Hellish Nell: The Scottish Witch Nazi - Part I
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Sources:
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/premium/article/last-witch-britain-helen-duncan-wwii https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-18456106 https://historyatkingston.wordpress.com/2021/04/02/winston-and-the-witch-the-strange-case-of-alleged-wartime-witchcraft/ https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofScotland/Helen-Duncan-Scotlands-last-witch/ https://www.scottishlegal.com/articles/our-legal-heritage-helen-duncan-the-wartime-witch
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Zevon Odelberg is a true crime podcast host and disability advocate. Zevon has cerebral palsy and he wants Kinda Murdery to be welcoming community for people with disabilities and for people living with challenges of any kind. Life can be hard, but being together makes it better.
Warning, Kind of Murdery contains adult themes, explicit language, and descriptions of
violence. It is not suitable for anyone, and we recommend you stop listening.
Now true crime with a dash of the paranormal, the garish, the
strange in the darkly comic. I'm Zevan Odelberg, host of kind of Murdery,
a podcast that's about more than just murder. It's my very own pocket
dimension, home to a curated collection of bizarre and compelling stories, the unsolved,
the unsettling, and the unbelievable. I cover it all just so long
as it's kind of murdery. That's right. Nothing but truth bombs here,
just like it says in the intro. I am Zevanodeberg, and this is
kind of Murdery. Hey, my apologies that last Thursday's episode wasn't a new
one. Hopefully you did enjoy the Bonnie and Clyde super drop. But I
had intended to put out a new episode, and then I have the sheer
audacity to turn on the tap at the bathroom sink and through my back out.
Now you'd think that people throw their backs out by picking up something heavy
or trying some new dance move that they're ill prepared for. But Nope,
when you're six four to two hundred and thirty five pounds and over forty with
cerebral palsy, sometimes reaching out to turn on the sink might be all it
takes. So I've been laid out for a few days, but here I
am now back with a brand new episode of Kind of Murdery. And this
is a wild true story that raises many questions regarding social prejudice, pseudoscience,
whether the ends sometimes justify the means, and most remarkably, is there a
such thing as a war oracle? And might magic, Yes I'm talking about
Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, magic, even in the twentieth century,
actually be real? And if it is, does it pose a clear
and present danger to the international balance of power? Those are the biggies.
And if you'd like to find out the answers to the those questions and more,
then please join me now as we uncover what truths we can and solve
what mysteries we may. Kind of Murderies Hellishnell, the Scottish Witch Nazi starts
now on the twenty third day of March in the year nineteen forty four,
the world was embroiled in the devastating conflict that will be forever remembered as World
War II. In London, under a sky heavy with the weight of war
and uncertainty, less than three years removed from Nazi Germany's Hellish Blitz, throngs
of people gathered at the Old Bailey. This courthouse, a venerable institution with
a history that spanned over two centuries, stood as a solemn monument to criminal
justice in the British capital. The walls of the Old Bailey had borne witness
to an array of court cases that had gripped the nation's attention, some timilating
and scandalous, others dark and malevolent. With each step the crowd took toward
the Old Bailey, the gravity of the institution's history weighed on them. Its
stately architecture, a blend of Romanesque and Baroque styles, commanded respect. The
people sensed that they were about to be part of another defining moment in the
annals of British justice. From notorious thieves to infamous murderers. The Old Bailey
had seen it all, but today was different. Today the case was one
that intersected with global affairs, transcending the conventional boundaries of criminality to delve into
matters of wartime secrecy, national security, and the very fabric of belief.
London, like much of Europe, was a city that had been scarred by
the relentless ravages of war, and air raid sirens were as much a part
of the city's soundtrack as the chiming of big men. The populace was on
edge, always alert for news from the front lines or another air raid warning.
Inside this dynamic, three dimensional backdrop of both triumph and terror, the
crowd knew that the case they were about to witness would not just be another
injury in the old Bailey's long life ledger of justice served or justice denied.
It was a case that had the power to shake the foundations of a nation
already unsettled by existential global conflict. In this heavy charged atmosphere, the public,
journalists, lawyers and assorted onlookers filled the gallery, all sharing an unspoken
knowledge that they were about to be part of a courtroom drama unlike any other
in recent memory. What lay ahead promised to be a fusion of the mysterious,
the political, and the morally ambiguous. A case that in its implications
and outcomes, would echo through the halls of history long after the final verdict
was read. On that particular day in March, as the chill of early
spring still lingered in the air, the Old Bailey prepared itself for a trial
that was a modern anachronism. Centuries had passed since the last person was executed
for witchcraft on British soil, and yet here was Helen Duncan, a medium,
standing accused of that ancient offense. Helen's journey to the Old Bailey's venerable
courtroom was not a simple one. It was a path inter laced with the
volatile elements of state secrets and unexpected raids. Helen was a middle aged mother
of six children, a figure seemingly far removed from the world of espionage and
wartime intrigue. However, her abilities or alleged abilities to communicate with the spirit
world had put her squarely in the crosshairs of the wartime establishment. The state
believed that she held information that could not be easily explained away, and that
her revelations during seances were uncomfortably close to classified secrets. The authorities felt that
she posed a risk not only to national security, but also to the public's
morale during an era that was, to put it mildly, already fraught with
anxiety and dread. Thus they took swift action, rating her sessions and ultimately
leading her to the heart of the British legal system, where she would face
charges that seemed to be a relic of a bygone era, but were all
too real and all too now for her. Helen Duncan, sometimes remembered as
Scotland's Last asked, which had become a figure who alarmed the government during a
time when a people, a country, and an empire were being forced to
confront the very real threat of extermination. This was not merely a trial to
determine if Duncan had indeed communicated with the spirit world, but also an examination
of how far the powers that be were willing to go to protect their secrets
and maintain the public's trust. And so on that early spring day, the
Old Bailey became the epicenter of a case that was as much about the clash
of cultural beliefs and the flexing of state power as it was about one woman's
alleged dabbling in the occult. The courtroom became a stage where different facets of
society converged, wartime exigencies, deeply ingrained superstitions, and the complex role of
women in a world governed by men. You see, it's important to note
that throughout history, witchcraft laws and which trials have often been a tool used
by male dominated societies to silence, disenfranchised, or simply to eliminate women who
were deemed troublesome, who defied conventions, or who held property or power that
others, meaning men, coveted. Helen Duncan's trial was not just an isolated
anomaly, but part of a broader pattern, a modern manifestation of an ancient
tactic to control women who did not conform to societal norms. These themes are
ever present in the human historical tapestry, going back as far as possible,
back perhaps all the way to the Garden of Eden, where as the story
goes, it was Eve who first consorted with the serpent and tricked innocent Adam
into that delicious first bite of knowledge and ultimately into eviction from Eden for them
both. In Helen Duncan's case, she had managed to unsettle the very foundations
of the wartime establishment, and for that sin she would pay. Dearly born
in the late nineteenth century, in the year eighteen ninety seven, to be
exact, Helen On MacFarlane came into the world and the quaint pastoral town of
Calender, Scotland, with its lush landscapes and ancient traditions. Calendar was a
town steeped in history, but limited an opportunity, particularly for a woman of
Helen's peculiar talents. From an early age, it was evident that she was
unlike other children in her community. She bore the nickname hellish Nell, a
moniker that hinted at her extraordinary abilities, or what some might have termed abnormality.
For Helen wasn't just another young girl navigating the rigors of rural Scottish life.
She claimed to possess the ability to see spirits, a gift or a
curse, perhaps both depending on one's perspective, but certainly it was an ability
that for Helen would prove to be a burden and set her on a path
far removed from the norm. Hellish Nell, the young Scottish girl who would
later become Helen Duncan, was perceived as a conduit between the realms of the
living and the dead, between the palpable world and the mysterious beyond. Her
supposed mystical talents didn't go unnoticed. They shaped the contours of her life,
both endearing her to some and making her the subject of suspicion and even fear
among others. For in those days, even as the world stumbled through the
fractious gaits of a new century filled with unimaginable technological advancements, ancient beliefs and
superstitions still held sway, especially in small communities like Calendar, Scotland. Yet
even within the confines of rural Scottish life in the early nineteen hundreds, Helen
Duncan Hellishnell couldn't be contained. Her alleged otherworldly gifts as a spiritual medium suggested
a destiny that exceeded the boundaries of her hometown, a destiny which we now
know would eventually lead her to the infamous Docs of the Old Bailey, amidst
accusations so serious that they merged the realms of wartime statecraft with the arcane laws
of witchery. As she grew older, Helen's reputation spread, she became notable,
or perhaps notorious. She became famous or perhaps infamous, people began to
seek her out, intrigued by the stories, desperate for a glimpse into the
world beyond, or perhaps merely driven by morbid curiosity. Helen was a woman
out of time, a relic of ancient beliefs and practices, surviving in a
world increasingly governed by reason and technology. But this juxtaposition, the tension between
the old and the new, would be the stage upon which Helen Duncan would
eventually find herself at the heart of national crisis, as she transformed from Hellish
Nell of Calendar, Scotland, to a woman who would spook the wartime authorities
to such an extent that her freedoms her very life would hang in the balance.
By nineteen twenty six, at the age of twenty nine, the woman
once known as Hellish Nell had undergone more than just spiritual transformation. After marrying
Henry Duncan in nineteen sixteen, her name changed, and so did the trajectory
of her life. No longer confined to her small hometown, she moved to
the city of Dundee, Scotland, and it was here that she began her
work as a medium. In earnest as the years passed, Helen's reputation grew
and she expanded her operations, taking her talent across the United Kingdom. All
the while she was supporting a family that had grown to include six children.
She was in many ways a working mother, but her labor was an unusual
sort, dealing with the currency of souls and secrets from the other side.
The times were ripe for someone of Helen Duncan's abilities. The British populace was
psychologically and emotionally raw, following the double traumas of World War One and a
devastating influenza pandemic. Together, these cataclysms had claimed millions of lives, leaving
gaping wounds in the fabric of British society. Grief was an almost universal experience
and answers any answer were in high demand. Into this environment stepped Helen Duncan
her services as a medium, dovetailing perfectly with the Zeitgeist spiritualism. The belief
system asserting that the living could communicate with the departed, gained enormous traction during
the period following the Spanish flu in World War One. It wasn't merely a
fringe belief had become something of a cultural phenomenon. The populace was primed and
ready searching for comfort, for closure, or even just for the intrigue of
something beyond the grim reality that they faced every day. Helen Duncan offered that
something more. She tapped into a collective yearning, becoming not just a medium
but a conduit for societies hopes and fears, their unresolved grief and unanswered questions.
For many, spiritualism wasn't just mysticism. It was a coping mechanism,
a way to make sense of incomprehensible loss and chaos. Helen's services were therefore
not merely a curiosity. They fulfilled a deep societal need. But even as
she catered to the demands of a grieving nation, her actions set her on
a collision course with forces far greater than any individual's quest for understanding. The
virgeon in conflict overseas, and the ever watchful eyes of a government entrenched in
a new global struggle would soon cast a pall over Helen Duncan's work, transforming
her from a figure of curiosity and comfort to one of controversy and criminality.
Helen held her seances at the Master's Temple Church of Spiritual Healing in Portsmouth,
England. The venue was more than just a place. It was a sanctuary
for those seeking spiritual enlightenment and contact with the afterlife. Within the church's walls,
Duncan conducted her seances, attracting a devoted following who were eager to experience
her proclaimed abilities to communicate with the other side. Unbeknownst to Helen Duncan,
an archaic law was lying in wait. The Witchcraft Act of seventeen thirty five
wasn't designed to condemn actual witchcraft per se, but rather to punish those who
claimed to practice it. The legislation was not aimed at rooting out supernatural activities,
but rather penalizing deceit. Under the Witchcraft Act of seventeen thirty five,
it was illegal to claim that you had magical powers, it was not necessarily
illegal to actually have them. Within the comforting and mystical environment of the Master's
Temple Church of Spiritual Healing, dan And likely never thought that this law,
almost two centuries old, could become a rope that would entangle her. She
wasn't a witch in the traditional sense. She was a medium, a conduit
between this world and the next. But in a society on the edge of
colossal upheaval, in fact, not on the edge going through colossal upheaval,
even the most well intentioned activities can be viewed through a lens of suspicion.
And so, and I'd like to just pause and say that the historical record
shows that the vast majority of so called mediums were not well intentioned. They
were simply con men, preying on people's grief. Say what you want about
Helen Duncan providing comfort for aggrieving populace faced with many, many casualties and losses
of loved ones. There may be an element of truth to that, but
we should never give a full free pass to someone who chooses to use the
emotional vulnerability of someone else who's recently gone through a great tragedy to enrich themselves.
Okay, back to the story. The dimly lit rooms of Master's Temple
Church were shrouded in an atmosphere thick with anticipation as Helen Duncan conducted a seance.
The settings were carefully orchestrated. The light was kept soft and red,
just bright enough to make out shapes, but dim enough to preserve the atmosphere
of otherworldly mystery. She would sit behind curtains, separating herself from her audience,
creating a boundary between the world of the living and whatever realm she claimed
to access. As she closed her eyes and slipped into a trance, the
room would hold its collective breath. Duncan was not alone in these spiritual ventures.
She claimed to have spirit guides ethereal entities that she named Peggy and Albert,
about the least ethereal sounding names I've ever heard, But it was these
guides who led the proceeding, serving as intermediaries between the world of flesh and
blood and the world of spirits. Helen Duncan, acting as a conduit,
relied on their guidance to navigate the complexities of the afterlife, relaying messages or
manifestations from beyond the veil. Then came the part that both enthralled and terrified
her audience, the appearance of ectoplasm emanating from her mouth and nose. This
ghostly white substance seemed to me materialize in front of the sitter's eyes. The
ectoplasm would take on various forms, sometimes appearing to shape itself into recognizable figures
or faces, shocking and amazing to those who witnessed it. For the people
in the room, this was proof, tangible and seemingly irrefutable that Duncan was
indeed in contact with the other side. The experience was viseral, the reactions
intense. Whether one was a skeptic or a true believer, the appearance of
the ectoplasm in that dim red light stirred something deep within the human psyche.
For many, it brought a sense of awe or dread, or a combination
of both, an encounter with something that defied explanation that pushed the boundaries of
what was actually scientifically or rationally possible. However, as astonishing as these manifestations
were, they would also become a focal point of intense scrutiny and suspicion.
Duncan's mystical performances, so compelling in the eyes of her believers, would draw
the kind of attention that could place her very freedom, or perhaps even her
life, in jeopardy. It was an unsettling paradox. The very acts that
made her a sought after medium were the same that would put her in peril
as his society and the government began to view her activities through an increasingly skeptical
and alarmed lens. As the years passed, Helen Duncan's reputation continued to swell,
expanding far beyond the spiritualist communities and reaching into mainstream consciousness. With greater
faith, however, became greater scrutiny. One such skeptic was Harry Price,
a physical researcher known for his investigations into paranormal phenomena. Intrigued and suspicious,
he secured Duncan's permission for an in depth examination in the year nineteen thirty one.
Price approached his investigation with a critical eye, treating Duncan's seances not as
spiritual experiences, but as phenomena to be explained. What he found, or
at least what he believed he found, cast serious doubt on the authenticity of
Duncan's abilities. According to Price, the so called ectoplasm that Duncan produced during
her sessions was nothing more than cheese cloth and egg whites, substances she ingested
before the seance and later regurgitated. Adding further skepticism to his report, he
noted that the spirits that Duncan allegedly materialized appeared to be more akin to dolls
than an actual human forms. Despite Price's damning conclusions, his investigation did little
to quell the enthusiasm of Duncan's loyal following. Those who believed in her abilities
remained steadfast, unperturbed by the skepticism that surrounded her. They continued to throng
to her seances, eager to experience what they saw as genuine contact with the
afterlife. The world around them, however, was undergoing profound changes. The
United Kingdom was careening toward another catastrophic conflict. The atmosphere was heavy with tension
and impending doom as the country braced itself for what would become World War II.
It was during this fraught time that Duncan's services as a medium would not
only remain in demand, but become the focus of a government deeply concerned with
matters of national security. The trajectory of her life had always been extraordinary,
from her early days in calendar to her ascension as a renowned medium, But
as Britain prepared for another global conflict, Helen Duncan would find herself in an
extraordinary set of circumstances that would place her gifts, whether real or fraudulent,
under the harshest light yet even catching the tension of wartime authorities. For Duncan,
the coming years would bring not just fame, but also notoriety and an
ordeal that would etch her name in the annals of British legal history. The
impact of World War II was felt across every sector of British society, from
the average citizen to institutions, and, as it would turn out, even
in the spiritual realm. With the United Kingdom officially at war as of September
third, nineteen thirty nine, a heightened sense of vigilance permeated the nation.
The government clamped down on the dissemination of information, not just to maintain high
spirits among the populace, but also to prevent sensitive military details from leaking out.
The stakes were unimaginable. Loose lips could, after all, potentially sink
ships. Amidst this climate of heightened secrecy and paranoia, a peculiar debate began
to emerge in the tabloid press. The topic mediums, and the question they
were asking was as outrageous as it was logical within the context of war.
Could mediums inadvertently or otherwise serve as conduits for intelligence leaks. If they were
capable of summoning spirits, particularly those of fallen soldiers, what was to prevent
enemy agents from extracting invaluable information during seances. Helen Duncan, for her part,
was not conducting seances to assist Nazis or compromise British interests. At least
there's no direct evidence that she was. Nevertheless, the wartime atmosphere enveloped her
just as it did everyone else. And then, on May twenty fourth,
nineteen forty one, during a seance in Edinburgh, an event occurred that would
drastically alter the course of her life and put her squarely in the crosshairs of
the authorities. A spirit purportedly came forward with staggering news a British warship had
been sunk. The revelation was not just shocking, it was potentially explosive.
In a country on edge and a government desperate to control the narrative of the
war, Duncan's claim, whether true or false, had the potential to wreck
havoc. It raised questions that went beyond the ethics or validity of her work
as a medium. Now the concerns were strategic and national in scale. If
what the spirit had discos closed was accurate. Then Helen Duncan was in possession
of information that the government would likely deem sensitive, even classified. Whether she
sought it or not, Duncan had stepped onto a perilous path, one fraught
with consequences far beyond the skepticism or admiration that had hitherto defined her public life.
In the world of spooks, ghosts, No, not seances and mediums,
but intelligence and espionage, nothing creates more of a stir than when confidential
information services in unexpected places. Roy Firebrace, Scotland's chief of military intelligence,
was privy to many of the nation's secrets. He attended Duncan's seance in Edinburgh
out of curiosity or perhaps even skepticism, But what he encountered that evening caught
him completely off guard. Helen Duncan, a medium with no official links to
military intelligence, seemed to know something that even he, a high ranking official,
was not yet aware of. The HMS hood had been sank in the
Battle of Denmark Strait. After the seance, Firebrace moved swiftly to verify Duncan's
claims. What he found was astonishing. The medium was correct, The hood
had been lost, taking hundreds of sailors down with it for Firebrace. The
revelation presented an unsettling conundrum. How had Duncan come into possession of classified information
before him a man at the very epicenter of the nation's intelligence network. And
we're going to stop there for today, but if you'd like to find out
more about the amazing true story of Helen Duncan, please rejoin me this Thursday
four, Part two, the thrilling conclusion of Hellish Nell, the Scottish Witch
Nazi. Until then, I'm Zevan Odelberg, and this has been kind of murdery
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