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rainbow-murderers · 22 days

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WILLIAM MaCDONALD

THE SYDNEY MUTILATOR

AKA: Alan Ginsburg (birth name) The Sydney Mutilator, The Knick-Knack Man, Sydney's Jack The Ripper, Australias first serial killer, Alan Edward Brennan, David Alan.

Born: 17 June 1924, Liverpool, England.

Death: Natural causes, complications arising from a gastrointestinal obstruction, 12 May 2015 (aged 90)

Prince of Wales Hospital, Randwick, New South Wales, Australia

Family: Daniel Ginsburg (father), Henrietta Frank (mother), Michael Ginsburg (eldest brother, born 1921), Geoffrey David Ginsburg (youngest brother, born 1927)

Life & Trauma: Ginsburg was born into a wealthy Orthodox Jewish family in England. He was the middle of three boys and attended Newborough Kindergarten. From aged 8 he attended the prestigious Liverpool Institute school. He suffered as a student, distracted by constant headaches and fits of depression. He was frequently bullied and kept to himself. He formed no close relationships with either family or friends and his father publically referred to him as "The Idiot Child."

Behaviour & Emotion: Antisocial, non violent as a child, emotionally immature, secretive, introverted, easily distracted, disconnected, humiliated and un-nurtured by his family. He was a loner his whole life and lived inside his own head.

1942-MacDonald (19) joined the British Army, signing up with the Lancashire Fusiliers in Lanark, Berwick-Upon-Tweed. He is raped in an air raid shelter by his senior officer, 45 year old career soldier, corporal Alexander Rice. With no prior experience of sex, sexual desire or acts of self pleasure, this violent attack would be his introduction to male sexuality. "I believe (this circumstance) changed my life forever....and doomed me to a life of homosexuality."

1947-He was Honourably Discharged.

1948-Attended Rushworth & Dreaper's Tobias Matthay Private College of music, Islington. Learns Piano, cello, organ and violin.

1948- He explored his homosexual urges, approaching men in public bathrooms and hotels. He was discovered by police who informed his brother Geoffrey. He was sent to Crichton Mental Institute at Dumbfries, Scotland and recieved electroconvulsive therapy 5 days a week and was heavily sedated.

1949-Ginsburg leaves UK, for Canada. Within a few weeks he'd spent all his money and was both jobless and homeless. He lived on Salvation Army handouts on the streets of Montreal. He was too ashamed to ask his parents for help. After 12 months of sleeping on park benches and in derelict houses, the Salvation Army contacted his mother.

1950-Henrietta Ginsburg sends her son money and he returns home to the UK.

Alan Ginsburg legally changes his name to William MacDonald and undergoes rhinoplasty surgery. He works 4 years in the family business saving money to leave the UK.

1954-Emigrates to Australia on the ship Orcades.

Murder Timeline: 1961-1962- responsible for the death of one men in Queensland (Brisbane) and four men in New South Wales (Sydney). At least 3 other known victims survived attacks. In 1964 he killed a prison inmate and served time in Morriset Home for the Criminally Insane, then returned to prison in 1980.

Methodology: The urge to commit murder was commanded by incessant voices inside his head saying "Kill, Kill, Kill." The frenzied attacks were fuelled by delusion and performed with maniacal rage. MacDonald believed his heroic mission was to destroy his rapist, Alexander Rice. In each victims face he saw Rice staring back at him."When the corporal attacked me, he took my life away, so I thought I'd destroy his sex the same way."

The first murder takes place in Brisbane. Amos Hurst is strangled. He was the only victim not baring the killers trademark of excessive stab wounds and genital mutilation.

1960-Macdonald moves to Sydney assuming the alias, Allan Brennan. His inner city dwelling allows immediate access to the nocturnal pleasures that keep the beast awake at night. He preys on the lost souls who litter the streets after hours. The homeless vagrants are easy prey, lured by a false companion offering alcohol.

He beats and stabs the men to death, to the point of overkill. He attacks their face, throat and heart with a long blade knife, in excess of 40 times. The final act of mutilation becomes the killers trademark: The complete removal of the dead man's genitals.

June 4, 1961- Constable Robert Greentree and a crew of divers search the waters of Wooloomooloo Bay, hoping to find evidence to assist with the case. 10 meters from the shore Greenfield resurfaces, with a man's penis and balls clutched in his hand. It was easily identified as being that of Alfred Greenfield, who was circumcised and tattooed along his shaft with the words "all for a nights love"

Victims:

1. Amos Hugh Hurst (63) March 19, 1960 Strangulation

2. Alfred Reginald Greenfield, AKA Alan Thomas (40) June 4, 1961 Stabbing

3. Ernest William Cobbin (47) Body found November 21, 1961 Stabbing

4. Frank Gladstone McLean, March 31, 1962 Stabbing

5. Patrick 'McNulty' Joseph Hackett (42) November 3, 1962 Stabbing

Occupation: Rent collector (Clerks association), Junior clerk (Evans, Lescher & Ware) Store owner (sandwiches, mixed goods) Postal worker, Railway worker, British Armed Forces (Lancashire Fusiliers) during WW2. Coal miner at Newcastle-on-Tyne, worked in family furniture and piano shop. In Australia and New Zealand he was fired from several jobs for insubordination and his inability to work well with other employees.

Medical diagnosis: Suffered migraines and fits of depression in childhood and adolescence, homosexuality (then considered a mental illness), Paranoid Schizophrenia (diagnosed in army, 1947) Schizoid personality (1961).

Cosmetic rhinoplasty to fix the "hooked nose" inherited by his father.

After arrest (1963) McDonald was diagnosed as clinically insane by three independent psychologists.

His autopsy report revealed Macdonald suffered from leg clots, a peptic ulcer, hernias, dementia and occasional diarrhoea.

Conviction & Arrest:

Macdonald was first arrested for two counts of gross indecency after touching an undercover police officer in a public toilet.

May 13, 1963 arrested for murder. Macdonald made a full confession to 5 murders. Jailed for life in 1963, Long Bay Jail (Sydney)

Justice McLennan sentenced the Mutilator to five consecutive life sentences with a strong recommendation that he never be released.

After 52 years behind bars, he became the longest serving prisoner in NSW history.

Hobbies: The family owned a furniture and music shop called The Piano Galleries. Music was perhaps the one thing Ginsburg ever had a connection with. He grew up listening to the classics (Beethoven, Mozart, Berlioz, Handel, Brahms, Wagner.) His childhood dream was to become a concert pianist. He loved classic literature and Crime and Punishment magazine. As a child he fixated on the macabre and loved violent movies and tales of murder. His favourite film was I Am The Fugitive From a Chain Gang. His unhealthy obsession with Jack The Ripper clearly influenced the method of killing.

#Sydney Mutilator #William MacDonald #serial killer #true crime #crime investigation #killer queen #Gay murderer #rainbow murder #australia #gay True Crime #Historic cases #australian crime #crime stories #Alan Ginsburg

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fuctacles · 4 months

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For @batboysxprompts Secret Steddie event. My prompt:

Quote: "You've never been touched like this before?" Song: 'Raw Deal', by Judas Priest Optional: a leather bar AU/place, +18 content, set in fall Don’ts: Pregancy/breeding kink, choking/breathplay, vomit, scat, watersports

E | 2365 | cw: drugs | loose Cruising AU, leather bars, bicurious Steve, going undercover | tape dividers by @cafekitsune heart dividers by me

The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Steve alone in the empty hall outside the Captain’s office. In his hands, he was holding the turning point of his career, a special assignment he was dreaming of, handed him by the captain himself. A leather jacket. With his new address and keys in its inside pocket.

He was still buzzing with anger at his colleagues, at the hateful words they used and their unwillingness to take this on. It was mostly that, which pushed him to bite back and offer himself.

By the looks from his peers, it seemed it was their plan all along. To send the gay sympathizer in as one of their last straws. But will he be a short or a long one?

It’s not what he dreamed of when joining the force, certainly not something he felt comfortable with. But he was too pissed to back out, and the whole case was hitting a dead end.

A strip of paper with a crude map and a name led him through alleys until he passed the first leather-clad guy, then another, then groups of them. He kept catching stares that were both the same and completely different from the ones women would send him. He knew he was in the right place.

The bar itself was suffocating with its loud music and weird smells. But most of all, the mass of bodies, glistening with sweat and smattered with hair.

So much hair on so much bare skin.

The beer was lukewarm, giving no relief from the heat around him and he knew he was on his way to a bad headache. It was like stepping into a hazy dream. He was pretty sure there was a threesome happening in the right corner of his vision. There was also a real possibility he was getting intoxicated on the fumes hanging in the air alone.

A guy, clad in a dark tank top and sweat, leans on the bar beside him, his dark eyes flitting up and down appraisingly over his body.

“You look new here.”

“I am new,” Steve admits.

“New here or new-new?” The man raises his eyebrow, intrigued.

“New-new.”

He lights up at that.

“I could show you the ropes,” he offers with a smile suggesting a joke Steve’s missing. He lets him pull them into the pulsing mass of bodies on the dancefloor anyway.

It takes him a couple of minutes to figure out the rhythm, let the music and the crowd seep into him, and guide his movements. While everything here was different, he’d been to bars before. He knows how to dance, knows how to flirt.

“What’s your name?” he asks loudly over the music.

The man’s smirk moved his trimmed mustache. He leans in, closer than any man ever has before.

“You can call me Spike.”

Steve nods.

“Sven.”

The man doesn’t move away, stays close and so does his lopsided mustache.

“You look like Sugar to me.”

Steve smiles, surprised and flustered.

“Then Sugar it is.”

They dance, now closer but not uncomfortably so. Two guys beside them are grinding against each other, and the sight lights a fire under his skin. It’s a dangerous feeling, considering he’s on a job. Ah, and there’s a killer on the loose. It’s not the best moment to give in to his homoerotic fantasies.

So he plays the part of Sven, a shy, closeted bisexual who doesn’t make first moves, afraid of where it might lead him.

The last part distinguished him from Steve, who was insanely curious about what could happen.

Some making out, hopefully, wouldn’t foil his plans.

He doesn’t put Spike’s hands on his hips like he wants to, but steps a bit closer, and sways his hips in a certain way.

A hand does land on him, but instead of pulling him in, it’s dragging him away.

“Back off, we’re dancing!” Spike pushes between him and the owner of the hand. Steve looks back, ready to snark at whoever is groping him, but he finds a familiar face.

He’s frozen for a second too long, but Edward Munson, the man still considered a main suspect by many, takes it in stride.

“Relax, Spike, we’ve met before. Haven’t we?”

Steve nods, earning himself a glare from Spike.

“The Freak? You said you were new to the scene.”

“Never said we’ve met here,” Munson clarifies, voice growing sharper with a warning. “Go find a different virgin, you perv.”

Spike grumbles something before leaving, and Steve is pulled into Munson’s chest. He huffs when their ribcages collide painfully. Everything is hot and sticky, and he wants to go home. Or rather, the temporary flat he’s renting while undercover.

“So Spike likes inexperienced men, huh?” he asks conversationally.

“Yeah, but he also lives with two roommates who've known him for the past five years.” Munson rolls his eyes. “An unlikely suspect.”

“Thought you weren’t going to help us?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe I’m not helping you. Maybe I’m just keeping my eyes open because someone is killing gays in the area.”

Steve humms at that.

“So what’s your name, stranger?” he asks mockingly but Steve already knows he likes pushing buttons. Especially with cops, suspect or not.

“Sven. But Spike seems to think Sugar works better for me.”

The man snorts, giving him a quick once over.

“It does,” he decided. “Well, if you hear about the Freak or Popper, that might be me.”

“Popper?”

“Care for a hit?” He reaches into his leather jacket, bringing Steve’s attention to his bare chest. There were a couple of tattoos on his pecks and a fine dusting of hair.

From an inside pocket, he brings out a tiny bottle. It looks like a nasal spray with two cones instead of one.

“What is it?”

“Poppers,” he answers shortly before putting the thing in his nose and inhaling. “Probably my most popular ware. Great for anal, relaxes your muscles and stuff.”

He shakes the bottle in an offer and Steve takes it. Plunges into the sweaty world of leather and testosterone, as were his instructions.

They keep dancing and take a couple more hits. Munson tells him about all the regulars, the dos and don’ts of this world. His hand is under Steve’s shirt and his mouth is on his ear to keep their conversation private.

There is so much to take in.

“Where do I get pants like that?”

Munson follows his line of sight and sees a hairy ass peeking from a cut-out in leather pants. He grins back at him.

“I can show you a place.”

Two weeks in and Steve is barely focused on his assignment. The breeze on his ass is all he can think of. The stares he attracts, the fact that he’s almost offering himself on a silver platter. He could just lean a bit more forward on the bar, bend his spine, anyone could just stand behind him, grind against him, and…

His cock gets heavy just at the thought and he does lean in. Can’t help himself.

He almost sighs when a hand scopes the globe of his ass.

“You’re blending in quite nicely,” he hears Munson, Eddie, in his ear. Of course it’s him. “Just another slut begging to be touched by a random pervert.”

Turns out he’s into dirty talk now as well. Who would have thought?

“You have a really nice ass, too. I think the pants were a good choice,” he says, squeezing. “How do you feel in them?”

Frozen between pressing into the touch and squirming away, Steve weighs his words.

“Like candy on display. An offering.”

Eddie humms, suddenly closer.

“Yeah? What are you offering?”

He doesn’t know. The idea of gay sex had never really crossed his mind but for the past week, it’s all he can think about. He keeps wondering how far he is willing to go with the charade. If his curiosity will turn into exploration.

The palm presses on his tailbone and slides down, a single finger tracing his crack, but not pushing between the cheeks. It’s still tantalizingly close to his hole. Steve’s fingers scrape on the bartop in front of him.

“What? You’ve never been touched like this before?” Eddie asks teasingly. “Of course not,” he answers himself. “This is not your scene. You shouldn’t be here.”

Steve straightens up. He doesn’t want to turn around for some reason, so just presses against him, back to chest.

“I’m doing my job.”

“I could do it.”

“You’re not trained,” Steve reminds him, angry at the turn in the conversation. Places Eddie’s free hand on his middle. His fingers flinch at the skin-to-skin contact and Steve feels pride in his choice not to wear anything under his jacket today. Eddie traces the hair on his chest.

“Well, we have the same chances against a gun to the head.”

“He uses a knife.”

“And now you’re spilling confidential details. Not very professional.”

“Everyone knows that,” Steve argues but he’s already irked by Eddie’s prodding.

Speaking of prodding…

There’s still a finger, lazily tracing his ass.

He likes it. He can admit this much.

“Maybe it could be my scene,” he says quietly, turned enough for the other man to catch. Eddie makes an inquiring sound, to which Steve puts his palms against his, making him press harder against his skin. The finger on his ass slides between his cheeks.

“You could show me the ropes?”

Eddie lets out a husky, surprised laugh.

“Pun intended?”

“Pun very much intended.”

He’s making a mistake. None of this is worth it and he’s risking his assignment, failing his precinct. Letting a murderer run around, knife in hand, killing innocent men.

These are his thoughts when Eddie slips his fingers in and out of his ass. It’s weird but not unpleasant, the drugs are doing their job of helping him relax. But the appeal is lost on him and it’s a pity because he really warmed up to Eddie, hoped they could be friends, solve the case together. But now it’s gonna be awkward, because-

All his doubts are cut short when Eddie finds his prostate, nearly making him choke on his spit.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “Okay.”

Eddie chuckles from between his legs.

“Okay?”

Steve nods, blinking at the cracking ceiling.

“Yeah, I’m starting to get it. Do it again?”

“Of course, Sugar.” He leans in to plant a kiss on his leather-clad thigh before going to town on his prostate.

Steve arches off the bed in a silent scream and with a little help of a hand on his dick, comes all over himself and the pants he’s still wearing. His head is too heavy to lift properly and the gasps of breath aren’t helping but he looks down Eddie’s body with a frown. This was so much easier with a woman. He licks his lips and tries to get an elbow under himself.

“Do you want to…”

Eddie looks up at him from where he’s wiping cum off the leather.

“Want to what?”

Steve scrunches his nose.

“Fuck me.”

He stops what he’s doing and sits up. He lost his pants before so his dick stands hard and proud between his legs.

“I do,” he shrugs matter-of-factly. “But I’ll be fine.”

Steve’s shaking his head before he’s even finished talking.

“No. Do it.” He uses what little is left of his strength to flip on his stomach and raise his ass. He moves it in a way he hopes is inviting. “I’m still curious.”

Eddie’s silent for alarmingly long and he’s starting to feel he said something wrong, but then the man lets out a choked sound. The mattress dips under his weight when he moves closer.

“Are you sure?”

Steve considers the ugly pattern of Eddie’s wallpaper.

“No,” he decides. “But I want to know. Just use a fucking condom.”

Eddie scoffs and grabs his ass in both hands, kneading his cheeks.

“Of course.”

When he enters him, it’s like nothing else Steve’s ever felt. His dick goes so much deeper than the fingers and the stimulation on his prostate is twice as prominent. Especially now that he’s already come. He didn’t think he was gonna do it again any time soon but Eddie’s dick might just prove him wrong.

And it’s not just the stimulation doing him in. There’s so much more to take in now.

There’s a man behind him, pounding into him with big hands holding his hips. He’s under him, bent with his ass up, face in the sheets, and rubbing against them as his whole body rocks for another man’s pleasure. He likes being used, likes being on the receiving end, he realizes. Already knows it’s not going to be a one-time experiment.

Eddie grunts behind him, low and deep, and his hips snap harder against his ass, fingers digging painfully into his skin. He can feel him twitch inside as he climaxes and Steve follows, stuffing his face in the sheets to hide his pathetic whine. He hasn’t been this drained after sex for a long time, and he wasn’t even the one doing the fucking.

Eddie probably felt the same, because he collapsed on him, all heavy limbs and itchy stubble against his back.

“You were so tight, so hot and perfect,” he mumbles against his skin, leaving tiny kisses in his wake. Steve didn’t know what to do, because he never thought what he would do after the sex. What they would do.

Thankfully, Eddie’s hazy blissed-out brain has an idea.

“Can we cuddle?” he asks, almost inaudible with his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder.

“Sure,” he answers in a hoarse voice because the idea sounds heavenly. “Lemme just…” he shimmies out from under Eddie who makes a displeased sound but Steve has to get out of the leather pants before he falls asleep. He does so as quickly as possible and falls back on the bed.

It takes a moment for their boneless limbs to align comfortably but it happens and Steve finds himself being the little spoon for the first time in his life. He quite likes it, he decides.

#I've revisited an old true crime/x-files fueled idea for this so if there's interest I could expand on it :)#steddie #mine #batboysxprompts #cruising au #undercover au #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #detective steve #leather bar au #leather gay #i am in a desperate need of a beta

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