Born in London
He grew up in a small townhouse with his alcoholic mother Margaret, his abusive father Henry, and three younger brothers.
He grew up in a small townhouse with his alcoholic mother Margaret, his abusive father Henry, and three younger brothers.
Eric Hunter kept a journal from the age of 11; which continued up until his death in 1904. Its’ chilling contents spoke of his hatred for the world and then his hatred for mankind and society. Later he wrote about all of his murders in graphic detail.
Shortly after his 14th birthday ,(1893), he fought with his younger brother over something as trivial as vegetables; below is a journal entry from that day:
“He is emotionally and physically stupid, what wretch of a brother he is. I could kill him, you know. I’ve been thinking and I think that this is the way. He wants the fucking carrots he can have them.”
“He is emotionally and physically stupid, what wretch of a brother he is. I could kill him, you know. I’ve been thinking and I think that this is the way. He wants the fucking carrots he can have them.”
Later that night he strangled his brother to death and buried his body under the vegetable patch in their neighbours’ garden. His body wasn’t discovered for a year.
His mother, distraught at the loss of her son, drank herself into a stupor and Eric pushed her down the stairs, where she broke her neck. “This is a start. I have rid the world of some evil. If only I could kill the human race as a whole. Then I would be making a difference; my only fear is being caught before I can finish the job.” The death of his mother was treated as an accident.
Within the year he had made serious plans to burn down his house, and on Christmas night he carried out those plans.
His mother, distraught at the loss of her son, drank herself into a stupor and Eric pushed her down the stairs, where she broke her neck. “This is a start. I have rid the world of some evil. If only I could kill the human race as a whole. Then I would be making a difference; my only fear is being caught before I can finish the job.” The death of his mother was treated as an accident.
Within the year he had made serious plans to burn down his house, and on Christmas night he carried out those plans.
“What a great way to fill out Christmas,” He wrote, “The best gift of all is the silence, there is no more problems and my fucker of a father will not make me live in fear. He is gone and they are gone, everyone is gone. So I will continue my journey.”
He continued speaking of this ‘journey’ throughout the rest of his journals; ultimately it was a plan to rid the world of mankind and by doing so, ‘free the world of the filth that inhabited it’.
He continued speaking of this ‘journey’ throughout the rest of his journals; ultimately it was a plan to rid the world of mankind and by doing so, ‘free the world of the filth that inhabited it’.
It was 1896, and Eric was wandering the streets of London
He was only ever charged for killing 13.
Whilst convicted and charged of murder, he continued writing in his journals in prison; never speaking of prison life but continuing to write of his ‘plans’ and the ‘journey that had been cut short’. The final entry in his journal reads:
“It is July 7th, 1904. Today I will die. I do not fear death, and I am glad to rid the world of another human body; a shell of existence. I have no regrets – really, my only regret is that I could not continue my journey. I hope that somebody will take my plan, continue in my footsteps; and free the world.
Lastly, everything I have ever written is nothing but the truth. I am assuming that someone will read this, and if that is you, I applaud you for getting so far into my journey. I pass down to you my gift to society; the ability to rid the world of evil. You can make a difference. Every drop of water in the sea is a difference. Every penny in my pocket makes a difference. Every empty body makes a difference.
He was only ever charged for killing 13.
Whilst convicted and charged of murder, he continued writing in his journals in prison; never speaking of prison life but continuing to write of his ‘plans’ and the ‘journey that had been cut short’. The final entry in his journal reads:
“It is July 7th, 1904. Today I will die. I do not fear death, and I am glad to rid the world of another human body; a shell of existence. I have no regrets – really, my only regret is that I could not continue my journey. I hope that somebody will take my plan, continue in my footsteps; and free the world.
Lastly, everything I have ever written is nothing but the truth. I am assuming that someone will read this, and if that is you, I applaud you for getting so far into my journey. I pass down to you my gift to society; the ability to rid the world of evil. You can make a difference. Every drop of water in the sea is a difference. Every penny in my pocket makes a difference. Every empty body makes a difference.
You have the power.
Sincerely,
Eric Hunter
July 7 1904.”
Sincerely,
Eric Hunter
July 7 1904.”
He was executed at 25 years of age.
