The Boston Strangler refers to a serial killer who murdered 13 women in the Boston, Massachusetts, area between 1962 and 1964. The killings involved strangulation, often with items of clothing, and sexual assault, according to Biography. There were no signs of forced entry in most cases, leading to speculation that the women knew their killer or willingly allowed him into their homes. The brutality and mystery surrounding the crimes instilled fear throughout Boston and sparked a large-scale investigation, says EBSCO.

Albert DeSalvo and the Boston Strangler case

Confession and Controversies: In 1965, Albert DeSalvo, already in custody for unrelated sexual assault and robbery charges, confessed to being the Boston Strangler. However, his confession was met with skepticism, and he was never formally charged with the Strangler murders. DeSalvo’s initial confessions lacked details, and some inconsistencies with crime scene evidence further fueled doubts about his guilt.

DNA evidence:

In 2013, advancements in DNA technology allowed for re-examination of forensic evidence from the last attributed victim, 19-year-old Mary Sullivan. DNA from the crime scene was matched to DeSalvo’s nephew, and subsequent exhumation and testing of DeSalvo’s remains definitively linked him to Sullivan’s murder.
Lingering Questions: Despite the DNA evidence in the Sullivan case, some individuals, including some investigators and authors, continue to believe that multiple killers were responsible for the Boston Strangler murders.

The lasting impact

The Boston Strangler case significantly impacted the public’s perception of serial killers and generated intense media coverage. The investigation itself led to changes in law enforcement procedures, including the use of computers in criminal investigations for the first time in the country, according to Boston.com. The case continues to fascinate and be discussed, even decades later.
Note: While DeSalvo’s involvement in the murder of Mary Sullivan is definitively established through DNA evidence, his role in all the Boston Strangler murders remains a subject of discussion and debate.

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As always, we check out the full list of ALL paranormal activity, including evps, poltergeists, and the bizarre and supernatural. All of these are featured in some of the creepiest scary videos on the internet.

So here is what’s in these scary videos: A GHOST is captured in the middle of the road. A GHOST is captured in a school bathroom. A cctv camera captures a GHOST on a HAUNTED property. A woman who is fixing up a house in Oregon captures a GHOST upstairs. A GHOST can be seen scaring a dog.

The most famous specters haunt the city’s abandoned buildings. In the heart of Bangkok sits a 49-story tall abandoned Sathorn Unique tower known locally as the Ghost Tower. This building has scratched the curiosity of many a local and tourists alike. And while there have been more than a few to explore it, it’s full dark and twisted history is not widely known. A skeletal skyscraper looming over the Chao Phraya River, is a notorious playground for thrill-seekers and ghost hunters alike. They say the construction was cursed, the spirits of those who died during its construction forever trapped within its concrete shell. You can almost hear their mournful cries carried on the river breeze. That is what we unpack in this documentary.

Written and Directed by dana blouin
Producer Jib Blouin
Original Score by Darren Hale ‪@DarrenHale‬
Assistant Producer Mark Yang
Additional Footage by Chris Parker ‪@RetiredWorkingForYou‬
Thanks to Charlie Hub ‪@TWCH‬
Special Thanks to Dr Kriengsak Chareonwongsak ‪@drdancando‬
Special Thanks to Shaun Wood from Team Farang ‪@ShaunWoodFilms‬

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The tale of Mae Nak Phra Khanong, the devoted wife who died in childbirth while her husband was away at war. Upon his return, she greeted him with open arms, blissfully unaware that she was already a ghost. When her husband finally discovered the truth, she unleashed her terrifying wrath, becoming one of Thailand’s most feared and revered spirits. You wouldn’t want to stumble across her shrine, especially late at night.

The humid Bangkok air hung heavy, thick with the scent of jasmine and something else… something ancient and unsettling. I’d been drawn here by the whispers, the hushed tones of the locals, the stories they told only after a shot of rice whiskey loosened their tongues. They spoke of Mae Nak Phra Khanong, a legend woven into the very fabric of the city, a ghost story that felt undeniably real.

I wasn’t a believer, not really. I was a journalist, chasing a story, hoping to find a kernel of truth within the layers of folklore. But the more I delved into the legend of Mae Nak, the more the line between skepticism and unease blurred.

It began, as most ghost stories do, with love and loss. Nak, a beautiful young woman, lived in the Phra Khanong district with her husband, Mak. When Mak was conscripted to fight in the war, Nak was left alone and pregnant. She waited for his return, her days filled with longing, her nights with fear. But Mak never came home. Nak died in childbirth, both she and her baby lost. Or so the story goes.

The air in Bangkok hung thick and heavy, a humid blanket clinging to my skin as I navigated the labyrinthine alleyways of the old city. I’d come chasing whispers, rumors of a spirit that haunted these ancient streets, a wraith known only as the Nang Nak. It was a foolish endeavor, I knew, but the lure of the macabre had always been a siren song for me.

My first night was uneventful. I wandered past the Chao Phraya River, its dark waters reflecting the city’s neon glow, a deceptive beauty masking the undercurrents of something ancient and unknowable. I visited the Wat Mahabut, the temple dedicated to Nang Nak, a place steeped in sorrow and offerings of colorful toys for her stillborn child. I felt nothing, saw nothing, only the oppressive humidity and the judging stares of the locals who knew better than to trifle with the unseen.

But the whispers persisted, growing louder with each passing day. They spoke of a woman, abandoned by her husband, dying in childbirth, her love so powerful, so unwavering, that it anchored her spirit to this realm. They said she waited, eternally, for his return, her devotion twisted into a possessive rage.

Then came the second night. I was back in the alleys, the city hushed around me, the only sound my own ragged breathing. I passed a crumbling shophouse, its windows like vacant eyes, when I saw her. Just a glimpse, a fleeting impression of a woman in traditional Thai dress, her skin pale as moonlight, her eyes…empty.

I froze, my blood turning to ice. Logic screamed at me, telling me it was a trick of the light, a shadow playing games. But the air had grown colder, the scent of jasmine, said to be her favorite flower, clinging to the back of my throat.

Then, a voice. Soft, melodic, but laced with an unbearable sadness. It called my name, or at least, what sounded like my name, twisted and distorted by grief. I ran. I didn’t stop running until I reached the safety of my hotel room, the city lights a weak shield against the darkness that had brushed against me.

I still didn’t know if I believed in ghosts, but I knew I believed in the power of stories. The story of Mae Nak Phra Khanong was a story of love, loss, grief, and ultimately, acceptance. It was a story that had resonated through generations, a reminder of the enduring power of the human spirit, even in the face of unimaginable tragedy.

And as I walked away from the temple, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mae Nak was still watching, still listening, still waiting for her beloved Mak to return. Perhaps, in a way, he already had, in the hearts of all those who kept her story alive. The mystery of Mae Nak Phra Khanong remained, a haunting whisper in the humid Bangkok air. A whisper I knew I would never forget.

I don’t know what I saw that night, or if I saw anything at all. I left Bangkok the next morning with more questions than answers. But the image of those empty eyes seared into my memory. I came seeking a story, and I found something far more sinister, a glimpse into the abyss of undying love and its terrifying consequences. And I know, with chilling certainty, that Nang Nak is still waiting, her sorrow echoing through the silent streets of Bangkok, a constant reminder that some spirits never truly rest.

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