More than a century after a string of gruesome murders terrorized Victorian London, a team of historians and researchers believe they have finally unmasked one of the city’s most chilling and enigmatic killers: the Thames Torso Murderer. This forgotten serial killer, active in the shadows just before the infamous Jack the Ripper, may now have a name, thanks to a fresh investigation led by historian Lucy Worsley and true crime author Sarah Bax Horton for a new BBC documentary.
London in the late 1880s was the world’s largest city, teeming with industry, poverty, and crime. In May 1887, the city’s sense of security was shattered when Edward Hughes, a lighterman, spotted a package drifting downstream at Rainham in east London. Inside was the lower torso of a woman—a grisly discovery that would mark the beginning of a series of murders that would both horrify and baffle the public and police.
Over the ensuing weeks, more body parts began to surface along the Thames and in London’s canals. On June 5, 1887, a thigh wrapped in fabric was found floating at Temple Pier in central London. Soon after, an upper torso washed up on the shore in Battersea. Boys fishing in Regent’s Canal discovered a right arm, and the same day, two severed legs turned up in the canal. Police, combing the waterways, found a left arm, and on July 16, a left thigh was retrieved from Camden Lock. The macabre collection of parts nearly completed the body of a young woman, save for the head and shoulders, according to BBC reporting.
The Metropolitan Police launched an investigation, but with scant evidence and no means of identification, the case quickly stalled. The killer’s method was both methodical and chilling: he dismembered his victims and scattered their remains, often wrapping parts in fabric before disposing of them in the river. The press dubbed him the “Thames Torso Murderer,” a name that would haunt the city for years.
In September 1888, just as Jack the Ripper began his notorious spree, new body parts were discovered in the Thames. A torso was found in the basement of the building site destined to become Scotland Yard, the future headquarters of the Metropolitan Police. In a twist worthy of Victorian melodrama, a journalist—accompanied by his dog—unearthed another leg in the same basement that police had missed. The discoveries only deepened public fear and fascination.
The horror continued into 1889, with ten dismembered body parts—some again wrapped in fabric—found in and around the river at Battersea and Chelsea. This time, the victim was identified as Elizabeth Jackson, a heavily pregnant woman who had been in the workhouse. Her remains were pieced together by a distinctive scar on her wrist. Still, her head was never found. One particularly chilling detail: a body part turned up in the garden of Shelley House, then home to the son of Frankenstein author Mary Shelley.
A fourth victim’s remains surfaced in Whitechapel in September 1889, and a possible fifth murder in 1902 in Vauxhall has been linked to the same killer. Despite the mounting body count, police were unable to crack the case. Historian Lucy Worsley told BBC viewers, “They did a pretty good job of analysing the body for clues. They were being really assiduous in following up all sorts of mad leads.”
Unlike Jack the Ripper, whose frenzied attacks left little doubt about his rage, the Torso Murderer’s violence was controlled and deliberate. Dr. Marie Cassidy, a forensic pathologist featured in the documentary, is convinced that two separate serial killers were operating in London at the same time—one impulsive, the other methodical.
For decades, suspicion swirled around various figures, including George Chapman, also known as Seweryn Klosowski, the Borough Poisoner. Chapman was in the right place at the right time and had a deadly record, but his modus operandi—poisoning—didn’t match the Torso Murders. Other leads fizzled out, until Sarah Bax Horton’s painstaking research unearthed a new suspect: James Crick.
Bax Horton scoured newspaper archives for violence against women near the river during the relevant years. One name jumped out: Crick, a bargeman with a history of brutality and access to the Thames. Bargemen, as it happened, sometimes dabbled in sheep rustling, a crime that required butchery skills—skills that would have been useful to the Torso Murderer.
Crick’s violent history was well documented. In 1889, he attacked Jessie Miller, who was saved by two passing rivermen. Tragically, her ordeal was dismissed by authorities, and she was never the same; she later died after falling under an omnibus at age 43. But it was his assault on Sarah Warburton that ultimately led to his downfall. Crick offered Warburton a ride across the Thames, but once on the water, he threatened her, saying, “If you make a noise... I intend to settle you as I have done other women that have been found in the Thames.” Warburton managed to fight him off, striking him with a piece of iron and alerting a passing police boat. Her testimony, backed by Inspector Charles Ford, led to Crick’s conviction and a 15-year prison sentence—though he served eight and a half years.
Crucially, the string of murders stopped while Crick was incarcerated. He was released in time for the suspected 1902 Vauxhall murder, but died in 1907. “I think there’s a very compelling case that we’ve got the guy,” Worsley told the BBC. Bax Horton’s research, detailed in her book Arm of Eve, was instrumental in connecting the dots after so many years.
The case also sheds light on the persistent issue of how seriously women’s reports of violence are taken by law enforcement—a problem as relevant today as it was in the 1880s. Worsley noted, “It’s Inspector Charles Ford’s backing up of Sarah Warburton in court which really puts the murderer away. Jessie wasn’t believed. It’s really frustrating that they didn’t manage to get Crick sooner.”
The BBC’s Lucy Worsley: Victorian Murder Club, airing January 5, 2026, on BBC2 and iPlayer, explores not only the grisly details of the Thames Torso Murders but also the social and investigative context that allowed the killer to evade justice for so long. By honoring the forgotten victims—buried in pauper’s graves and largely omitted from the historical record—Worsley and her team hope to restore dignity to those whose lives were so brutally cut short.
After nearly 140 years, the Thames Torso Murderer’s identity may finally be coming into focus. The case is a stark reminder of both the darkness lurking in Victorian London and the power of perseverance in the pursuit of justice.
