Ever notice how the most terrifying killers always get the catchiest nicknames? The Boston Strangler is practically a household name – as familiar as your favorite true crime podcast host. But here’s the thing about infamous serial killers: sometimes what we “know” about them is more media creation than cold, hard fact.
Between 1962 and 1964, Boston women were living in absolute terror. Eleven women (possibly more) were sexually assaulted and murdered, most strangled with their own stockings or clothing. The killer arranged many victims in deliberately shocking poses – a macabre signature that had police scrambling and reporters salivating.
The Making of a Media Monster
The term “Boston Strangler” wasn’t coined by police or profilers – it came from two female journalists who changed true crime reporting forever. Loretta McLaughlin and Jean Cole of the Boston Record American connected the dots between seemingly separate murders and gave the killer the name that would dominate headlines.
Their reporting was groundbreaking (especially as women in the 1960s newsroom – can you imagine the mansplaining they endured?). But it also kicked off a media frenzy that blurred the line between investigation and entertainment faster than you can say “clickbait.”
Newspapers plastered every gruesome detail across front pages. The killer became a bogeyman, a shadow lurking in every Boston doorway. The public couldn’t get enough – and honestly, neither can we today. (I’ve got at least three Strangler documentaries in my watch history, and I’m not even sorry.)
Albert DeSalvo: The Perfect Suspect?
When handyman Albert DeSalvo confessed in 1965, the media practically threw a parade. Case closed! Monster caught! Everyone sleep soundly!
Except… the evidence connecting DeSalvo to the crimes was about as solid as that “psychic” your aunt swears can talk to her dead cat. His confession contained inconsistencies that should have raised more red flags than a Soviet military parade.
DeSalvo knew details about the crime scenes, sure. But as any true crime junkie knows (and I’m raising my hand here), crime scene details often leak to the press. And DeSalvo, who had a history of sexual offenses as “The Measuring Man” and “The Green Man,” had plenty of motivation to confess – including potential book deals and fame. (Ryan always says I overthink these things, but COME ON.)
One Killer or Many?
The victims ranged from 19 to 85 years old – a wildly inconsistent victim profile that would make any modern profiler scratch their head. Some were strangled with nylon stockings, others with pillowcases or cords. Some crime scenes were meticulously arranged, others chaotic.
Many criminologists today believe the Boston Strangler murders were actually committed by multiple killers. But that messy reality doesn’t sell newspapers or make for tidy movie endings, does it?
The DNA Plot Twist
In 2013, nearly fifty years after the murders, investigators finally got a break that would make any forensic nerd’s heart race. DNA evidence linked DeSalvo to the final victim, 19-year-old Mary Sullivan. This confirmed he killed at least one of the women – but what about the other ten?
The media, predictably, ran with headlines suggesting the case was finally “solved” – ignoring the fact that one DNA match doesn’t automatically connect DeSalvo to every murder. It’s like assuming the same person committed every bank robbery in a city because they all involved, you know, banks.
The Strangler’s Legacy
The Boston Strangler case fundamentally changed how we consume true crime. It created a template for sensationalized reporting that prioritizes narrative over nuance, certainty over complexity.
Today’s true crime community (hello, fellow obsessives!) inherits both the fascination and the flaws of this approach. We devour Netflix documentaries and podcasts that package messy human tragedies into binge-worthy content – and I’m as guilty as anyone.
The real lesson of the Boston Strangler isn’t just about a killer (or killers) who terrorized a city. It’s about how easily a compelling narrative can strangle the truth. And in true crime, that’s the most persistent danger of all.
Would I have survived the Boston Strangler era? Probably not. I’d have been too busy reading newspaper accounts to remember to lock my door. But at least I’d have died well-informed about the media’s ability to shape a killer into whatever sells best.