It's a Cinch: The Corset Salesman and the Murder of Albert Snyder
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Sources:
https://www.americanheritage.com/she-had-die
https://pleasekillme.com/1927-ruth-snyder-judd-gray/
https://cvltnation.com/gray-space-life-death-ruth-snyder-execution-photograph/
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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. I'm Zevan Odelberg, and this is kind of murdery. Several
articles were central to putting together today's episode, in particular one entitled she Had
to Die, written by Anne Jones in the October nineteen eighty issue of American
Heritage Magazine. As always, all my sources are in the show notes.
Today's tale is a story of adultery, a grimy, little suburban love affair,
and murder that may have something to teach us about how society views a
man and a woman convicted of the same crime. And now please join me
as we uncover what truths we can and solve what mysteries we may. Kind
of murderies to cinch the Corset Salesman and the Murder of Albert Snyder starts now.
Ruth Snyder was born Ruth Brown on one hundred and twenty fifth Street in
Manhattan in eighteen ninety five, the daughter of a working class Scandinavian family.
She left school after eighth grade and got a job with a telephone company.
At night, she took business classes in shorthand and typing. She was a
hard worker and determined to get ahead, but like most young women at the
time, she said she thought more of marriage than of a business career.
So when at nineteen she landed a secretarial job with Motor Boating magazine, and
a handsome thirty two year old Albert Snyder, an art editor, took an
interest in her, she didn't discourage him. Albert Snyder was Ruth Brown's first
real gentleman friend. The couple first lived in Brooklyn. After their daughter,
Lorraine was born in nineteen eighteen, they moved to a larger apartment in the
Bronx, and as Albert advanced with the magazine, he moved his family to
an eight room house in Queen's Village on Long Island. For Albert, the
move to Queen's Village was a mark of success. For Ruth, it was
a lonely step into the isolation of suburban life, but she worked hard at
housekeeping, sewing curtains and slip covers, and clothing for herself in the rain.
By nineteen twenty five, Ruth Brown Snyder had achieved quote everything that most
women wished for ute. The newspapers telling her story after she came to public
attention reported that she had a house of her own, an automobile, a
radio, good furniture, money in the bank, and the protection of an
athlete for a husband. Albert Schnyder was not actually an athlete, but he
kept a motor boat for weekend outings and often had a tan. He was,
also, according to the papers, a good man, a faithful husband
who took pride in his wife, his child, and his home. He
made little things to ornament the house. He was thrifty, worked hard and
late, bought a home, an automobile, a radio, and turned in
most of his money at home. He was a model husband. Again this
according to the press. Unfortunately, Albert was also gloomy and evil tempered.
His mother in law, Josephine Brown, who moved into the Queen's Village house
with the Sniders when she was widowed, told reporters that while Ruth was gay
and fun loving, Albert was almost always glum. Ruth liked people in parties.
Her friends nicknamed her Tommy because she was such a good sport. Like
one of the boys. Albert preferred to stay at home Ruth enjoyed restaurants,
the theater bridge. Albert's hobbies were tinkering with his car and puttering in his
garden. Ruth loved animals and would have filled the house with them. Albert
grimly tolerated a lone canary and filled the house instead with inanimate artistic knickknacks of
his own devising. Ruth loved children and was devoted to her daughter Lorraine.
Albert, who hadn't wanted children at all, was doubly disappointed at being stuck
with a girl. On the whole. Albert found Ruth too young and giddy
for him. He often told her about his previous, more serious fiance,
Jesse Duchard, who had died before the wedding. It was a pity,
he said, that Ruth couldn't be more like her. The unfortunate Snyder's probably
were no more mismatched than any other of hundreds of couples behind the drawn curtains
of Queen's communities. But they were unhappy enough so that Josephine Brown advised her
daughter to seek a divorce, so that Ruth Snyder found a lover, and
so that little Lorraine Snyder mentioned to policeman after her father had been found dead
in bed that her mamma and her daddy fought all the time. Little Lorraine's
remark, coupled with the strangely amateurish look of the burglary of the Snyder house
and the ferocity of Albert's murder, kept the police questioning Ruth Snyder long after
she first told them of the swarthy intruder, a quote tall man with a
dark mustach sue who struck her on the head and left her bound hand and
foot. They questioned her through the day and night while they searched the Snyder
home and found her stolen jewelry under the mattress, the five pounds sash weight
with which Albert had been struck three times in the basement, and her address
book listing the names of twenty eight men on the floor. In the bedroom
where Albert had been bludgeoned, chloroformed, and finally strangled with a picture wire,
the police found a small pin bearing the initials j G for Jesse Guchard.
Albert Snyder had carried it as a memento of his former sweetheart, but
the police, thinking it might have been dropped by the murderer, matched the
initials to a name in Ruth Snyder's address book and asked her what about Judd
Gray. Exhausted and surprise, Ruth asked as he confessed, the police said
he had. Then it was only a matter of hours before Henry Judd Gray,
Ruth's lover, was arrested at his hotel in Syracuse and returned to New
York to confess his part in the killing. Both Snyder and Gray admitted they
had conspired together, but each blamed the other for the murder. Wow.
So almost like Iago planting the handkerchief in Shakespeare's Othello, but this time through
pure kismet. It just so happened that the pin police found at the scene
bearing the initials of Albert's former fiance, Jesse Jeschard Jag, carried the same
initials as Ruth's actual lover, Judd Gray, and led them rather quickly to
the answer to the mysterious murder they were trying to solve. Bad luck for
Ruth and Judd. Albert Snyder, it turns out, was murdered shortly after
he returned from a party at two o'clock Sunday morning and went to bed.
By Tuesday, all the New York dailies carried photographs of the illicit lovers and
text of their confessions of murder. The papers were delighted to have another big
case to replace the Hall Mills affair, a luridly reported murder trial that had
just ended. The tabloid The Daily Mirror, which had dug up so much
of the evidence in the Hall's Mills case, immediately reassigned its top reporters to
the Snyder's story and began recruiting celebrities to write about the upcoming trial. But
what was to be said of it? There was no mystery about the Snyder's
story. The murderers had confessed their conspiracy, and the question of which one
twisted the lethal wire around Albert Snyder's neck seemed inconsequential. Certainly, the people
involved in the Snyder affair were, if anything, even more drearily ordinary than
those associated with the Hall Mills case. Hall Mills was a nineteen twenty two
murder where a New Jersey episcopal priest named Edward Hall had an affair with a
choir girl at his church, Eleanor Mills, and killed her. But there,
according to the magazine Outlook, was the real mystery of the Snyder case.
For if Ruth Snyder and Judd Gray were no different from their neighbors,
what was to deter those neighbors from committing similar adulteries and murders. So essentially,
Ruth Snyder and Judd Gray stood as proxies for average New York suburban nite,
and it became suburban morality in general that was going to be put on
trial. This question, if Ruth and Judd are just like us, what's
to stop us from doing the same thing was not an idle one. Certainly,
infidelity and murder of the sort made notorious by the Hall Mills case seemed
epidemic. Only one year before, in nineteen twenty six, Fanny Soaper was
convicted of killing her husband, Harry, a deputy sheriff in Bloisvelt, New
York, and she very narrowly escaped the death penalty. In nineteen twenty two,
right beside the lurid Hall Mills letters, newspapers reported the intimate correspondence between
Harold Gannunn and Ivy Gibberson, whose husband William supposedly was murdered, like Albert
Snyder, by intruders Missus. Gibberson was sentenced to life. As prosecutors prepared
for the Snyder trial, Sadie Razer confessed that she and her lover Frank Van
Sickle, had murdered her husband Edward in Newton, New Jersey, two years
before. And during the Snyder trial, Ruth Snyder sometimes shared headlines with Lucy
Baxter early on trial in Newburg, New York, for allegedly murdering her husband
with the health of a lover. William Wegley, overworked medical experts dashed between
Newburg and Queens, testifying in both trials at once. The adulteress mateslang was
certainly nothing new, and whether it occurred any more often during the twenties than
it had in the past is impossible to say. But there's no doubt that
mateslang, like the extramarital relations that led to it, seemed to be increasing
dramatically. The New York Post noted alarmingly that if even a small percentage of
irregular love affairs should lead to killings, the streets of our cities would resemble
the Battle of Gettysburg. There's nothing funny, of course, about the Battle
of Gettysburg, or about adultery and murder. But I couldn't help but almost
chuckle there at the hyperbole that the Post chose. There was good reason,
then to ask, as the Outlook did, of Ruth Snyder and Judge Gray,
if the these two could commit such a murder, why not any one
of countless thousands of others. So again, Unfortunately for Ruth Snyder and Judge
Gray, it seems that the tabloid press had decided that the two of them
were standing by proxy in a referendum on New York married morality. Writ large,
That's a heavy burden to bear. It was more than just a question
of deterring murder, for these killings seemed to contemporary commentators to reflect a profound
social malaise. The New York Herald Tribune called it social cancer or psychopathia suburbs.
They made up their own Latin phrase for suburban psychopathy. Murder, it
seemed, was only the last act in a long, sordid history of family
obligations betrayed and common decencies violated. In the Snyder case, the rather commonplace
shabby affair between the two lovers had been going on for a year and a
half months of lies and coded notes and bribed postmen and clandestine afternoon sex at
the Waldorf, while little Lorraine entertained herself by writing the elevators. So Ruth
Snyder and Judd Gray would go to have sex at the Waldorf Hotel, while
Ruth's nine year old daughter Lorraine would spend that time writing the elevators up and
down yikes. Beyond their illicit off fare, there was an even more mundane
motive for killing Albert in the three insurance policies which Albert Snyder did not know
he held that would have paid to his widow, who secretly met the premiums
about one hundred thousand dollars. In fact, it was the Snyder murder that
inspired the classic movie Double Indemnity starring Barbara Stanwick and Fred McMurray, and the
Snyder murder, like so many others at the time, seemed to have been
prompted by the pettiest, most ignoble kind of self indulgence, and that self
indulgence was thought to be the besetting sin of a society that had lost track
altogether of the boundaries of right conduct. The newspapers, then, in cooperation
with the court, took up the task of exercising that social cancer, of
re establishing old standards of ensuring. As the Herald Tribune put it, that
the slightly pale yellow dawn of a new decadence, which rose after the lurid
sunsets of war, would deepen into the clear blue of another and almost Victorian
earnestness. Yes, let's long for the morality of the Victorian age. That
seems wise. The more respectable daily newspapers tended to serious reflections upon the case,
while the tabloids went in for sensational and awfully wholly fictitious sidelights. Among
them all, they turned the Snyder case into one of the top media events
of the decade and painted it as a morality play, a medieval moral drama
to point the way to heaven or to hell. The thousands of words written
about the case repeatedly sounded two refrains. In the first place, as one
reporter coolly noted, everyone is interested in things that are sexy and vile.
The tabloids increase their circulation by reporting every little king in the Snyder Gray love
affair, so that every reader could indulge vicariously in the forbidden. It was
a heyday for voyeurs, at least until Gray was called upon to enumerate from
the stand every drink he had ever drunk at every lunch he had ever eaten
with Ruth Snyder, and the thrilling affair became so tedious that board spectators left
the courtroom. But this exposure of every detail of the adulterer's conduct appealed to
the readers, and also served to define precisely what conduct was bad and what
was permissible. Before it was all over, avid readers had learned that respectable
women did not smoke, drink, die, their hair, crossed their legs,
lunch out with strange men, or feel ingratitude toward their husbands. Still,
despite the obvious lessons of the Snyder case, the notion of slipping off
to the Waldorf for an afternoon of clandestine sex did have a certain sinister appeal
to board wives and husbands. So the newspapers carefully stressed that Snyder and Gray
were not ordinary folks. They might appear ordinary to reflective puplications, like the
outlook given to raising ponderous questions better left alone, but at heart they were
very different. Gray was not truly a man, and Snyder was certainly no
woman. As the trial went on, more and more reporters noticed that Snyder
didn't even look like a woman anymore. Luckily, the reassurance that Snyder and
Gray were not, after all, ordinary people, made it easier for newspaper
readers to indulge vicariously in their crimes without fear of falling into such sin themselves.
The two themes of trial coverage establishing the standards of right conduct and setting
apart the evildoers from the great mass of upstanding citizens who supposedly followed those standards
came together in the public presentation of Ruth Snyder, a bad woman, a
bad wife, a bad mother, and at the same time an utterly cold,
inhuman vampire, completely unlike those good, warm, self sacrificing wives and
mothers who represented the best of American womanhood. In the first reports of the
Snyder murder, Ruth Snyder was disc rived as the beautiful wife of the slain
art director, but the newspapers quickly realized their mistake. After her confessions,
The Mirror made one attempt to point up the contrast between Ruth's lovely appearance and
her hideous crimes. On March twenty fourth, just after she confessed, the
paper ran a full page studio portrait with instructions to study this face, pretty
soft, smiling, with curling hair and delicate features, one of a loving
wife and devoted mother, you would say, yet it is that of missus
Ruth brown Snyder. But that line was quickly abandoned. Ruth Snyder became instead
the fiend wife, the faithless wife, the blonde fiend, the marble woman,
and Ruthless Ruth, the Viking ice matron of Queen's Village. The more
sober New York Post found her to be a hard faced woman, probably over
sexed, and certainly overly interested in power and authority. Physically, the Post
said she was heavy and coarse. The New York Herald Tribune, apparently casting
about for the right approach to the story, called her a woman of steel,
and then criticized her for having rough skin, straight hair, and a
wrinkled dress, concluding its report of the first press interview given by the confessed
conspirator and murder with the apparently damning judgment, she is not well groomed.
So essentially, the press saw Ruth's general banality as utterly threatening to every other
woman and housewife who might be reading the coverage, and so went to great
pains to show don't worry this monster woman is not like you. But despite
the best efforts of all the other papers, it was to the tabloid Mirror
that readers turned for murder news, and in the Mirrors pages, Ruth Snyder
was compared to Lacretia, Borgia Messalina, and Lady Macbeth. The paper hired
doctor Edgar C. Beale, a well known phrenologist, to study three photographs
of Snyder and prepare an analysis. They guided the subsequent observations of many celebrity
reporters. Doctor Beale noted that Snyder had flattened eyelids, especially on the left
side, a configuration he aimed which was very pronounced in Brigham young and clearly
indicated a polygamous disposition. Her other distinctive feature, which everyone was to notice,
was her mouth, as cold, hard and unsympathetic as a crack in
a dried lemon, said Beale. Although some reporters commented on her square masculine
jaw, doctor Beale fought her chin tapered like the lower face of a cat,
suggesting her treachery and cruelty. All in all, doctor Beale judged that
it was easy to see in her face the character of a shallow brained pleasure
seeker accustomed to unlimited self indulgence, which at last ends in an orgy of
murderous passion and lust, seemingly without a parallel in the criminal history of modern
times. So essentially, once you already know that Ruth Snyder is a murderous
or once doctor Beale already knows, he then reverse engineers her entire appearance to
support that conclusion. But naming her seemingly without parallel in the criminal history of
modern time feels a bit rich thanks to such pseudo scientific clues like those provided
by doctor Beale. Celebrity reporter Natacha Remova, second wife of Rudolph Valentino,
was able to conclude after watching Ruth Snyder for one hour in the courtroom that
quote, there is lacking in her character that real thing selflessness. She apparently
doesn't possess it and never will. Her fault is that she has no heart.
If Ruth Snyder is a woman, thundered playwright Willard Mack in a highly
acclaimed article, then by God, you must find some other name for my
mother, wife or sister. By contrast, Henry Judd Gray, Snyder's lover
and co defendant was thought to be an awfully nice fellow. Even the detective
who arrested him commented that he's as nice, appearing and gentleman as you'd ever
want to meet. Married for eleven years to his childhood sweetheart, and like
Snyder, the parent of a nine year old daughter. He was regarded in
the community East Orange, New Jersey as a model citizen. As the Herald
Tribune reported, he was a Red Cross worker in the World War, was
an assiduous worker for the Sunday School of the First Methodist Church, was quiet
mannered in the home, and a local country code man. He gulfed and
bridged and motored. He was a member of the Orange Lodge of Elks,
in short, a regular fellow. But he also seemed to be a murderer,
So how could that be explained? His defense team first followed up on
the suggestion of Gray's shocked wife, only must be insane. Four alienists tapped
Gray's spinal fluid, X rayed his head, and interviewed him for days,
but they could not find him insane. In fact, he seemed, to
doctor Sylvester Leahey, a spokesman for the group, a fine cultured fellow and
very appable. So the alienists reverted to a theory first advanced by the police
on the very day that Gray confessed. As the Herald Tribune reported at the
time, all facts now adduced point to a love madman completely in the sway
of a woman whose will was steel, brain active and intelligent. She dominated
him, police said, and forced her will upon him, even when he
desired to back out of her proposals. The alienist took up the notion and
repeated it to the press before the trial began. A strange charm of missus
Snyder made him do it, they said. Her personality dominated him. He
was helpless. At five feet five inches in one hundred and twenty pounds,
Gray suited the part of the cringing weakling. So by the time Attorney William
J. Millard summed up the case for the defense of Henry Judd Gray,
the theory had become gospel. That woman, he said to the jury and
the ranks of reporters, who copied down every word, like a poisonous snake,
drew Judd Gray into her glistening coils, and there was no escape.
It was a peculiarly alluring seduction. Just as a piece of steel jumps and
clings to the powerful magnet, so Judd Gray came within the powerful, compelling,
attractive force of that woman. She held him fast. This, this
peculiar, venomous species of humanity, was abnormal, possessed of an all consuming,
all absorbing passion, an animal lust which seemingly was never satiated. In
the updated Eden of Attorney Millard's imagination, Ruth Snyder became the temptress Eve and
the serpent too, while poor Judd Gray, like Adam, unwisely but helplessly,
succumbed. Fortunately, the very weakness that made Gray a creature to be
pitied also distinguished him from ordinary men, For the true manly man retained the
power to dominate and control women. Such was the narrative presented by the press.
It was the detectives, all men, who first found Gray such a
likable fellow and passed on to the public as fact his story that he had
been bewitched and dominated. As it happened. In their initial confessions, both
Snyder and Gray lied, and, with increasingly bitter recriminations, each blamed the
other for the actual killing. But the police believed Gray, and even when
he later changed his story. Neither he nor they gave up on the theory
that he had been the woman's puppet. In court, the jurors were still,
by law in New York, all men. They were all at midlife,
married with children, men very much like the dead Albert Snyder or Judd
Gray. For their part, the women of New York judged Ruth Snyder no
more generously. She repeatedly appealed for the sympathy of wives and mothers, and
apparently she received none. Women journalists found her unfeminine and unsympathetic, and the
wife of one of the jurors publicly expressed her hope that her husband could not
be swayed by such a brazen woman. Snyder thought that women jurors would see
her side of the case better than a crowd of men, because they know
the complications and cross currents of domestic life, but an informal press jury made
up of six female and six male reporters condemned her to death. Women,
like men, accepted the officially sanctioned version of the case. Snyder and Gray
had to be judged differently because they were not weighted on the same scales of
justice. Ruth Snyder was marked as a bad woman from the moment she met
Gray. It was bad to send him a note, bad to visit his
office for a corset fitting, bad to have sex with him, And,
as the Post noted, when Snyder took the stand to face the prosecutor,
she seemed to be on trial for adultery instead of murder. Judd Gray,
on the other hand, until he participated in killing Albert Snyder, had done
nothing wrong. Officially, adultery was frowned on for both sexes, and Cornelius
Vanderbilt Junior touted a single sexual standard, including marital fidelity for all in an
editorial for The Mirror, But off the record, men knew better. That
is why playwright and Post columnist W. E. Woodward could approve Gray's assessment
of himself. Gray said of himself, I've always been a gentleman and have
always been on the level with everybody, although everybody obviously did not include Gray's
wife. Gray had established his alibi for the murder with the help of an
old friend, hadn't Gray no relation, who posted two letters to Judd's wife,
rumpled his bed in his hotel and hung out a do not disturb sign
to make it appear that Judd was still in Syracuse, when in fact,
as far as Hadden knew, he was really visiting a girlfriend. Hadn't even
lied to the police, maintaining his friend's alibi until he learned that Judd had
confessed to murder. When Hadden Gray took the stand at the trial to tell
the truth, he was described in the press as a loyal friend and a
true gentleman who had bravely done what any man would do for a good pal
lie so the man could visit his girlfriend without his wife's knowledge. To some
commentators, even Judd Gray's elaborate plans for the murder seemed a harmless amusement.
Columnist Woodward speculated in The Post that this mild Corset salesman probably was entertained on
his lonely trips by the thoughts of crushing a rival, of being a strong,
brutal caveman. And just before the murder, Gray had wrapped the sash
weight in paper so it wouldn't hurt Snyder quite so much, a humane gesture
that showed Gray was a kind hearted man at the bottom. Playwright Willard Mack
echoed in The Mirror that Gray had never been a murderer. In his heart,
he was, simply, to one courtroom observer, the admirable kind of
fellow who'd do anything in the world for somebody he liked. Snyder and Gray,
who had sinned together, could not be judged alike. If they had
stopped short of murder, Ruth Snyder would still have been a bad woman,
while jud Gray would have been merely a regular fellow. As it was,
Gray seemed to be what the papers called him, a poor boob, a
bunch of dough that somebody forgot to need, a man who couldn't put up
a croquet set without help. If there was to be a hero of the
drama, it could only be jud Gray, and curiously enough, with the
old chivalric code upended, he was able to fill that role, not by
protecting his ladylove, but by ratting on her. In the final days of
the trial, Gray took the stand to redeem his manliness by telling the truth.
Ruth Snyder committed the murder. Jud was there, of course, he
never denied that, but he said he'd tried to talk her out of it,
tried to leave the house, but he was powerless against her. So
incited by Ruth in a bottle of whiskey. He struck the first blow with
the sash weight, only to have Albert wake up and fight back. Unable
to carry on, Gray called out help me, Momsey, and Momsey apparently
his nickname for Ruth, finished the job. At the end of his testimony,
Gray broke down into tears that swept all skepticism away. As the mirror
put it, Gray emerged from the mire into which he slipped, wearing a
crown that few achieve, the crown of truth. Even the district attorney,
summing up the state's case against Snyder and Gray, called Gray a decent,
red blooded, upstanding American citizen. Ultimately, both Snyder and Gray were convicted
and sentenced to die at Singh Singh Prison, and they went to the chair
on the night of January twelfth, nineteen twenty eight. Even then Ruth Snyder
got bad press and the sentence was passed. On May ninth, nineteen twenty
seven. The previously stone woman became hysterical, and afterward in her cell she
suffered from nervous paralysis and epileptic spasms, which the papers called the forerunners of
insanity. Jud Gray, on the other hand, received the sentence with quote
calmness and a prayer, Gray finds enough of traditional manhood in him to take
his medicine without whining, reported the mirror. But Ruth Snyder woman turns to
the immemorial device of her sex to ring pity from male hearts. Already she
is ill and suffering. Expect her to grow worse and worse as the hour
of atonement knears. In keeping with the sing Sing tradition of executing the more
distraught prisoner, first, Ruth went to the electric chair first. She was
a quote disheveled wreck in a drab prison shirtwaist and smock. Her blonde hair
had gone almost gray. She entered the death chamber murmuring prayers, but cried
out and collapsed when she saw the electric chair and had to be lifted into
it by two matrons, who accompanied her quickly the executioners strapped her in.
The matrons then retired Warden Lewis Laws, who opposed capital punishment, turned away,
and while the priest, in tone prayers and Snyder's sobbing cried out,
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. Chief executioner
Robert Elliott through the switch an imaginative reporter for the New York World wrote that
as the current passed through her body, her left hand twisted back and upward
as if trying to escape the imprisoning strap, and the index finger of this
hand stiffened an appointed accusation at herself. A photographer from the Chicago Tribune,
smuggled in by the New York Daily News in a last attempt to one up
the Mirror, raised his trouser leg and snapped a picture of Ruth with a
miniature camera strapped to her ankle. She died under the eyes of thirty reporters,
doctors, and prison officials wearing a regulation football helmet wired to two thousand
volts. They put a football helmet on her head and shocked her through the
helmet. Geez. By the way, That clandestine picture that the photographer from
the Chicago Tribune on behalf of the New York Daily News took at the moment
of Ruth's electrocution is considered to be the most famous picture in the history of
American tabloids and the photo that truly launched the dominance of the tabloids. I'll
be posting it on social media. I'm Zevan Odelberg. And this has been
kind of murdery
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