Cold Open

It’s a still summer night in 1916, in the countryside west of Paris, France.

Jean Monteilhet curses under his breath as he pedals hard through the darkness. He stayed too long while visiting his aunt and missed his train home. So now, he’s got a lot farther to go on his bike than he was anticipating.

But as he rounds a corner, Jean wrinkles his nose. There’s a terrible stench in the air, like nothing he’s smelled before. He looks around for where it might be coming from. The only building in sight is a two-story brick house with a red automobile parked outside.

As he rides closer, he can see a tower of black smoke billowing from its chimney.

Jean bikes faster, eager to distance himself from the smell. He cycles down a dirt trail, heading for a forest. But he hasn’t gone very far before he feels his bike buckle beneath him.

He’s got a flat. Frustrated, he rolls to a stop. Kneeling down, he peers at the tire, but it’s too dark among the trees to see anything. He looks around and wonders what to do. There’s a large pond off to the side of the path. So, Jean wheels his bike down to the water’s edge, where it might be a little brighter. And in the moonlight reflecting off the pond, Jean can see enough to start patching his tire.

He is just finishing the repair when he hears an engine. He looks up. And it's the same red car that he saw in front of the house earlier. It's driving down the road that runs by the far side of the pond.

The car then stops, and a man gets out. He is probably in his forties, with a bald head and scraggly beard. Jean watches as the man grabs something out of the trunk of his car and trudges down to the pond.

He then disappears behind some rushes, and Jean hears a splash. He thinks the man is probably a poacher, throwing a net into the water.

So Jean ducks low and wheels his bike back toward the trees before pedaling through the forest. Whatever this man is doing by the pond, he doesn’t want anything to do with it.

It won’t be until years later that Jean Monteilhet will truly understand what he saw. The man by the pond was not a poacher. He was a murderer—Henri Landru, one of France’s most prolific serial killers. And when he is finally caught and put on trial, Jean’s memories of that strange summer night will help ensure Landru pays the ultimate price for his crimes on February 25th, 1922.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is February 25th, 1922: The Execution of France’s “Lonely Hearts Killer.” 

Act One

It’s May 1915, in Paris, just over a year before Jean Monteilhet rode his bike past Henri Landru’s house.

A warm spring breeze blows through the windows of Célestine Buisson’s apartment. 44-year-old Célestine twirls her chestnut hair as she leafs through a newspaper. She flips quickly past the news of the French Army’s latest battles with the Germans. But then she sees something that catches her eye. It’s a “lonely hearts” ad from a man named Georges Frémyet. He’s a 45-year-old, well-to-do businessman who’s looking to meet someone new.

Célestine’s pulse quickens. She's been a widow for a few years now and knows that she can still make a good wife to someone, but she’s found it hard to meet anyone when so many men away fighting the Germans. This Georges might be perfect.

So, Célestine rushes to pen a response before she has to leave for work. She’s not very good at writing, but she puts her best foot forward, saying she’s a hard worker, with modest savings and a son who’s on the front lines, fighting for his country. Then, sealing the envelope, she races out the door to mail it with a spring in her step. It’s not long before Célestine gets a reply. Georges says that he’s a factory owner from Lille, but as the city is currently under German control, he has little access to his money or papers. He hopes that once the war is over, he’ll be able to settle down and enjoy a comfortable and prosperous life. He just wishes he had someone to share it with.

This is all music to Célestine’s ears. She soon meets Georges in person and is even more smitten. He’s powerfully built and darkly handsome. And before long, there is talk of marriage.

Célestine is ecstatic. But there’s one person in her life who’s not so happy. Her younger sister, Marie Lacoste, doesn’t like Georges.

Marie has been suspicious of him from the beginning. She just doesn’t understand the relationship. With so many women looking for love, a rich factory-owner like Georges could have his pick. And as much as she loves her sister, Marie has to recognize that Célestine isn’t rich, or well-educated, or especially beautiful.

And that’s not the only thing that bothers her. There’s something about Georges that gives her the creeps. He’s too affectionate, too effusive, too oily—as much as Célestine seems to like all his compliments, they just seem phony to Marie. So as the months go by and the relationship deepens, Marie tries her best not to say anything. But when she finds out that Georges has taken control of Célestine’s finances, she can’t keep her suspicions to herself any longer.

She’s now convinced that Georges is lying to Célestine and trying to swindle her out of her money. She begs her sister to leave him. But Célestine refuses, and the sisters have a furious argument. They stop talking and never see each other, and Marie sadly assumes that Célestine has simply chosen Georges over her.

But then, sixteen months later, Marie gets a letter from Célestine’s son. He’s been blinded fighting in the war and needs help with his medical bills. He’s tried writing his mother, but she won’t respond. He asks Marie to go to Célestine’s apartment and find out what’s going on.

Reluctantly, Marie agrees; she makes a track to Célestine’s apartment building in Paris. The lock is stiff, and she has to jiggle the key before the door will open. And when it does, to her horror, the rooms inside are completely empty.

Marie asks around the building and discovers that no one has seen Célestine in over a year. Marie’s stomach twists with dread as she realizes that perhaps Georges Frémyet was not just a swindler—but something far worse.

Determined to help her sister, Marie takes her concerns to the police. But they shrug her off. In France at this time, working-class women are considered little more than children in intellectual capacity. The police officers have no interest in prying into another man’s affairs just because Marie and Célestine have had a fight.

So in desperation, Marie will write to the mayor of the village outside Paris, where she knows Georges Frémyet lives. But the mayor’s secretary will write back saying that no one by that name lives there, and there’s nothing they can do.

Only the very end of the letter will offer Marie any hope. Almost in passing, the secretary will point out that another woman recently wrote to the mayor with an almost identical story. Perhaps Marie Lacoste should try talking to her.

Act Two

It’s late January 1919, in Paris, a month after Marie Lacoste learned that her sister is missing.

Marie shifts uncomfortably on the edge of an ornate armchair as the young woman sitting across from her pulls a postcard out of a folder of documents. This woman is Victorine “Ryno” Pellat, and she is nothing like Marie. Ryno is beautiful, wealthy, and educated. So, Marie feels a bit out of place in the resplendent living room. But she has an important thing in common with Ryno. Like Marie, her sister planned to marry a man named Georges Frémyet. And then she went missing.

Marie squints at the postcard. It’s a photograph of a village. There is an “X” marked on one of the houses on the outskirts. Marie listens as Ryno explains that this was the home of her sister’s fiancé, Georges. Marie recognizes the place. She once visited her sister Célestine there. But there was no sign of another woman.

Ryno’s sister, Anna, started seeing Georges Frémyet in 1915. She was married once before, but unhappily, and her husband drank himself to death. Anna then had a daughter out of wedlock, which was considered shameful. So after that, she just wanted some stability in her life and a new husband who would make her daughter legitimate. That was when she saw Georges Frémyet’s ad in the newspaper.

Just like Célestine Buisson, Anna quickly fell for the wealthy industrialist, and soon there was talk of marriage. But like Marie, Ryno was immediately wary of Georges.

Those suspicions deepened around Christmas 1916, when Anna confided in her family that she had lent her future husband all her savings. Ryno and her elderly parents quickly decided that they had to intervene and get Anna out of this relationship. But the following day, Anna left Paris with Georges. That was more than two years ago, and she hasn’t been seen or heard from since.

Marie feels her heart ache as she listens to Ryno describe circumstances so eerily similar to her own. Ryno tried to get the police to investigate, too. But just like Marie, she was brushed off.

Hearing all of this, Marie sets down her teacup. They can’t let this go. They have to find their sisters. And now, at least, they each have an ally. So over the next few weeks, Marie and Ryno put together everything they know about Georges Frémyet and build a compelling dossier to take to the police. This time, though, they decide not to submit their investigation under their own names. Instead, they enlist the help of Ryno’s father and put his name on the complaint, thinking that the authorities surely won’t ignore a well-to-do businessman.

And just as the women suspect, this time, the police do launch an investigation. But it’s a half-hearted one. They can find no trace of Georges Frémyet and seem eager to close the case before it’s even begun.

Marie and Ryno are frustrated, but they don’t give up. And a few months later, they get a stroke of luck that changes everything.

Marie’s friend from work, Laure, is window shopping at her favorite crockery store in Paris, when, through the glass, she sees something that makes her heart stop. Georges Frémyet is standing not ten feet away with another young woman who appears to be his girlfriend. Laure recognizes him at once—Georges once turned up at their workplace to talk to Marie, and Laure hasn’t been able to forget that face. Since then, she’s heard all about Marie’s quest to track him down and find out what happened to her sister.

So Laure watches him buy a blue floral tea set, hand the cashier a card with his shipping address on it, and head for the door. Laure hurries to tell Marie what she’s seen, and Marie immediately calls the police. They go to the crockery store and retrieve Georges Frémyet’s card.

It tells them where to find him, and on April 2nd, 1919, investigators go to the address and place Georges under arrest. He denies any wrongdoing. But the evidence soon tells a darker story.

It quickly emerges that this name is not Georges Frémyet but Henri Landru. He’s been on the run from police for five years after committing a string of frauds. But now, it seems he's turned to more violent crimes.

Among Landru’s possessions, police find a black moleskin notebook. It’s filled with dates and times, profits and expenses, and entries written in some sort of code. Toward the back is a long list of names.

Ryno and Marie’s sisters Anna and Célestine are both on it, but so are nine others. And all of them are missing.

With concern mounting that they’re dealing with a serial killer, police search Landru’s properties. In a rented garage in Paris, they discover women’s clothing, jewelry, and identity cards. But what they don’t find are any bodies. And without them, the case against Landru is not as strong as the police would like.

That will worry Marie Lacoste and Ryno Pellat. They may have finally tracked down the man they believe murdered their sisters. But in their long fight for justice, one more battle still lies ahead.

Act Three

It’s the morning of February 25th, 1922, outside a prison in Versailles, almost three years after Henri Landru was arrested.

American journalist Webb Miller rubs his hands together and stamps his feet on the damp cobblestones, trying to get some feeling back into them. It’s barely dawn, and it’s freezing outside. But Webb wouldn’t miss this for anything. He’s been following the Landru case for months.

The trial was a sensation. Landru was charged with eleven counts of murder and 37 counts of fraud. But at first, it wasn’t clear if he would be convicted. His lawyer was widely regarded as one of the best in France. And he insisted that while his client might have been a criminal who defrauded his victims, there was no proof that he had killed them. The lawyer then exposed the mistakes made by the police in their investigation and portrayed the detectives as incompetent fools.

But then came the evidence from the victims’ relatives. On the ninth day of the trial, Marie Lacoste took the stand. Previous witnesses had been intimidated when coming face to face with Landru and his formidable lawyer. But Marie refused to be frightened by them. So while Landru stared at her. She stared right back. Her testimony was so calm and compelling that Landru’s lawyer didn’t even bother trying to cross-examine her.

After that, more and more women took the stand, all telling similar stories. And then came Jean Monteilhet, recalling that on a moonlit night in 1916, he saw thick, nauseous smoke billowing from Landru’s chimney, and later, Landru himself throwing a heavy package into the pond. It was disturbing testimony—but the prosecution didn't need the pond to prove their case. Two years earlier, when police had searched Landru’s property, they'd found the real evidence in a garden shed: nine pounds of charred bone fragments, along with scraps of women's clothing and forty-seven teeth. The bones told the story that the smoke had hinted at all along.

Despite all his lawyer’s efforts, Henri Landru was found guilty of all eleven murder charges and all but two fraud charges. Now, three months later, it’s time for his sentence to be carried out.

The huge prison gates swing open, and American journalist Webb Miller watches as two guards emerge with a shackled prisoner between them. After years in prison awaiting his trial, Henri Landru is far from the intimidating man he was before. His once-thick beard has been cut away. And he’s stick-thin. His bare feet seem to give way as he catches sight of the guillotine.

He’s carried up the steps of the scaffold to the machine. His head is clamped into position beneath the blade. There’s a blur of light, and then it’s all over. Webb looks down at his watch. Between Landru emerging from the prison gates and his head dropping into the wicker basket in front of the guillotine, only 26 seconds have passed.

France has rid itself of one of the most prolific serial killers in its history. While millions of other Frenchmen were fighting enemies abroad, Henri Landru was luring in vulnerable women with promises of a stable marriage in an unstable time. The police didn’t even notice his crimes and didn’t want to investigate them. And if it weren’t for a handful of brave and tenacious women, he might never have been caught and executed on February 25th, 1922.

Outro

Next on History Daily. February 26th, 1935. Scottish physicist Robert Watson-Watt demonstrates radar detection of aircraft, a breakthrough that will prove decisive in World War II.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Hazel May Bryan.

Edited by William Simpson.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.