did have encephalitis, but one question remained. Katherine Senior was in the hospital by the time eighteen month old Barbara and seven year old Katherine Junior got sick. How could she have killed them? The samples suggested that she had poisoned her children all at the same time. The toxicologist offered his thoughts that two girls had and given a lower dose and had taken longer to die.

On My twenty, charges were dismissed against Frederick Gross. Instead of going home, he went straight to the hospital to see his remaining son and mother in law. He found little Frank on the sun porch and burst into tears at the side of his child's bald head. Frank simply asked his father why he hadn't come to see him. Frederick swept his son into his arms and promised he wouldn't leave his side again. Reporters flocked to the hospital

to interview Frederick. He told them he planned to take care of his son and mother in law no matter what it took. He had no idea how, since he had been in jail for nearly a month, but he smiled and said he would find a way. It turns out he didn't have to. Neighbors weren't the only ones who believed in his innocence. The import company had held his job for him, which meant there was money in his pocket and for the rest of his days. Frederick

kept his promise. There's more to this story. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. Right before Christmas, the president of the Knickerbocker Club received an unexpected package. Harry Cornish unwrapped the gift, finding a blue Tiffany box containing a bottle of Bromo seltzer and a silver bottle holder. The holidays were bound to be a time of over indulgence, and he tucked the gift away, expecting to need the acid producer at some point before

the celebrations were done. After the New year, Cornish's aunt, Catherine Adams, complained of a terrible migraine. Remembering the gift, he took the box out of a drawer and promptly made her some of the elixir. Adams took a swig and collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Stunned, Cornish called for family members. One ran off to fetch the doctor, and sadly, the doctor didn't arrive fast enough to save Adams. She had just suffered a migraine. The family said she

had been well before then. The doctor examined the body and noted the distinct smell of almonds. He also smelled the same aroma from the bottle of elixir should drank from suspicious. He called for an autopsy, which confirmed his theory. Adams had died from cyanide poisoning. Death by cyanide is a nasty way to go. One swallowed, it leaves a corrosive trail through the digestive system. It attaches to hemoglobin, breaking down the respiration process and causing cell death due

to oxygen deprivation. The victim convulses violently. The gift had been for Cornish, but the sender hadn't left a note. Poisonings by mail usually went unsolved. Fortunately, he had stored the wrappings along with the gift. Police asked several club members if they knew anything about the package. The club's secretary instantly recognized the handwriting on the rapper. It belonged to thirty one year old Roland Millanieu, who was known

to have had a dispute with Cornish. It seems the two got into a yelling match over Cornish's reluctance to remove some of the less prominent members of the club. Molaneux had gone so far as to try to turn other members against Cornish, even writing to them demanding his expulsion. Everyone had ignored the request. The police thought Molanneux was an unlikely suspect. He was well educated and an esteemed

member of society. His father was a famous Civil War hero, having supported Ulysses Grant in Richmond and William Sherman during his march through Georgia, and sure everyone knew. The younger Molaneux suffered tantrums, described as brash and egotistical with a

superiority complex. His father's fame and good standing had often shielded him, and people made con sessions for his behavior based on his status unpleasant personality aside, no one thought someone like him would stoop to killing anyone over such a dispute. However, evidence forced police to reconsider. For one, Molaneu did have an account at the elite Tiffany and Company's Fifth Avenue store. Paperwork showed that Molineux had made

a purchase right before Christmas. Tiffany's sold silver bottles just like the one Cornish had received. Also, Molaneux worked at his family's dye company and had studied chemistry. He would be very well educated on the poisons used to make richly colored dyes like the mercury, arsenic and cyanide rich Prussian blue. The company was located near the post office where the package had been mailed, and interviews with other club members turned up another disturbing death. Just a month earlier,

club member Henry Barnett had died unexpectedly in November. Had been pursuing a beautiful young woman named Margaret Connell. It seems the lovely Margaret had also caught the attention of Molanieux, A l cornish Barnett had also received a mysterious package containing medicine. He died three days later. With her suitor gone, Molaneux stepped in and immediately proposed to Margaret, burying her. Three weeks later. Suspecting foul play, police exhumed Barnett's body.

It's no surprise the autopsy turned up sinide throughout the stomach and other organs. Convinced Molaneux had killed two people, the justice system brought him to trial in late The evidence was damning and the jury returned a guilty verdict. Margaret divorced her husband, as you might imagine, and Molaneu was sent to Sing Singh to await execution. But his father wasn't about to let his son hang, and he

hired the best lawyers to work on an appeal. On August fIF teenth of nineteen o one, the New York State Court of Appeals ruled in Molaneu's favor over a technicality in the prosecution's closing statement. Determined to not let a murderer escape justice, the prosecution tried him again, but his father's pockets were deep, and the attorneys got him acquitted free once more. Roland Molaneux became obsessed with the

plight of unjustly convicted men. A few years later, he suffered a mental breakdown and was committed to the New York State Hospital for the Insane, where he remained for the rest of his life. The general feeling from the public was that the son was guilty, but the jury had exonerated the father. In the end, the only people the father and son had managed to deceive were themselves.

American Shadows as hosted by Lauren Vogelbaum. This episode was written by Michelle Uto, researched by Ali Steed and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young, with executive producers Aaron Mankey, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn more about the show, visit grim and mild dot com. For more podcasts from iHeart Radio, visit the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.