S2 E7: Shootout at the Dress Shop

hopes this will end the conversation. Go away, Johnny, I've got work to do. It's four Thursday in the afternoon, but Water's breath smells of drink. Doris has been going on dates with him since February, but now it's mid July and she increased leasingly finds Waters a drag. The American is jealous and possessive. Aaronson calls out, I'm going in after all, he pays me my money. Doris turns her back on the soldier and steps into the shop, but jamming his foot in the door to stop her

closing it on him, Waters barges his way inside. This is the seldom told story of women in World War Two, who were killed not by the enemy but by husbands, lovers, and strangers wearing the uniform of their own side. It's also the tale of a particular string of murder victims that history has swept from view. I'm Hallie Rubinhold and I'm Alice Finds, and you're listening to bad Women the

Blackout River. We'll return to the bloody sequence of events that unfolded it Izzie Aaronson's dress shop later, but it will come as no surprise that, once the gunsmoke had cleared, the shattered glass had been swept up, and the bodies of the dead and injured removed from the scene, public sympathy sided firmly with Private John Waters. No one had

a good word for Doris, but everyone spoke well of Johnny. Women, particularly those who wish to live and love as they please, have long been condemned for making choices that run counter to society's rigid and restrictive expectations of them. This was as true for women alive in the nineteen forties as it had been fifty years earlier for the women who

were murdered by Jack the Ripper. In this episode, we're stepping away from the story of the Blackout Ripper to examine the long and contradictory lists of charges leveled at such women. They have no children or too many children. They stay single, or they marry unsuitable men. They commit to a career or their own free as they please. They have sex with men, or they refuse to have

sex with men. The approved path of docility, domesticity and monogamy is narrow, and any woman who crosses its strict borders can expect to be shamed, denounced as unnatural a deviant. And that's in peacetime. In times of war, the accusations are worse. Bad women undermine the fight and aid the enemy. Bad women are as good as helping Hitler to victory. This is a criminal offense of the most serious character.

The prosecution at Peterborough Police Court wants the presiding judges to throw the book at Olive Ward and Dorothy Bouldry. The court should make an example of these young women and make the severity of their crime quite clear to the public at large. Olive twenty one and Dorothy just twenty both work at a local munitions factory, and they've been charged under a new wartime law what they've been accused of sands almost like treason with consequences, is said

to be more devastating than Hitler's bombs. These two, the court is told, have made casualties of men from the Allied armies, men who should engaged fighting the enemy. Olive and Dorothy, a single parent, could face incarceration their crime sedition, spying, sabotage. Well, no, they've both missed doctor's appointments. Defense Regulation thirty three B had recently come into force, and it was aimed squarely

at women like Olive and Dorothy. Thirty three B made it a punishable offense to fail to attend medical treatment for certain transmissible illnesses, certain sexually transmitted infections. That is, as you might recall from our previous season, in the days of Jack the Ripper, it was women who were considered to be the vectors of dreaded venereal disease. Elizabeth Stride, one of the women murdered in eighteen eighty eight, was locked up in a VD hospital in her native Sweden.

There she underwent compulsory, unhygienic and humiliating examination and was threatened with quack cures involving toxic mercury, and even though the spread of venereal disease always takes two, Elizabeth's male clients warrant subject to any such restrictions on their freedom or forced to have medical interventions. And so it was

in the era of the Blackout Ribber two. When they announced the new law, the newspapers enthusiastically promised that Regulation thirty three B would mean prison for spreaders, and in the first six or so months after thirty three B came into force, action was taken against sixty four women but only two men. The law said that anyone being treated for VD, often soldiers, should be asked who had

given them the infection. If the person they named had also been cited in another VD case, that spreader would be summoned for compulsory testing and treatment. Failure to attack and any of these mandatory medical appointments would result in criminal prosecution. Professor Julia lat says the law was not

only deeply unjust, it was also utterly flawed. What seemed to usually happen is an enlisted man would discover they were suffering from veneeral disease and then make an educated guess as to which woman they caught it from and denounce her to the police, and the police would then

have to investigate her. Bearing in mind that diagnostic technologies were not very far advanced, and even today it's very difficult to tell who gave who veneerial disease, So it's very possible that it was the man who gave the woman vineerial disease. But police were supposed to go investigate this woman, arrest her forcibly, inspect her for venereal disease, so you assault her essentially, and then she would have

to stand trial. And you can only imagine the stigma and the shame of being dragged into court for sex with a soldier and maybe giving him VD or maybe catching VD from him. It was really awful. Olive and Dorothy's court appearances would have been deeply humiliating. The soldiers who had denounced them were not named, but the two young women had to endure the public airing of their medical records, as well as police conjecture about their private lives.

She'd been brought to my attention many times and being seen associating with soldiers. The women's parents were also named in court and shamed for not doing more to curb the behavior of their adult offspring. If thirty three B was intended to reduce the spread of VD, in practice, it relied on publicly humiliating defendants to such a degree that other young women might think twice before even dating a soldier. She's a loose character, said the police constable

giving evidence against young mother Dorothy Baldry. Thirty three B did have its critics. Several female politicians campaigned against it, arguing that it was a gift for the blackmailer, the informer, and the poisoned pen, but their attempts to vote down the regulation were crushed two hundred and forty five to

thirty one. Julia Late says that government officials weren't too bothered if schools of young women suffered as a result of thirty three B. They were more concerned about applicating visiting Allied generals whose men were increasingly reporting sick with v D. The Americans were especially upset because they painted a picture of these American boys, you know, could come from a farm in Oklahoma, had never had sex before, coming to London and being corrupted by British women who

taught them all these sort of debauched things, and then gave them vinereal disease. That's certainly what the Americans wanted to believe was happening. I think that the real story is, of course very different, but that's absolutely what they were saying, and they were putting an immense amount of pressure on the British government and the War Office to control these women. Britain, make no mistake, was at this point a dull and

dismal place. The young foreign men who arrived in their hundreds of thousands were a glimmer of glamor amid the drudgery and death of wartime pubs and dance halls across the nation, filled with Australians, Canadians, free French and the unbelievably exotic Americans who had fat wallets, chewing gum and even under armed the odorant. Most young women weren't far from an army camp, airbase or port, and some even chose to head to the center of it all, London.

Some of them ended up trading sex for money, all for a night out on the town, and they were labeled amateur prostitutes or good time girls by the police. They were also an acute source of embarrassment for the British authorities, who feared that the national reputation would be harmed when American gis started writing letters back to the States about the British women they'd encountered. As one government memo put it, the impression created on the American troops

and their mammas at home is bad. A report was even compiled. It's somewhat overwrought title was the Pestering of American Troops by loose women. Wiser heads in the police and government pointed out that the American servicemen themselves were far from innocent bystanders in such events. They flocked to London expressly in search of the women they Riley referred to you as Piccadilly commandos. All right, sweetheart, who are

so glad I watched you are starving? Many of the girls were young eighteen was not at an unusual age, and were often quite pretty, so, said American pilot Paul Wagner to an American raised in the pure technical culture of the Great Depression. This open discussion of sex for sale, carried out in broad daylight by girls who looked exactly like the wholesome American counterpart, was most astounding. Want to

take me for a drink on a place thereby. It seems unlikely that young British women behaved so very differently to their counterparts in New York, San Francisco or Honolulu, But all the same, the view that took hold was that visiting Yanks were being corrupted by local women and infected with v D, and so the British acquiesce to American demands and Regulation thirty three B was introduced. But this was clearly not a proud chapter in British legal history.

Julia Late says it remains difficult for his story like her, to access any of the official papers. The prosecution fowles are closed and the War office fows are closed. We only know the depressing details of the cases against Olive and Dorothy because their local newspaper, the Peterborough Standard, covered the hearings. The Standard at least printed the defendants side

of the case. Both Olive and Dorothy had attended examinations and treatment sessions when they could, and Olive's mother had gone to the clinic to pick up tablets for her daughter, But it seems that their rather patchy attendance record had exhausted the patience of their doctor, Doctor Christopher Rolliston was a curious character and not one to hide his somewhat

odd opinions. He was regularly quoted in newspapers railing against such things as undesirable Irish migrants and warning that women who wore trousers posed a threat to the survival of the human race. Nor was he a fan of young women working in factories. The discipline of the home is relaxed, and the opportunities and temptations before becoming infected with VD

are much increased. Even before Regulation thirty three B came into force, Rolliston thought doctors always knew best, and that patients should be fined if they refused vaccinations or compulsory treatment for everything from dentistry to VD. Had a more sympathetic medical officer handled these cases, Olive and Dorothy might

never have ended up in the police court. Both women pleaded that they'd found it impossible to take enough time off work to attend the numerous medical appointments required of them. Perhaps they'd also run out of excuses to give their employer. Dorothy's financial troubles were particularly acute. Her husband, away fighting in North Africa, had stopped sending money to support her and their three year old daughter the previous spring. In the end, the judges imposed a fine on the women,

though one smaller than the hundred pound maximum. They were sent away with the promise that another appearance in the dock would see them imprisoned. Being spared time behind bars might have been of little consolation, for the national press had picked up the juicier parts of the evidence. The two women had been disgraced throughout the land, from bustling cities to the furthest reaches of the British Isles. Their

reputations were in tatus. Dorothy Baldry, called a menace to society in court, found it impossible to secure work following her conviction. Unable to pay off all of her fine, Dorothy was soon hauled up before the judges again and this time sent to jail. Bad women, the blackout Ripper will return in just a moment. Some serving soldiers went to extraordinary lengths to avoid the supposed pestering of loose women. All right, yo, look, get in a line along here,

look to your front. New recruit Richard Bryer, arriving at a provincial railroad station to join his training unit. What have I done to deserve a gang like you. It's about to learn that some men are on the hunt for alternatives to the good time girls and Piccadilly commandos.

Have you looking like soldiers? Step up? Look sharp? Because venereal disease was on the rise, the military authorities bombarded their new soldiers with stern lectures and lurid posters warning that she may look clean, but good time girls spread syphilis. God Fearing Northern Ireland, the army even pleaded that cinemas

be allowed to open on the sabbath. Even a few hours at the movies were a few more hours when its soldiers weren't in danger of contracting gonorrhea, And here they might even be shown one of the army's own information films, a tale of boy meets girl. What's your name? And blame's Jenny? What do you say we celebrate our This particular soldier goes straight back to his barracks to brag to his friend. Don't tell me you were sure it did? Boy? Something nice? Too clean as a whistle,

Even a whistle can get messy. The morning comes with a sting. What matter? What did the posters say about clean looking girls? Find this particular film assumed that men could never be dissuaded from sleeping with women, so its main message was to encourage soldiers to at least use condoms. However, some soldiers, scared of venereal disease, fearful of unwanted pregnancy, squeamish about paying for sex, or unwilling to be unfaithful to wives and sweethearts back home, did swear off women

and seek other outlets for their sexual desires. Back at that train station, raw recruit Richard Bryer is singled out by one of the sergeants and guided towards a truck headed for the barracks. You lucky lot of joining a best regiment in the army, as you put a smile on your worried looking faces, little did he realize that he'd been specially selected because of his physical attractiveness. During the drive, I sound the jolting of the lurry was inclined to throw us to get and at first I,

innocent assumed it was accidental. But then at discovernment that body can't act was being made even when the movement of the barry did require and we were down through the black out again, and so there was no possible observation of what was going on and the extra sexual maneuvering on me was made during that journey. This interview with Richard was recorded by historian Emma Vickers, author of Queen and Country, Same Sex Desire in the British Armed Forces.

Emma says Richard wasn't unwilling to enter into a sexual relationship with his sergeant and later slept with other married officers who opted for sex with recruits over paying for prostitutes. So the men that were ostensibly straight that were married or engaged, they would often say, I didn't want to invite the attention to a sex worker, and so I know I found the next best thing. But such same sex encounters, which were still illegal for men, could also

rely on coercion. There are a couple of examples of mass exploitation by officers who sexually proposition the men that they command in a very secretive, exploitative way. You know, that's hard to read as a historian when you have twelve men from the same battalion that are complaining about a single officer, even though these were punishable offenses. During wartime, military leaders took a lenient view of the sexual activities

of men under their command. There are plenty of examples of men that tumble out of each other's bunks, and senior officers will say, what do you want them to do? They're just about to go on a major operation. Emissais. The prevailing attitude was that men away from home needed to have some form of sexual outlet, whether with good time girls were so called professional prostitutes, or with each other. Men's sexual appetites could not be curbed or control rolled.

It's the kind of boys will be boys' attitude. It's part of the bonding, it's part of a culture, and there is this sense that sexually satisfied men are easier to manage. Of course, while the unbridled male sex drive was a fact of life, woe betide any woman who considered having more than one sexual partner. She was just

asking for trouble. Thirty sixty year old seamstress Doris Staples was a newcomer to Henley on Thames, a genteel country town thirty miles upstream from London famed for the rowing

races at its annual royal regatta. Henley's townspeople appear not to have welcomed her arrival before the war, Doris had lived for years in West London, first with her family and then in a place of her own, a terraced house, where she resided first with her younger brother Bernard, and then with another sibling, Arthur, who was just a year her junior. The West End would have been just a

short hop on the subway or bus. After a day spent perusing the district's fashionable shopping streets and grand apartment stores, Doris may well have called in for a drink at the Universal Brasserie, the Salted Almond or Mazon Lions Venus, familiar to the victims of the Blackout Ripper. The capital must have been dizzyingly exciting for the dressmaker, for she'd been raised on the remote island of Guernsey, a tiny speck of Britain nestled just off the coast of France.

Why Doris left London isn't clear, but her departure did coincide with the worst air raids of the Blitz. It's thought that sixteen high explosive bombs landed in the streets around Doris's home over just one week in October nineteen forty. Dress shop owner is the Aaronson met Doris in nineteen forty one. The tailor may have valued her sewing skills, but otherwise he seems to have held Doris in low. She did not have such a great name in the town.

According to her co workers, Doris was the subject of considerable local gossip. It was murmured disapprovingly that she spent weekends with Air Force fellows. The countryside around Henley was dotted with new air fields and military installations, so perhaps she met men who came into town in search of fun. Or maybe Doris went further afield to the cities of Oxford or Reading, or took the train back into London. At some point she met an American sergeant and formed

a close relationship with him. It was suggested that she loved the man and they'd become engaged. According to some reports, the man was already married, though unhappily. In any case, that romance was soon interrupted by the war. The sergeant was posted to North Africa, and then in February nineteen forty three, Doris cross paths with another unhappily married Yank private John Waters. In fact, the thirty seven year old from perth Amboy, New Jersey was unhappy. On several fronts.

The American military had staged what was jokingly dubbed a friendly invasion of the UK. Biccadilly Circus was teeming with visiting soldiers, but so too were cities, towns and villages across the land. The hundreds of thousands of young Americans brought with them millions of candy bars, bottles of coke, and all kinds of other luxuries from home too. Henley on Thames, however, was yet to experience this bounty. In

civilian life. Waters was a skilled craftsman in terra cotta and ornamental plaster, and he'd been selected to join a small but special detachment of Americans loaned out to the Royal Air Force based at a requisition country club, Phyllis Court. Waters was engaged in top secret work making miniature models of German military targets to help the Allied planners work

out the best way to attack or bomb them. But stranded amid a mass of limes, Waters and a handful of comrades were denied the enviable amenities that US bases had to offer, as well as the potential for promotion to the better and higher paying roles that were available in larger units. Waters not only worked alongside British servicemen. To his disgust, he had to eat their food too, everything's fried bread and Brussels sprouts, and it just wrecked

my stomach. Waters often left his base north of Henley and cycled into town to buy whatever decent food he could find, an expensive habit that was crippling his already fragile finances. Waters must have met Doris during one of his numerous visits to town, and his attraction to her soon verged on obsession. I saw her nearly every day. I used to go to see her at the dress shop where she worked. I used to take her to movies and to pubs. The cash strapped Waters he paid

for these outings and also showered Doris with gifts. Then one day she came to him with bad news. She told me she was pregnant, and I gave her money to straighten it out. Neither Waters nor Doris seemed to countenance bringing a child into the world together, but straightening it out would involve breaking the law. In nineteen forty three, abortion was illegal in Britain, and it was dangerous back

when women won the vote. It was hoped that their participation in politics would prompt the reform of their reproductive rights. Says historian professor Pat Thane. What happened in the mid nineteen thirties is and women were campaigned for legalized abortion because there were a lot of deaths due to backstreet abortions, whom well off women could always pay hav an abortion. Working class women couldn't, and there were so called backstreet

abortionists who were coming it. Or the women might take drugs and either made themselves seriously ill or they died. Serves quite a serious problem. The campaigners did for some changes. Abortions were no longer punishable if they were done in good faith for the purpose of preserving the life of the mother, and a landmark court ruling just before the outbreak of the war allowed for terminations of pregnancies resulting

from traumatic events such as rape. But for tens of thousands of women each year, women just like Doris Staples, their only option was to resort to the backstreet abortionist, or worse, it's not hard to find prosecution files on so called professional abortionists, often women. They performed terminations for a few pounds. If caught, they faced around three years in jail, and far longer if the pregnant woman died

as a result of their work. Alongside such cases are reports on pregnant women pushed to awful lengths, like the forty year old abandoned by her lover who took us so called noxious thing to end her pregnancy. The substance had the desired effect, but the woman became so gravely ill that her neighbors called the police, who only then summoned a doctor. Another woman found herself in the dock, charged with using an instrument to induce her young neighbor

to miscarry. The defendant denied the offense, saying she found the desperate young woman in the bathroom using the implement on herself and merely wrested it from her hands. Some women, of course, didn't seek to end their pregnancies. Thirty two year old army cook Margaret Williams popped round to a friend's house early one morning. Moving the pet bird to another room. She drew the heavy blackout curtains in the kitchen, sealed the doors and windows, turned on the gas oven,

and placed her head inside. However, Doors Staples straightened out her situation by the summer of nineteen forty three. She was no longer pregnant, but she could not rid herself of John Waters. No matter once she tried, bad women will return in a moment. Private John Waters couldn't take the hint. Even when Doris would end their dates early. She used to tell me she had to go home, and then the boys would see her later in the evening with another guy. That burned me up. Waters believed

that Doris was sleeping with other men. Perhaps she was, perhaps she wasn't. But what is apparent from the file in this case is that the idea of her infidelity increasingly obsessed best Waters. He was convinced that she was lying to him, and he was angry. We argued because she was stepping out and it made a goddamn fool of me. When Doris's father visited one Sunday, he saw

the problem for himself. We were sitting in a local hotel in the evening when my daughter pointed out an American and told me that he was always paying her a lot of attention. I walked over to him and told him that he must stop it. So Waters wasn't just showing up at Doris's place of work. He was shadowing her in the Pubs of Henley two. When I was reading this story about this couple, what struck me

immediately was how nothing's changed. How the way this played out was exactly the same as the way these murders are playing out right now. Professor Jane Monkton Smith is the author of in Control, Dangerous Relationships and How They End in Murder. I got into this area of research because I was a police officer many years ago, and I saw a lot of violence against women and violence generally, and I was surprised at the time by the way that we justify and excuse violence depending on the victim

we send. Jane our notes on the case of Doris Staples and the events of nineteen forty three seemed all too familiar to her. Him turning up at her work is absolutely typical of a controlling partner. What are you doing when I'm not there? I want to exert my authority on this relationship. I want you to know that you're being watched. I need to know what you're doing. I need to let everyone else know that I own you. There's that kind of paranoid sexual jealousy, and there's the

coercive control. We wouldn't even call it coercive control. Then, I don't even know if we'd have called it domestic abuse. It would just have been seen, I think, as pretty normal in a relationship. Besides Doris's father, no one else in her life seemed to feel there was anything particularly wrong with the soldier's behavior. Indeed, fellow dressmaker Gertrude Hurst thought Doris was rather rude to Waters and recommended that she moderate her behavior towards him. Don't make Johnny very

sore if you keep on like that. Jane recognizes this pattern too. We spend so much time defending those problematic behaviors as if they're natural in men, completely natural, and attacking the responses of the woman to those problematic behaviors. We don't seem to see those behaviors as problematic until something violent happens. Jane sees other familiar and worrying factors in the case. Waters was suffering setbacks in many parts of his life, but seems to have focused his frustrations

on Doris. The soldier felt he'd experienced an acute loss of status. He found the army's way of model making did not require the full use of his skill. A colleague said, Waters grumbled about his living conditions and the inferior British food rations, and his inability to gain a promotion. He had money troubles too, which became even more stark when his estranged wife, whom he hadn't seen for around

thirteen years, filed for an allotment from his pay. Twenty two dollars a month would be deducted from his wages and sent to support his wife and child. This was a considerable sum, and witnesses say it greatly agitated Waters. He was reduced to borrowing money from his comrades and even his superiors, and now even more humbling Doris appeared to be pulling away from their relationship. That's what this

is all about. It's entitlement and status and protecting men from being humiliated, because humiliation, allegedly is the thing that men are most afraid of. Women are most afraid of violence and being killed, men are far more frightened of humiliation. So if you leave them, you're pushing that button. On July fourteenth, Waters was due to take over sentry duty at Phyllis Court. It was his turn to guard the top secret installation as he was issued with a pistol

and ammunition. He said he was burnt up at Doris. He was said to be sane and sober when he claimed his weapon, but shortly afterwards he was tapping at the window of the dress shop, the stench of drink on his breath. Doris looked up from her work and then came that altercation on the street. Away, Johnny, I've got work to do. When the shopkeeper final he ordered Doris back inside. Waters followed close on her heels. Doris turned, saw the pistol in his hand and began to back

away from him. Doris Staples fell to the floor. I'll get you some water, said Gertrude Hurst, who assumed that Doris had merely fainted. Waters fired twice more, striking Doris again, and then he turned the gun on himself, aiming a shot up into his brain. The staff finally fled the chaos of the shop, crying out for help. Armed police and firemen were soon on the scene, along with American

soldiers from Phyllis Court. Throw your gunner. Waters were still alive and far from all right, but he also wasn't about to surrender, and allowed Doris to receive medical treatment. If you can hear me, then come out slowly with your hands raised. The British police tried to end the siege by smoking Waters out with tear gas and bullets whistled past their ears. Finally, the police and soldiers stormed the shop. Waters had dragged himself to an outside laboratory.

His jaw was shattered and bloody, and a bullet was lodged in his brain, but he was still alive. He was cautioned and then taken away for treatment. Doris was dead. One bullet fired by Waters had wrought terrible internal damage, shattering bone, severing arteries, slicing organs, and then lodging in her spine. It was judged likely she died within moments of Waters opening fire. Once he'd sufficiently recovered, the US

Army tried Waters for murder, a capital offense. Given the weight of evidence, the only hope of escaping the hangman would be to win some sympathy for the defendant by trashing the reputation of dead Doris with witness after witness asked about her relationships with men and the humiliating effect these had on Waters. This is a narrative. It's a narrative that's constructed to explain this violence and this murder.

Here's Jane Monkton Smith again. And you could simplistically say this narrative has come from the killer himself, but it hasn't just come from him. It's come from society, and it's come from the defense and prosecution narratives. And it's an attack on her reputation. I think it's almost impossible for women to have a good reputation. You can pull up practically anything, and Doris seemed to be the kind

of woman who liked a bit of fun. She was social, she liked to go out, and that can be misconstrued to defend the killer. Do we realize we're doing that? I don't know, because it just feels like it comes from such a natural place, deep in our bone marrow, that we defend these narratives that if a woman's bad, then she should expect to get murdered. And that's crazy when you say it like that, isn't it? But in

the end the court van Water is guilty. His jealousy was not an excuse, but rather another sign of criminal premeditation. He thought that she was having intercourse with other men and was afraid that she would turn him down in favor of the others. He also believed she loved another man who was married. I shut her because I don't like any pushing around. His actions revealed called deliberate purpose, on the absence of adequate provocation, either to kill Miss

Stables or to inflict upon her grievous bodily harm. The townspeople of Henley, however, was so fond of Johnny Waters, and so sympathetic to his plight, that three hundred and two of them signed a clemency petition asking that his life be spared. His army bodies added their names. Two these efforts were in vain. Waters, who was increasingly debilitated by his catastrophic self inflicted headwounds and whose memory and cognitive capacity were severely impacted, was hanged almost a year

to the day after he first met Doris. For Jane. The whole Sorry case reveals are continuing inability to comprehend the threat that men such as Waters post. This is a dangerous person. He was always going to be dangerous. Is highly highly likely that some kind of trigger was going to come at some point around his possession of Doris. He is the classic classic killer. She wanted to break it off. It is so dangerous for a woman to try and reject a man, even if they're not in

a relationship with them. No one was listening to her. They were all like, poor guy, poor guy that hasn't really changed a lot, and it's sad, bad women. The Black Out Ripper is hosted by me Hallie rubin Hold and me Alice Fines. It was written and produced by Alice Fines and Ryan Dilley, with addition or support from Courtney Guerino and Offa Gomberts. Kate Healy of Oakwood Family

Trees aided us with genealogical research. Pascal Wise Sound designed and mixed the show and composed all the original music. The show was recorded at Wardoor Studios by David Smith and Tom Berry. You also heard the voice talents of Ben Crow, David Glover, Melanie Gutridge, Stella Harford, Jemma Saunders, and Rufus Wright. Much of the music you heard was performed by Edgarchan, Ross Hughes, Christian Miller, and Marcus Penrose.

They were recorded by Nick Taylor at Portcupine Studios. Pushkin's Ben Tolliday mixed the tracks, and you heard additional piano playing by the great Berry Wise Hi Berry. The show also wouldn't have been possible without the work of Jacob Weisberg, Heather Fane, Carlie Migliori, Maggie Taylor, Nicole Morano, Eric Sandler,

and Daniella Lukhan. We'd also like to thank Michael Buchanan Dunn of the Murder Mile podcast, Lizzie McCarroll, Catherine Walker at the Royal Pharmaceutical Society and the Earbe Historical Society. Bad Women is a production of Pushkin Industries. Please rate and review the show and spread the word about what we do, and thanks for listening. He he