October 5th, 2008

History books are filled with more lies than truths. The victorious twist the facts around to suit themselves and after time, the truth becomes lost. Lost in a sea of misinformation and out right lies. Half truths and opinions have become facts in the minds of many.

Between August and November 1888, at least six women were murdered in London's Whitechapel area. The gruesome nature of their deaths caused panic and fear in the East End for months, and gave rise to the sobriquet that was to become shorthand for a serial killer - Jack the Ripper.

Many try to put themselves into his mind to try and understand him. Trying to figure out what it is that turns a man into a monster. They pour over books filled with half truths, opinions and lies.

For more than a hundred years the murders have remained among the world's greatest unsolved crimes, and a wealth of theories have been posited which have pointed the finger at royalty, a barber, a doctor, a woman, and an artist.

They think they know him.

The identity of this infamous killer.

They only know parts of the story. The parts I wanted them to know.

Only I know the whole truth of it. I know it backwards and forewards as keenly as I know myself. As it should be, since this is my story. Or part of it at least. Some things cannot be told. Other things you may not believe. It is of little consequence to me if you choose to believe or disbelieve what I am going to share with you.

Yours till death

John Druitt