Secrets Of Scotland Yard - Bonefroma Voice Box - Harold's Old Time Radio

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[00:00]
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It. How do you do? This week I'm taking you to the Black Museum of Scotland Yard. The Black Museum, and it's the name for a room which holds a series of murder exhibits. Not always frightening in themselves, but terrifying when considered in their relation to their history. Now, what have we here? A human finger preserved in alcohol. A blood stained matchstick, piece of carbon paper. No way. Ticket, a can opener. Each a piece of evidence in a horrifying crime. Over there now, to the left, in the place reserved for the newest exhibit is a piece of paper. Reposing on it is a small bit of bone. I'm not an anatomist, but I know that that small bone was once part of a human voice box. Just a little piece of bone. You could break it with two fingers, but it was strong enough to hang a man. Our story begins during the London Blitz, 1941. Bombs falling, buildings burning, the city, near chaos. Now, supposing you murdered somebody during the Blitz on London. A woman. I suppose you'd buried the body in the cellar of a Blitz building under a lost degree, and then you'd laid a trail which showed that the woman, like thousands of others at the time, had left London and this was all accepted. Supposing a year passed and then more than a year and everything was forgotten. You'd be feeling pretty safe, wouldn't you? And supposing you knew that you'd put lime with the body and that by now it was only a heap of bones under a lot of rubbish in a bombed building with no means of identification, you'd begin to think that things were, so to speak, all clear, wouldn't you? Or would you? It is July 1942. The list is over. A gang of demolition workers are clearing rubble away in the cellar of a damaged Baptist chapel. Sure. What's that, Bill? What? Yeah. Looks like a skeleton. I find it is. Look, there's a skull all right. My Tommy. Must have happened when the bomb fell here. You better tell the foreman. Mike Moit, Mine. Come down here for me. And that's how it began. Now, for research purposes, every bomb victim was subjected to a careful medical examination. The cause of each death had to be determined. That's just to make sure they were all accountable to Adolf Hitler. And of course, medical facts are frequently a means of establishing identity where there's little else gone. The pathologists examined the remains and reported to the coroner. There isn't much to go on. The remains of a woman, of course, and there's been some burning. Considering the place of burial of fella was found in dry earth, I'd say she must have died about a year or 18 months ago. That would be during the air raid. Yes. With your permission, I'll have the remains moved to a hospital laboratory. Maybe my equipment will bring the facts to life. Very well, doctor. The incomplete remains were removed to the Department of Forensic Medicine at Guy's Hospital where a detailed examination showed that a tiny bone and what was left of the larynx had been fractured. Just a tiny bone. The pathologist made his first report to Superintendent Rawlings of the Big Five of Scotland Yard. Let's listen as Rawlings did to that report. For we are Rawlings, you and I, inside the brains of Scotland Yard. It's an apparently trivial little fracture, but it's one of the most significant in forensic medicines. All I can say at the moment is this woman may have met her death in a raid or she may have met her death by straight strangulation. Manual strangulation. I favor the latter view. Is there any evidence of identity, Doc? Anything we can start work on? Well, there are a few details I can give you. Now, it's the body of a woman aged between 40 and 50, height 5ft or 5ft 1 inch. The lower jaw's missing, but in the upper jaw she's one of dental plate. There's no trace of it, but it probably contains seven false teeth. Four remaining teeth have fillings. Oh, and one last point on the back of the skull. I also found adhering to it a few strands of hair. I'd say her hair was dark brown. Going grey. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful at the moment, really. Tell me to go on, Doc. A woman aged between 40 and 50, about 5ft tall, going gray, somewhere in London with its thousands of evacuees, its shifting population, its blitz victims. One woman had to be identified. A woman whose description fitted thousands of others. A woman who had gone missing. Check the missing person's register. There's several in the registry like that, sir. You let me see. Yes, yes, yes. This looks like it might fit. Age 47. Height 5ft 1 inch. Hair dark brown, growing gray. Brown. Reported missing Good Friday 1941 and 15 months ago. Reported missing by her sister. That description fits her. Yes. Out in other people, you see, age, height and color of hair aren't enough. For instance, did this woman have a dental plate? And the upper plate with seven teeth in it? Is she still missing? Is she still alive? The woman is still missing. She went missing on Good Friday as reported, and hasn't been shown at scene or heard of since. Her sister says she had a dental plate, an upper plate with seven teeth. She didn't tell her. So who was a dentist? Oh, she moved around a bit. First, the address of the three. Dentist. Oh. See the dentist and ask if they could identify the fillings in her teeth. Yes, sir. It looks as though the case is warming up, sir. No, not yet. Height, Age. A very rough guess of the age and the color of the hair. That's all we've got, really. We don't even know what our woman looks like. You've got a long way to go. A very long way. Yes, there was a long way to go. For all over London, detectives were drumming for information. All over Britain, other missing women were being traced. A photograph was obtained. Then came another clue. It wasn't important, but it was interesting. A sort of storybook clue that detectives keep them on their toes. This woman on the missing person's register, sir. Mrs. Dobkin, you mean? Yes, sir. A few days after she went missing, Ironbag was found in the post office at Guilford Gilford. Was it ever claimed? Notice what was in it? I have a thought on it, sir. It contained a ration book, identity card, two return halves for local London travel. Nothing for a journey to Guilford. Her ration book and identity card. She couldn't have done a day without them in wartime England, yet they'd been unclaimed for 15 months. That could mean that she had no need of them anymore. Which could also mean that she was dead. Of course, she could have taken a Single ticket? Cleverly. If so, you could reason that she was going to stay there for a while. But if she was going to stay there for a while, why didn't she search for her lost handbag? She still hadn't needed them. The ration book and the identity card. Perhaps it was just a quick visit on the return ticket. If so, why wasn't the return half also in the lost handbag? He kept other return house there. Or did someone else take that handbag to Gilford to plant it there, to give the impression that she'd moved to that district? Let's suppose that Mrs. Dobkin is the same woman that we are trying to identify and that at this time she was dead in a bombed chapel in London. How did her handbag get to Guilford? Who took it there and why? If someone took that handbag to Guilford after she was dead, then the doctor's supposition is right. She was not an air raid witness. She was murdered. But is it the same woman? It's this kind of teasing, unanswered clue that keeps detectives hot on the trail. Inquiring, questioning, interviewing. The people who lived around the bomb chapel were asked to perform that difficult feat of thinking back 15 months. Yes, I think I remember he had a fire under the chapel about. They call the nsf. Yes, we attended that fire. There's a report in the incident book. A fire watcher said he saw some smoke coming upon a floorboard from a little school and next to the chapel. He said he threw some water on it, but it got out of hand. Did the fire watcher call him? No, it was a police call. The fire had been burning about two hours before we were told. Did the fire watcher say why he failed to report it? He made no explanation to me. I see. I inspected the cellar after the fire and I felt that the fire had been caused by someone on the premises. There was no raid that night and there was never anything in firewall kept in the cellar. Yet that night a straw laptop was there, torn open, and part of it had been set alight. I questioned the fire watcher when he was seen in his face, he annoyed me. Made a note of it in My darling, why don't you ask the bloke what used to fire watch over there next door to the chapel? He can tell you about it. He was a bluff. He was a bloke named Dodkin, the same name as a woman whose handbag was found at Gilpin. He was her husband. A woman goes missing, her husband is a fire Watcher. A woman's body is found buried in a bomb damage cellar next to a fire washing post. The body is partly burnt. He's implicated in the fire at that same spot. Well, to the lay mind that seems fairly conclusive evidence at least it's very suspicious. But the dead woman has not been identified as his wife. In fact, the remains are almost unidentifiable. Vaguely like his wife yet. But supposing his wife is still alive. Of course, he was christened. Yes, that's right, sir. I remember that. Good Friday met some. The last time I saw her you'd been living apart and she tried to make up for me. I wasn't going back to her though. Couldn't stand it. We had tea together in Dawson, talked it over and then she got in the bus going towards Shoreditch. And that's the last I saw of her. You made a written statement, sir? Shall I read it? Yes, go on. It reads, divisional Inspector, dear Sir, in respect of what you say that my wife has been found dead or murdered. Who's I heard of these wives have been found murdered? No one, sir. He wrote that himself. I see. Well, let's have another talk with the medical boys and get that scented. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening, doctor. Good evening. You want to see me? Yes. By the way, thank you for that sketch of the upper jaw. It's identical to the upper jaw of the bed wood. Do you think you could identify your. Yes, but it on the table. I recognized it the moment I came into the Manitoba. You no doubt? None at all. And those are my feelings. Indeed, I'd recognize my own work anywhere. That is the jaw. And these are the teeth of the patient you knew as Mrs. Dobkins. Positively. And do you recognize this? Yes, that is a photograph of my patient, Mrs. Dobson. Yes. The missing woman and the dead woman are the same person. Some final questions had to be gone over. Why had the missing woman been found dead near her husband's fire washing post? Had he induced her to go? He said she'd never been there. Why was there a fire in the cellar? Fire in which the husband was involved? Why had he, a fire watcher, failed to raise the alarm? Was it because he started the fire to burn the body? Why does he deny knowledge of the cellar when he had been seen going there? Why did he return to his old fire watching post? And why did he deny he'd ever gone back? Is the answer to every question the same? That he'd murdered his wife?
[13:16]
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[15:09]
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I think Mr. Duncan had better be brought in. So far, the work of Scotland Yard had been to identify and prove in their own mind that they knew the murderer. Their next job was to find him, for Mr. Dobkin had disappeared. As you've learned, Scotland Yard first identified the murderer. In their own minds, there remain no shadow of doubt that Dobkin was a guilty man. But as is so often the case with the Yard, in making sure that the man was guilty before taking him into custody, they'd given him an opportunity of realizing that the priests were after him. Within half an hour, Rawlings giving orders for Dobkin's arrest. The first report came In Dobkin left the lodging house where he was staying two days ago without giving an address. They've no information on him at the food office and he just didn't turn up at the factory where he was working. Any relatives? None. Clapper, she told us a funny thing. Dobkin was always in court for failings of phased wifi maintenance money. In fact, he went to jail for it once. But directly he disappeared, he became very regular in his payment. Something else for Mr. Dodkin. Great, Zane. The police looked at his dot here. Age 49. Born in Tuple. Spent all his life in London. If Mr. Dobkin ran true to Fern, he'd be found somewhere in London. The dragnet went out. Mr. Bobkin does. True. Tonight he's sitting drinking a cup of coffee in a little Italian restaurant at the back of Piccadilly circus. He's thinking. Mr. Dobkin's mentality is limited, but in his bright, furtive way, it's sizing up the problems and planning for the future. I wonder if they're looking for me yet. I suspect they are. Well, they won't train me and Ari. Wonder if they got a picture of me. I better do something about changing the appearance. Things are going soon. Start wearing a cap or something. I know I've got a shave and take my mustache off. That'll make a difference. That'll fool them. I better get out of this place. Too many cops around. You never know, one of them might stop you. You suddenly might come up behind you and say, this. This chair taken? Oh, no. Country constable. You don't mind the policeman sitting there, do you, sir? Oh, no, no. That's all right. Mustn't get nervous. They won't recognize me anyway. I've got that other identity card. It's worth a couple of quid, too. Left it out of me wallet. Be awful if I lost that. It's all right. As long as you've got money. 50 quid will last me a bit. By the time that's gone, maybe it'll be safe to get a job. Then I'll have to get a ration book. And why don't your uncle take it slowly? That's the idea. Just lie low for the moment. Don't try to do anything silly. Keep out of people's way. Keep my mouth shut. Keep moving. Be careful. Just one slip. Perhaps you'd care to glance at the paper. There's rather an interesting murder case. Must most ingenious. Have reason to suspect Warren has been received. Charles Dobkins. An arrest is anticipated during the next few hours. Just capacity when it's engaged in tracking down a particularly important lawbreaker is known as Operation Net. The code word titled the system of suddenly throwing a police mess around the area in which they believe their man to be hiding and asking every person within a narrowing circle to produce proof of identification. In this case, Superintendent Rawlings was pretty sure that his man was within a square mile of Piccadilly circuit. So it was late that night this radio message went out from the information room at Covent yard. Radio operator MG2W calling all cars. MG2W calling all cars. Operation Net patrols assigned to Sea division area should move into position one minute from now. Over. In the operations room, Superintendent Rawlings was giving panel instructions to the footpiece. That evening we propose to cordon up the Piccadilly Circus area in accordance with this plan. Motorcar patrols are already in position at Piccadilly, in Albertmouth's feet and so on. Right the way around. Your zero hour is half past ten. At that time, cordons will be thrown across here, here, here and so on. I don't mind telling you I'm more than suspicion that we will pick up our man Donkin that evening. But the capture of Donkin isn't the only purpose of this operation. We had a few identity card checkups, but this, I think is one of the biggest roundups we've attempted. Coincidentally, the military police have all received parallel instructions. Who will be working with you in a normal manner. Right then. Good luck. Until 10:30. Logic. Arbitoles. Cordons. One of the biggest roundups Cotton Yard has ever attempted. It's a good thing for Mr. Dobkin's already overstrained peace of mind that he doesn't realize what the odds are against him. He'd be wishing he was the invisible man the other hour. 10:30pm. Now slowly does it. One of it. All right. You first. Miss. May I see your identity card? Yes, you are. Been doing anybody in lately, duck? Not me. Okay. Pass along, Charger. Here you are. Ah, war. Reserved constable, eh? Why the heck aren't you on duty tonight? Good mummy. Ever. I'll go have one evening off, you know. That's what they all say, chump. Righto. Pass along. Cartier. There you are, Constable John Rankin. Hey, wait a minute. I recognize you. You're the man here. Get out of my way. Yeah. Hey. Hey, wait a minute, chum. Here you are. Look at his car. You've looked it behind. What's happened then? I don't know. I was only going to tell him I'd seen him earlier today. There's something up with him. His identity card. He's going to need that later. What do you mean? Well, Mrs. Posted the wrong way this time. He's the wrong side of the police. And he left this identity card in my hand. John Rankin. Yes. It's a portrait all right. Is it one of the cards which were pinched about four weeks ago. He picked up several of them. They were all blanks when they were stolen. Wait a minute. We are specimens of Dunkin's writing. Yes. I have several specimen signatures. All his papers are in this kind. Let's have a look at one of them. See you, Arthur. Very careless of Mr. Rankin, you know, sergeant. Designed his name just like Mr. Dunkin. Quite a coincidence. And so the night's work went on. Slowly the crowds within the police cordon diminished. Fewer and fewer people were left within the net that covered Piccadilly Circus. And as the crowds became less, the police became all the more careful. Mr. Dobkins. Chances were getting smaller. Nothing get rattled. Hundreds of people. I've got to wait in two rooms, that's all. The country won't change. Chicken all night. You'll have to pack up sooner or later. Then he's all right. All I have to do is wait all right along. Next one, please. Identity card. Thank you, Sergeant. Yes, sir. I think he'll start moving his cord near at the beginning of his circuit. Edge them in gradually all the way around. Then when we're close enough, we'll do a sweep right across. Mr. Din had been a trifle I. The police may be slow, but they are thorough. Slowly down Piccadilly, down Regent street, all the other respecting. And finally meeting at Piccadilly Circus. The police cordon started to move. They were slowly, inexorably closing in. There was one possible way out. Mr. Dobkin decided to take a chance. Good old underground railway. Wasn't happening to that before. They'd be walking in a corset and make a run for it. Well, they'll have to be pretty slippy. I better chance it sometime. Here. Thank you, sir. Next one, please. Got it. Just here. It's somewhere in his cloak. All right. Stand on one side, pick up the next one. You are sensible. Thank you. Here you come back. Hi. Hi. Mr. Dobkin rushes down the passageway rather like a rabbit scudding to burrow in the bowels of the earth. It's not a bad simile for particularly Circuit Underground Station. The largest subway station in the world is rather like a rabbit. 1 All four converging lines meeting deep below here. Dobkin pushes his way through the cottage, buys his ticket, takes his place on the escalator going down towards the Waterloo line. He doesn't know it, but 20 yards behind him, fighting his way through the crowd, trying to keep up with him, is the one person in the world Mr. Dobkin doesn't even meet. A gentleman from Scotland Yard. That fooled him, does it not? Let me know. Lost someone coming up the West End, though. It's a quiet suburban life for me from now on. Full of blue light for Waterloo, eh? Some second sense seems to have warned Dokin that something was wrong. As the crowd din out in the passageway leading to the platform, you begin to run. You reach the platform as the train arrives. It was almost the last southbound train of the night and there was a crowd round the doorway. Mr. Duggin pushed and shoved, and with a final heave, he was in. Just as painful. After session, the detective arrived a few seconds too late. But as you'll see, Scotland Guard is not without its resources in an emergency. Hello, everybody. All train. But this train goes under one of those. I know what it is. The train goes under the Thames and they've closed the floodgates. Now running on, just in case. A box. It's the tunnel under the river, that's what it is. There's an air raid alarm, isn't it, porter? I don't know, I just remind struck that to us. Come on now, move along, please. It's not that you're waiting on the platform, there's a last train. You can get a bus upstairs if you want. I can't understand it. What are they up to? No sense. Hurry up, John. Identity cart. Identity car, next one, please. Identity cart. I haven't got one. Finding great candidates to hire can be like, well, trying to find a needle in a haystack. Sure, you can post your job to some job board, but then all you can do is hope the right person comes along. Which is why you should try ZipRecruiter for free at ZipRecruiter.com Zip ZipRecruiter doesn't depend on candidates finding you, it finds them for you. Its powerful technology identifies people with the right experience and actively invites them to apply to your job. You get qualified candidates fast. So while other companies might deliver a lot of hay, ZipRecruiter finds you what you're looking for. The needle in the Haystack. See why 4 out of 5 employers who post a job on ZipRecruiter get a quality candidate within the first day. The smartest way to hire. And right now you can try ZipRecruiter for free. That's right. Free at ZipRecruiter.com Zip that's ZipRecruiter.com Zip ZipRecruiter.com Zip my name is. Mr. Dins has come home. King Cross is only a very short, rather charming walk along the Embankment. The Scotland Yard Mr. Dobkins absolutely admitted that his most embarrassing moments were not at the height of the investigation or in the heat of the final ship. They were before the discovery of his wife's remains. You remember that he became strangely regular in paying his wife's mason's money. Of course, after her disappearance, you see, one of the officials of Old Street Police station had developed a trying habit of remarking to him when he brought him the money. No, Harry. You know he killed your old woman. Have you done with him, buddy? Well, that's all today. I'll be back again to tell you some more of the secrets of Scotland Yard.

Summary5 min read

Podcast Summary: Harold’s Old Time Radio
Episode: Secrets Of Scotland Yard - “Bone from a Voice Box” (July 28, 2026)

Episode Overview

This episode revisits a chilling case from WWII London, dramatized in the style of the Golden Age of Radio. Host Harold leads listeners through the discovery and investigation of a skeletal remain—a small piece of bone from a human voice box—found in a bombed-out church after the Blitz. The case, rooted in real events, illustrates the meticulous work of Scotland Yard in solving murders that could have easily been passed off as war casualties.

Key Discussion Points & Insights

Discovery in the Black Museum (00:55 – 01:45)

“The Black Museum, it's the name for a room which holds a series of murder exhibits. Not always frightening in themselves, but terrifying when considered in their relation to their history.” (00:56, Narrator)
The episode opens with a guided tour of the Black Museum at Scotland Yard, highlighting macabre evidence from real cases.
The “bone from a voice box,” so small it’s easily broken, becomes a central clue.

The Blitz as Cover for Murder (01:45 – 03:40)

Setting: London, 1941, during the chaos and destruction of the Blitz.
Workers clearing rubble in a bomb-damaged chapel discover human remains.
The context: Suppose someone used the bombings to murder a woman, hid her in the rubble, and faked her disappearance.

Forensic Investigation Begins (03:41 – 04:50)

Remains are identified as female, approximating age and height, with a seven-tooth upper dental plate, and dark brown hair going gray.
Significant: Fracture in a small bone of the larynx (the voice box)—a sign of manual strangulation.
“It’s an apparently trivial little fracture, but it’s one of the most significant in forensic medicine.” (04:44, Pathologist)
Early reports offer only general identifiers, highlighting challenges in identification.

Identity Unfolds: Linking Remains to Mrs. Dobkin (05:10 – 07:54)

The police match the remains’ description with missing persons—focus lands on Mrs. Dobkin, missing since Good Friday, 1941.
Her handbag, found posthumously in Guilford, contains essentials but no onward travel tickets. Raises suspicion the bag was purposefully planted.
“Her ration book and identity card. She couldn’t have done a day without them in wartime England, yet they’d been unclaimed for 15 months.” (06:39, Investigator)
Detectives canvass the area, unearthing reports of a suspicious fire in the chapel cellar.

Building the Case: Suspicion Falls on Her Husband (07:55 – 11:40)

The fire was linked to her husband, a local fire watcher, present at the site and unhelpful in the incident.
“He was a bloke named Dobkin, the same name as the woman whose handbag was found at Guilford. He was her husband.” (10:27, Local)
Despite circumstantial links, substantial evidence is required; the body must be positively identified as Mrs. Dobkin.
A dentist confirms the dental plate is his work—decisively identifying the body.
“I recognized it the moment I came into the Manitoba. You no doubt? None at all.” (11:04, Dentist)

Motives, Means, and Lies (11:41 – 13:16)

Investigators probe the husband’s behavior: his role in the suspicious fire, his denying knowledge of the cellar, and inconsistent statements.
The clear implication: Dobkin murdered his wife, concealed the body, and tried to mislead authorities through the war chaos.
“Is the answer to every question the same? That he’d murdered his wife?” (12:56, Narrator)

Operation NET: The Manhunt and Capture (15:09 – 21:49)

Launching the Dragnet (15:09 – 17:09)

After identifying Dobkin as the prime suspect, Scotland Yard learns he has disappeared.
Dobkin has become regular in paying maintenance payments as a distraction.
Authorities deploy “Operation Net”—a cordon surrounding Piccadilly Circus, checking all identities in a massive roundup.

Dobkin's Fugitive Mindset (17:15 – 18:32)

The episode provides Dobkin’s internal monologue, illustrating his paranoia and evasion tactics.
“I know I’ve got a shave and take my mustache off. That’ll make a difference. That’ll fool them.” (17:41, Dobkin)

The Police Close In (18:33 – 21:49)

Police move methodically through the cordoned area.
Dobkin tries to blend in, using a stolen identity card, but police spot his forged documents.
As police close in, Dobkin rushes toward the underground, hoping to escape, but is tracked and apprehended in the subway.
“There was one possible way out. Mr. Dobkin decided to take a chance. Good old underground railway.” (21:19, Narrator)
His capture is a testament to Scotland Yard’s thoroughness.

Notable Quotes

“Just a little piece of bone. You could break it with two fingers, but it was strong enough to hang a man.”
(01:36, Narrator)
“It’s one of the most significant [fractures] in forensic medicine. All I can say at the moment is this woman may have met her death in a raid, or she may have met her death by strangulation. I favor the latter view.”
(04:44, Pathologist)
“He was a bloke named Dobkin, the same name as the woman whose handbag was found at Guilford. He was her husband.”
(10:27, Local Resident)

Memorable Moments & Final Thoughts

The episode’s meticulous reconstruction of real-life investigation tactics—especially forensic work and massive city-wide dragnets—shows the nascent science of crime detection during the 1940s.
The use of the London Blitz as an alibi for murder is particularly chilling.
The interplay of fate, forensic breakthroughs (like the jawbone), and classic detective grind brings the case alive in the tradition of true crime radio.

Important Timestamps

00:55 – Black Museum introduction; finding the bone from a voice box.
03:41 – Medical and forensic examination.
05:10 – Attempting to identify the victim; Mrs. Dobkin highlighted.
07:55 – Evidence begins pointing to Mrs. Dobkin's husband.
11:04 – Dentist’s positive ID of the remains.
12:56 – Open suggestion that the husband is the murderer.
15:09 – Scotland Yard launches the dragnet (Operation Net).
17:15 – Dobkin’s fugitive thoughts and evasion.
21:19 – Police cordon closes and Dobkin is apprehended.
21:49–End – Wrap-up, moral reflection, and tease for next episode.

This episode, “Bone from a Voice Box,” stands out for its gripping blend of forensic intrigue, historical context, and classic detective storytelling—the hallmarks of old-time radio mysteries. An atmospheric tribute to the real-life diligence and doggedness of Scotland Yard detectives.

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[00:00]
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This episode sponsored by She's Bertie. Every woman knows that feeling, and she's Bertie knows it too. The just in case feeling. Just in case I hear something. Just in case someone tries the door. Just in case I need to wake up fast. It's not fear, it's awareness. And Birdie Box from She's Birdie was made for exactly that. Birdie Box is a portable travel door alarm designed by She's Bertie for hotels, dorms, Airbnbs and anywhere you're staying away from home. It installs in seconds on the door frame and if the door is opened, it activates a loud siren and flashing strobe to help draw attention instantly. She's because peace of mind should check in with you. Birdie Box by She's birdie visit she's birdie.com that's S H-E-S-B-I-R-I-E.com and order your Birdie box before your next Stay away from home.
[00:56]
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It. How do you do? This week I'm taking you to the Black Museum of Scotland Yard. The Black Museum, and it's the name for a room which holds a series of murder exhibits. Not always frightening in themselves, but terrifying when considered in their relation to their history. Now, what have we here? A human finger preserved in alcohol. A blood stained matchstick, piece of carbon paper. No way. Ticket, a can opener. Each a piece of evidence in a horrifying crime. Over there now, to the left, in the place reserved for the newest exhibit is a piece of paper. Reposing on it is a small bit of bone. I'm not an anatomist, but I know that that small bone was once part of a human voice box. Just a little piece of bone. You could break it with two fingers, but it was strong enough to hang a man. Our story begins during the London Blitz, 1941. Bombs falling, buildings burning, the city, near chaos. Now, supposing you murdered somebody during the Blitz on London. A woman. I suppose you'd buried the body in the cellar of a Blitz building under a lost degree, and then you'd laid a trail which showed that the woman, like thousands of others at the time, had left London and this was all accepted. Supposing a year passed and then more than a year and everything was forgotten. You'd be feeling pretty safe, wouldn't you? And supposing you knew that you'd put lime with the body and that by now it was only a heap of bones under a lot of rubbish in a bombed building with no means of identification, you'd begin to think that things were, so to speak, all clear, wouldn't you? Or would you? It is July 1942. The list is over. A gang of demolition workers are clearing rubble away in the cellar of a damaged Baptist chapel. Sure. What's that, Bill? What? Yeah. Looks like a skeleton. I find it is. Look, there's a skull all right. My Tommy. Must have happened when the bomb fell here. You better tell the foreman. Mike Moit, Mine. Come down here for me. And that's how it began. Now, for research purposes, every bomb victim was subjected to a careful medical examination. The cause of each death had to be determined. That's just to make sure they were all accountable to Adolf Hitler. And of course, medical facts are frequently a means of establishing identity where there's little else gone. The pathologists examined the remains and reported to the coroner. There isn't much to go on. The remains of a woman, of course, and there's been some burning. Considering the place of burial of fella was found in dry earth, I'd say she must have died about a year or 18 months ago. That would be during the air raid. Yes. With your permission, I'll have the remains moved to a hospital laboratory. Maybe my equipment will bring the facts to life. Very well, doctor. The incomplete remains were removed to the Department of Forensic Medicine at Guy's Hospital where a detailed examination showed that a tiny bone and what was left of the larynx had been fractured. Just a tiny bone. The pathologist made his first report to Superintendent Rawlings of the Big Five of Scotland Yard. Let's listen as Rawlings did to that report. For we are Rawlings, you and I, inside the brains of Scotland Yard. It's an apparently trivial little fracture, but it's one of the most significant in forensic medicines. All I can say at the moment is this woman may have met her death in a raid or she may have met her death by straight strangulation. Manual strangulation. I favor the latter view. Is there any evidence of identity, Doc? Anything we can start work on? Well, there are a few details I can give you. Now, it's the body of a woman aged between 40 and 50, height 5ft or 5ft 1 inch. The lower jaw's missing, but in the upper jaw she's one of dental plate. There's no trace of it, but it probably contains seven false teeth. Four remaining teeth have fillings. Oh, and one last point on the back of the skull. I also found adhering to it a few strands of hair. I'd say her hair was dark brown. Going grey. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful at the moment, really. Tell me to go on, Doc. A woman aged between 40 and 50, about 5ft tall, going gray, somewhere in London with its thousands of evacuees, its shifting population, its blitz victims. One woman had to be identified. A woman whose description fitted thousands of others. A woman who had gone missing. Check the missing person's register. There's several in the registry like that, sir. You let me see. Yes, yes, yes. This looks like it might fit. Age 47. Height 5ft 1 inch. Hair dark brown, growing gray. Brown. Reported missing Good Friday 1941 and 15 months ago. Reported missing by her sister. That description fits her. Yes. Out in other people, you see, age, height and color of hair aren't enough. For instance, did this woman have a dental plate? And the upper plate with seven teeth in it? Is she still missing? Is she still alive? The woman is still missing. She went missing on Good Friday as reported, and hasn't been shown at scene or heard of since. Her sister says she had a dental plate, an upper plate with seven teeth. She didn't tell her. So who was a dentist? Oh, she moved around a bit. First, the address of the three. Dentist. Oh. See the dentist and ask if they could identify the fillings in her teeth. Yes, sir. It looks as though the case is warming up, sir. No, not yet. Height, Age. A very rough guess of the age and the color of the hair. That's all we've got, really. We don't even know what our woman looks like. You've got a long way to go. A very long way. Yes, there was a long way to go. For all over London, detectives were drumming for information. All over Britain, other missing women were being traced. A photograph was obtained. Then came another clue. It wasn't important, but it was interesting. A sort of storybook clue that detectives keep them on their toes. This woman on the missing person's register, sir. Mrs. Dobkin, you mean? Yes, sir. A few days after she went missing, Ironbag was found in the post office at Guilford Gilford. Was it ever claimed? Notice what was in it? I have a thought on it, sir. It contained a ration book, identity card, two return halves for local London travel. Nothing for a journey to Guilford. Her ration book and identity card. She couldn't have done a day without them in wartime England, yet they'd been unclaimed for 15 months. That could mean that she had no need of them anymore. Which could also mean that she was dead. Of course, she could have taken a Single ticket? Cleverly. If so, you could reason that she was going to stay there for a while. But if she was going to stay there for a while, why didn't she search for her lost handbag? She still hadn't needed them. The ration book and the identity card. Perhaps it was just a quick visit on the return ticket. If so, why wasn't the return half also in the lost handbag? He kept other return house there. Or did someone else take that handbag to Gilford to plant it there, to give the impression that she'd moved to that district? Let's suppose that Mrs. Dobkin is the same woman that we are trying to identify and that at this time she was dead in a bombed chapel in London. How did her handbag get to Guilford? Who took it there and why? If someone took that handbag to Guilford after she was dead, then the doctor's supposition is right. She was not an air raid witness. She was murdered. But is it the same woman? It's this kind of teasing, unanswered clue that keeps detectives hot on the trail. Inquiring, questioning, interviewing. The people who lived around the bomb chapel were asked to perform that difficult feat of thinking back 15 months. Yes, I think I remember he had a fire under the chapel about. They call the nsf. Yes, we attended that fire. There's a report in the incident book. A fire watcher said he saw some smoke coming upon a floorboard from a little school and next to the chapel. He said he threw some water on it, but it got out of hand. Did the fire watcher call him? No, it was a police call. The fire had been burning about two hours before we were told. Did the fire watcher say why he failed to report it? He made no explanation to me. I see. I inspected the cellar after the fire and I felt that the fire had been caused by someone on the premises. There was no raid that night and there was never anything in firewall kept in the cellar. Yet that night a straw laptop was there, torn open, and part of it had been set alight. I questioned the fire watcher when he was seen in his face, he annoyed me. Made a note of it in My darling, why don't you ask the bloke what used to fire watch over there next door to the chapel? He can tell you about it. He was a bluff. He was a bloke named Dodkin, the same name as a woman whose handbag was found at Gilpin. He was her husband. A woman goes missing, her husband is a fire Watcher. A woman's body is found buried in a bomb damage cellar next to a fire washing post. The body is partly burnt. He's implicated in the fire at that same spot. Well, to the lay mind that seems fairly conclusive evidence at least it's very suspicious. But the dead woman has not been identified as his wife. In fact, the remains are almost unidentifiable. Vaguely like his wife yet. But supposing his wife is still alive. Of course, he was christened. Yes, that's right, sir. I remember that. Good Friday met some. The last time I saw her you'd been living apart and she tried to make up for me. I wasn't going back to her though. Couldn't stand it. We had tea together in Dawson, talked it over and then she got in the bus going towards Shoreditch. And that's the last I saw of her. You made a written statement, sir? Shall I read it? Yes, go on. It reads, divisional Inspector, dear Sir, in respect of what you say that my wife has been found dead or murdered. Who's I heard of these wives have been found murdered? No one, sir. He wrote that himself. I see. Well, let's have another talk with the medical boys and get that scented. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening, doctor. Good evening. You want to see me? Yes. By the way, thank you for that sketch of the upper jaw. It's identical to the upper jaw of the bed wood. Do you think you could identify your. Yes, but it on the table. I recognized it the moment I came into the Manitoba. You no doubt? None at all. And those are my feelings. Indeed, I'd recognize my own work anywhere. That is the jaw. And these are the teeth of the patient you knew as Mrs. Dobkins. Positively. And do you recognize this? Yes, that is a photograph of my patient, Mrs. Dobson. Yes. The missing woman and the dead woman are the same person. Some final questions had to be gone over. Why had the missing woman been found dead near her husband's fire washing post? Had he induced her to go? He said she'd never been there. Why was there a fire in the cellar? Fire in which the husband was involved? Why had he, a fire watcher, failed to raise the alarm? Was it because he started the fire to burn the body? Why does he deny knowledge of the cellar when he had been seen going there? Why did he return to his old fire watching post? And why did he deny he'd ever gone back? Is the answer to every question the same? That he'd murdered his wife?
[13:16]
A
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[15:09]
B
I think Mr. Duncan had better be brought in. So far, the work of Scotland Yard had been to identify and prove in their own mind that they knew the murderer. Their next job was to find him, for Mr. Dobkin had disappeared. As you've learned, Scotland Yard first identified the murderer. In their own minds, there remain no shadow of doubt that Dobkin was a guilty man. But as is so often the case with the Yard, in making sure that the man was guilty before taking him into custody, they'd given him an opportunity of realizing that the priests were after him. Within half an hour, Rawlings giving orders for Dobkin's arrest. The first report came In Dobkin left the lodging house where he was staying two days ago without giving an address. They've no information on him at the food office and he just didn't turn up at the factory where he was working. Any relatives? None. Clapper, she told us a funny thing. Dobkin was always in court for failings of phased wifi maintenance money. In fact, he went to jail for it once. But directly he disappeared, he became very regular in his payment. Something else for Mr. Dodkin. Great, Zane. The police looked at his dot here. Age 49. Born in Tuple. Spent all his life in London. If Mr. Dobkin ran true to Fern, he'd be found somewhere in London. The dragnet went out. Mr. Bobkin does. True. Tonight he's sitting drinking a cup of coffee in a little Italian restaurant at the back of Piccadilly circus. He's thinking. Mr. Dobkin's mentality is limited, but in his bright, furtive way, it's sizing up the problems and planning for the future. I wonder if they're looking for me yet. I suspect they are. Well, they won't train me and Ari. Wonder if they got a picture of me. I better do something about changing the appearance. Things are going soon. Start wearing a cap or something. I know I've got a shave and take my mustache off. That'll make a difference. That'll fool them. I better get out of this place. Too many cops around. You never know, one of them might stop you. You suddenly might come up behind you and say, this. This chair taken? Oh, no. Country constable. You don't mind the policeman sitting there, do you, sir? Oh, no, no. That's all right. Mustn't get nervous. They won't recognize me anyway. I've got that other identity card. It's worth a couple of quid, too. Left it out of me wallet. Be awful if I lost that. It's all right. As long as you've got money. 50 quid will last me a bit. By the time that's gone, maybe it'll be safe to get a job. Then I'll have to get a ration book. And why don't your uncle take it slowly? That's the idea. Just lie low for the moment. Don't try to do anything silly. Keep out of people's way. Keep my mouth shut. Keep moving. Be careful. Just one slip. Perhaps you'd care to glance at the paper. There's rather an interesting murder case. Must most ingenious. Have reason to suspect Warren has been received. Charles Dobkins. An arrest is anticipated during the next few hours. Just capacity when it's engaged in tracking down a particularly important lawbreaker is known as Operation Net. The code word titled the system of suddenly throwing a police mess around the area in which they believe their man to be hiding and asking every person within a narrowing circle to produce proof of identification. In this case, Superintendent Rawlings was pretty sure that his man was within a square mile of Piccadilly circuit. So it was late that night this radio message went out from the information room at Covent yard. Radio operator MG2W calling all cars. MG2W calling all cars. Operation Net patrols assigned to Sea division area should move into position one minute from now. Over. In the operations room, Superintendent Rawlings was giving panel instructions to the footpiece. That evening we propose to cordon up the Piccadilly Circus area in accordance with this plan. Motorcar patrols are already in position at Piccadilly, in Albertmouth's feet and so on. Right the way around. Your zero hour is half past ten. At that time, cordons will be thrown across here, here, here and so on. I don't mind telling you I'm more than suspicion that we will pick up our man Donkin that evening. But the capture of Donkin isn't the only purpose of this operation. We had a few identity card checkups, but this, I think is one of the biggest roundups we've attempted. Coincidentally, the military police have all received parallel instructions. Who will be working with you in a normal manner. Right then. Good luck. Until 10:30. Logic. Arbitoles. Cordons. One of the biggest roundups Cotton Yard has ever attempted. It's a good thing for Mr. Dobkin's already overstrained peace of mind that he doesn't realize what the odds are against him. He'd be wishing he was the invisible man the other hour. 10:30pm. Now slowly does it. One of it. All right. You first. Miss. May I see your identity card? Yes, you are. Been doing anybody in lately, duck? Not me. Okay. Pass along, Charger. Here you are. Ah, war. Reserved constable, eh? Why the heck aren't you on duty tonight? Good mummy. Ever. I'll go have one evening off, you know. That's what they all say, chump. Righto. Pass along. Cartier. There you are, Constable John Rankin. Hey, wait a minute. I recognize you. You're the man here. Get out of my way. Yeah. Hey. Hey, wait a minute, chum. Here you are. Look at his car. You've looked it behind. What's happened then? I don't know. I was only going to tell him I'd seen him earlier today. There's something up with him. His identity card. He's going to need that later. What do you mean? Well, Mrs. Posted the wrong way this time. He's the wrong side of the police. And he left this identity card in my hand. John Rankin. Yes. It's a portrait all right. Is it one of the cards which were pinched about four weeks ago. He picked up several of them. They were all blanks when they were stolen. Wait a minute. We are specimens of Dunkin's writing. Yes. I have several specimen signatures. All his papers are in this kind. Let's have a look at one of them. See you, Arthur. Very careless of Mr. Rankin, you know, sergeant. Designed his name just like Mr. Dunkin. Quite a coincidence. And so the night's work went on. Slowly the crowds within the police cordon diminished. Fewer and fewer people were left within the net that covered Piccadilly Circus. And as the crowds became less, the police became all the more careful. Mr. Dobkins. Chances were getting smaller. Nothing get rattled. Hundreds of people. I've got to wait in two rooms, that's all. The country won't change. Chicken all night. You'll have to pack up sooner or later. Then he's all right. All I have to do is wait all right along. Next one, please. Identity card. Thank you, Sergeant. Yes, sir. I think he'll start moving his cord near at the beginning of his circuit. Edge them in gradually all the way around. Then when we're close enough, we'll do a sweep right across. Mr. Din had been a trifle I. The police may be slow, but they are thorough. Slowly down Piccadilly, down Regent street, all the other respecting. And finally meeting at Piccadilly Circus. The police cordon started to move. They were slowly, inexorably closing in. There was one possible way out. Mr. Dobkin decided to take a chance. Good old underground railway. Wasn't happening to that before. They'd be walking in a corset and make a run for it. Well, they'll have to be pretty slippy. I better chance it sometime. Here. Thank you, sir. Next one, please. Got it. Just here. It's somewhere in his cloak. All right. Stand on one side, pick up the next one. You are sensible. Thank you. Here you come back. Hi. Hi. Mr. Dobkin rushes down the passageway rather like a rabbit scudding to burrow in the bowels of the earth. It's not a bad simile for particularly Circuit Underground Station. The largest subway station in the world is rather like a rabbit. 1 All four converging lines meeting deep below here. Dobkin pushes his way through the cottage, buys his ticket, takes his place on the escalator going down towards the Waterloo line. He doesn't know it, but 20 yards behind him, fighting his way through the crowd, trying to keep up with him, is the one person in the world Mr. Dobkin doesn't even meet. A gentleman from Scotland Yard. That fooled him, does it not? Let me know. Lost someone coming up the West End, though. It's a quiet suburban life for me from now on. Full of blue light for Waterloo, eh? Some second sense seems to have warned Dokin that something was wrong. As the crowd din out in the passageway leading to the platform, you begin to run. You reach the platform as the train arrives. It was almost the last southbound train of the night and there was a crowd round the doorway. Mr. Duggin pushed and shoved, and with a final heave, he was in. Just as painful. After session, the detective arrived a few seconds too late. But as you'll see, Scotland Guard is not without its resources in an emergency. Hello, everybody. All train. But this train goes under one of those. I know what it is. The train goes under the Thames and they've closed the floodgates. Now running on, just in case. A box. It's the tunnel under the river, that's what it is. There's an air raid alarm, isn't it, porter? I don't know, I just remind struck that to us. Come on now, move along, please. It's not that you're waiting on the platform, there's a last train. You can get a bus upstairs if you want. I can't understand it. What are they up to? No sense. Hurry up, John. Identity cart. Identity car, next one, please. Identity cart. I haven't got one. Finding great candidates to hire can be like, well, trying to find a needle in a haystack. Sure, you can post your job to some job board, but then all you can do is hope the right person comes along. Which is why you should try ZipRecruiter for free at ZipRecruiter.com Zip ZipRecruiter doesn't depend on candidates finding you, it finds them for you. Its powerful technology identifies people with the right experience and actively invites them to apply to your job. You get qualified candidates fast. So while other companies might deliver a lot of hay, ZipRecruiter finds you what you're looking for. The needle in the Haystack. See why 4 out of 5 employers who post a job on ZipRecruiter get a quality candidate within the first day. The smartest way to hire. And right now you can try ZipRecruiter for free. That's right. Free at ZipRecruiter.com Zip that's ZipRecruiter.com Zip ZipRecruiter.com Zip my name is. Mr. Dins has come home. King Cross is only a very short, rather charming walk along the Embankment. The Scotland Yard Mr. Dobkins absolutely admitted that his most embarrassing moments were not at the height of the investigation or in the heat of the final ship. They were before the discovery of his wife's remains. You remember that he became strangely regular in paying his wife's mason's money. Of course, after her disappearance, you see, one of the officials of Old Street Police station had developed a trying habit of remarking to him when he brought him the money. No, Harry. You know he killed your old woman. Have you done with him, buddy? Well, that's all today. I'll be back again to tell you some more of the secrets of Scotland Yard.