In the winter of eighteen o three, a London neighborhood was gripped by fear as reports of a ghostly figure haunting the streets of Hammersmith spread like wildfire. But when a man with a gun ran into the specter in the streets, the line between folklore and tragedy vanished in a single fatal shot. This is the true story of the Hammersmith Ghost Murder, where panic and superstition, plus a deadly mistake all collided in one of Britain's strangest legal cases.
My name's Ben, I'm Nicole, and you're listening to Wicked Ingram.
A true crime podcast. The following podcast and material intended for a mature audience. Listener discretion is advised.
Welcome to Wicked and Grim.
And I'm naked today.
Oh my gosh, that sounds not okay.
Why I'm in my own home. Why can't be naked?
Yeah, but just like sitting here recording a podcast, buckus.
I'm done with nude. I don't have headphones. I feel naked and broke his headphones. Yeah, so I got to buy some new headphones. It feels weird, does.
Feel really weird? I know I've recorded a couple, not for breaking them, but because I just had a shower and then I didn't want to dent my hair from the top of my headphones, so brutal.
It it feels different when you're not wearing headphones.
It doesn't feel quite as legit or professional, really, I think is something.
It doesn't And for me a big thing is if I have the headphones on, I can really understand when we're overlapping each other in a conversation.
Yeah, it really.
Helps focus in on that. And when I don't have the headphones, you and I can talk to each other and we can overlap and understand each other easy, but it doesn't betray the same way in audio, and it's harder to differentiate.
So yeah, well hopefully, I mean I'm more in mine. Hopefully I'm catching things, but I don't quite have the ear as you do for this.
Is that the right term? I don't know.
I don't even know.
But we have a really interesting case for you guys today. This is a paranormal case about a ghost and then it transitions into a murder, so you get a ghost story and a murder story all wrapped up in one.
Sounds very intriguing.
Plus it's in the eighteen hundreds.
Yeah, so it's crazy.
What more could you ask for it this case.
Early eighteen hundred.
Yeah, yeah, literally has everything you could ask for. Like, I don't know why this isn't a movie or something yet, because it's it's quite the story.
Well, let's make it a movie.
Let's make it a movie. Let's do it. Let's just start filming it. Someone quickly give us a budget of several million dollars so we can make this movie.
Yeah, you probably need about them. I have no idea how much you need to make a movie, but people probably do it for less. But then you can tell.
Yeah, you generally can tell, that's for sure. And especially I mean if we're gonna do this and if we're gonna have Chris Hemsworth be the main character, oh my god, which we can't do it without obviously.
Yeah, that's our ticket of fame to meet him.
I mean yeah, I mean, picture like eighteen hundreds, like streets outside of London and you have like a rugged ghost spectral thing happening, and someone's out in the streets with a gun hunting the ghost, obviously shirtless, and it's Chris Hemsworth.
Obviously shirtless, obvious.
JESU tell me you wouldn't watch that movie. I'm a dude, No, homo, I'd still watch that movie.
I'd watch that movie. I watched out of that movie exactly.
Call Chris Hemsworth, get him on this now. See, we need to make this happen. Anyways, let's get going. In the early winter of eighteen oh three in Hammersmith, a quiet village just outside of London, and the streets were colder than usual, just not from the chill, but also from fear. Now. At the time, Hammersmith felt more like
a countryside than a city. Its narrow lanes were lined with hedgerows and scattered cottages, and at night, the only light came from the lanterns or whale oil lamps without gaslight er police patrols. Darkness held power, and that December the dark seemed to be hiding something more than just the silence.
Okay, darkness held power. Yeah that's a good line, thank you. That might be one of our best lines. So ah, yeah, that just blew me away. Well done.
Now imagine Chris Hemsworth, shirtless, walking through the dark with oil lamps going glistening off his bottom.
Oh, oil up, body, he is brutal ware going with this.
That's my last reference of Chris Hemsworth. I'm done. I'm done until maybe at the very end, but probably not now. Rumors began to swirl through the tavern and the homes. People spoke of a tall, pale figure drifting through the village after sundown, sometimes wrapped in a white cloak, and others said to have maybe horns or glowing eyes as well. The stories varied, but the message was always the same. There was something or someone haunting the churchyard at night.
Some villagers claimed it was the ghost of a man who had taken his own life the year before. He was buried improperly in the churchyard of Saint Paul's, just off Black Lion Lane Now. At the time, it was widely believed that those who died by suicide shouldn't be buried in consecrated ground, so doing so people feared would keep their souls restless and even dangerous. It didn't take long for superstition to turn into obsession, and by mid December,
locals were claiming that the ghost had attacked people. He had chased them right through the night and even scared a pregnant woman to death. Panic set in, and the lines between myth and reality were blurring each more every night. In an era where people were fearing the supernatural just as much as actual crime, it wasn't hard to believe something otherworldly might be walking in those streets that time.
But what no one in Hammersmith realized was that their ghost story, real or imagined, was about to lead to a very real death, also a dramatic murder trial, and a legal dilemma that would haunt British law for nearly two hundred years. So that's our intro to the story.
Okay.
Now, in the early eighteen hundreds, Hammersmith wasn't yet part of the sprawling metropolis of London. It was a semi rural type village tucked along the north banks of the River Thames, with open fields, narrow footpaths, and just enough development to hint at a city that it would eventually become. At the center of the village stood at Saint Paul's Church, surrounded by a quiet graveyard, and this is where that ghost story began, or at least where it was most
often said to be seen. The first reported sighting came in November of eighteen oh three, locals began whispering of a strange, white clad figure that appeared after nightfall. According to some accounts, it floated, Others said it walked silently through the mist. People claimed the ghosts would spring out from behind gravestones, chase passers by, or simply stand there in the darkness, just watching and waiting.
Gosh, that's creepy, yeah, no kidding.
Descriptions were not exactly consistent. Some said the figure was covered in a white shroud like a burial cloth. Others swore yes, large horns or big glassy eyes, or it wore a cloak made of calf skin. A few thought it was seven feet tall, unnaturally silent, and capable of vanishing in an instant. Now, whatever it was, it scared people badly enough to avoid certain roads altogether after dusk, and that's where, hey, the darkness has its power, right.
The villagers soon settled into a theory the ghost was the restless spirit of a man who died by suicide the year before. He'd been buried in the churchyard. Against custom and belief at the time in the early nineteenth century, many people believed that such a burial would actually leave the deceased soul trapped and condemned to wander for all eternity. Stories, of course, piled up quickly. One Brewer's assistant, Thomas Groom, told of walking through the churchyard at night when something
lunged at him from behind a tombstone. It grabbed him by the throat and spun him around, and when he threw a punch, she felt it hit something soft like a great coat quote unquote, but he saw no one there. In another case, a pregnant woman reportedly fainted after the ghost wrapped its arms around her. She was found hours later, still unconscious and died not long after the encounter.
Really, so she could have had a heart attack.
Or something ain't Potentially, yes, though it's impossible to confirm the story, it only added fuel to the hysteria. I mean, you can't necessarily say that this woman who's found unconscious encountered the ghost because she wasn't conscious to say that she did or did not, right, she could.
Have just said had something wrong with her that night.
She may have just yeah, she may have just been walking home and just had a heart attack. And then with all the ghost hysteria, someone's like she obviously encountered the ghost, and then that word spreads like wildfire, and you have a pregnant woman who just got attacked and killed by a ghost.
Or I mean, yeah, something could have even gone wrong with her pregnancy or something.
Who knows. Yeah, but one way or another, it was just hysteria and this was just fuel for that fire. Then came the stagecoach incident. One night, a carriage driver hauling sixteen passengers saw a ghostly figure rise from the roadside. In a panic, he abandoned the horses, the wagon, and every single passenger on board, and he just sprinted away into the night.
I didn't laugh, but was that you.
Me in a past life?
Maybe?
Yeah? Now the horses were found still, just standing in place, untouched, just not knowing what's going on. Right, there's like, okay, buddy just ran off. What do we do now?
And I feel like horses a lot get spooked too, right, They can get spooped.
Yeah, I mean they're giant, is what horses are. So now, by late December of eighteen oh three, Hammersmith had crossed a threshold from a worried curiosity to a full blown ghost panic. What had started as a whisper and an eerie sighting became a village wide obsession. The stories were growing darker and the fear more intense. People weren't just avoiding the churchyard. Instead, they were now arming themselves with superstition, hearsay, and in some cases, yes, even weapons. Now, there was no
official police force in London at the time. This was decades before Robert Peel's Metropolan Police, so law enforcement came in the form of night watchmen, volunteer patrols, and the occasional constable. With villagers reporting attacks by a ghost. Even the authorities weren't sure how they should respond to the situation.
They did what they could, though. They started patrolling the streets at night in shifts, hoping to catch whoever was behind the hauntings, or maybe whatever was behind the hunts. But patrolling nineteenth century Hammersmith wasn't easy. The village was full of narrow, twisting paths and dark hedgerows, making it nearly impossible to cover every single route in or out, and with the sheer number of ghost stories now floating around, it was hard to tell which sightings were actually credible
and which were simply fear. Taking over One of the men involved in the patrols was William Girdler, a local night watchman. On the night of December twenty ninth, Girdler reported seeing the figure himself. He described chasing a white cloaked form through the churchyard, only for it to tear off the sheet and disappear into the night.
He actually chased this thing. Hey, but I guess that's what he was there.
For exactly now, left behind there was a tablecloth dropped during that escape.
Huh wild Yeah.
It was the first solid proof that at least some of the ghost sightings were the work of a person in disguise. Literally, have someone classic Charlie Brown sheet draped over him, left exactly, and it's hey, this is a tablecloth, like you know, like we know someone in the village who's making these or something like that. Like this is an actual tablecloth. Someone had it draped over him. That was a person. They ripped it off and they ran.
Now this only added to the confusion. Though if the ghost was just a prankster, it was no longer harmless fun. It was at this point dangerous, especially now that citizens were arming themselves in hopes of catching it. Rumors spread even faster. Some believed the ghosts could breathe fire, had claws, or moved without touching the ground. Others were convinced there were multiple people dressing up as ghosts and they were the source. Each and every new account added layers and
layers of panic. By the time the calendar turned to January eighteen oh four, Hammersmith was a village living on high alert. The ghost wasn't just a curiosity anymore. It was a serious public threat, and people were growing desperate to put a stop to it. Seemed like everyone had a story. Some had seen the ghosts with their own eyes, Others knew someone who had chased it or been chased by it, and a few claimed they've even lost loved
ones in the frights from it. Whether it was real or imagined, the fear felt real enough to shape daily life here. Families refused to go out after sunset. Roads at once bustled with evening foot traffic now stood silent and empty. Even the taverns had started to clear out earlier than usual, and yet the ghosts kept appearing, or at least someone pretending to be did. The white figure was said to stalk the area near Black Lion lane
close to the churchyard late at night. That made it the hotspot for citizen patrols, men from the community, some armed with pistols, others with clubs or shotguns. They took turns walking the village, hoping to catch the ghosts in the act. The patrols weren't organized or trained. These were civilians acting on fear and frustration, and they weren't always coordinated with each other either. The lack of structure would soon prove to be a serious problem. Still, some seemed
genuinely motivated to by desire to protect the village. One of them Francis Smith, the twenty nine year old excise officer, essentially a government tax collector. He wasn't a soldier or a constable, but he felt responsible for his neighborhood safety. He thought that someone could be dressing up and terrorizing people, especially when someone believed a woman had already died and
on fright right. That enraged him. Others in the village were beginning to believe that the ghost was, yes, a prankster. It was shifting more this way, perhaps a local with a grudge or a sense of cruel humor. But even then, the line between superstition and reality was still blurred. The people of Hammersmith weren't just dealing with a physical threat. They are reacting to a community wide delusion built on fear and superstition fan by rumor, and now given the weight of real danger.
I'm kind of on the page where I think there's a lot of people that could just be dressing up and kind of like playing on this a little bit, having fun.
You know, Well, definitely, I mean if you look back, like that sort of thing happened not too long ago with the whole like clown sightings that were going on, Like I think that was pre COVID or maybe like twenty or seventeen.
I forgot about that.
Like there was a hysteria because like there was a clown sighting or two, and it was like obviously it's a person, right, but it's like this person seems very aggressive and malice intent, right, And then all of a sudden, more and more people started dressing up with this clown doing this and pranking people. Yeah, so okay, is this the same sort of situation? But that also you need to ask yourself, Okay, what started this?
Yeah, something did for sure?
Yeah, was it a peron in a sheet that started it? Or was there an actual specter that started this, because remember there are accounts of people saying that there was something that disappeared or this one individual, like I said, is the specter wrapped its arms around him and he hit it with his fists and he felt it like he was hitting a great coats But then there was nothing there. So you have ghostly stories and encounters, and you also have more real reality human stories and encounters.
Yeah. Well, I mean the one person that was wearing the sheet and then it got taken off or he let it drop and then looked to just disappear, like he could have just been wearing dark clothes, right and then just like yeah, disappeared in the night. It's hard to see someone wearing all black or like all white.
True, And I mean in that same sense too, if you're a hundred yards away you see this ghost in a graveyard, right, and all of a sudden you see it disappear. Maybe that's someone in dark clothes and all you see is the white sheet dropped to the ground, and that's quote unquote disappearing.
Yeah, but I don't disagree that there was something that started this, and you know, Yeah.
There needed to be a spark that started the fuck yeah, and what was that? It's hard to say. Now, some stopped waiting for a solution and started taking matters into their own hands. And that's exactly what Francis Smith decided to do. On the evening of January third, eighteen oh four, Francis Smith left his home in Hammersmith with a loaded shotgun in hand and a plan in mind. He was going to patrol the streets and, if possible, put an end to the so called Ghost's reign of terror once
and for all. Now, Smith wasn't a soldier or part of any official militia. He was a civilian, an excise officer responsible for collecting taxes on goods like alcohol. By most accounts, he was an honest and respectable man, not known for violence or even reckless behavior. Like many in Hammersmith. He simply just had enough now. Earlier that evening, Smith had reportedly spent some time at a local tavern, the
White Heart Inn, possibly to gather his courage. It's unclear how much he drank, but by the time he headed out he was tense and determined and carrying a Blunderbuss style shotgun, a powerful short barreled weapon loaded with lead shot. Around ten thirty pm, while walking along Black Lion Lane, Smith encountered William Girdler, the same watchman who had chased
the ghost just days prior. Now, Smith told Girdler he planned to hunt the ghost that night, and Girdler agreed to meet up with him after finishing his patrol and calling the hour at eleven pm. The two men even devised a password exchange, a call in response of who comes there and friend advance friend, so they wouldn't mistake each other in the dark.
Right they're taking this real seriously?
They definitely are. Now it's worth remember how dark the streets of Hammersmith were at the time. There were no street lights, the sky was moonless, the narrow lanes were lined with hedges and stone walls, making visibility close to zero in that setting. With his nerves frayed and his weapon ready and a drink or two in his system,
Smith continued on alone. It was just past eleven pm on January third, eighteen oh four, when Francis Smith, still patrolling that black lined lane, saw something or someone emerge from the darkness ahead of him. What he saw match the ghost stories perfectly, a figure dressed entirely in white, moving through the gloom. What he didn't know was that figure wasn't a ghost. It was Thomas Millwood, a twenty nine year old bricklayer, returning home after visiting his parents
and sister. He was dressed as bricklayers typically were at the time, in white linen trousers, a white flannel waistcoat, and a white apron, his standard work attire. This wasn't the first time Millwood had been mistaken for the ghost either. Days earlier, he'd been confronted by a man and two women riding in a carriage who shouted that he looked
like the infamous apparition. According to his wife and sister, Millwood had even joked about it afterwards, but refused suggestions to wear a coat over his work clothes.
That night. Yeah this is not going to end well.
Yeah. Smith spotted Millwood from across the narrow lane in the pitch black night, and with adrenaline running high already, Smith believed he had finally found the ghost he was searching for. Without taking time to confirm who or what he was looking at, Smith raised his shotgun and shouted quote, damn you, who are you? And what are you? Damn you? I'll shoot. Then almost immediately after, he pulled the trigger and fired.
Oh no.
The shot hit Thomas Millwood in the lower left jaw, shattering bone, severing part of his spine, and in instantly dropping him to the ground. He died right there where he fell.
Holy shits.
Inside the nearby house, Milwood's sister Anne had just seen him off.
Oh like, he was just leaving the house of the family.
Just leaving.
Oh no.
From her window, she heard the confrontation, the shout from the blast. She rushed outside to find her brother motionless in the street, blood spreading across his white clothes.
Oh no, that is terrible.
Meanwhile, Smith remained at the scene, stunned, shakened, and pale. A few others arrived, including watchman William Girdler, and neighbors John Locke and George Stow. Smith admitted to what he had done, but he said he hadn't meant to kill a man. He truly believed he had shot a ghost. Now Thomas Millwood, the man whose life was cut short in a case of mistaken identity. He wasn't some shadowy figure or town outsider. Milwood was a local, born and raised in Hammersmith, and he was dead.
Twenty nine year old. Yeah huh, but I mean, gosh, what is he thinking. He probably knew that these people were doing a watch, right.
Yeah, but he probably never thought he would have been shot.
Oh okay, well, no, this is no reason that the guy like, that's not good that the guy shot him. He should have definitely, you know, maybe gone a little closer and ensured that this was like a bad figure or whatever.
Yeah, but it could.
Have also just been as simple as that guy wearing a dark coat or something exactly. Ah.
Now, Like many tradesmen at the time, no Wood wore a very distinctive uniform that unfortunately played a central role in his death. His white linen trousers, waistcoat and apron were typically the standard workwear for bricklayers in the early eighteen hundreds. These garments were easy to bleach and wash, and after a day spent working with mortar and brick dust, it was, you know, wash it and good to go again.
But at night, under poor lighting, they made him look early similar to the ghost that people were talking about. This wasn't lost on his family. Milwood's wife and sister had both warned him, as I mentioned, wear a cloak, oat or something. He did shit. His wife even testified later that Thomas had previously frightened a group of people by accident, the same ones we mentioned, and she pleaded with him to change his appearance to avoid trouble, but
he was confident there was nothing to worry about. On the night of January third, he left his parents home on Black Lion Lane and stepped out into the cold, dressed as the usual, you know, just all in white. It was only a short walk from his home, just down the lane. He likely didn't see Francis Smith until it was too late, or if he did, he had no reason to suspect that the men was pointing a
loaded shotgun at him. Either. Melwood didn't provoke Smith, he made no threats, he carried no weapon, and as far as witnesses, Cautel didn't even have time to respond to Smith's shouting before the trigger was pulled. The shooting stunned the small community of Hammersmith. Francis Smith visibly shaken. He stayed at that scene. He didn't run, he didn't flee. He stayed nearby in shock, clearly of what just happened, and when local watchman William Girdler arrived moments later, Smith
confessed everything that he'd done. His exact words weren't recorded, but multiple witnesses described him as agitated, pale, and very remorseful. Shortly after the shootings, Millwood's body was carried to the nearby Black Lion Pub, where it was laid out on a table. A surgeon named mister Flower was called in to examine his remains. His report was grim. The shot had entered his lower left jaw, shattered bone, and passed through the vertebrae of his neck, injuring the spinal marrow.
Death would have been instantaneous.
Okay, oh man, I mean it makes like it's his right to wear what he wants. But then especially if he's out and a boat at night, you know, yeah, just at night, maybe just put something else on.
Yeah, fair enough.
This is terrible. This is so sad.
It puts him in the way of danger for sure. But it's not his fault.
No, I'm not saying it is his fault in any way, but like I guess, it just could have been preventable. Oh, I don't know, but yeah, that one guy. He's a murderer now he is.
Yeah, Now, Smith did not resist. When local constables arrived, he surrendered himself voluntarily and was taken into custody. News of the shooting spread quickly through Hammersmith, a community already on edge from weeks of ghostly sightings. They now had to confront a far more tangible horror. A man had been killed not by a spirit but basically just by fear,
and the public's reaction was conflicted. On one hand, many saw Smith as a man who had been simply, you know, swept up in panic, that had been hold taking hold of the whole village. He had no known history of violence, he had turned himself in, he was cooperative and deeply remorseful. On the other hand, he had armed himself with this gun, going out looking for a confrontation, which is exactly what he found. The next step was, of course inevitable. Smith
would be tried for murder. The trial began on January thirteenth, eighteen oh four, just ten days after the shooting. It took place at Old Bailey, London's Central Criminal Court and quickly drew public attention. The facts weren't in question. Smith had openly admitted to firing the fatal shot. The only real issue was what the law made of it. Smith entered a plea of not guilty, arguing that the killing had been a tragic mistake. He believed he was shooting
a ghost and not a man. Witnesses testified to what had happened on the night of the shooting, and Millwood, Thomas's sister gave a heartbreaking account watching her brother walk out into the dark street, only to hear Smith shout and fire and leave him dead in seconds. Smith's own statements were also shared in the court. He admitted he yelled at the figure and given it time before firing.
While some described his behavior as impulsive, others, especially the defense, emphasized that Smith had been frightened, caught up in the hysteria of ghost panic, and acted under a mistaken belief that he was confronting something supernatural.
I'm doubting that he gave much time after shouting.
By all accounts, he did not. It was he shouted and pulled the trigger at the same time.
Yeah yeah.
A number of character witnesses spoke up for Smith, calling him mild mannered, responsible, and deeply regretful, but none of this swayed the most important figure in the room, Lord, Chief Baron, Sir Archibald McDonald. That is a name and title.
Yeah, no kidding.
He was the presiding judge, so I'll call him Judge McDonald. Judge McDonald was blunt.
In his view.
Smith had intentionally fired a loaded weapon at another person, and whatever his belief, it didn't matter to quote him all killing whatever amounts to murder unless justified by law or in self defense. He told the jury, even if the figure had turned out to be someone pretending to be a ghost, that still wouldn't justify shooting them. Pretending to be a ghost while irritating and irresponsible was not a capital crime. The law was clear Smith had acted
outside of it. Jud MacDonald also told the jury that quote malice was not required for a murder conviction. Intent to kill or intent to do grievous harm was enough, and Smith, he argued, had made the deliberate decision to shoot, and that in itself is murder. After an hour of deliberation, the jury turned with a verdict of manslaughter, a lesser charge that acknowledged rum doing but not full intent. Yeah, the court however, wasn't having it. Uh Oh, Judge McDonald rejected the verdict outright.
Oh okay, I didn't see that coming.
Yeah, quote, the court cannot receive such a verdict. He reminded the jury to choose either murder or acquittal, nothing in between.
Huh. But the manslaughter kind of makes sense though, so that okay.
Yes, it makes sense for nowadays. You're also thinking, not thinking that this case is early eighteen hundred. Yeah, true, true, So face with no other option. The jury returned with a new verdict guilty of murder, and Judge McDonald handed down the sentence death by hanging.
Oh no, yeah, I don't know why. I didn't think that was gonna happen either. Holy shit.
Once again, you're talking eighteen hundreds.
Yep. Dang.
So even those who agreed with Francis Smith had broken the law were unnerved by severity of the punishment here. He wasn't a violent man, he hadn't acted at a cruelty, your personal malice. He had made a terrible mistake born out of fear, superstition, mass hysteria, whatever you want to call it. And now for that mistake, he was going to be executed.
But that mistake did cost another man his life.
It did, yes, And this is where it's that blurred line. So where do you draw this line?
I mean, I'm sitting here being like, yeah, manslaughter, that makes sense. And then he just goes to jail. I do think he needs to pay some consequences, agreed, But then back then too gosh to be hung. Oh I don't know. Now I'm really really torn.
Well you might appreciate what comes next. Public reaction was swift. Many believed the punishment didn't fit the circumstances. There was a growing sense that Smith wasn't a cold blooded killer, but rather a man swept up in a collective panic, trying, however misguidedly, to protect his neighbors. Even the judge, Lord Chief Baron MacDonald appeared to understand the gravity of what
had happened. After sentencing Smith, he referred to the case to the King for consideration, who signaling that he didn't personally believe this should have ended in the gallows. Behind the scenes, Smith's reporters worked quickly filing appeals and requesting clemency, and within a matter of days, the Crown responded, Okay, just.
Wait, I'm confused he was kind of the one that sort of sent it to the gallows? Is he not?
Yes, because he's gone by the book. Okay, he's saying it's he killed a man. It's either he's guilty of murdering him or he's not guilty of murdering him. Okay, Okay, he murdered him. Okay, you murdered him, then.
This is the punishment.
This is the punishment.
Okay.
But even the judge is like, this doesn't seem right, so he passes it on to the king to be like, what do you think.
We need like a higher opinion here.
We need someone to oversee this. So it was just three weeks after the shooting on January twenty fifth, eighteen oh four, King George the Third issued a royal pardon. The death sentence was commuted to a far less severe punishment, one year of hard labor.
Oh so, yes, he was.
Guilty of murder, but he was no longer being sentenced to the gallows. He was sentenced to one year of hard labor.
Huh, what the shit is hard labor? Exactly? Because I kind of like this, this is like actually getting shit done for the community, right, instead of him just sitting in jail for a year doing buck all like he's gonna get things done. Yeah, huh, okay, I don't mind that.
And honestly they'll probably use his knowledge, you know, and his trade to you be okay, go build some shit.
Right, yeah for free, get to work exactly.
So it was still a sentence and Smith serve it. But it was also a clear acknowledgment by the Crown that the court had been placed in an impossible situation. The law as it stood hadn't accounted for a case like this one where belief, however rational, had played such a central role in someone's actions. Now, not long after the shooting, and once the story had made its way into newspapers across London, the truth about the Hammersmith Ghost began to surface, and it turned out the ghost probably
wasn't a ghost at all. In fact, it wasn't even one person.
Oh, it was just numerous people playing tricks.
The first major clue came from a local man named John Graham, a shoemaker an occasional singer at the Hammersmith Church. Even after the incident, Graham came forward and admitted that he had dressed up as a ghost using a white sheet with the intention of frightening his apprentices. Now, according to Graham, the young men had been scaring his children with ghost stories, and he wanted to teach them a lesson.
So it's like, you're scaring my kid with ghost stories, I'm gonna scare you with a ghost story sort of thing.
Right.
He didn't expect the entire village to go into a panic, and he certainly didn't anticipate that somewhood would be killed as a result. But while Graham's confession explained one part of the mystery, it didn't account for all the reported encounters. There'd been multiple sightings stretching across weeks. Witnesses had described wildly different versions of the ghosts. Some said it was covered in white shroud Others described horns, glass eyes, or
even calf skin garments. This led many to believe that more than one person may have been dressing up to impersonate the ghost. Some were likely copycats, taking advantage of the legend or playing pranks simply to start chaos. Others may have been mistaken identities, like Thomas Millwood.
Himself, but it could also just be stories escalating to right.
Exactly definitely, and in many cases with mass hysteria. It's also likely that some of the sightings never even happened at all. Kind of like what you were alluding to, you know, right, people were on edge, anxious and prime to believe. In an age before electric light, television or even you know, regular policing, stories had power, and fear could be contagious and disease. So while John Graham might have started it, the full truth of the Hammersmith Ghost
may never be known. Whether it was a prank gone too far, multiple impersonators, or the wild imagination of a frightened public, the result was the same. A man had lost his life and another's life was changed forever. Now, the case of Francis Smith didn't just grip the public. It also left an enduring mark in the British legal system. At the time of his trial in eighteen oh four, there was no legal protection for someone acting under a
mistaken belief, even if that belief was sincere. Smith believed he was shooting at a ghost, not a person, but under law as it stood, that did not matter. The court had no legal grounds to accept his intentions as
a mitigating factor. As far as the judge was concerned, Smith had fired a loaded weapon at human being and that is murder, simple as that, but legal scholars, judges, and philosophers continue to debate the case for decades from here, asking the central question should someone be held fully responsible for their actions if they genuinely believed they were preventing harm or acting in self defense, even if they were mistaken. This question lingered in British law until it was finally
addressed nearly one hundred and eighty years later. Well, it came up and was addressed in the case of R V. Williams Gladstone in nineteen eighty four. In this case, a man named Gladstone Williams saw what he believed was an assault in progress, a man dragging a youth down the street. Thinking he was defending that victim, Williams intervened and attacked the man who was dragging the youth. But the man he hit wasn't an attacker. Instead, he was a good samaritan restraining a suspected thief.
Okay.
Williams was arrested and charged with assault, but at his trial, the court ruled that if a person acts under a mistaken belief that their actions are necessary to prevent a crime or defend someone, and if the belief is honestly held, then they should not be automatically criminally liable even if the belief is mistaken. This marked a major shift in English law and effectively addressed the question raised by the Hammersmith Ghost case nearly two centuries earlier. The principal established
in the rv. Williams case was eventually written into statue and the Criminal Justice and Immigration Act in two thousand and eight, which formally recognized that self defense could include honest but mistaken beliefs as long as the belief was genuine Others. Had that law existed in eighteen oh four, Francis Smith may never have been convicted of murder in the first place.
I think it's got to be different though. The one was an attack, right, I'm assuming the person he attacked ends up being okay, yeah, But this other one's murder. It's it's it's two different spectrums, in my opinion.
Two different spectrums, but it's the same principle. The result is different, but the same principle occurred in between.
Yeah, I guess.
So if if this guy attacked him and he ended up dying, it was the same scenario, Like you still need to figure out how to handle that situation.
Hmm. That is tough because yeah, I feel like most people would see something like that and think, you know, the person dragging the other person, you know they weren't okay, Yeah, so oh that is so tough.
Well, I've even seen some like TikTok reels and instagram stuff on like small movie set, small productions, indie films, right, and it's like they're in a street. There's like a camera and like a boom operator. There's like three or four crew members working on this, and they have two
actors in the street. They're running down a sidewalk and it's like a woman being assaulted by a man sort of thing, and someone in the background like runs in to help defend and it's like the crew is like whoa, stop, stop, like we're filming something, and it's like oh shit, okay, like you know, okay, because it's a misunderstood situation.
But you I mean, you don't want to change that right where people don't try it and go and help.
No, definitely not. But if it ends up getting to the point where they do go and help, but it goes too far under a misunderstanding, it needs, those people need to be protected. Yeah, right, because it's clearly a misunderstanding. Yeah, but that also brings in the oh, I totally misunderstood those situation.
I know. I was just thinking that, I'm gosh, people could get away with things that they just were quick on their feet and came up with a freaking story.
Yeah. So it's got to be genuine. As long as you can prove genuine and non genuine.
I guess now.
The Hammersmith Ghost Case remains one of the strangest and most enduring tales in British legal and paranormal history. It's a story that blends ghost lore and a courtroom drama, plus a chilling reminder of how fear, superstition, and a rumor can spiral into real world tragedy. For the people of Hammersmith in eighteen oh three and eighteen oh four, the ghost wasn't just a campfire tale. It was a living,
breathing threat. Women fainted, locals refused to quote. At night, men formed armed patrols, and one of those men, fueled by fear and alcohol, killed an innocent person, Thomas Millwood. The victim was just trying to walk home in his work clothes. His death was not just a personal loss for his family, it became a symbol of what happens
when fear overrides all reason. And while Francis Smith escaped the gallows thanks to a royal pardon, which that in itself is super rare, the Hammersmith ghost hell was retold in newspapers, pamphlets and books for generations, and in the decades that followed. London would go on to be haunted by other supposed apparitions, including springhel Jack, a leaping, fire breathing figure also said to terrorize women in the eighteen thirties.
Even in the twentieth century, the ghost of Hammersmith remains part of the local lore. In nineteen fifty five, exactly one hundred and fifty years after the shooting, a ghost hunter's gap or a group of ghost hunters gathered at Saint Paul's churchyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of the specter that had once caused so much chaos. Some claim to see a white figure float amongst the tombstones, Others
predictably saw nothing. The Black Lion Pub, where Thomas Millwood's body was brought back to still stands today and some say his ghost remains there, still restless, like the legend that took his life.
Yeah, I could see that.
In all this case, it's more than just a ghost, ghost hail mixed with tragedy. It forces us to ask some difficult questions. How do we handle fear, how do we balance justice and human error? And how do we protect against from harm not just from threats outside of us, but from the ones we create ourselves. Even in the end, it may or may not have been a ghost that haunted Hammersmith, but it was certainly fear, and fear, when left unchecked, can be the deadliest spirit of all.
Dunt dunt dum.
And that's when Chris Hemsworth walked.
Out, Oh my god, no, oh wow.
And that's the tale of the Hammersmith Ghost Murder.
That is quite a tale.
I love this story so much.
Huh, holy shit. It's it's wild, it's all over the place.
It is, it has literally everything in it.
It should definitely be a movie. I do agree with that.
It's got paranormal it's got impersonations. You know, it's got chaos being cause, it's got fear, it's got a murder, it's got a quittle it's got a like.
It could be a series for God's really, like honestly, not even a few episodes.
Sorry, it wasn't technically acquittal. He got murdered. It was just a sentencing changed. I should clarify that. But it went to the fucking crown to have the sentencing changed. Yeah, like this, you could not write a better fucking story, Don't get me wrong, Like my heart goes out to the guy who lost his life like that is absolutely horrible that Thomas Millwood had to get shot like that.
Well, and the fact too that it was like right there with his sister basically, you know, seeing the aftermath of that instantly frig so.
Yeah, as soon as I found out about this tale, I knew I had to cover it right away. I was like, damn son, this is this is wow.
Yeah, you did a good job. This definitely seems like a ben tail.
Thank you. I think the only way I could have told this better is if it was involving Chris Hemsworth on the silver screen.
Yeah, let's do it.
Let's do it.
Let's do it. Get in contact with him.
It's getting caught. He why not, let's do it?
How old is he? No?
Oh?
I have no idea, huh, because, yeah, maybe we should do his brother not him. Maybe He's like, maybe I have no idea.
I sound like I'm a Chris Hemsworth fan.
You sound like you're obsessed with him.
I'm honestly not even that obsessed. He's just a really good looking man. I'm not even gonna lie he is. You can't deny it.
No, Yeah, I mean both both of them. Are they good genes? I guess.
And we know he looks good with his long thor hair. So you put him in a ponytail at this time, put him in some eighteen hundred's clothes and some loafers walking down the street with a shotgun in his arm and no shirt.
I almost think, I don't know, I almost envisioned him a little bit more of the guy that gets shot, though he could be for some reason.
Oh what if it was Liam and Chris Hemsworth one of the brothers shoots the other brother.
Oh they looked too much the same. They look like twins.
That's the only way you could make the story better for a silver screenwriting is if the guy patrolling is on his way home after patrolling, and then he finally sees the figure and he shoots it and it's actually his brother he shot, who is just leaving, who was visiting his family.
We would know though that his brother dresses this way and stuff, and this guy knew.
That Bricklayers dressed that way.
Well, yeah, and we don't exactly know how many Yeah, you know, Bevy's he he had. True, but there's a courage, right.
There's also the time variance as well. How long how much time had passed between pulling trigger and when drinking in the pub, So how much did he sober up and metabolize that I'll call in a system.
You know, I still love that idea that of well, I think they do have that actually in some prisons and stuff where they do like community type work.
Yeah, they do. Like it's usually like trash clean up and that sort of story.
Or like I think ours they build up. I've heard of that they build like picnic tables and stuff, yeah, or things like that.
So they do.
But I kind of love that idea of like pay it in labor.
Put them to work. Anyways, Hopefully you guys enjoyed that story. This is definitely one of the favorites that I think we've ever produced. For me, I'm in love with this story. If I haven't told you already, I will tell you again. I love this story. You sure do so hopefully you liked it. If you want to check out the links for our podcasts, they're all in the description down below. Just check it out. You got website, Instagram, Facebook, do all the good stuffs down there, Patreon, merch you can
go check it out. If you want to support the show. Patreon's a great way of doing it, and so is giving us a rating. We're an indie podcast, produced, host hosted, written, all of it done by ourselves, and a good rating goes a long way, so we'd really appreciate it. But of course, be honest, rate us what you think we were worth. I think we're worth five, but you may think different.
I agree, yeap created in our a little tiny ome.
Yeah, so thank you for being here, and until next time, stay wicked.