Black Museum-39-The Shopping Bag

This is Orson Wells, speaking from London. The Black Museum. A museum of death. Yes, here in the Grimstone structure on the Thames, which I'll discuss in the yard, is a warehouse of homicide. Where every day object, a cotton reel, a tobacco pouch, a boot lace, or a touched by mud.

Another shopping bag. Faded green canvas square and shaped large enough to envelop a human head. Hey, well sir, we'd now like to take it, no? Nothing inside now. These wits of blonde hair were found inside by the experts in the police laboratory, that that was a long time ago.

Who did the hand belong to? I know there's no doubt about that. This is Vera Dawson hair and spickel. Victim number five, yes. He's been in the habit of bleaching our hair for years. That's why it probably came out fairly easily.

And the pathetic blonde haired prove that the canvas shopping bag had been used to suffocate their owner, victim number five. That is why the bag has earned its place today in the Black Museum. From the annals of the Criminal Investigation Department of the London Police, we bring you the dramatic stories of the crimes recorded by the objects in Stuttland Yard's Gallery of Death.

The Black Museum. Spotes regarded precinct, all is silent, freeze of death mass.

The mass of criminals have bygone days, suspended grimly below the ceiling. They were collected at a time when the forensic theorists believe that a composite face made up of the dominant characteristics of hundreds of criminal features would resolve into a picture of the typical criminal.

But in 1913, the experts decided that the mass presented nothing different from your face of mine. The average law-abiding citizen. Did you say something? Say, Nancy, China, Kimla, the German Gestapo chief. Mademask was taken a few hours after he dead into a file of potassium cyanide, as he stood before his British captors at Bloomberg.