Burlesque Bombshell: The Life of Feri Cansel

The 1970s were a unique time for Turkish cinema, since the country was (like the rest of the world) going through a social and cultural revolution. Or was it? There was a certain dubiousness in this period: women could be free, but not too free… or they would have a dark shadow of judgment lingering over them.

Whether your fave Yeşilçam star is Türkan Şoray or Seher Şeniz, we can all agree on one thing: that they certainly weren’t afraid to dress boldly and to express themselves in their own direct and unafraid manner. Enter Feri Cansel, a stunning Turkish-Cypriot actress who took the movie industry by storm.

Queen of Cyprus

She was born as Feriha Cansel in Nicosia, Cyprus on July. 7, 1944, under the dramatic and emotional zodiac sign of Cancer and was of Turkish-Cypriot descent. Cyprus is the third largest island in the Mediterranean, with their history going back 10,000 years to reveal the illustriousness of Ancient Greek and Assyrian culture.

Nicosia, Cyprus in 1970

As a youth, Feri was not afraid to play sports with boys and was always the center of attention; standing at the modelesque height of 5′ 7″. She studied at Atatürk Secondary School, which was the only coeducational school in Nicosia at the time. Her school friend Rahmi Özsan said:

“Feri Cansel loved to play boxing matches with men! She was a brave girlfriend who insisted that girls were no different from us and shared the same feelings.”

Disturbingly, she was married off at the mere age of 13 to a Turkish diplomat/British citizen 15 years her senior! At 19 she had a daughter named Zümrüt (translated to Emerald), who also became an actress when she grew up. How did Turkish and British laws allow this shocking child marriage? The situation traumatized Feri and inspired a lifelong need in her to seek independence and freedom.

The marriage was grotesque, but Feri made the best of it and went to London’s famous Alfred Morris’s hairdressing school, and then worked as a stylist. Imagine being styled by her and getting an amazingly perfect beehive hairdo in turn! After living with her husband in England for a few years, Feri divorced him. While everyone else wanted to move to Europe, Feri strived to live in Turkey after visiting as a tourist in 1964.

Life in Turkey

Following her move to Turkey, Feri forfeited her British citizenship and worked illegally at a club in Taksim Square as a service hostess, while living with a Cypriot belly dancer friend in one of the neighbourhoods of Istanbul called Pangaltı. Her visa situation presented an issue: Feri could only stay for 6 months because she did not have a work or residence permit.

Her musical colleague Zafer Şener described Feri as such:

“She was a strong-eyed, brave woman. May God have mercy on her… She was singing a rhythmic song with the refrain ‘Come to Me, Come to Me,’ which I did not hear from any other singer every night. Meanwhile, bowing slightly and rocking her sexy hips to the rhythm would make the hearts of all men, including the orchestra, jump. I remember her love of animals. She had a cute dog. Rest in peace.

Performing at a casino in 1981

Another bandmate named Manuk Hamparsumyan said of her:

“While I was playing in the Orchestra at Çakıl Casino for a long time, we accompanied Feri Cansel a lot. She was a cute and cheerful person. Although she had difficulty singing correctly, she was very good at covering it up with her good heart. Rest in peace.”

But not everyone was happy with Feri’s striptease career. An Istanbul police chief named Muzaffer Çağlar had issued this statement, which put fear into Feri’s heart:

Feri Cansel is performing art in Turkey within the provisions of Law No. 5682. If her work permit is not renewed, if she is found to have engaged in harmful activities, she will be deported abroad, like other foreigners who act in this way, and I guess she will not be able to return to Turkey easily again.

With her quick thinking and resourcefulness, Feri did what needed to be done in order to attain Turkish citizenship: In 1971 she married Yusuf İzzettin Tuzcu, the janitor of an apartment block in Istanbul. He was paid 6000 lira (equal to $2,300 USD today) for the sham marriage. She continued to work at the Parisien nightclub and live life on her own terms.

It was 3-month marriage of convenience, which dissipated in the courts under the guise of “severe incompatibility.” Feri received her first movie role in 1967 and did occasional bit parts afterwards, but the pay was too low and she supplemented it by performing striptease acts at nightclubs and taking singing lessons to work in cabaret.

And Finally, Stardom

Using her looks and charm, Feri managed to succeed in Yeşilçam (the Turkish move industry, which translates to Green Pine) and starred in the vulgar “seks filmleri” exploitation genre of the 1970s (probably inspired by Commedia sexy all’italiana.) These films were cheap, low budget, and lascivious sex comedies which often required Feri to disrobe and act like a thot.

She also liberally cursed in these movies and used foul language, which led her to be nicknamed the Emmanuelle of Kasımpaşa; a reference to the French erotic film saga of the 70s. The Emmanuelle series centered around the bored housewife of a French diplomat who travelled the world and had multiple affairs with men and women alike, with her husband’s encouragement (it truly was a degenerate time period!). Kasımpaşa is a working-class town in Istanbul which apparently has some interesting slang and blue-collar characters.

Heartbreak

In 1969, Feri fell in love with Kurdish actor Yılmaz Güney on the set of the 1969 crime film Bir Çirkin Adam (A Bad Man). He was famous as an activist for Kurdish rights in Turkey, and was known as “the Ugly King” for his homely working-class appearance. Unfortunately, he did not take Feri seriously as a partner, and he dumped her and left her heartbroken. Feri had atrocious taste in men, and it’s tragic she got kicked to the curb by a mustache guy who looked like a pizza delivery man.

Yılmaz Güney acting macho on set with Feri

A dedicated and loyal lover, Feri went running to the courthouse in support after Yılmaz was caught with two guns in his possession. She even quit her job as a stripper to please him. Feri continued simping hard for Yılmaz:

“They call the man the ‘Ugly King’. But what is ugly? He is the most beautiful in cinema, inside and out. Especially who else has that mysterious smile with his curved lips and those penetrating deep eyes, for God’s sake!”

Girl….

I have a place in Turkish cinema today, and I owe this to Yılmaz Güney. Thanks to him, my name was in the newspaper columns, the people recognized me. But let me tell you right away that I did not make friends with Yılmaz Güney for the sake of advertising. I really loved him. Just like the crazy ones.”

She had spoken highly of him, only to be let down in the end:

Yılmaz is the best person I know in Turkey. A man who frankly says what he thinks and what’s on his mind. Handsome strong, knowledgeable, tough, like a rock. Since I married a man who was 15 years older than me at the age of 13, I wanted to meet a man like Yılmaz who took everything he wanted, or rather broke it off, all my life. Thank God my dreams came true, I found the man I was looking for. I am attached to Yılmaz, I love him. I hope I will not be disappointed in the end, I will end this happy togetherness with a happy ending.’

He then dumped her to marry a 17-year old named Fatoş. Yikes…

Fantastic Plastic

Because she was so often nude in her films, Feri acquired breast implants in the 1970s; as well as a nose job. Viewers only saw her exterior image: a glamorous erotic B-movie queen with a perfect figure and a luxurious lifestyle. Yet even with her newfound fame, Feri was still insecure and full of self-doubt. And who had funded her surgical enhancement? Ironically, it was all paid for by Yılmaz Güney, the lover who eventually scorned her.

Looks like a scene from Goodfellas

For some reason, her procedure was given a full-page spread by a Turkish newspaper named Günaydın on November 16, 1969. Following Yılmaz’s release from jail for the possession of illegal guns, he held a celebration with Feri and his closest friends at a casino. She appeared very taken with his “bad boy” public image. The next day would be a transformative one for her: she was to get silicone implants and a rhinoplasty.

Feri constantly complained to Yılmaz that she disliked her nose and chest, so he agreed to pay ten thousand liras to a hospital for her operations. After undergoing the painful work and then gaining consciousness, the first thing Feri did was to ask for a hand mirror to gaze into as she proclaimed, ”It is not easy to be the future fiancee of Yılmaz Güney.” When she finally had her bandages removed, Feri said in wonder, “Look how much I have changed!”

Ouch…

She was a trooper though: despite the discomfort of the surgeries, Feri’s only complaint was that she was stuck sleeping on her back for the first few weeks of recovery. The plastic surgeon, impressed with his own work, told her, “You hit it off with surgery, this new nose will suit you very well.” Even so, it was still not enough to make Yılmaz marry her. At least she got free cosmetic procedures out of it, and the relationship increased her profile in the tabloids.

Confidence and Tragedy

Feri was not ashamed to dress (or undress) however she wanted, and was boldly quoted as saying;

“As a result of my breast surgery, which I had to have for my aesthetic appearance, I became the woman with the most beautiful breasts of Yeşilçam and it gave me the most beautiful, unique, capable, artistic opportunities.”

An obsessed workaholic, she is credited on IMDB as starring in 134 films in 15 years. Their quality may be dubious, but at the time she was one of the most famous female stars in Turkey. She stated:

“I can’t make a limitation that I will make so many movies a year. If I like the offer, I accept it. In fact, 5 or 6 films a year is very normal, but this year, I made 7 films at the beginning of the work. Let’s see where it will end up?”

To critics, she had only this to say:

“Nudity exists all over the world. Okay bro?.. In Germany , harcore movies are playing. Are those who don’t undress better actors than me or my friends who undress like me? None of us are ill of exposure. However, we undress because the script requires it and the audience wants it that way.

In 1974, tragedy struck in the form of a violent traffic accident. After a decline in her health during a follow-up exam, doctors determined that Feri’s breast implants had to be removed as they presented a risk of cancer. From thenceforth, the silicone was taken out of her chest and she went back to her natural body type. Audiences still loved her regardless, and she continued to play seductive “vamp” characters onscreen.

Feri’s regrettable taste in men continued on in July of 1976, when she married businessman Yusuf Tereyağoğlu, the son of one of Ankara’s leading families. It was her third marriage of conveniece, and like the others, it was also bound to fail. Although Yusuf was wealthy, he and Feri did not get along and divorced three years later in 1979. As the 70s faded into the 80s, Feri’s film career began to flounder, and she started to focus more on live performances and business ventures.

A Gruesome Demise

In August of 1983, Feri Cansel signed a striptease contract with a restaurant/nightclub in Bursa called Turistik Köşküm Night Club for a substansial amount of money. On Sept. 2, 1983, at the age of only 39, Feri was brutally murdered by her jealous fiance Melih Ük at her home on Cihangir Akyol Street. At 11 PM, he had entered the house drunk and in an agitated state; being on the verge of bankruptcy. He was known to be an angry alcholic.

Top: Zümrüt and Feri Cansel.
Bottom Left: Zümrüt’s forehead is covered in blood after being grazed during the shooting.
Right: The despicable Melih Ük.

Seeing clutter on a table, Melih asked rudely, What is this doing here? Take it somewhere else.” Feri retorted, I know where to put it.” From thereon, an intense argument erupted between them. Suddenly, Melih leapt up from the sofa and grabbed his 7.65-inch Kırıkkale brand gun. Feri cried out, “This man is going to kill me, help me.” Melih coldly said, You have already deserved death. You have another loved one. I will not help you with him.”

She was way too beautiful for him! Mf looked like Where’s Waldo combined with Wario…

In a state of drunken envious rage, he shot Feri three times in the head. Feri’s heroic daughter Zümrüt jumped onto Melih and tried to wrestle the gun out of his hands, but was grazed on the forehead by a bullet in the crossfire. He was ironically described by those who knew him as “a man who would not hurt even an ant.” They had known each other for four years, and no one expected their relationship would end so badly.

Zümrüt testifies: ‘He put a gun to my mother’s head like this’.

Zümrüt gave a shocking testimony of what occured that night:

“I left the room when my mother argued with Melih, who came to take some of her personal belongings. My mother was crying. I went inside. Melih had a gun in his hand. At first I thought he was jokingly scaring my mother. I was scared when I heard a gunshot. My mother fell to the ground. The gun fired again. I collapsed on my mother. One of the bullets fired from the gun missed my forehead.”

A brave daughter: Zümrüt Cansel

Feri and Melih met in 1979 after spotting one another at a concert in Izmir. He was a coarse looking tradesman with an ugly mustache who was already married, but for some reason Feri took a liking to him and they moved in together in Istanbul. They even opened up a market together named Zümrüt, after her daughter. She had hoped that Melih would be the man she would finally settle down with, but instead he dealt her the ultimate betrayal.

The mother and daughter in better times.

Feri was excited to go to Bursa to continue her dancing career and was packing her things for the trip that coming morning. Gripped in an episode of maniacal envy; most likely over Feri’s controversial striptease career and public nudity, a drunken Melih used his insecurity as an excuse to end her life. What’s even sadder is that Feri’s daughter Zümrüt bore witness to the senseless murder of her mother.

Taking out the trash: Melih is marched off to prison.

A Trial and a Funeral

Coward that he was, Melih fled the crime scene and left her to die. Feri was still breathing, so she was taken to Taksim First Aid Hospital. Sadly, the gunshot wounds were lethal and she passed away in the early hours of Sept. 2, 1983. Heartbreakingly, a childhood photo of Melih was discovered in Feri’s wallet after her death. Her funeral was held on September 6, 1983 at Şişli Mosque, in the Muslim tradition. The service was attended by other glamorous Yeşilçam actresses, such as Mine Soley, Mine Mutlu, and Serpil Örümcer.

Şişli Mosque

Melih Ük was caught in Moda two days after his escape, and was tried before the 3rd High Criminal Court of Turkey, and recommended a 25-year criminal sentece. At the police station, he lied that Feri owned the gun and tried to fire it at him first:

Feri took out her gun and said, ‘Get out’. When I tried to take the gun from her hand, she fired. Then I took the gun and fired. I regret. But I was under heavy provocation. It ruined my life.

Zümrüt testified against her mother’s killer.

Directly contradicting the testimonies by Zümrüt and their friends who were present that day, Melih’s words were a total fabrication. He was completely shameless and unrepentant until the end. While on trial, Melih also claimed that he was in financial debt because of Feri. He alleged that when he arrived home on the day of the murder, he asked Feri who she was talking to on the phone:

 “Because Feri works at night, I used to pick her up from the casino and come home late. Because of this, my work was delayed and I was in debt. I came from Izmir on the night of the incident. I saw Feri talking on the phone with someone else. She insulted me when I asked who she was talking to. When the argument got bigger, Feri took the gun and said, ‘There are other people in my life. I was talking to my girlfriend,” she said and walked over to me. I took the gun from her hand and fired a few shots and ran away.”

In every story, he always blamed the victim. Yet in the Forensic Medicine reports, it was stated that two of the four shots that caused death were fired from far away; not up close as he claimed. The lies were clearly mental gymnastics from a man who was unable to put his ego aside and admit his guilt. At a 1984 hearing, Melih was given a more lenient sentence of 15 years and 10 months in prison.

Zümrüt resembles her late mother.

Aftermath

 Tragically, Melih only served a meagre 7 years in prison in the end, due to the misogyny and neglect of the Turkish legal system which virtully allowed men to get away with femicide. Zümrüt is still alive and in her early 60s, and is married with three children. After her mother’s demise, she pursued a brief acting career which ended in 1986. There is no doubt she loved Feri very much and was a courageous girl who tried to save her life.

Feri had famously stated that women are no different from men, and had believed in her own rights and autonomy. It was tragic that her life was cut down so early at the age of 39 because of a narcissistic person who did not respect her humanity. Feri’s second funeral and final burial took place on her island home of Cyprus, and was funded by close friends as she was nearly broke at the time of her death.

Feri was used by the Yeşilçam industry to strip and perform lascivious songs in her youth, but once they considered her “old” because she was nearing 40; she was promptly discarded by those who once casted her in dozens of films. A week before her death, Feri lamented the state of her entertainment career to director Yılmaz Atadeniz after bumping into him on the street:

While walking on Istiklal Street, we saw a very nice lady from behind. Her legs were like pillars… When we suddenly turned around, we saw Feri Cansel… She was very happy to see us, hugged, kissed, asked how we were. At that time, she took a break from cinema and she was a singer. She said to me, ‘Oh Yılmaz Brother… I missed the movie sets and you guys so much. Singing is a tough job. I wish you would pick me up from the house at 7 am and take me to the set at 10 like before. I miss cinema,’ she said. She was killed a week later.”

Yılmaz Atadeniz went on to make disgusting victim-blaming comments about Feri:

Feri was an interesting woman. She was very confident. While most of the female actors in Turkish cinema had their benefactors and someone protecting them, she did not. That’s how she lived her life. There was a man she was with once. He was too harmless to hurt even an ant... She insulted the man, said words that touched his masculinity, and provoked the man… Zümrüt was also at home. The man stabbed Feri. So Feri burned both herself and the man because of her tongue…

Yikes.

Ironically, when asked who was her favourite actress, Feri stated it was Seher Şeniz; a fellow tragic Yeşilçam star. Seher committed suicide in 1992 after the decline of her acting career and a slew of toxic relationships. The two women were both forced into child marriages with older men; a practice which sadly seemed common at the time in Turkey. And like Feri, her life was overrun by tragedy as stardom turned out to be a double-edged sword.

Between 2010 and 2020, there were 2,296 femicides in Turkey. In a 2013 Hurriyet Daily News poll, 34% of Turkish men surveyed claimed that violence again women was sometimes necessary. A 2006 study in Sivas, Turkey found that 52% of women surveyed experienced domestic violence. The same misogynistic and backwards attitudes which caused Feri to lose her life and then be blamed for her own death are sadly still present in Turkey today.

Feri’s legacy lives on as a woman who pioneered cabaret fashion, attitude and glamour in Turkish cinema. With her vivacious charm, sense of humor and modelesque beauty, Feri made a strong impression on moviegoers during the 1970s. She rose through adversity and became a self-made woman who went through financial highs and lows, yet stayed positive and hopeful throughout. Had her depraved fiance not robbed her of her life at such a young age, there is no doubt that Feri would still be stunning audiences to this day.

Death of a Beauty Queen: Barbara Ann Thomason & the Dark Underbelly of 60s Hollywood Glamour

Barbara Ann Thomason was a pretty All-American girl who seemed destined for stardom. She adopted the moniker Carolyn Mitchell, and went off to Hollywood in pursuit of that elusive 1950s bleached-blonde fame. After marrying manlet movie icon Mickey Rooney, she seemed all set. However, an affair with Serbian gangster Miloš Milošević resulted in a premature and bloody death shrouded in conspiracy and controversy. What happened to Barbara on the night of Jan. 31, 1966 remains a gruesome mystery which implicates celebrities like Rooney, Alain Delon & Cary Grant; and this is just a haphazard attempt to decipher it.

California Girl

Born in Phoenix, AZ on January 25, 1937, Barbara was an impetuous and airy Aquarius who was always the center of attention. She was known as “the prettiest girl in Phoenix,” and would probably have been a top tier Instagram thot had she lived in our time. She was engaged to several different men in her youth, but none stuck. Much to her delight, her family moved to Inglewood, CA in 1951. L.A. fit ambitious Barbara like a glove, and she entered several beauty pageants. October of 1953 saw her win the “Miss Venus” contest, and a year later she attended the famous Hollywood Professional School.

“Miss Muscle Beach of 1954′, 20 June 1954. Barbara Thomason – 17 years (Morningside High School — winner). Thousand spectators watched the contest in which 30 girls where entered at Santa Monica. Other figures, (Barbara’s own): 5 foot, 3 inches, 110 pounds and 36-21 1/2-35 1/2. She is blonde with blue eyes.” (Photo by Los Angeles Examiner)

Barbara began weightlifting to perfect her already impressive physique, and she bagged many more interesting titles; such as “Queen of the Championships of Southern California” and “Miss Surf Festival.” At the April 1954  “Junior Miss California” pageant, judges told Barbara she placed second because she was supposedly 8 lbs. overweight. By June, she secured a win at the “Miss Muscle Beach” pageant, beating out 32 other contestants. She achieved this by only eating one meal every 48 hours. It’s tragic to see how rampant eating disorders run in Hollywood!

In 1955 alone, she won six different pageants. After high school, she worked at the Arthur Murray dance school, and modelled for pin-up magazines. That same year she played in an episode of the ABC anthology series Crossroads. Needing quick cash, she pin-up modeled for the lurid Modern Man magazine in 1957 under the moniker of Tara Thomas. In early 1958, 21-year old Barbara hit what she thought was a financial jackpot. Thanks to a car salesman named Bill Gardner, she was introduced to 38-year old Hollywood legend Mickey Rooney at a nightclub. He was only 5 ft 1″ and not much to look at, but he was an Oscar-nominated player who succeeded in charming tons of women.

“Miss Bay Beach Beauty Contest, 6 September 1954. Barbara Thomason, Morningside (Inglewood) High School senior, and winner of 14 previous beauty contest titles, who won first place today. They wore masks in initial stages of contest so judges could judge figures only.” (Photo by Los Angeles Examiner)

Dating a Movie Star

Mickey Rooney’s former flames included the likes of Ava Gardner (she referred to him as a “lecherous shit” and a “sex midget”), Martha Vickers and Lana Turner (who he claimed farted in his car). There’s even a gross story about him preying on 14-year old Elizabeth Taylor on the set of National Velvet (1944). There is no doubt that Mickey was a sleazebag, and he was even accused of predatory casting couch behavior. Barbara would become Mickey’s fifth wife, and by the time he died at the age of 93 he had been through eight marriages. She starred in her first movie in 1958; a forgotten B-motorcycle gang flick called Dragstrip Riot.

At the time that they met, however, Mickey was still married to red-haired firecracker Elaine Devry. Barbara demanded he divorce his wife, so he bought Barb a $4,500 fur coat to keep her mouth shut. Mickey ran back and forth between the two women. Elaine was once married to a basketball player named Dan Ducich, who was later convicted of armed robbery. He supposedly committed suicide by .22 caliber pistol in June of 1954, leaving a letter saying he was too deep in debt to live. Elaine and Mickey also had a turbulent marriage where she would hit him in the face after catching him flirting and slipping his digits to other women.

A beautiful and fed up Elaine Devry, just barely tolerating Mickey Rooney.

Elaine claimed he swore and verbally abused her, and that “our home was in constant uproar. I never knew when he was coming home. Sometimes he would call and say he would be home in half an hour, then he wouldn’t be home for at least three hours.” She received a nearly $400k settlement after divorcing, plus monthly stipends; which Barbara claimed Mickey was blackmailed into paying. In 1959, another boyfriend of Elaine’s would mysteriously die during a horseback riding incident.

Elaine Devry in A Guide for the Married Man (1967)

In 1967, Elaine would go on to say that:

“I entered my marriage to Mickey in all honesty. I told him I didn’t love him, that I was still in love with my first husband. He said he didn’t care. I was lonely at the time. I was on the rebound. I liked Mickey very much. We had first met at a golf driving range where I was taking lessons. He aroused the maternal instinct in me. I was young and foolish. I thought I could learn to love him. I gave the marriage everything I had. I tried everything Mickey suggested. After years and years I’d had enough. Living with Mickey is no bed of roses. Six wives can’t all be wrong.”

Why did so many men in her life seem to die prematurely? How strange that the ex-husband Mickey was jealous of ended up dead, as well as another boyfriend. His marriages also seemed to be perverse money-for-sex arrangements with much younger women.

Suicide Attempts and Other Troubles

On April. 12th, 1958, Barbara overdosed on sleeping pills at Mickey’s 12979 Blairwood Dr. home while he was at a dinner party. She called over her friends Pat Landers and Kiff Chance, who undressed her and dunked her into his pool to revive her. An ambulance then took her to North Hollywood Hospital, and she was discharged the next day after Mickey visited her. Barbara told the press “I’m madly in love with him and he with me.” But Mickey’s agent Red Doff told a different story:

“It’s all a publicity stunt cooked up by these three girls. Sure Mickey knows Barbara and has taken her out a few times. But Mickey likes all girls. After all, he’s not even divorced yet and here someone is trying to get him married already. I’m Mickey’s closest friend and you can quote me as saying that he enjoyed Miss Thomason’s company just as he did the many other girls he has been out with since separating from his wife. But that’s as far as it went! They’re just good friends. He has no thought of marriage.”

However, boxer Art Aragon spoke differently: “If Mickey says he wasn’t serious about Barbara, he’s not telling the truth. Pat [Landers], Mickey, Barbara and myself were out together just before the [Carmen] Basilio scrap and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.” Still, many believed the suicide attempt was a sleazy PR stunt to get Mickey to marry her. The odd couple had a 17-year age gap which led to some very hysterical incidents. That same year, Barbara starred in Roger Corman’s low budget gangster film noir The Cry Baby Killer, alongside Jack Nicholson. That was unfortunately her second and last movie role.

Lobby card for The Cry Baby Killer (1958)

In June of 1958, she went to Club Largo with super rich billionaire hotel heir Conrad “Nicky” Hilton (the great-uncle of Paris Hilton). He was the first of Elizabeth Taylor’s eight husbands, as they married in 1950 and divorced eight months later due to Conrad’s alcoholism and physical abuse. Instead of learning from the past, Barbara decided to go on a date with Conrad… and of course they ended up getting into a fight. He left Barbara stranded at the club, and she got a ride home from singer Tommy Sands.

Despite Barbara’s flirtations with other men, she moved into Mickey’s rented 12979 Sherman Oaks home while he was still married to Elaine Devry. On August 7 of that year, Barbara attempted suicide for the second time. She took a bunch of sleeping pills when she was home alone, and Mickey was performing at a Lake Tahoe nightclub. An annoyed Mickey demanded she smooth things over with the press, and Barbara lied to reporters that; “I had been ill for a number of weeks with acute bronchitis. The doctor prescribed some sleeping pills. I reached in my purse and took some. I don’t know how many.” She went back to live at her mother’s house for a month after being discharged from the hospital.

A Toxic Marriage

Unfortunately, the deranged pair reunited in September. Barbara’s sugar baby methods worked, and she wed Mickey after he divorced his wife in June. They married in Mexico on December 1, 1958. Things weren’t exactly rosy, and the marriage was not a legal one. After Barbara became three months pregnant, she demanded Mickey to marry her in a real ceremony or face consequences. In March of 1959, the bipolar Barbara threatened to commit suicide once again. After she gave birth to their daughter Kelly Ann in September, Mickey finally announced their marriage to the press. In Dec. of 1959, the messy couple celebrated their one year marriage anniversary. But that same day, a drunken Mickey appeared on The Jack Paar Show and got into an embarrassing fight with the host; clearly indicative of some marital trouble.

Santa Monica, Calif.: Shown here at St. John’s Hospital is Mickey Rooney, wife Barbara Thomason and their new daughter Kelly Ann. As you can see, she is way out of his league.

The toxicity and drama lagged on, and Mickey took until 1960 to officially wed her in an L.A. church. Their marriage was like an incessant battle, full of explosive fights. Barbara gave birth to four children all together, getting pregnant almost every year of their marriage in a desperate attempt to keep the two together. Their lifestyle was not as glamorous as Barbara hoped it would be. Despite the fact that Mickey made over $12 million across his 35-year career; he was extremely mentally unstable, an alcoholic, and a gambling addict who compulsively spent and bet away his savings.

He once lost over $50,000 at the Riviera Casino in Las Vegas, and was indebted to the Mafia and numerous bookies. The Mob even wanted him dead, and writer Richard Lertzman said that “Mickey put everyone around him in jeopardy from the Mob.” Actor Wally Cassell added that Hollywood studios constantly protected Mickey from the Mafia because “it would be bad for business for them to put him in a cement block.” According to writer William Birnes, “Mickey attempted suicide when Barbara threatened to leave him. He had at least four suicide attempts as he battled lifelong depression.” 

Mickey glossed all his financial guilt over, and whined to the press that; “Out of the money I earned, I’d say $10 million went to taxes. The rest is an open book. I’ve been married five times and had four divorces.” He declared bankruptcy in 1962 and the IRS confiscated $100k in back taxes. Not only did Barbara have to deal with Mickey’s financial woes while dealing with four children, he also repeatedly cheated on her! In August of 1963, a pregnant Barbara accompanied Mickey to Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia to film the cheesy Roger Corman war movie The Secret Invasion. He took whichever role he was offered in order to pay the bills.

Even though she accompanied him during filming, Mickey always managed to cheat on her. He then found a stripper mistress who resembled Sophia Loren in Atlantic City, which caused a huge catfight between the two women on a 1964 TV set. Barbara was fed up, and went off on Mickey’s nasty ass. They nearly divorced, yet instead just moved out of glamorous Beverly Hills to a quieter Brentwood home. They bought it at a bargain of $65k, due to the fact that the previous homeowners died in a freak accident. This was another bad omen in an already red-flagged relationship.

A Lethal Affair

In 1964, Mickey Rooney became friends with similarly-depraved French actor Alain Delon, who constantly associated with violent criminals and the mafia. He then introduced Mickey to the suave 24-year old Serbian actor and gangster Miloš Milošević, who was also his stunt double and bodyguard. The defining moment came when Mickey went off to the Philippines to film a movie, and asked Milos to take care of Barbara while he was gone. Milos had been a good family friend for about a year, so Mickey felt comfortable leaving them together.

Milos Milosevics and Alain Delon, doing his best “sunglasses douchebag” gaze

This is where he messed up. Barbara was fed up with Mickey’s constant philandering, so she took on Milos as a lover to get revenge on him. Milos had a part in the cheesy 1966 war comedy The Russians Are Coming the Russians Are Coming, and Barbara shamelessly accompanied him on set in Fort Bragg. Mickey was infuriated. While he cheated on his wife, he expected her to stay loyal and to never embarrass him in public. Milos was described by a co-star as “very pleasant but nuts. He would drive sports cars and aim for people. They would have to jump out of his way. This was always a big laugh to him.” He was also accused of abuse by his ex-wife, Cynthia Bouron, and L.A. police had arrested him for domestic assault. Regardless, Barbara was attracted to the uncouth thug, and the two had an intense love affair and spent almost all their nights together.

Milos came from a prominent Serbian family from Knjaževac, where his grandfather was once the mayor and his father headed an exporting guild. Under communism, the family became reduced in its fortunes; so Milos and his cousin Stevan Marković turned to street fighting in Belgrade to make quick cash. In 1962, the rough pair met Alain Delon, who changed their life. There is a myth that Milos hired some hoodlums to try and attack Delon, after which he intervened and saved him. He then hired him to be his bodyguard and stunt double, and he received all the privileges that came with being in Alain Delon’s social circle.

Milos and Alain

Milos styled himself as a James Dean-like figure who wanted to make it in showbusiness. With his salary from Alain, Milos went to Italy to try and make it in showbusiness; but that attempt failed. He seduced several women, including Alain’s wife Francine Canovas AKA Nathalie Delon, who he met in Paris. Milos was known to have triggered Alain: he bragged about sleeping with Nathalie, and joked that Alain’s son Anthony was actually his. Milos also claimed he was a better actor than Alain. Rumor had it that Milos even had flirtations with Jane Fonda and Natalie Wood. He then married American grifter and alleged call-girl Cynthia Bouron after being introduced to her by Alain in 1964, and she helped him get into the U.S. in exchange for money.

The two had an open marriage, and the status-climbing Milos was struck by Barbara after seeing her at a restaurant with Mickey. Milos told a friend that he would surely win her over. He was a new breed of Yugoslav gangster: he dressed well, worked out, spoke good English, hung out with stars, drove a Bentley car and enrolled in an NY acting school. In 1965, Delon (perhaps having some secret knowledge on what was to unfold) warned Milos to return to Paris. Milos adamantly refused, and declared that he was in love with Barbara. There are rumors that Corsican gangster François Marcantoni was involved in the ensuing homicide, as he was Delon’s godfather and close associate.

Upon his return from the Philippines, the couple filed for separation and Mickey went to live at the Bel-Air hotel. To add insult to injury, Milos moved into the house which Barbara and her children had once shared with Mickey in December of 1965. After spending Christmas apart, Barbara decided to sue Mickey for monthly separation maintenance. Mickey countersued by filing for a divorce on grounds of mental cruelty in January of 1966. He also filed a restraining order to keep Milos out of his home, and for custody of their children.

Milos and Barbara

Once Barbara realized her children might be removed from her and that she would receive only a measly $1k a month from Mickey, she considered reconciling with him. The hot-tempered Milos was said to have freaked out at the idea of the couple reconciling and being left in the dust by his sugar mama. Barbara decided to hire a private detective named Herm Schlieske to help her tape a conversation with Mickey while he stayed a hospital for an intestinal bug he had gotten in the Philippines. Barbara asked her husband for forgiveness and offered; “If it makes you unhappy for me to see Milos, then I won’t even see him as a friend.” Surprisingly, Mickey seemed receptive to a reconciliation, and managed to convince Barbara as well; after which she shut off the tape recorder.

A Mysterious Demise

On the night of Jan. 31, 1966, an unsuspecting Barbara went to dinner at the glamorous Daisy restaurant on Rodeo Drive with Milos and her best friend Marge Lane. The dinner went normally, and the trio returned to the 13030 Evanston St home. Barbara then revealed that she had talked to Mickey about reconciliation the day before, and she played the recording for Milos, Marge, detective Schlieske, and another friend. At 8:30 p.m. Barbara and a seemingly calm and understanding Milos retired to the master bedroom, and sometime later that night was when the horror unfolded. It was supposedly the last time anyone saw them alive.

After the children went to sleep, houseguests Wilma Catania and Susie Sydney asked Barbara through the door if they could take her car to a lit Hollywood party. They received no reply, so the two just took the car regardless. How rude tbh! They returned home at 2:30 a.m. and noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except that the house lights were on. Wilma went to sleep in the guest house. That noon, the maid and Wilma were forced to break into the master bedroom with a screwdriver after there was still no response. Their bed was made and untouched, but in the bathroom there was a shocking sight.

13030 Evanston St today

Barbara and Milos lay dead on the floor; the former lying on her back with a bullet hole in her jaw, and the latter facedown over her with a bullet wound in his temple. Barbara wore a floral top and tan capris, and Milos was in a white shirt and black pants. They had been shot with a nickel-plated .38 caliber revolver purchased by Mickey Rooney in 1964. According to police, the jealous Milos had popped Barbara and then killed himself in a gruesome-murder suicide. He was painted as an O.J. Simpson type, who murdered his lover due to his criminal nature. But why had no one heard the sound of bullets that night; neither the maid, or the three children down the hall; nor the two other houseguests? How had Milos gotten access to Mickey’s gun? Why was the bed still made? The official story was fishy.

(Original Caption) Los Angeles: “Officials remove body from the home of the estranged wife of actor Mickey Rooney after Rooney’s estranged wife and a Yugoslavian actor were found shot to death in an apparent murder-suicide, according to police. Officers said that Miles Milosevic, 25, apparently had shot Barbara Ann Thomason Rooney with a .38 caliber revolver and then turned the gun on himself.”

Was Mickey Rooney Involved?

As usual, Mickey pulled out his agent Red Doff to cover his ass: “Mickey told me that he and Barbara had a very good talk and they were very close to reconciliation. I think Milos may have resented it.” Conveniently, Mickey was still in the hospital, which was his alibi; and he stayed in there for another day due to shock. The press was told that he was under heavy sedation. He later said “I died when she did. I am furious at what happened to her.” Oddly, he was never really considered a suspect in the investigation despite having obvious gangland ties. Mickey was once friendly with Samuel H. Stiefel, a B-movie producer and Jewish mafia figure (associated with gangsters such as Mickey Cohen and Bugsy Siegel) who ended up extorting him.

Attorney Harold Abeles escorts three of Barbara and Mickey’s children from the murder house. (Kimmy Sue was at her grandparent’s house in Inglewood)

Sam became his business manager in the 40s, and initially paid off Mickey’s gambling debts and loaned money to his mother. Soon, Sam demanded $$ payback with interest, as well as the $159k loan. The morphine-addicted Peter Lorre had also once been scammed by Sam. Mickey was forced to do several trashy movies under contract with Sam in order to pay him back. This story shows just how irresponsible Mickey was in associating with dangerous criminal figures, and suggests that those mafia connections may have lingered throughout his life.

There were also rumblings in Serbia that Milos had been killed by Hollywood insiders. According to the Yugoslav Kinoteka site, an autopsy found traces of violence against Milos; including a swollen face and blue bruises. There were no fingerprints on the gun, and he was also said to have a skull fracture and broken arm. An examination in Belgrade found barbiturate-laden whiskey in his body. The American media did not report this. In February, Barbara was buried at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, California. She was only 29, and had spent eight years of her life entangled with Mickey Rooney.

Milos’ family at his funeral in Serbia

The LA Times described Mickey as “grimly composed, but her mother… and sister sobbed throughout the ceremony.” Her funeral service was held by the same Reverend Douglas Smith who had once married her to Mickey. He gave a touching eulogy: “This beautiful girl was like a spray of roses, now only the fragrance remains.” Milos’ body was returned to Belgrade, Yugoslavia upon his mother’s requests. There are rumors that Alain Delon paid for Milos’ funeral costs, even down to the suit he was buried in. Milos’ family firmly believed he was innocent and that he had been killed because of his connections to Hollywood and the Corsican Mafia. Were they just in denial or was there a grain of truth to this?

Things got even stranger: that same year Barbara was murdered, Mickey married her best friend Marge Lane in a quickie Vegas wedding… the same woman who went with Barbara to her last restaurant dinner on her final night of life! Is this the behavior of a mourning husband or friend? As usual for him, their disastrous marriage only lasted 100 days. Barbara’s parents ended up raising their four children while Mickey continued his degenerate lifestyle. In 2005, their son Michael “Kyle” Rooney described the day his mother died, and how he and his siblings were quickly spirited away:

“I don’t remember a thing. I was about three or four. And my mum and my dad were going through a divorce. My mum was kind of seeing somebody on the side. But then my father and my mother decided to get back together, and the guy my mum was dating wasn’t having it. So he took the very gun that my father gave my mother for protection and killed her in our house. Then killed himself. It was a murder suicide. We were in the house when it happened. But I don’t remember a thing. We were scurried out and told we were going to see the movie Mary Poppins. It wasn’t like, oh, your mother’s dead upstairs.

Well, my father was going through a tough time in the 1960s, so my grandparents adopted us, my mother’s parents. It was stable after that. He doesn’t like talking about it at all. But we’ve talked a couple of times. He told me that my mother was one of the most wonderful ladies he had ever met, that she was really nice, a caring person, she was wonderful with us and loved us all. At that point, I really needed to hear that.”

Mickey had the decency to speak well of Barbara to the children, but he was an absent father who lived hedonistically and struggled to emotionally support all of his nine kids. He also told their children what they wanted to hear rather than the truth. Their daughter Kelly Ann was in denial that Milos and Barbara were lovers:

“My dad and [Milos] became friends. My dad was trying to help him in the business. And unbeknownst to my mother, he fell in love with her and became obsessed with her. … She and my dad had such a loving relationship. When you saw them together, it was that look of love. My mother loved him dearly. And my dad loved her dearly. She was a hands-on mom who taught us to say our prayers and brushed our teeth. We had a lot of love from my mom. Losing her put a real hole in our hearts. My dad called me in 1992 and said, ‘Kel, I want you to hear something. I have to apologize to you because I couldn’t save her. And I’m so sorry.’ I know he carried around a big bag of guilt about that.”

It is touching that Kelly Ann loved her parents, but they did not have a loving relationship at all. And the guilt Mickey held over Barbara’s death sounds kind of… suspicious… considering he married her best friend immediately after.

Occult Ties?

This morbid story has many odd side plots. Other than the dumb 1966 comedy The Russians Are Coming, Milos had one other cinematic role. I had discussed in a previous blog post the alleged curse around the 1966 horror film Incubus; a cool black and white B-movie filmed in Esperanto. The stars of the film were plagued by bad luck: starlet Ann Atmar committed suicide after the film’s release, actress Eloise Hardt’s 17-yo daughter Marina Habe was brutally murdered in 1968, and leading man William Shatner‘s wife Nerine Kidd was found drowned in his swimming pool in 1999. Nerine was an alcoholic who Shatner had attempted to divorce earlier that year. She was found naked in the pool and was drunk, drugged, as well as bruised with two cracked neck vertebrae; leading some to speculate that foul play was involved.

William Shatner and Allyson Ames in Incubus (1966)

The official story goes, however, that she was chronically drunk and that she dived into the pool without caution. Which Trekkie wants to believe Captain Kirk bumped off his wife? Not me. But the amount of death surrounding this movie is fascinating. The most cursed aspect of this film is of course Milos Milosevic. Filmed in 18 days on a shoestring budget, the horror flick tells the tale of a naïve Shatner trying to save the soul of a female succubus. While doing so, he encounters an evil and Satanic incubus (a male demon who seduces female victims) played by Milos; who rapes and murders his sister. The final scene of Incubus involves Shatner fighting a possessed Milos, who transforms into a monstrous Baphomet goat. Crazy stuff.

Milos as the titular incubus.

Critics praised Milos’ intense performance, with the 1966 San Francisco film festival describing a scene of him emerging from hell as “one of the most splendid pieces of horror since the late James Whale conceived the idea of Frankenstein’s electronic monster.” This was hearty praise considering that Milos only appears 47 minutes into the movie. Shortly after the film’s completion, Barbara and Milos were found dead in a presumed murder-suicide. Due to the postmortem scandal surrounding their lead villain, Leslie Stevens was unable to find theatrical distribution and his production company eventually went bankrupt. Incubus was released in France after being ignored in the U.S., and the original print remained lost until 2001. For those who are superstitious, it seems that Milos’ creepy appearance as a demon in a cursed movie couldn’t have helped his already dark and criminal image.

Milos’ performance as a wicked incubus basically cemented him as a psychopath in the public eye. Was it just a character he played or did it have a deeper significance?

The Bloody Trail Leads to… Alain Delon

Let us return back to Milos’ cousin Stevan Marković, a fellow Serb hoodlum, boxer and bodyguard of Alain Delon. In 1964, Milos introduced Stevan to Delon, for whom he became a bodyguard. Delon knew Stevan was a rough character, but he still bailed him out of jail for the job. In 1970, Delon defended his criminal ties to the press as “probably something you wouldn’t understand. It’s a question of origin. I myself am Corsican, and in places like that, they still have a sense of honor and the given word.” Ironic considering he sold out his friends despite his alleged honor.

Nathalie Delon and Stevan Marković

Stevan was a gambler and blackmail artist who threw lavish parties with upper class invitees; who he then secretly recorded in sexually compromising positions. Like Milos, he triggered a lot of people and they wanted him dead. Delon became upset after his bodyguard went haywire and attracted negative media attention. He also had an affair with Delon’s wife Nathalie, and they were often photographed in public together. A humiliated Delon tried to pay off Stevan to GTFO, but he refused and demanded even more money.

Stevan, Nathalie and a suicidal Alain

Stevan had somehow managed to attain pornographic group sex images of French prime minister Georges Pompidou’s wife Claude Jacqueline. On Sept 22, 1968, Stevan was last seen leaving his apartment and getting into a cab with a mysterious man. On Oct 1, a badly beaten Stevan was found shot dead execution style in a garbage dump in Yvelines, France, with his limbs tied up with rope and his body wrapped in a sheet. Delon had an alibi as he was filming La Piscine in St. Tropez, but he obviously had someone else do his dirty work.

Stevan looking flirty with Delon’s wife

After Stevan’s death, his brother Aleksandar publicly accused Delon of whacking him because he allegedly had footage of him having gay sex. He had a letter from Stevan that said, “If I get killed, it’s 100% the fault of Alain Delon and his godfather François Marcantoni.” The scandal rocked France because it implicated a well-known movie star and Pompidou, who would somehow manage to become president in 1969 despite being involved in a very public murder and cucking! It was labelled the Marković Affair; which ironically made Stevan infamous for all the wrong reasons.

Nathalie and Alain with their son

Delon, of course, has never been held responsible for any deaths. He finalized his divorce with Nathalie in 1969, who was no doubt aware of her bloodthirsty husband. Delon was extremely hypocritical and jealous that Nathalie slept with his bodyguards, despite the fact that he cheated on her with men and women alike. It is too odd to be coincidental that both Milos and Stevan ended up dead with bullets in their skull a mere two years apart, after serving as bodyguards for Delon and smashing his wife. Delon was overconfident and sleazy, not realizing his mob connections would come back to bite him in the ass. Ex-drug dealer Gérard Fauré even accused Delon of pedophilia at his former property in Morocco. Yikes.

Nathalie gazes fondly at Stevan

Who Killed Cynthia Bouron?

The final thread of this long, complicated, and sordid tale ends with Milos’ ex-wife Cynthia Bouron. To recap: he married her in 1964 in order to secure citizenship in the U.S., and treated their marriage as a revolving door. He cheated openly, and was also accused of assaulting her. They split up in 1966. But who was Cynthia and how did she get caught up in this noirish tale? And why was it that she met such a brutal end? Like her husband, she pissed off the wrong people. And sadly, they made her pay with her life.

Born Cynthia L. Krensky to Jewish parents from New York; she changed her last name after marrying Parisian dentist Robert Bouron. After their divorce, she went to Hollywood to try and make it. She had two sons: one from Robert, the other from Milos. Cynthia presented herself as a writer, producer, radio talk show host, and actress; but there were shady things going on behind the scenes. She was actually a call-girl escort for Hollywood celebs, and she had ties to the criminal underworld through Milos. After his death, Cynthia was arrested and charged with burglary. Some saw her as a conwoman, and others considered her a Hollywood groupie.

At least her baby was cute!

In 1969, 35-year old Cynthia had an ill-advised affair with 65-year old Hollywood legend Cary Grant, who had a thing for much younger women. A year later, Grant was up for an honorary Oscar. He had been rejected and sidelined by the Hollywood Academy for 12 years due to his refusal to be a contract studio player, and for instead working on his own independent terms. Just before he was about to appear onstage at the 1970 Oscars to accept the award, Grant was sued for paternity by Cynthia; who claimed he was the father of her seven-week old baby girl.

A geriatric Cary Grant with his fourth wife Dyan Cannon and their baby. He was 33 years her senior.

Many believed the lawsuit was an initiated bid to humiliate Grant by his numerous powerful detractors, and that Cynthia was a mere pawn in a larger game. Her daughter Stephanie Andrea was born on March 12, 1970, and appeared to be of African-American descent. Cynthia put down Grant’s name as the father on the birth certificate, and all hell broke loose. Grant demanded that the baby take a blood test to prove paternity, but Cynthia failed to show up and present proof three times. It was obvious that Cary Grant was not the father, but it was evident that he had an illicit affair with Cynthia.

Raquel Welch and Cary Grant circa 1970s

According to tabloids, Cynthia had an English collie dog whom she named Cary Grant, and she would’ve named her child after him too had it been a boy. A humiliated and enraged Grant was force to bow out of the ceremonies, and went to Bristol, England to visit his ill mother. He then flew to the Bahamas in Howard Hughes’ private plane, and lived in his luxurious villa until the hype died. But Cynthia wasn’t backing down. According to his biographer, Cary Grant was getting bullied by his ex-lover:

“During his absence, Bouron held a press conference to announce that she intended to show up at the Academy Awards, hold a press conference in front of the red carpet, reveal her new baby’s full name, and if Grant dared to show, hand him the subpoena that he had thus far been able to avoid.”

The paternity suit had larger implications: Grant feared he would be forbidden from visiting his daughter (also named Stephanie), who he fathered with much younger actress Dyan Cannon. He was also worried that his close friend Prince Grace Kelly of Monaco would have her name caught up in the bad press. Grace was supposed to have shown up after a long absence from the spotlight to present the Honorary Oscar to Cary Grant, but bowed out after his scandal. At the insistence of friends Gregory Peck and Howard Hughes, Grant showed up at the 1970 Oscars to accept the award anyways. Cynthia retreated from the public eye in defeat, and moved to a small house at 513 Mariposa in Burbank. She worked as a studio writer and department store saleslady to support her two sons and daughter. But the bad blood was not to be forgotten.

Cary Grant receives his pseudo-Oscar from a heavily toupee’d Frank Sinatra.

Before Halloween on October. 30, 1973, 39- year old Cynthia Bouron’s corpse was discovered in the trunk of an abandoned car outside Cali’s Market Basket grocery store on 11315 Ventura Blvd in Studio City. The body was discovered after employees and customers complained about a foul odor emanating from the vehicle, which had been parked there for six days. Cynthia was reported missing by her sons after she disappeared ten days earlier. Seven years after the mysterious California death of her ex-husband Milos Milosevic and his lover Barbara Ann Thomason, five years after the Parisian death of his cousin Stevan Markovic; Cynthia was also found deceased in a tragic and strange manner.

Market Basket Supermarket in the 60s – Source

The autopsy revealed that Cynthia’s body had decomposed for a week, and that she had been tied up and brutally beaten to death after being bludgeoned on the head. Whoever murdered her had an angry grudge against the poor woman. Her killer was never found, and no one was ever officially suspected of the murder. The news was devastating for her 17 and 14-year old sons, the latter of whom had already lost his father Milos. Her children were raised by a relative, and Cynthia Bouron’s lurid story lay forgotten in the treacherous annals of Hollywood history.

Was Cynthia’s murder connected to Barbara’s? Milos’ women both met untimely ends.

Similar to the Mickey Rooney and Barbara Ann Thomason case, people couldn’t help but wonder if Cary Grant was somehow involved in Cynthia’s demise. After all, wasn’t it suspicious that several players in this Hollywood social circle kept turning up dead? Was it too conspiratorial to assume that it was somehow all connected? Perhaps so. But when examining Cary Grant’s personal character, it was evident that the man had serious issues; just like Mickey Rooney did.

Cary Grant told Dyan Cannon not to bleach her hair blonde since they “were bubbleheads because peroxide is absorbed into the brain.” Lmao.

Grant took hundreds of acid trips which made him mentally unstable, had five wives (several of whom accused him of being abusive and a control freak), and was a cheapskate who billed his own guests and spied on his housekeepers. Dyan Cannon accused Grant of beating her and locking her in her room (for wanting to wear a miniskirt), and force-feeding her LSD, which he used to control and brainwash the 28-year old. According to Grant’s first wife Virginia Cherrill, she divorced him because he “drank excessively, choked and beat her, and threatened to kill her.” Hollywood is indeed a freak show.

Virginia Cherrill and Cary Grant in 1934. He was bisexual and could not stop cheating on her with longtime lover Randolph Scott.

Postscript

Ok, so the man was a jerk: but what proof is there that he was involved in Cynthia Bouron’s murder? Officially, none. Perhaps Cynthia had been done in by another client who she was blackmailing. Maybe she was bumped off by the same people who killed her ex-husband. It was impossible to know. The case of Barbara Ann Thomason is similar. There is no concrete proof that Mickey Rooney was involved directly in her murder, but he was never thoroughly investigated by police anyways.

This complex story is spread out over a large group of shady people mixed up in an orgy of crime and strange coincidental death in the 60s and 70s. Mickey’s wife Elaine Devry had a dead husband and boyfriend in her wake; with the husband Dan Ducich being shot in the head the way Barbara, Milos and Stevan were. Like Mickey Rooney in the hospital during the time of his wife’s murder, Alain Delon had a clean cut alibi that he was filming La Piscine in Southern France when Markovic was whacked. Mickey and Alain were good pals who both had mob connections, and Milos had slept with both of their wives and caused trouble for them.

Milos and his cousin Stevan Markovic met their demise only two years apart, after hanging around Alain Delon. Markovic and Cynthia Bouron had a habit of blackmailing powerful people. Mickey Rooney’s own personal gun somehow got into Milos’ hands, which he then shot Barbara with while their home was filled with people at nighttime. Nobody woke up. Mickey married Barbara’s best friend right after her death, as if nothing had happened. And then in 1973, the dead Milos’ ex-wife Cynthia Bouron was found killed in the trunk of a car; beaten just the way Markovic was.

Delon and Markovic

Cary Grant, who was accused of hitting his wives, had no reason to like Cynthia. Neither did Delon (who introduced her to Milos) or Rooney, who may have been blackmailed by her too. There is no way of knowing exactly what happened. There is only speculation and mystery. Were these legendary actors involved in the most underrated mass crime scandal of the 60s? Milos was also known as an abusive and unstable individual who beat women, and was certainly not innocent of crimes himself. But Serbian news sources depict him as the victim of a Hollywood conspiracy, and of latent American racism.

Perhaps Milos pulled the trigger on Barbara that murky night of January 25, 1966, out of rage and envious passion. Maybe he really was inconsolably mad that he was being dumped for Mickey Rooney. Or maybe Mickey the jealous and cucked husband arranged the death of the mentally unstable wife he had lived with for eight years; who fathered four of his children and once attempted suicide to bag him. Barbara was an emotionally turbulent Hollywood dreamer whose fantasy was cut short by an angry lover (or husband?). Her death was quickly forgotten and glossed over by Hollywood studios who were seeking to protect Mickey’s image, but it set off a wave of mystery and murder which puzzles and mystifies to this day.

Mickey Rooney once said: “Had I been brighter, had the ladies been gentler, had the scotch been weaker, had the gods been kinder, this could have been a one-sentence story: Once upon a time, Mickey Rooney lived happily ever after.” In this timeline, however, Barbara Ann Thomason certainly did not live happily ever after.

Seher Şeniz and the Melancholy Nature of Fame

Being a 1970s Turkish pin-up queen was no easy task. Just ask Seher Seniz; a stunningly beautiful belly dancer/actress who became famous and infamous in the Middle East and Europe for her boldness, dark-haired good looks, and free spirit. She gained notoriety during the golden era of Turkish film, whose Yeşilçam (literally translated to “Green Pine”) movie industry was Turkey’s answer to Hollywood. But despite all the fame and glory, Seher was a deeply tortured individual who dissipated mentally until she tragically took her own life in 1992.

She was born as Seher Başdaş in the district of Narlıdere, in the scenic Aegean coast city of İzmir on March 1, 1948. She was a sensitive and moody Pisces who learned how to survive without a father after he left her family at a young age. When asked about her youth, she stated, “We have never been a close family. I can say that I never had a family.” When she was 14, she started acting in bit part roles in movies. At the age of 16, Seher was forced into marriage with an older man who was obsessed with her. According to Turkish law, a girl came “of age” once she had married, regardless of how old she actually was. Showing her resolve and resistance, Seher managed to end the marriage after a month and used the law to her advantage to emancipate herself from her mother.

She despised being married to a man who was forced upon her, and said in a 1981 interview that:

When I got married, I didn’t even know the biological difference between a man and a woman. I was so embarrassed, my first night was a complete disaster. I was inexperienced, he was inexperienced. I couldn’t get out of the bathroom for 2.5 hours.

For 10 years, until I was 25, I couldn’t think about sex. I couldn’t touch a man. I started to doubt myself for a while… ‘I wonder if I’m a lesbian or do I like women’… Thank God I wasn’t… That 10-year depression is far behind, now it’s like a dream. Look, my shyness hasn’t gone away. Even today, I am ashamed to undress in front of a man. I blush when I undress. Among the men who come into my life, no one has sex with me in the light. My bedroom is always dark. I undress in the dark, I make love in the dark.”

In the 1960s. The bottom pic is pre-nose job.

Unusually, Seher’s husband’s family approved of their divorce, because he was then quickly engaged to a wealthy girl. They were divorced in one brief court appearance. This debacle no doubt tainted her view of life, sex and relationships, society as a whole, and even her own family. Her mother must have married her off early due to financial desperation or disagreements over her acting and modelling career, but the fiasco destroyed a part of her daughter’s soul. Seher chose to move with her mother, older brother and sister to Istanbul in hopes of establishing a better life, though after a certain point, she cut ties with her mother permanently because they did not see eye to eye. She retained relationships with her siblings, but they were never that close.

Pageant Girl

When she was 17 years old in 1965, she placed 4th in the Caddebostan Beach Beauty contest, and she dropped out of high school. A year later, Seher won 2nd place at the 1966 Turkey Beauty Contest. Famous for her fiery temper, she became angry at placing second so she threw her ribbon at the jury and stormed off. She yelled at them, “How can you choose me second, I’m a queen.” She also made some hilariously bitchy comments about her winning opponent:

“Sevtap is a beautiful girl. But she was not really in shape during the competition and it was my right to take first place. The audience shouted, ‘Seher… Seher…’ for minutes. I didn’t receive my prize.”

Psychedelic poster art for Katerina 72

The incident got her noticed, and from 1970 to 1975 her acting career peaked. At the urging of movie producers (who told her she was perfect except for her supposedly “large” nose), Seher underwent a rhinoplasty. This would lead to a lifetime of constant plastic surgeries, such as breast implants, Botox and more nose job revisions. She starred in mostly forgotten Turkish B-movies which were loaded with the smut, violence, and cheesiness that was typical of cinema at the time. Seher was usually casted for her face and body, something which she disdained. She claimed to be a shy woman who hated disrobing for cameras, and that she was even timid while undressing in front of her husbands, protesting:

A rare pic of her relaxing with no makeup on.

“Actually, you’ll be surprised again, but sex is not as important to me. I am one of the most romantic people in the world. Rather than making love, I like to sit for hours holding hands. If the liars who pour rose petals on the stage in buckets during my shows knew that I actually get more pleasure from a single rose that, it would affect me more…”

In 1971, she made her first and only famous movie: Tarkan: Viking Kani AKA Tarkan vs. the Vikings, which is now a cult classic. The low budget swashbuckler film was one in a series of several movies which detailed the tales of a Hunnic warrior named Tarkan, and his encounters with Vikings (played by random Turks in blonde wigs). Seher plays a Chinese queen named Lotus and she performs an impressive knife-throwing striptease dance. This oddball Conan the Barbarian-esque B-movie became a “so bad it’s good” staple of Turkish cinema, and was her only film to become popularized among western filmgoers.

The elaborate headdress she wore in Tarkan: Viking Kani (1971) was iconic.

Seher starred in 22 roles during her career, including a 1982 uncredited appearance as a belly dancer in the trashy American TV show Love Boat. She is often referred to as the first Turkish model to appear in Playboy magazine, but it was actually Nejla Ateş in 1955. As well as acting, Seher did nude modelling and danced at nightclubs throughout Europe to supplement her income. For a time she lived in Paris, and belly danced at the Moulin Rouge. It was perhaps here where she met her second husband; an American named Anthony Wilkins. This marriage was short lived, and next she married an Armenian named Teknur Kiraz.

Queen of the Nightclubs

When Seher was underaged and unable to obtain a work permit to dance in Turkish strip clubs, she used a fake ID which went by the name of “Zora.” Initially, she made 150 lira per night, but she was quickly promoted to 500 for her talented dance routines. For the time period, it was as much as a moderately successful civil servant. At first, Seher disliked being a belly dancer:

“For the first six years, I was disgusted with my job. I hated belly dancing and was ashamed of myself for doing it to earn money. Then I got used to it. I believed that belly dancing was an art. Now I dance with pleasure.”

“I dance to Arabic music. But not all. Generally, this music is very heavy. I stayed in Cairo for 15 days to find music for myself. It is difficult for me to work in Turkey. We have six musicians who can play Arabic style. It’s impossible to put them together and put them on stage. That’s why I dance with playback. But with playback, I can’t get in the mood, nor the audience. I’m in a quandary about it.

I am an ape-tempered person. I get bored quickly. Maybe that’s why I like traveling, different places, different people.”

Visiting Egypt helped Seher realize that belly dancing was an art form, and she devised new methods of dance techniques after learning from locals. Her greatest love was travelling, and she wanted to observe every hidden corner of the world, even if it was not always profitable. She said “I will visit without thinking of money. Drink and eat and I will dance. I’ll see, and what I learn will stay with me as the profit.” After awhile, the money seems to have dried up and she was obliged to go back home.

With two failed marriages under her belt, Seher returned to Turkey in the 1980s and began performing at high end casinos in Istanbul. She was one of the most sought after belly dancers of her time. Regardless, the 1980s were described as a time of “great spiritual depression” for her, and this is when her life went into a downwards spiral. She felt oppressed by the 1980 Turkish military coup, which saw censorship and cinematic decline. The 1970s were a sexually liberated and decadent time period for Turkish cinema, but things were about to change.

The Yeşilçam golden era had come to an end, and Turkey had come to be ruled by a far-right Islamist military dictatorship which saw half a million Turks jailed, and thousands killed and disappeared. Interestingly, the CIA was involved (as they always are). There is no doubt that all of this brutality negatively affected Seher’s already fragile mental health. After the military coup was reversed in 1983, she performed in her final film in 1985. Her acting career was, effectively, over. This was perhaps one of the reasons why she had tried to commit suicide a year earlier.

On June 29, 1984, a 35-year old Seher overdosed on four bottles of Mogadon, a benzo used for insomnia and anxiety. She was rushed to the American Hospital in Istanbul by a shocked journalist who had turned up for an interview appointment, and was revived with great difficulty. After a twelve hour coma, she came to and uttered “I want to die.” It is said that she attempted suicide after her affair with a married businessman had crumbled. Seher was the type of girl who always dated rich. She didn’t care how the guy looked as long as he was loaded. Unfortunately, these sugar daddies never lasted too long and often left her heartbroken. They only saw her as the “other woman.”

Three years earlier though, Seher had made this statement:

“Men don’t know how to get women. They fall for them too hard. Women run away from what falls on them. There should be a bit of ‘run to the rabbit, catch the bloodhound’ atmosphere. If I were a man, there wouldn’t be a woman in the world that I couldn’t get. I learned this so well…”

She seemed to be an odd mixture of bravado and frailty.

Unable to cope with aging, a flailing career, a string of shattered relationships, and crushing depression, she turned to pharmaceutical drugs to numb the pain. In movies, she had always played the beautiful, oversexed and self-assured femme fatale role. In reality, she was a vulnerable and emotional person who disliked being objectified and sexualized. But it wasn’t always that way. In 1967, a gutsy Seher gave an interview to Pazar Dergisi magazine before her acting career blew up. In it, she is quizzed about her antipathy towards the Turkish film industry:

“I am not against Turkish cinema. Turkish cinema is actually against me. To put it bluntly, I don’t like the roles they offer. Small roles, all the time… Yes, I am not considered an important name in cinema, but I have a name for myself onstage… Filmmakers came and said ‘Seher, there is a wonderful role for you in this movie. Madam, it’s a great role. You will get undressed in one scene of the movie. You’re going to strip, you’re going to have to go to bed and have sex.’ Come on, step up the better roles…”

“Besides, what is the money they offer for these roles? They can’t even give me the money that I want. Even if they try to give it, they put me under a debt to them. I swear they’d be embarrassed if they knew I didn’t have time to deal with controlling contracts. And they’d never mention it again. I don’t mind getting undressed. Thank God that my body is beautiful. I don’t have an ugly angle… In the movies, I can undress as they want. But give me the lead role.”

“My name is Seher Şeniz. I am one of the most famous names in the striptease field. I have over tens of thousands of fans. We are not dead if we have not become an important actor in the cinema. I don’t care about anything. I have money in the bank, I get by like a rose. What else do I want from God, more trouble? Whenever I have the opportunity, I also go to Europe. Every night I count my money in my palm. As you can see, I am in a good mood. I have direction. I don’t intend to go back to zero again.”

This interview is fascinating because it shows how bold and fiery she was as a person, and her high levels of ambition and drive. After being abandoned by her father as a youth and forced into an arranged marriage, Seher became hardened to life and was determined to support herself and succeed. Initially, she held strong principles about not wanting to act unless she approved of the role. Unfortunately, she never received the important lead role she had always desired and was relegated to mere eye candy. It is tough to find pictures where she is fully or even partially clothed.

In May of 1992, Seher told her older brother Turhan Başdaş “I am going to Europe,” and left him the keys to her Teşvikiye apartment. On May 14, due to the smell of her decaying body, suspicious neighbours informed the police and Turhan that something was wrong. When they broke down the door, they discovered that Seher had been dead for several days, maybe even weeks. It was a grim end for the 44-year old actress, whose second suicide attempt had succeeded. The autopsy discovered that she had died after drinking hundreds of morphine pills (!!!) with two bottles of whiskey. She left behind a heartbreaking suicide note which delivered a scathing indictment of society:

“No one is responsible for my death. I swallowed 100 synthetic morphine pills and took other sleeping pills. Thank god I managed to go. I am disgusted and always have been disgusted by all of you. When I was only 15, I understood what people in this world are worth. I finally managed to leave this disgusting world. It would be a joke if I said it was hard to die. I am not made to be a whore, I am sensitive and emotional, no one knows. Tell no one that I am dead. I don’t want to be buried according to Muslim traditions. Burn my wigs and scatter the ashes. Wrap me in a white robe and cover me up, that’s all…”

Seher in the 1980s

Unfortunately, her relatives did not honor her last wishes and buried her according to Islamic tradition. Seher left the property to her brother Turhan, who was a retired lieutenant colonel. Of her death, he said:

“She mostly lived abroad. Sometimes in France, sometimes in England. She wasn’t working, but she had no financial problems. Recently, she was saying that she was tired of everything, of the world and people. She had seen everything she could see in her life. Therefore, she was in a depressive mental space. She wasn’t alone, she had many friends.”

A Turkish newspaper wrote her a touching obituary in Sept of 1993: “Her dance was like willow branches swaying in the wind. In the slowly fading light of fire, a belly dancer, dressed in shawls and smiling, came, and turned the darkness into gold and then left this realm.” Sadly, Seher did not see the light she brought into the world or the goodness that was still possible, so she ended her life. Years earlier, she gave a very prescient interview in May of 1981 about her feelings on religion and the afterlife:

One of her last pictures.

“I believe in God. I also believe in being born again… And I know that I will come to the world as a man next time. That’s when women should be afraid of Seher… If he comes back to the world as a man, knowing how to get all the women, woe to those who will come… I love all animals except snakes and scorpions. I can’t keep animals because I love them too much. Because I can’t stand separation and death. I also love children very much.”

Not many people knew who she really was as a person, or the intelligent and creative side of her that longed to be a mother, an artist, and a normal woman. The detailed interview also described the journalist visiting Seher at her apartment in the chic and affluent Şişli district:

“Seher was ladylike… Her house is a charming, tastefully furnished penthouse. The highlights are books and musical instruments. She loves all kinds of music. She also likes to read. It’s time to read, when she goes to bed to sleep at night… But when she picks up a book, a thousand thoughts come to mind. She also likes to daydream. That’s why she was unable to finish the few books she started. Outside the stage, she has little to do with paint or make-up… Same with clothing… When you meet her on the street, it’s hard to think she’s a famous stage artist. Someone like you and us. Quiet, unpretentious…”

Seher Seniz was a woman of many talents, ideals, dreams and contradictions. On one hand she gave off the image of strength and self sufficiency, yet on the other hand the sexual exploitation of the 1970s seems to have taken its toll on her. She was a driving female force in the Muslim world, who inspired women to embrace their sexuality and to dress how they desired; yet she was also someone who was ashamed of nudity and who became fed up with being treated like a sex object for her entire career.

Inspiring pop culture: British producer S. Maharba uses rare images of Seher for his album artwork.

Her beauty was unearthly and rare, but she was deeply insecure to the point where she botched her nose with endless rhinoplasties. Her belly dancing influenced many performers after her, yet she had reservations about the profession. She loved her home country, but she disdained the manner in which women were treated within Muslim society; and her last wishes were a rejection of her faith. At the same time, she also expressed a profound belief in god. She believed in love and wanted children, yet all three of her marriages collapsed and a spoiled affair drove her to attempt suicide.

Seher was a captivating figure who entrances fans and admirers to this day. She had a star quality and charisma which attracted people to her, but she could not find peace within herself. Perhaps she has been reincarnated as a man, like she wished to be. Or maybe she is still dancing on, as a ray of brilliant light in the afterlife.

Jasmine Dhunna: The Vanishing of a Scream Queen

If you’re a fan of retro B-horror movies, you may have heard of the Ramsay Brothers; a family of innovative filmmakers who pioneered a new wave of Indian horror in the 1980s. Horror films are almost nonexistent in South Asia, but the Ramsay brothers managed to churn out a few sleazy low budget hits that caught the eye of cinephiles all over the world. The most famous of their underrated oeuvre is Veerana/ Deserted Place, a colorful and bizarre 1988 horror extravaganza directed by Shyam and Tulsi Ramsay.

The vibrant colour scheme resembles that of a Mario Bava giallo movie.

While most Bollywood movies are tame, PG-rated and reserved, Veerana tried its best to be as lurid and depraved as possible without getting censored. It’s almost like an Indian version of The Exorcist, but with Hindu mythology instead. Shyam claims he was inspired by his own alleged encounter with a witch on a highway in 1984. Featuring trippy neon lighting and a disco soundtrack by Bappi Lahiri, the film tells the tale of an evil witch named Nakita; who possesses a beautiful young girl, played by stunning and mysterious actress Jasmine Dhunna.

The witch Nakita was a memorable monster; grotesque in appearance, and based off the Indian myth of the Churel (चुड़ैल), a demonically-possessed sorceress who lives in the woods and who can shapeshift into an attractive woman. The special effects the Ramsay Brothers used to portray the Churel were supplied by British prosthetics artist Christopher Tucker, who had worked on Hollywood films such as The Elephant Man, The Company of Wolves, Star Wars: A New Hope and The Boys From Brazil. Although their movies were patently low budget, the Ramsays spared no expense on their chilling FX and masks.

Tfw you don’t moisturize…
Source: rhetthammersmithhorror

Jasmine is probably the most obvious reason for Veerana‘s success. In a country where the population is more interested in 3-hour family-friendly musicals than a quickie slasher gore flick, Jasmine packed the theater seats with her seductive dark-haired good looks and charisma. Although she was just a novice actress, her profile blew up after the film’s release, and Jasmine was hot property. So what happened to her career? Why did she just vanish from the public eye without a trace?

It’s because there is scarier shit out there than Churels, and that’s the Bollywood mafia underworld; a group of rather deranged fellows who run the Bombay film industry from behind the scenes. The irony is that in Veerana, Jasmine plays a powerful succubus who seduces and kills depraved men. The movie is one of the rare female-centric Indian films, and it explored uncharted territory in depicting a hypersexual and violent witch who rebels against traditions. But in real life, Jasmine was the one who fell prey to patriarchal misogyny.

Sarkari Mehman (1979)

Not much is known about Jasmine’s personal life. She starred in two little known movies before the Ramsay Brothers cast her in Veerana, which brought her acclaim and attention. For Indian standards, Jasmine’s role was considered very risqué. Full nudity and kissing aren’t allowed in conservative Bollywood, so directors supplant that with thotty outfits and dance scenes. For her role, Jasmine dressed in black silk nightgowns, bright red swimsuits and dresses, and even appeared in nude in a bathtub music sequence.

The haunting song “Sathi, Mere Sathi” was wildly popular upon its release, and still is even now with 10 mil Youtube views racked up by thirsty Jasmine stans. The supernatural lyrics feature the succubus attempting to seduce her victims with promises of otherworldly love. This tune alone cemented Jasmine’s popularity and perfectly captured her mesmerizing beauty; to the point where people are still obsessed with her to this day, even though she only has three acting credits to her name.

She was on top of the world: a bold new star on the horizon of Indian cinema, unafraid to depict her audacious sexuality in a culture that repressed women. What could go wrong? Sadly, everything. Jasmine caught the eye of some unwanted simps who wouldn’t leave her alone. And they weren’t just your average beta orbiters, but legit criminal underworld dons. It was said that they noticed her resemblance to the tragic 1950s actress Madhubala, often called India’s Marilyn Monroe due to her premature death at age 36.

Madhubala

Jasmine had not anticipated this bullshit. In a bravado-filled interview from 1987, she seemed cocky and full of zeal. Her measurements are described as 36-26-36 and her height 5 ft 5.” After Jasmine starred in her first movie Sarkari Mehman (1979) and it wasn’t a hit, she went back to schooling and worked as a model. When the interviewer alludes to her being a has-been, Jasmine matter-of-factly points out that “I was barely 13 then. I wasn’t fully grown and was pushed into the industry. Today I am 18 and know what’s what in tinsel world.” However the timeline doesn’t add up, so she may have been around the age of 21 at that time or even older.

Jasmine in 1978

Jasmine goes on to state that “if the leading man is able to excite me, I don’t mind kissing him. I’m even willing to shed my clothes if I get a director like Raj Kapoor.” In Veerana, Jasmine canoodles with Tarzan star Hemant Birje, which she probably didn’t mind. The article also mentions her doing a film with Dharmendra, but that never materialized. The vibe one gets from this interview is that Jasmine was a free-spirited, open-minded and ambitious girl who was probably too young to be pushed into acting, but who wanted to shoot her shot regardless.

A blinged out Jasmine seduces Hemant Birje.

Sadly, creeps were lurking. After Veerana was released, Jasmine was bombarded with daily solicitous phone calls from the Indian mafia. There was a Bombay underworld figure who was obsessed with her, and just straight up harassed her for sex. Although she contacted Bombay police and asked them to help, the cops were corrupt and useless. Jasmine was on her own and afraid for her safety. And she wasn’t just being pursued by just any two-bit thug. Infamous drug lord, mob boss and terrorist Dawood Ibrahim was after her!

Not every woman is brave enough to turn down Dawood’s advances. Picured above is him and his mistress Mehwish Hayat, a Pakistani actress 27 years younger than him. Methinks she is being held hostage.

Ibrahim and his violent D-Company gang were very well known in India for their lethal brutality and ready willingness to slaughter their enemies. Despite the fact that Ibrahim is only 5 ft 3″ and looks like a silly Mario Bro, he is guilty of some of the worst crimes in Indian history. Through his wealthy criminal empire, Ibrahim monopolized control of Bollywood by providing funding for movie productions. The industry was under his thumb, and actors, producers, and directors all did what they could to keep the manlet thug happy.

Ibrahim clearly had a “type,” and he was enraged that Jasmine declined his calls.

Jasmine was totally repulsed by the situation. If having a Bollywood career came at the cost of being a mob moll escort, she wasn’t interested. It was incredibly brave of her to reject Ibrahim’s perverted advances, as the deranged man was obviously capable of murder. Jasmine clearly had a sense of integrity. Other actresses, however, didn’t mind sleeping with a bite-sized psychopath to further their career.

Desperate to rescue her flailing career, Mandakini turned into a mob moll.

By 1989, beautiful Anglo-Indian actress Mandakini’s career had gone into a downwards slump. She was in her late 30s, and she wasn’t getting roles. In comes Dawood Ibrahim to save the day! He was thirsty AF for her after seeing her in the 1985 movie Ram Teri Ganga Maili. The pair had an affair after meeting at one of his lavish parties, as Mandakini hoped he could help her land some roles with a bit of blackmail here and there. Unfortunately for her, the association with Ibrahim tarnished her career and ended it for good. Within a year of meeting him, she became box office poison.

After his affair with Mandakini, Ibrahim probably felt completely entitled to Jasmine. Her rejection seems to have infuriated Ibrahim, and Jasmine completely vanished from the public eye to avoid his wrath. Veerana was her first hit, and last ever film. It’s impossible to know exactly what happened to her, or where she is today. There are nothing but strange rumours that are impossible to verify. Apparently no one knows her specific whereabouts except for the Ramsay Brothers, who say she is still alive.

In a 2017 interview, Shyam Ramsay allegedly said that “Jasmine is very much in Mumbai. Her mother had passed away, who she was extremely close to, which really affected her, and she took a backseat and no longer associated herself with the film world. In fact, we shall be making a sequel to Veerana, and then definitely I shall get Jasmine to play as a mother to the new girl who shall be playing Jasmine.” Sadly, he died before that could be possible, and Jasmine did not emerge even for his funeral.

However, according to this article, a purported friend of Jasmine claims that “she did not leave the Indian film industry. People distanced themselves from her because of the lies of underworld connection about her spread by the Ramsay brothers.” The friend says that Jasmine was naively pressured into filming a B-movie that tarnished her reputation. So what the hell is actually going on here?

There are also crazy conspiracies and rumours that Jasmine died a long time ago, perhaps in a car crash, that she was murdered by the mafia, or committed suicide. Some speculate that she fled to New York, and married an American man. There are reports that she settled in a Gulf country, maybe Dubai or Jordan. She is said to keep a low profile and is now married with a family. This is very unusual in Bollywood, as most celebrities are attention whores who try to soak up every bit of the spotlight as they possibly can until they’re dead in a gold plated coffin.

It’s hard to tell truth and myth apart in this case, but whatever scared Jasmine away must’ve been serious. She was beautiful and popular, yet she chose to live a life of privacy and isolation due to sexual harassment from thugs and being exploited by filmmakers. She isn’t even on social media either. This could be due to the fact that Dawood Ibrahim is still alive, and just as feared as ever so hopefully he doesn’t kill me for exposing him.

The perks of being a gangster? You can date way out of your league.

Ibrahim’s insanity skyrocketed after the Jasmine incident. He actually committed his most terrible crimes after accosting her. It was a good thing she followed her gut feeling and dipped out of Bollywood and away from psycho Ibrahim before the real shit went down. He moved onto his next high-profile mistress, Pakistani actress and model Anita Ayoob. She wasn’t a shy or quiet woman either. She was kicked out of Miss Asia Pacific Intl’s beauty pageant for stating that “Muslim women should be allowed to have four spouses, just as Muslim men can take four wives at any one time.” Apparently that’s controversial in Asia, I guess.

Anita Ayoob, femme fatale

In 1995, the small-time, hot-tempered actress was rejected for a role in a film by producer Jawed Siddique, so Ibrahim ordered the man shot dead. Like Mandakini, Anita’s career was soon over for associating with a criminal thug like Ibrahim. The gangster wasn’t afraid to have his enemies killed in broad daylight. Gulshan Kumar was a businessman who owned T-Series, India’s largest record label (best known in the West for its beef with annoying Youtuber PewDiePie). He was shot to death with 16 bullets in 1997 on Ibrahim’s orders, right in front of a temple of Shiva.

But Ibrahim’s most evil deed occurred in 1993. Enraged by sectarian violence against Muslims, he orchestrated the Mumbai bomb blasts along with his D-Company gang. 1,400 people were injured, and 257 people died; making it the worst terrorist attack in the city’s history. Ibrahim still remains on the lam today, and is hiding in Karachi, Pakistan with three fake passports, millions of dollars, and control over a massive criminal empire. He counts the late Osama bin Laden and a variety of other terrorists as his buddy. And yet, Bollywood still cannot stop making terrible movies about him and glorifying him.

After the terrorist attack, Ibrahim’s famous friends came under scrutiny. Mandakini was forced to go into hiding, and Anita Ayoob was accused of being a Pakistani spy. Conspiracy surrounds the entire affair. Luckily for Jasmine, she was far away from all of this bullshit and could not count herself as one of Ibrahim’s former mistresses or associates. Bollywood was a corrupt cesspool that she had narrowly escaped. Rather than join his sick and twisted criminal cult of death and mayhem, Jasmine escaped into a life of anonymity.

Divya Bharti: Dead at only 19. Was she killed by Ibrahim’s henchmen?

Other starlets weren’t as lucky. Divya Bharti was a teenage actress who was super popular and highly paid in the early 90s, but whose life was cut short bizarrely and mysteriously due to probable criminal circumstances. In 1993 (the same year as the Bombay blasts) she supposedly fell to death off of her fifth-floor apartment building balcony. She was dead at only 19-years old; perishing from head injuries and internal bleeding as the ambulance rushed her to the hospital. Mumbai police deemed her demise a suicide, but Divya’s parents objected to this. Why would a beautiful teen actress in the prime of her life kill herself?

Divya and her shady husband. Although he was 26, Sajid looked middle aged.

Divya had been married to Sajid Nadiadwala, a cheap hoodlum of a producer who operates on nepotism and mob links. She had even converted to Islam for him. He was also a buddy of Dawood Ibrahim, and Divya had just discovered his criminal connections and disapproved of them. Some say she threatened to reveal his mob ties, and that Sajid or his unsavory pals took revenge. Divya’s childhood maid Amrita who was present the day of her fall and who was the last person to speak to her died 30 days later of a supposed cardiac arrest. Other witnesses from that day are still too afraid to speak.

With all the carnage he left in his trail, Ibrahim remains the most brutal crime figure in India’s recent memory. Who knew the B-movie schlock and camp of Veerana had such a dark shadow lurking behind it? Jasmine managed to escape the whole nightmare unscathed, and probably watched in horror as she read about all the murders, terrorism, and intrigue that surrounded the industry she had once wanted so desperately to be a part of. Thankfully, Jasmine’s sharp intuition had warned her against getting involved with a psychopathic manlet gangster.

This movie is seriously aesthetically spectacular.

The Ramsay Brothers’ weird and wild brand of horror movies unfortunately never took off in the West, but the directors have a small cult following amongst Indian horror fans. Veerana still remains their most watched movie, and viewers are always captivated by Jasmine’s ghostly and eerie performance as a possessed girl. She brought the role to life with her bold ability to be sexy and scary at the same time. And she managed to avoid getting killed by India’s worst and most ruthless mobster, so that’s pretty impressive too. Jasmine may still be out there somewhere, but she remains a haunting specter forever on the outskirts of a sleazy film industry that tried to exploit her; and thankfully failed to do so.

The Exploitation and Redemption of Laura Gemser

If you’re a fan of trashy vintage B-movies and Grindhouse films, there is no doubt that you are familiar with Laura Gemser. She forged a successful career out of her unearthly beauty, and she is still world renown by die-hard fans to this day. But who was Laura Gemser as a person? How did such a shy and intelligent woman cope with being viewed as a sex icon due to the explicit Black Emanuelle movie series?

Divine Emanuelle – Love Camp (1981)

On the surface, her life story is a glamorous jet-set tale of stardom in the flower-power & free love era. Underneath the facade of bare skin on celluloid, there was a darker conflict going on in her heart. She enjoyed and despised aspects of her work at the same time. The films she starred in were disturbingly violent and often pornographic, and after awhile she balked at doing such roles. Laura yearned for a legitimate movie career, but was instead offered a steady incline of smut. This is the flamboyantly tragic life story of Laura Gemser.

From Java to Utrecht

She was born as Laurette Marcia Gemser on October 5, 1950, in the tropical city of Surabaya, Indonesia. The country was a Dutch colony for hundreds of years, and finally gained its independence in 1949. However Indonesia’s liberation was far from peaceful, and the authoritarian president Sukarno ruled with an iron fist. The country was in a state of conflict, with communist and radical Islamic sects constantly squaring off against one another. Concerned by the instability, her parents moved the family to Utrecht, Netherlands when she was only four years old.

In Rome for Playboy Magazine, 1979

After graduating high school, Laura attended Artibus Art School to study fashion. And of course, the 5 ft 7″ beauty was immediately noticed for her model good looks. In the early 1970s, she posed for fashion magazines in Belgium and Amsterdam. From the span of 1973 to 1977, Laura appeared on five covers of the Italian erotic magazine Playmen. She also posed for the French magazine Lui and worked with Francis Giacobetti. But it was in Italy where her career would take off and she would become a star.

The 1970s were an era of liberation in all shapes and forms, be it social, sexual, racial or otherwise. There is a misconception that American Hollywood films were at the forefront of everything progressive. This was untrue. In the U.S., bland and ordinary actresses such as Diane Keaton and Meryl Streep ruled the screen with a monopoly and swept the Oscars. In Italy, it seemed that audiences were more ready to accept ethnically diverse actresses.

On the set of Black Cobra Woman (1976)

Italian cinema often cast women of color in the 1970s, such as the Eritrean actresses Zeudi Araya and Ines Pellegrini, Burmese actress Me-Me Lai, African-American actress Ajita Wilson, Brazilian actress Florinda Bolkan, Dominican actress Lucía Ramírez, Afro-Italian actresses Carla Brait and Angela La Vorgna, and Jamaican actress Beryl Cunningham, among others. The roles they were given were often of dubious quality (cannibal horror movies, erotic films and violent giallo), but these women became underground stars in their own right.

Spanish magazine ‘Personas’, number 67 from December 15, 1974

La Principessa del Cinema Italiano

In 1974, a 24-year old Laura starred in her first film called Amore libero (Free Love). It was an Italian production shot on the gorgeous French island of Seychelles. Described as an erotic adventure film, it was considered pedestrian and tame compared to her later films. Despite its mediocrity, the movie did the trick and got Laura noticed. Perhaps unaware of what she was in for, she moved to Italy to pursue her newfound acting career.

Softcore porn was rife in 1970s Europe, and the most infamous film of 1974 was Just Jaeckin’s X-rated Emmanuelle, starring Sylvia Kristel. Based on the autobiographical smut novels by French-Thai libertine Emmanuelle Arsan, the film caused a stir in France upon its release and was followed by two more sequels. Laura played a small role in Emmanuelle 2 as a kinky masseuse.

Amore Libero (1974)

Like a sheep wandering into a pack of wolves, Laura had no idea what she was getting into:

“I wanted to be a model. I was still a little girl. I came to Italy specifically to shoot ‘Amore Libero,’ because someone was impressed by my photographs and therefore made contact with my agency. Even the part I did later in ‘Emmanuelle 2’ was born because the director Francis Giacobetti was a photographer with whom I had already made several nude and fashion shoots. I remember the day when he asked me if I wanted to do a part in the film he was going to make, ‘Emmanuelle 2.’ And I replied: “Why not?” 

Emmanuelle II (1975)

Love, Fame and Scandal

This was a first in a long chain of sleaze films for Laura. In a way, cameoing in Emmanuelle 2 was like selling her soul to the devil. Afterwards, she was offered the lead role in a series of Italian grindhouse spin-offs named Black Emanuelle. The Italians removed an “m” from the name so their French counterparts would not sue. Directed by Bitto Albertini, 1975’s Black Emanuelle turned Laura into a cult film star. He had seen a poster of her while at a travel agency in Kenya, and was mesmerized by her knockout looks.

Impossibly beautiful in Black Emanuelle (1975)

Despite having limited prior acting experience, Laura was cast in the main role. One of the pros of starring in the film was that it was shot in scenic Nairobi, Kenya. Laura said that she “didn’t really read the script, but they told me I was doing it in Kenya, so I said yes. That’s the only idea– to go to Kenya, and that for me was okay. I don’t care about the script.” One of Laura’s favourite things about her acting career was that it allowed her to travel and to see new places. She had an adventurous and bold spirit, and she brought this carefree attitude into all her performances.

Seducing Angelo Infanti, who had played Fabrizio in The Godfather (1972)

She also met the love of her life on the set of the film. Laura’s handsome co-star Gabriele Tinti was infatuated with her ever since spotting her at a production office in Rome, and the two later began a passionate affair while filming in Kenya. She was a Libra, and he was a Leo- it was meant to be! Laura said “it was meeting Gabriele that pushed me to leave my homeland to come and live here in Italy… to always be close to him.

Gabriele Tinti and his piercing gaze.

Gabriele was a talented B-list Italian actor with matinee idol good looks that led the press to dub him “the Italian Alain Delon.” He grew up poor, so this pushed him to have an extraordinary drive to succeed as he grew older. Gabriele starred in dozens of movies each year all across Europe and in Hollywood, and eventually began to foray into erotic films.

With Peter Finch and Kim Novak in The Legend of Lylah Clare (1968), an extremely strange film.

Despite the fact that he was 18 years older than her, Laura loved him immensely. The couple married in 1976 and stayed that way until his death in 1991. Gabriele also starred with Laura in all of her Emanuelle films, except for Emanuelle Around the World. It was strange that they both had such a strong bond despite performing in graphic sex scenes with other actors as well.

With Anna Magnani in the 1950s, who was infatuated with him despite them having a 24-year age gap.

Laura and Gabriele had an understanding that while they performed in vulgar films, they still had an unbreakable attachment between them. Indeed you can see the chemistry when they perform together: the couple light up the screen and you could genuinely tell they were in love! Rather than working bum 9-5 jobs, the pair travelled the world and starred in films together. It seemed a small price to pay because it allowed them a luxurious lifestyle at the cost of getting naked onscreen. They were like the Onlyfans thots of their day.

Romy Schneider and Gabriele Tinti in The Sensuous Assassin (1970). He worked and associated with some of the most talented actresses of his generation.

While Black Emanuelle may have brought Laura love and a career, it’s technically a terrible film. It is a weird and haphazard porno flick with a cheesy soundtrack and just so many ridiculous moments. It was also tough for Laura to get used to stripping down on film. Her agent complained that Laura could barely pose for a picture, so it would be even tougher teach her to perform in movies.

Crazy in love!

Director Bitto Albertini claimed “it was difficult to make her act, and she thought it was a game. She didn’t take it seriously at first, then she became pretty good.” The contention may have come from the all the nude sex scenes she was compelled to do. In many moments, Laura looks awkward and downright uncomfortable. But this was her new job, and she steeled herself to it.

Another thing that infuriated Laura was the fact that Albertini had added in hardcore porn footage during the editing stage- without her approval! Laura never performed in hardcore acts on screen, and vehemently refused any requests to do so. Yet Albertini had inserted random stand-in scenes without her permission. This was something Laura would always feel very icky about. She described the nightmare of finding out about what had happened:

“Any excuse is good to get naked. I saw the one– the first Emanuelle, because I was curious. But then I felt baaad, because I didn’t expect to see… I refused a lot of scenes. They put in a stand-in, and I didn’t know. So when I saw the movie, I felt rather bad. There was a scene in a train. I think it was… she was making love with a whole football team. I don’t remember. But, I refused that scene, and they used stand-ins, and– I don’t know what are the scenes… I forgot. Really, I forgot…”

Laura and Karin Schubert on set.

The Misfortunes of Karin Schubert

While Laura always had the leverage throughout her career to refuse hardcore porn, her co-star Karin Schubert did not. Karin was an attractive German actress who starred in French and Italian cult films throughout the 1970s. When the roles dried up and she began aging and facing financial difficulties, Karin’s life turned into a nightmare.

The beautiful and tragic Karin Schubert.

While her role in Black Emanuelle was already embarrassing enough, it was about to get worse. Karin’s son was a troubled drug addict, and it was up to her to pay for his psychiatric treatment. In her 40s, a middle aged Karin posed for nudie magazines. In the 1980s, she was eventually forced to do hardcore porn to pay her debts. She acted in over 20 pornos, and it broke her mentally.

Karin and Laura in Emanuelle Around the World (1977)

Having already suffered sexual abuse in her youth, Karin attempted suicide three times yet she survived them all. She was then interred in a psychiatric hospital. She lamented I have neither family nor friends, neither money, nor future. I wanted to die because I missed everything. For people, I am a whore.” She now lives in an isolated area of Germany; faraway from the media and alone except for her pet dogs who keep her company.

The King of Sleaze

Thankfully, Laura never fell into the trap that poor Karin did. It was the constant love and support of Gabriele Tinti that kept her strong throughout her career. Black Emanuelle was a smash hit, and Laura signed a contract with director Aristide Massaccesi AKA Joe D’Amato for five more films. If you’re a geeky cinephile, you’ll definitely be familiar with the infamous D’Amato. He was the most well-known exploitation film director in 1970s Italy, and churned out hundreds of low budget films that left audiences in awe of how perverse and depraved they were.

Joe D’Amato and Laura Gemser in Venice, on the set of Emanuelle in Bangkok (1976)

D’Amato really knew how to sell a film: just add copious amounts of sex and gore. Bitto Albertini’s Black Emanuelle looked like a joke compared to D’Amato’s sequels. He directed every genre of film possible, from horror to fantasy to westerns to straight up porn. And quality wise, you couldn’t exactly say his movies were good. But they were shocking and attention-grabbing, and the charming and goddess-like Laura Gemser became his most valuable asset.

Michele Starck and Laura in Black Cobra Woman (1976)

Laura was his muse and inspiration. The camera adored her, and D’Amato captured her at her best angles. He described Laura as a shy, wonderful and sweet person who was very private and liked to keep her life hidden from the media. While the Emanuelle character she portrayed onscreen was very kinky and hedonistic, the real life Laura had a very committed relationship with Gabriele Tinti.

Ely Galleani and Laura Gemser in Emanuelle and the White Slave Trade (1978)

Co-star Ely Galleani said Laura was sometimes hard to work with because she seemed “very upset” during their lesbian lovemaking scenes. Indeed, Laura would go on to say that “it’s hard to make love with a [woman]. I mean, it’s… it’s really hard. But, you know, you get paid for it, so you do it. You just do it!” So despite the Sapphic scenes she performed in onscreen, Laura was not bisexual in real life.

In Thailand, on the set of Emanuelle in Bangkok (1976)

D’Amato depicts Emanuelle as a strong, independent, and promiscuous photojournalist who travels the world and gets down with almost everyone she comes across, be they male or female. Cue in lackluster sex scenes every five minutes and feature some dated and corny musical scores by Nico Fidenco. He was certainly no Ennio Morricone but more like a proponent of sleazy pop-funk.

The bella donna in Venice, on the set of Emanuelle in America (1977)

Emanuelle is also extremely oversexualized, and is shown to enjoy gangbangs and group sex- and even gang rape! Wtf. In the post AIDS era, these films come off as very twisted and obscene. The only redeeming properties of the Emanuelle films are Laura Gemser and her many interesting co-stars. If not for her, these movies would be discarded as nothing more than abject trash…

The legendary King of Sleaze looked like an unassuming Italian uncle irl.

Yet they did have their own charms as they depicted a powerful female character with a strong sense of autonomy and intelligence. Director Joe D’Amato was a very skilled cinematographer and technician who knew how to create an aesthetically beautiful film. His career had started by working as a camera operator on giallos by Mario Bava, Umberto Lenzi, Massimo Dallamano, and others; so he had a trained eye for beauty.

Gorgeously composed shots from Emanuelle in America (1977)

Yet when it came to the Emanuelle films, Laura said herself that:

“It seemed like one long, long movie that didn’t end. You know, it was always the same story, the same things happens.. I was a journalist… a photographer… and they always sent me out to to find some drug criminals. There was a lot of drugs, right? And then.. there was always the same situation… always had to get myself undressed to get something… I don’t know….

Bloody & Extreme Grindhouse Cinema

Then why did she continue doing the sordid Emanuelle films? Well the fact that she was able to travel to Thailand, Morocco, Hong Kong, New York, Venice, Washington, San Diego, Egypt, India, Iran and China could have contributed to it. Most of the films were garden-variety and forgettable, but two 1977 classics stand out for their offensive and wildly violent plots: Emanuelle in America and Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals.

Emanuelle in America (1977)

In Emanuelle in America, Laura plays a journalist who goes undercover to bust a snuff film ring. There is an array of nauseating scenes; such as horse bestiality, orgies and random, terrible hardcore porn inserts. 1970s Italian filmmakers had a serious problem with exploiting their stars. D’Amato had tried many times to make Laura film hardcore porn scenes, but she always gave him a resounding NO!

Nothing but swank fashion statements dropped every second in the Emanuelle movies.

Penthouse magazine founder and producer Bob Guccione had cut porn scenes into Tinto Brass’ 1979 disasterpiece Caligula without telling anyone, much to the chagrin of stars Malcolm McDowell, Peter O’Toole and John Gielgud. After watching Caligula in theaters Malcolm said “I felt like a woman after she’s been raped.” This strongly echoes Laura’s sentiments about her own films. Ironically, D’Amato would go on to direct the gory porno Caligula: The Untold Story in 1982, which had nothing to do with the original Caligula‘s plot.

The worst parts of Emanuelle in America, however, are definitely the hyper-realistic, gory snuff film scenes. For some reason, D’Amato thought it would be a good idea to include graphic torture in a literal porno. The film was seized by an Italian court because they thought the disturbing footage was real, and one of the traumatized actresses in the snuff scenes sued production but lost the case. The things Italian directors got away with back then were mind-blowing. The horrific sequences inspired David Cronenberg’s amazing 1983 classic sci-fi body horror flick Videodrome, so at least it was good for something in the end.

Laura and Gabriele. This is probably my fave Emanuelle outfit.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, mondo movie Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals was even worse. Just look at the title. Thankfully, this film had no hardcore porn inserts. But it was still marketed as an erotic film, despite the fact that it was literally about cannibalism. Another one of D’Amato’s bright ideas. His vomit-inducing film went on to inspire Ruggero Deodato’s even more nauseating and infamous 1980 horror film Cannibal Holocaust. I strongly advise you not to watch these two back to back.

Ethereally stunning in Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (1977)

The plot is trite: Laura the journalist and Gabriele the anthropologist go on a cute New York date to discuss cannibals and to make love, and then D’Amato cuts to them watching a tribal castration scene. It didn’t make for a good romance movie, but it did give the film an air of bizarre infamy. The duo then head out to the “Amazon jungle,” which is really just the forests of Lazio, Italy. Racism ensues (the “native” tribe is played by Filipino tourists!), as well as graphic scenes of cannibalism, gutting and dismemberment. Skip the popcorn when you watch this one.

Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (1977)

Going Mainstream

With movies like these under her belt, is it any wonder Laura grew disillusioned with her career? She did have a few roles in some “respectable” movies, such as the 1977 Terence Hill and Bud Spencer comedy film Crime Busters, and the 1976 Hollywood disaster flick Voyage of the Damned. Director Stuart Rosenberg said he wanted an actress who looked Cuban, and personally chose Laura for the role. She called the experience “unreal.” Unfortunately, she had no lines and just played Orson Welles’ arm candy. Laura gave a fascinating account of him in an interview and said he was:

Orson Welles and Laura Gemser in Voyage of the Damned (1976)

A big guy (laughs)… he walked very badly because of his size. I remember that he spent his days locked in his room, he never wanted to talk to anyone. Even when Faye Dunaway went to look for him because she wanted to talk to him, Orson drew back, he didn’t want to meet her. Poor thing, she came to the set on purpose because she wanted to talk to him. But Orson would lock himself in the room after the take.

Nothing comes between a girl and her snake ♥

The least offensive (and that’s a stretch) D’Amato film starring Laura was 1976’s Black Cobra Woman. This was the closest he ever got to making a decent movie, and the presence of Hollywood star Jack Palance added a little class to the production. And unlike the terrible musical scores the other Emanuelle films had, this one had a pleasant soundtrack by maestro Piero Umiliani.

Black Cobra Woman is a strictly softcore film that doesn’t have any trademark disturbing D’Amato scenes (other than a snake being skinned alive and eaten at a Chinese marketplace). Set in Hong Kong, Laura plays an exotic snake dancer who is wooed by sugar daddy Palance. In the film, Laura performs sensual snake dances and looks effortless while doing it. In real life, Laura had a fear of snakes and one even defecated on her when she was handling it!

The Private Life of Laura Gemser

It’s tough to find an interview of Laura from the 1970s, but I managed to discover a rare newspaper clipping from that era. The article is in Spanish and was an interview done when she had a stopover at El Prat airport in Barcelona to meet a movie producer (this is a rough translation btw I did the best I could). In the clipping, Laura reveals that she wants to stop getting naked on camera because “everything has a limit” and that she has other plans for the future. Surprisingly, she says that she has studied archaeology, and even passed two pharmacy courses as she wanted to pursue a medical career.

We also find out that she is bilingual and speaks five languages (Dutch, Indonesian, English, Italian, and I’m not sure of the other one). When quizzed about the upside of the Emanuelle film series, Laura admits it gave her “fame and a comfortable economic position.” The reporter also mentions that she is happily married to Gabriele Tinti, who accompanied her on the trip. This is all very interesting because not much is known about Laura’s private life outside of her film career, so it’s fascinating to see she had other ambitions that sadly never came true.

B-Movie Extravaganza

Laura’s career slogged on into the 1980s as she starred in trash films of all genres: sexploitation, women in prison films, nunsploitation, sex comedies, an erotic biopic on Caligula, more pseudo-Emanuelle sequels, a martial arts flick with Toshiro Mifune, Sonny Chiba and James Earl Jones, a zombie movie, horror, fantasy, and other questionable films I don’t recommend watching. The girl had to make a living somehow.

Lorraine De Selle in Violence in a Women’s Prison (1982)

On the set of 1982’s Violence in a Women’s Prison, the no-nonsense Laura clashed with her haughty co-star Lorraine De Selle. She had some harsh words for her:

“She was someone who put on incredible intellectual airs. But she was a pseudo intellectual in my opinion. I mean if you make a movie like “Violence in a Women’s Prison” you can’t be an intellectual… you can’t be a busy theater actress when you’re shooting such bullshit. In short, the story is what it is, it’s definitely not Shakespeare… let’s have fun, right? “

With Mónica Zanchi on the set of nunsploitation film Sister Emanuelle (1977)

In 1980, Laura recorded a song called “Crazy Eyes (And We’ll Love Again)” in Germany and surprised everyone with her vocal talents. She had a beautiful singing voice and it was a shame she didn’t record more music because that track is actually very dreamy and well produced! It was also bizarre that Laura’s voice was dubbed in almost every film she ever appeared in, despite the fact that she spoke good English but with a slight Dutch accent.

In 1983, Laura co-starred in the cheesy hit American TV movie Love is Forever with the king of corniness, Michael Landon. The director and producers forced Laura to hide her identity on set:

Article from Belgian ‘Kwik Magazine’ nr 1110 from 25 July 1983.

This was at the behest of the director and the production. They didn’t want my ‘erotic’ past to connect with the film, which was a story for the whole family. So they gave me the name of Moira Chen, but it didn’t help because everyone wrote: Moira Chen is Laura Gemser (laughs). Hall Bartlett, the director, was an American who wanted to change my life. It was a little bit nasty… He was a moralizer. It forced me to deny even in the face of evidence. When in Thailand people said to me: ‘Are you Laura Gemser?’ I had to say: ‘No… no, I’m Moira Chen’. It was embarrassing.

Stills from Looking Good with Laura Gemser, a weird 1980s workout video.

Laura tried to turn a blind eye to the hardcore porn that was being inserted into the films she made with D’Amato, but then she realized these scenes were literally being filmed right there on a parallel set. At least she had a sense of humour about it:

“I’ve always believed that Aristide [Joe] made porn films at the same time as ours. But not that these were scenes to be included in the films themselves. I realized it late, on the set of 1982’s ‘Caligula the Untold Story.’ There is a scene in that film in which Emperor Caligula, David Brandon, and I walk to a bedroom. As we walk, a long, incredible porn scene starts, and after half an hour of wild sex, the scene resumes with us entering the bedroom. I remember when I saw Aristide, I said to him: ‘Fuck, Ari,’ this bedroom was really far away!”

Caligola… la storia mai raccontata (1982)

Laura Gemser: Goblin Costume Designer

From 1988 onwards, Laura worked on Italian low budget D-movies as a wardrobe and costume designer. After all, she was an ex-model who had studied fashion in college. She worked on D’Amato’s films as the two had a close friendship throughout their careers. Most famously, she helped create the costumes for 1990’s Troll 2, often called the worst movie ever made. The film was shot in Utah with an all-Italian production crew. None of them spoke fluent English except Laura, which caused the shoot to be a total mess.

Laura at work on the set of Troll 2 (1990)

She did her best with the low budget, creating goblins out of Halloween masks and burlap sacks. Ever the penny pincher, producer D’Amato would go on to re-use these costumes in 1982’s Ator: The Fighting Eagle. Even so, Troll 2 was a disaster that was universally panned, and the special effects were mercilessly mocked. It is tragic that this movie is associated with Laura, but at least she had fun on set. And she didn’t have to strip naked on screen anymore! Phasing out her acting career was like a breath of fresh air for Laura. She described the discomfort she felt the first time she had to disrobe:

Divine Emanuelle – Love Camp (1981)  

“The first few times I had to undress in front of the camera were a traumatizing moment… but then I got used to it. Sure, everyone on the set looks at you like that (she widens her eyes and sticks out his tongue, panting like a dog), then it’s a bit embarrassing, but if you take it as a job, it all goes away. You say: I have to do it, they pay me. And frankly, I didn’t do particularly rough scenes, even if once, in Italy, it didn’t take much to cause a scandal…

Notti porno nel mondo (1977)

When my first Emanuelle came out, there was this big poster with me on it, and I was naked ’til here… and they censored it. They took it down, and so people were curious to see it… So nowadays, you see everything… I mean, even in TV you see everything. In those days it was rather… How do you say it? Uh, scandaloso… [I got] a little bit tired of doing this, and I was trying to do some other kind of movies. But… I had that label on me, and it’s very hard to get out of it. So I said ‘I hate it,’ so I stopped doing it.”

Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (1977)

The End of Love

Another factor that contributed to the end of Laura’s acting career was the death of her beloved husband Gabriele Tinti. With him by her side, Laura was full of confidence and strength. But when he passed away in Rome on November 12, 1991, she was heartbroken. He was only 59 years old, but he was a lifelong smoker who died of a myocardial infarction before leaving on a flight to France to star in a new film. The couple had been married for 15 years. Since they never had any children and her family was split between the Netherlands and Indonesia, Laura was left on her own.

Laura and Gabriele in Hong Kong, 1976.

Laura and Gabriele were both enigmatic and mysterious people who kept their personal lives out of the public eye. But in 2016, Laura agreed to be interviewed for a documentary on his life called Come in un film: La Vera Storia di Gabriele Tinti. In this film, she recounts rare info about his life. He was originally named Gastone, and was a poor boy from the Bolognese village of Molinella. When he became famous, Gabriele returned home in a white suit and sports car, which the poverty-stricken villagers soiled with their own blackened hands and clothes.

I like the scenes of them in Black Cobra Woman (1976) as they looked so natural and in love.

Even though he was 20 years younger than her, Gabriele seduced legendary Italian actress Anna Magnani in the 1950s and she fell madly in love with him. He was also married to Brazilian actress Norma Bengell for seven years during the 1960s. Gabriele was an attractive and charismatic playboy, but Laura was the woman who had stolen his heart. In the documentary, Laura tears up talking about him and remembers him fondly and with great love. She had Gabriele buried in his hometown of Molinella, in a grave next to his father’s.

Electric chemistry: the couple in Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals (1977)

After his death, Laura disappeared from the screen, but continued designing costumes until 1993. To those who asked her why she retired, Laura joked about not wanting to play “Emanuelle’s grandmother” because she was now in her 40s and a widow. Laura and Gabriele had lived together at a villa in Saxa Rubra, a solitary village 14 km away from Rome. They had a small wooden house with a wild garden set in a fairy tale landscape. After his death, she found life there to be lonely and painful, so she moved to a different location in Rome.

Emanuelle in America (1977)

Retirement and Isolation

The last time Laura was spotted at a public event was at Joe D’Amato’s 1999 funeral, which she was said to have become emotional at. Despite all he put her through in those weird movies he made, Laura still had a soft spot for D’Amato. Nowadays, the man would be #metoo’d in a minute. The workaholic had dropped dead of a heart attack on January 23rd in Rome while preparing to direct a new film at the age of 62. She had given a compelling account of him in a 1997 interview:

Gabriele, D’Amato and Laura in 1976

“In my opinion Aristide is a born actor, a comic actor, because he has this face that makes you laugh immediately when he speaks. At the time I didn’t understand Italian well, but every time this funny little man said something to me I inevitably burst out laughing. I had a really good time with Aristide…

On the set of Emanuelle in Bangkok (1976)

Today it would be unthinkable to make films like those… Working with Aristide was an adventure. He did everything: he was the director, the cinematographer, the producer -and an actress very often also had to be a costume designer and a seamstress. In the last period of our collaboration I was a costume designer because I had had to learn how to do it already when I was shooting the other films. Everyone had to be able to do a little bit of everything.

But thinking about it was funny and Aristide made me laugh a lot… laughing is important. He always had such agitation on him… he was always anxious and he forgot everything on time: his shirt, his shoes, a mess like few others! A great professional but also a great mess. When he got angry then I don’t tell you!

Laura and George Eastman in Erotic Nights of the Living Dead (1980), filmed by D’Amato in the Dominican Republic during his zombie-porno era.

Aristide, however, did not get angry a lot, usually he always did it with irony. The few times he really got angry I went away because then it was unbearable: he screamed, cursed and so on and so forth… One thing that Aristide and I have in common is that we fall asleep everywhere, we sleep easy. It also happened to me in the breaks between takes. But he too was no less.”

Emanuelle in America (1977)

Laura now lives a quiet life somewhere in Rome, far away from all the movie cameras. She is in her 70s, and she rarely takes interviews. In 2000, director Alex Cox interviewed her in A Hard Look, a documentary on the Emanuelle films (I have transcribed the interview into different sections of this article). She was still pretty and glowing at the age of 50, but seemed disappointed and conflicted about her acting career.

A rare still from The Lost City, a D’Amato film that was never completed.

In 2016, Laura appeared in the Gabriele Tinti documentary. And in 2018, Severin Films released a short interview with Laura called I Am Your Black Queen as a featurette on a DVD release set of hers (yet I can’t find it… RIP). Information about her is scarce, but I raked up as much as I could from Italian cinema sites. She proves to be a tantalizing enigma for fans who want to get to know more about the real Laura Gemser.

Laura discusses her late husband in Come in un film: La Vera Storia di Gabriele Tinti (2016)

Unlike many other actresses who crumbled in the face of fame and abuse by the film industry, Laura managed to hold up under all kinds of pressure and bow away gracefully from the screen. Countless starlets succumb to suicide, substance abuse, botched plastic surgery, poverty, mental illness, and other afflictions. Yet even as a widow, Laura managed to keep herself together and settle into a private life in Rome.

Emanuelle in America (1977)

She enjoys craftsmanship, and makes her own furniture out of recycled material. Laura still designs her own clothes as well, and often sells them at the grand market of Porta Portese by the Tiber river. She is a very low-key and a level headed person, which is remarkable considering all she’s gone through.

Laura seems to want to distance herself from her smut career, and that is understandable. The Emanuelle movies truly were exploitation in many more ways than one. They were films that exploited Laura herself, and forced her to do unimaginable acts (everything shy of actual penetration) onscreen. She is a wonder to watch in movies; as she is extremely gorgeous and slender with long black hair, a stunning smile and the It quality of a star. Yet the content she was forced to do was way beneath her.

Black Cobra Woman (1976)

She was an intelligent and unique woman who deserved much better than the sleazy roles she was given. There is a feeling of wasted talent when reflecting on her filmography. Laura was much more than just her pleasant face and body, and her acting ability and beauty as a person shine through in the gritty grindhouse films she drifted above. To her fans, Laura Gemser will always be a bright and glorious diamond glittering in the rough of 1970s erotic B-movie cinema.

The Glamour and the Suffering of Marisa Mell

It is said that beauty is a gift bestowed only upon the truly blessed. For Marisa Mell, this initial blessing eventually turned out to be a bitter curse. She was a dazzling sex symbol and a style icon in the swingin’ 1960s, but her career later dissolved into poverty and tragedy.

She was born on February 24, 1939 in Graz, Austria as Marlies Theres Moitzi; later changing her name to one that was easier for non-German speakers to pronounce. Marisa was stunningly statuesque at 5’8″ tall and had a perfect body to match. Her face was structured like some ethereal Roman goddess; with mesmerizing green eyes, prominent cheekbones and a defined square bone structure. There are many gorgeous women out there, but Marisa was special. She just naturally had that It quality and hypnotic screen presence. It was obvious that she would be a star, and the Queen of B- Movies.

Rise to Fame

Marisa’s father abandoned their family when she was young, and she was smothered by her mother’s attentions. They resided in a housing complex inside the school grounds where her mother worked. Marisa appeared in her first film in 1954, at the age of 15. She was educated at a nunnery, and briefly attended a school of commerce in Graz. From 1958 to 1963, she was married to an Italo-Swiss man named Henry Tucci, but there is zero information on what type of person he was or what their marriage was like.

As a child, Marisa idolized Greta Garbo. After seeing Garbo’s 1936 film Camille, Marisa decided she too wanted to become an actress. She admired Dorothy Dandridge and found her beautiful, and had a crush on German actor Curd Jürgens. Some of Marisa’s hobbies were painting and studying archaeology. Her childhood was described as lonely. She often wore black, and girls admired her beauty from afar. Marisa was never seen without a man on her arm because she hated being alone.

Soon enough, Marisa went to Vienna and attended the Max Reinhardt drama school for four years to learn how to become a stage actor. The first time her lifelong friend Erika Pluhar saw her, she thought “I’ve never seen such a beautiful girl. In the movies maybe, but never so close and real… I envied her haughty untouchability, this insurmountable aura of beauty. ” Eventually, Marisa was offered more film roles.

She played in a ton of mostly forgotten West German movies that no one has seen (including Edgar Wallace Krimi pictures), and was then cast in legendary British director Ken Russell’s trashy 1964 comedy flick French Dressing. Russell (a talented director when not harassed by penny-pinching producers) knew that his first feature film was garbage, and later described the production as “a very unhappy film as far as I was concerned.”

French Dressing (1964)

Regardless, the film got Marisa noticed outside of Austria. She was the new Germanic Brigitte Bardot. When she was invited to the 1963 Buenos Aires film festival, she tried to seduce Psycho star Anthony Perkins. Unfortunately for her, Anthony was gay and more attracted to Julian Mateos, her Spanish arm candy. She was living the good life. But due to a freak accident, her success was almost prematurely botched.

Calamities and Bad Luck

In 1963, Marisa suffered a horrible car accident while shooting in France. Comatose for six hours, she almost lost her right eye in the horrific collision, and required extensive surgery for two years to repair her damaged lip. Due to good surgical work, the effects were almost un-noticeable. She was said to have a curled upper lip after the accident, which somehow made her look even more beautiful. Marisa believed she survived because “God was on my side.”

Applying make-up on the set of Casanova ’70 (1965)

After recovering, she returned to acting, moved to Italy and became a well known B-movie starlet. While filming the 1964 western The Last Ride to Santa Cruz on Spain’s Gran Canaria island, an athletic Marisa fell off her horse and suffered an intense nosebleed. She was rescued by a male passerby who immediately fell for her.

Marisa enjoyed the sunny climate and chic jet-set lifestyle of Rome over the austerity and gray cold of Austria. Her highest profile production at the time was Mario Monicelli’s light-hearted 1965 comedy Casanova ’70. She starred alongside Marcello Mastroianni, Virna Lisi and Michèle Mercier. She also played in the 1966 thriller Secret Agent Super Dragon, a lame James Bond knockoff that has the dubious honor of being featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000, and having a 2.3 rating on IMDB.

From the flopped live performance of Mata Hari.

That year, Marisa was chosen to star as famed WWI spy Mata Hari in a lavish $800,000 Broadway musical adaptation, directed by Hollywood icon Vincente Minnelli. She was spotted by his wife Denise, through her photoshoots in magazines like Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar.

After a disastrously embarrassing 1967 preview in Washington, the entire production was sacked. Lady Bird Johnson was in attendance that evening, and had sponsored the performance. Only later did the Minnellis realize that Marisa could not sing, and neither could she speak English. She had spoken to Denise only in Italian, and she was said to have gotten the role after having a lesbian affair with her.

Critic Ken Mandelbaum wrote that “the show ran well past midnight, scenery collapsed and the virtually nude Mell was accidentally spotlighted during a costume change.” Theater programmer Max Woodward, who witnessed the performance, stated that “at the end, she’s tied to a pole. And then after they shoot her, she reaches up and scratches her nose.”

Yikes. The debacle effectively ended Marisa’s chances at a Hollywood career, and she fled back to Italy to escape the backlash. She claimed that she didn’t want to become the property of any Hollywood studio anyways, because their restrictive “contract was a whole book. I think that even to go to the toilet I would have needed a permission.” Previously, in 1964, she had refused a lucrative seven year Hollywood contract.

On the set of Danger, Diabolik (1968)

Regardless, the failure stayed in Marisa’s heart forever. Whenever Europeans asked her about her time on Broadway, Marisa would lie that Mata Hari was a great hit in order to save face.

Success in Italy

In 1968, Marisa starred in what is arguably her best known film: Mario Bava’s campy action-crime extravaganza, Danger, Diabolik. Based on the Italian comic book series (fumetti), the film was Italy’s flashy and psychedelic answer to Batman, and featured a hip soundtrack by Ennio Morricone.

Marisa and John in a promo shot.

Marisa was cast as Eva Kant, the sexy and stylish girlfriend of the Italian criminal mastermind Diabolik; played by handsome and chiseled American film star John Phillip Law. Together, the two made a formidably attractive onscreen couple, and had electric chemistry that kindled a brief love affair offscreen.

The Eva Kant character was supposed to be blonde, so Marisa donned a very high-quality wig to play the role. Unlike the Eva of the fumetti, who dressed more conservatively and wore her hair in an up do; Marisa’s adaptation of the character called for more slutty and revealing outfits and long, flowing, golden hair. The film was an instant hit and a cult classic, and so was Marisa.

Marisa Mell and John Phillip Law make out on a pile of cash in Danger, Diabolik (1968)

Initially, Catherine Deneuve was cast, but she was fired after a week of filming. Mario Bava lamented how she was too much of an “ice princess” and not sexy and uninhibited enough to play the role of Eva Kant. John Phillip Law said that she was nice, but they had no sexual chemistry.

Ironically, Catherine refused to perform the famous scene where she and Diabolik make love on ten million dollars of cash; but later starred in the explicit 1967 Luis Buñuel film Belle de Jour. It was of no matter, as Bava would find a new actress. His initial choice was Italian actress Marilù Tolo (fashion designer Valentino called her the love of his life), but producer Dino De Laurentiis liked Marisa much more. And so, the rest was history.

The lovers share a passionate onscreen kiss.

John Philip Law said that when he and Bava saw Marisa, “we knew everything was going to work out. We fell into each other’s arms on the first day, and had a really great relationship on — and off-screen, after a while.” The photogenic pair shacked up together, and even adopted a stray black kitten found on a beach in Anzio whom they named Diabolik.

The flame was fickle, and their affair ended after shooting wrapped. John was a notorious playboy, and Marisa wasn’t short of lovers herself. Fun fact: Diabolik the cat eventually became the property of Jane Fonda, and she took him back to Paris with her after she co-starred with John in the 1968 sci-fi cult classic Barbarella.

Virna, Ursula, Marisa and Claudine.

Marisa’s next film was 1968’s Anyone Can Play, a romantic comedy in which she co-starred with Virna Lisi, Ursula Andress and Claudine Auger (the latter two were famous Bond girls). Despite the cast of classic beauties, the film was a flop and faded into oblivion.

With 1969 came Marisa’s second most famous film; a giallo by infamous horror gore-exploitation director Lucio Fulci called Una Sull’altra (One on Top of the Other). While Fulci’s later films were mostly bloody and disturbing, this one was tame and restrained in comparison, and extremely well made. The film also has an outstanding jazz soundtrack by Riz Ortolani.

Marisa Mell gives Jean Sorel a bj in Una Sull’altra (1969)

In this giallo classic, Marisa stars in a suspenseful double role, and again dons a glam blonde wig to play her character. It is very reminiscent of the 1958 Hitchcock film Vertigo, and explores the nature of infidelity, lascivious sexuality, morality, fate and mistaken identity.

In some countries, the film was released under the skeevy title Perversion Story. Her co-star was dashing French actor Jean Sorel, and the pair had fantastic chemistry onscreen. While he does not appear on Marisa’s long list of lovers, I bet my life that they smashed irl.

Looking like a perfect 10 on set.

Dating a Bad Boy

In 1969, Marisa also suffered a miscarriage. The child had belonged to her boyfriend, an Italian nightclub owner, drug dealer, mobster and producer with aristocratic roots named Pier Luigi Torri. He was like the real life Diabolik, except uglier. Marisa and Pier Luigi dated on and off for six years from 1965 onwards, and he was her longest boyfriend.

Through Pier Luigi, Marisa accessed a world of wealth, parties, drugs, glamour, power, intrigue and excitement. He was a jet-set member of Roman high society, and an eligible bachelor whom many gold-diggers wanted to nab. He occasionally produced films; many of them being softcore pornos.

With her sugar daddy Pier Luigi Torri.

He could often be seen driving his Ferraris and Rolls-Royces around Monte Carlo casino, and gambled away millions of lira at a time. He owned several villas and beachfront properties, as well as one of the most luxurious yachts in the world. When Prince Rainier of Monaco propositioned Pier Luigi for his yacht, he turned the Prince down. From then onwards, Rainier had a flaming hatred of him.

It is presumed that Marisa met Pier Luigi through her friendship/fling with fellow Austrian actor Helmut Berger. Berger himself was having a gay love affair with director and nobleman Luchino Visconti, who was a permanent fixture in the Roman aristocracy. To be anybody in Italy, you had to navigate the complex social web of who’s who.

Pier Luigi, his producer friend Bino Cicogna and a man named Vassallo all co-owned Number One nightclub, the hottest place to be in Rome. Cocaine circulated freely among the clientele, some of whom came from the most prestigious families in Rome; as well as entertainment industry and political names.

In December of 1971, Bino was found dead in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. He had supposedly committed suicide by placing a plastic bag over his head and sticking it in a gas oven, due to his despair over pending criminal charges and an addictive cocaine habit. But Pier Luigi suspected foul play.

Soon after, Number One nightclub was raided by cops and busted for cocaine. There is no doubt that Marisa used coke as well, but who didn’t at the time? As the cops began to close in on Pier Luigi, Roman tabloids went wild trying to link Marisa to the scandal.

In 1971, he fled Italy on his yacht to avoid the criminal charges pending against him. He escaped to Monaco, but bitter Prince Rainier ratted him out. After an arraignment in Nice, France, he was allowed to leave. Pier Luigi then escaped further to London. It is thought that his and Marisa’s relationship cut off around this point.

Marisa in The Devil’s Ransom, a 1971 film that Pier Luigi Torri produced as a starring vehicle for her.

She stood by him however, until he was arrested once more in London for a $300 million dollar scam. Pier Luigi then ingeniously escaped Scotland Yard by crawling outside through a bathroom ventilation shaft, and then scaling the rooftops to safety.

He vanished for 18 months, but was re-arrested in New York 18 months later. Though he was extradited back to Italy and sentenced to seven years in prison, he never served any time. Pier Luigi went on to marry a different woman, had two children, and died in 2011 at the age of 85.

The troubled couple dine at a Roman restaurant.

Where does this wild crime drama leave Marisa? The relationship took a major toll on her. Pier Luigi had a violent and abusive temper and often beat her. That could possibly be why she had a miscarriage in 1969. Regardless, she wanted to marry him and settle down. But that never occurred because he was too busy being an international criminal. The fiasco also murdered her reputation.

Thotting Around Europe

Still, Marisa did not learn her lesson and continued to date or have one night stands with many sleazy fellow actors. Her list of lovers is long and varied, and includes Alain Delon, Warren Beatty, Helmut Berger, Stephen Boyd, Robert Evans, Michel Piccoli, John Phillip Law, Roman Polanski, and even the Shah of Iran, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. And these are just the ones worth noting.

The two undoubtedly would’ve made a great couple, except I think Marisa has better bone structure than Alain.

Her love affair with Alain Delon seemed to have been mostly one-sided. In her 1990 autobiography Coverlove, Marisa discusses the hook-up in gratuitous detail. Delon, however, never even mentioned Marisa in his own book. The two met in 1962 on a plane to Yugoslavia. She was immediately attracted to Delon, and described him as “passionate and animalistic” in the sack.

Unfortunately, Delon was a massive lothario (read: manwhore), and Marisa turned out to be just another notch on his list. But hey, this was the guy who broke Romy Schneider’s heart. Hilariously, Marisa claims to have had sex with Delon leading up to the press conference announcing his engagement to Francine Canovas (later known as Nathalie Delon), and after it!

Poster art for Marta (1971)

Seduced and Abandoned

In 1971, Marisa met Stephen Boyd, the man who was perhaps the love of her life. Stephen was a handsome Irish rogue best know for his iconic role in the 1959 sword and sandal epic Ben-Hur. He was eight years older than Marisa, and had already broken a lot of women’s hearts.

She gave a detailed account of their passionate romance in her book, and described it as “so difficult, strange, beautiful and sad that I can hardly bear to think of it.” The pair first met on the set of the 1971 psychological thriller Marta. Marisa described the meeting as electric, and claimed upon first glance she realized that he was “the man of my life.”

Stephen Boyd treated me like a piece of prop! she complained.

Stephen, however, did not feel the same way and ignored all of Marisa’s advances, much to her chagrin. Even though the film had many sex scenes, she could not get Stephen to react. Marisa said the experience wastorture. I spent eight weeks showing him only my best side – sweet, cute, seductive, open, mysterious – everything! It was no use.

Stephen resisted Marisa all the way through the filming of Marta with a will of iron. She was pissed, and never wanted to see him ever again. After all, which man in his right mind could resist Marisa Mell? Six months later, the pair returned to Madrid to shoot another film called The Great Swindle.

Historia de una traición (1971)

Marisa gave up her attempts to seduce Stephen. This time, it was his turn to try and put the moves on her. He began courting Marisa, and sent her roses and asked her out. She couldn’t resist, and jumped at the chance to go on a date with Stephen at a flamenco bar.

His glances made her “weak in the knees,” and she said that helooked like a god.” After the date, they spent the night at Stephen’s place. It was clearly a satisfying lay, since Marisa described him as “just so awesome in his passion, his tenderness and his masculinity that I completely lost my head.”

Stephen admitted that he had initially rejected Marisa because he was scared of getting involved with a “dangerous woman” like her, and that he had just gotten out of difficult love affair. And yet, he snapped and proposed marriage that very same night. They decided to have a Gypsy wedding, probably for the shock value of it.

The couple went to a Gypsy camp in the morning, and rode in horse-drawn carriages. Marisa wore a silk dress and Stephen wore a linen shirt, and the observers sang and danced flamenco by a fire. During their wedding ceremony, the pair took a blood oath. A priest cut their wrists with a dagger, and mingled their blood together to bond them as husband and wife. 

The altar of Sarsina Cathedral, where they received an exorcism.

 Eventually, they realized that their relationship had become too obsessive, so the superstitious pair went for a ritual exorcism at the 10th century Cathedral of St. Vicinius in the Italian village of Sarsina. The couple apparently felt that they had been “possessed by an evil demon. Our demon was our passion. A Catholic priest blessed them and recited the exorcism rites.

Marisa didn’t care if people thought they were crazy, and remarked “sometimes love is like a deadly disease, sometimes it makes you feel that you are damned for all eternity. Trying to explain the reasons for this is impossible. There are things in our lives that are too high for our philosophy.

 Soon after the exorcism, Stephen fell ill and decided to end the relationship. He had a high fever, but doctors couldn’t tell what was wrong with him. They believed it was a psychosomatic disorder caused by their love affair. He told Marisa “I must leave you, for I know full well that one day you will go. I could not endure it. She cried and begged him to stay, but he left on a flight to Belfast and she never saw him again.

 After Stephen’s death in 1977, she claimed that his spirit often spoke to her from beyond the grave. She explained that “we both believe in reincarnation, and we realized we’ve already been lovers in three different lifetimes, and in each one I made him suffer terribly… But sometimes I have the feeling that he is speaking to me – from another world.

Marta (1971)

I like the supernatural/occult touch to their romance, but it most likely dissolved due to Stephen’s inability to commit to Marisa. He was a player who constantly bragged about being an individualistic bachelor, and was not yet ready to be tied down by marriage. Nevertheless, the year-long fling was quite intense while it lasted and Marisa never forgot him and the memory of their ephemeral love.

A Fading Star

It was obvious by now that Marisa had bad luck with men. Should she have just avoided these toxic romances and focused instead on building her career? She once proclaimed that “movies are my life, and my life is a movie.” But she was also dismissive of her profession, stating “I have a higher goal than making one stupid picture after another.” Whatever that goal was, it never materialized.

Sette orchidee macchiate di rosso (1972)

In 1972, she played a small role in Umberto Lenzi’s Seven Blood-Stained Orchids, a gory yet dull giallo that has since become a B-movie classic. While it was not exactly Lenzi’s finest work, the film has some gruesome death scenes that stand out. Marisa is murdered by a killer wielding an electric power drill in the movie’s bloodiest sequence.

By the late 1970s, Marisa’s career hit a steep decline. She continued to star in films until her death, but most of them were D-list movies that were way beneath her talent level. Although she was only in her 30s, she appeared ten years older than her actual age. This was most likely caused by excessive drug use and hard living.

La belva col mitra (1977). The bisexual Helmut once said that Marisa had a very pleasant androgynous face, and would’ve made a beautiful man.

In 1977, she starred in her last notable film: Beast with a Gun AKA Mad Dog Killer, a shockingly explosive crime thriller that bordered on exploitation due to its violent and sexual content. She starred alongside her former lover Helmut Berger; who gave a hilariously over the top yet masterful performance as a sick and depraved criminal on the loose. They were still close friends offscreen, and often partied together.

The film was based on the antics of Italian mafioso Renato Vallanzasca; a criminal so perverse he once decapitated an informer during a prison riot. The movie perfectly captures the maniacal spirit of its subject, and is fast-paced and action-packed with an awesome soundtrack by Umberto Smaila.

Helmut Berger literally deserved an Oscar for his performance.

Beast with a Gun was classified as a “Video Nasty” in the U.K., and declared an obscene film that could be confiscated by police if it were to be re-released in theaters. Quentin Tarantino later lifted the soundtrack and used some clips of Marisa and Helmut in his supremely unoriginal 1997 movie Jackie Brown.

Sadly, more tragedy struck that year in 1977. Marisa became a mother-to-be once again at 38 years old. She was photographed by paparazzi in Rome while heavily pregnant, and was accompanied by her Afghan Hound Rocco and actor Gianni Macchia. She looked to be in the late stages of pregnancy, yet she was still smoking cigarettes. Strangely, Marisa believed that Rocco was in the incarnation of somebody she once knew and had telepathic powers.

On November 26, 1977, Marisa gave birth to a premature baby girl she named Louisa Erika, after her mother. Sadly, her baby died the very same day. Marisa was heartbroken, and never attempted to have a child again. Neither did she ever reveal the identity of the father. Louisa Erika was buried in Rome’s Camposanto Teutonico cemetery; a graveyard reserved only for those of German descent.

A Dismal Downfall

Marisa’s life was on a steady downhill course. In the 1980s, she was almost a nobody. She was in her 40s, and producers now considered her too old to be a lead actress. She struggled to find work, and became mired in poverty and depression. Marisa drank and used drugs, and appeared in porno mags to churn out an income.

Marisa appeared in a 1983 edition of Men magazine, a hardcore publication.

She was never shy about showing her body for money, but these were not the glitzy and tasteful Angelo Frontoni Vogue photoshoots she had started off with early in her career. These pictures were more on the vulgar side, and she was ashamed that she had to resort to nudie mags to make an income. In 1986, a cynical Marisa reflected back on her life and looks, stating that “I was never proud of my beauty, I was rather bothered by it. It was a tragedy. Every man wanted me, but no man wanted to keep me.”

Despite all her attempts to do so, she never found true enduring love. The whole world had wanted her, but when she grew old she was cast aside. When she lost her looks, she lost everything. Yet she was confident in herself and refused to get plastic surgery; something which is very admirable and rare in this day and age.

She was forced to return back to Austria so she could receive some much-needed welfare money. Italian porn directors had offered her roles, but Marisa refused to take that dark road. Outside of nude modelling, she tried to make money in other ways but wasn’t too successful at it. She was still friends with Helmut Berger, and he would often ring her doorbell late at night which annoyed her.

Marisa did poetry readings, starred in low budget independent movies, sang (she was terrible at it), and made art. She painted and drew, but her exhibitions were not very popular. In Christmas of 1991, mere months before she died; Marisa was back in Vienna and so desperate for money that she took a job as the cook of Father Laun, a pastor from Kahlenbergerdorf. When she died penniless, this kind priest paid for Marisa’s grave.

The artist and her works.

At Death’s Door

A lifelong smoker, Marisa was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 1991. She received many different treatments including chemotherapy, but none eased her symptoms. Some female friends took her a on a trip to India to cheer her up, since she was fascinated by eastern spirituality. Marisa enjoyed herself immensely, and began wearing saris back in Austria. She also started worshipping the Indian saint Sai Baba.

Marisa was a superstitious woman, and used alternative medicine to try and cure her cancer. She enjoyed parapsychology, tarot readings, necromancy and fortune telling. She was also a classic Pisces, stating that “I believe in astrology but I don’t need it…It ruins your nerves if you take it daily.” Marisa continued to have flings with younger men like a cougar until her health prevented it.

During a palm reading in the 1960s.

On May 16, 1992, Marisa finally succumbed to throat cancer at the age of 53 and died alone at the Viennese Wilhelminenspital. Her funeral was attended only by a few close friends. None of her former film colleagues showed up, or the many people she once knew in Italy. In the end, she had nobody who was truly there for her. It was a sad ending to a once illustrious life.

Actress and friend Christine Kaufmann remembered Marisa as “a strong woman with who you could eat spaghetti with at home, but could also appear with at high end cocktail parties where she would wear fragile golden shoes because she had very beautiful small ankles with a stunning face.” Sounds ideal.

Her gravestone at the Kahlenbergerdorfer Friedhof cemetery, courtesy of The Marisa Mell Blog.

Though most people only cared about her looks, Marisa was an intelligent woman on the inside. She enjoyed the works of Rainer Maria Rilke, Jean de La Fontaine and Honoré de Balzac, and her favourite novel was Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. She read poems by the medieval German lyricist Walther von der Vogelweide, philosophy by the Chinese Taoist Lao-Tze, and of course, she was into Friedrich Nietzsche.

Her favourite artist was Modigliani, and her most-loved classical piece was Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2. Marisa was also a great cook, had a sizeable record collection (she liked Edith Piaf and The Beatles), and loved vodka and Winston cigarettes. Her favourite films were Bergman’s The Silence and Truffaut’s Jules and Jim.

In an interview from the 1960s, Marisa dismissed her sexpot image and described herself as “a very good girl” who is “shy, sensitive, ambitious, intelligent and good-natured.” Her dream role was to play Anna Karenina. She had yearned to becoming a serious actress, but was more often chosen for “sexy” roles. In her school days, she had considered herself an existentialist and wanted to become a philosopher. And instead, she is now beloved by geeky cult and exploitation fans for her exciting and glamorous B-movie roles and knockout face and bod.

Marisa’s close pal Erika Pluhar gave a touching eulogy for her deceased friend:

“You died in poverty. But maybe a little richer, I think, than when you were paid large salaries. When your body was being exploited and you didn’t have the strength to resist and look for love instead of competing. Who is the most beautiful in the whole country, this eternally pernicious question ruined your life too.”

Beauty made Marisa into a pop culture icon, but it also destroyed her. The callous Roman film industry she had worked for and gave all her youth to had discarded her once they considered her to be too old. She was an attractive mature woman and still a fine actress, but she wasn’t given the chance to prove it in her later years.

Marisa Mell was a gorgeous, smart and multi-talented actress who also partied hard and had a self-destructive streak. She loved with passion and gave all of herself to her relationships and performances. Sadly, her acting career fizzled out and she died of the terrible cancer that ravaged her body; alone and forgotten in a Viennese hospital.

Audiences now remember Marisa for her vibrant onscreen presence and striking one-in-a-million looks. But we should also remember who she was outside of her films, and the way she suffered and struggled with quiet strength and dignity. Marisa Mell is a tragic B-Movie Queen for the ages; the Austrian princess of sleaze, charisma, and style, and there will never be anyone like her again.

Tiffany Bresciani’s Twisted Romance

What happens when a heroin-addicted prostitute dating a washed up and lobotomized punk rock star crosses paths with a violent, mentally disturbed serial killer? Total, utter chaos and heartbreaking tragedy, which would lead to her terrible death at just 22 years old.

Tiffany Bresciani was born on March. 10, 1971 in Metairie, Louisiana; a boring southern city where nothing really happens. She was an only child who dreamed of escape and fame, and her mother Cheryl said that she “wanted to live in the big cities… She was very happy and beautiful and loved people.” Tiffany’s grandmother nicknamed her “little lamb.”

She was a dreamy and idealistic Pisces girl of Italian-American descent with striking green eyes and reddish-brown hair; described as small, waif-like and pretty. Tiffany had a tattoo of a purple rose encircling her left wrist, and an Egyptian ankh set against a floral pattern on her left hip. She had an interest in alternative rock culture and pagan spirituality, and she dressed like a cool goth girl.

Tiffany’s goal was to become an actress, and she initially went to Hollywood. Deterred for whatever reason, she then headed to New York and set her sights on Broadway. However, life does not always go as planned. She ended up as a stripper instead; dancing at a sex emporium called The Big Top Lounge.

She dated Rick Wilder (the skeleton-looking founder of punk band The Mau-Mau’s) in a turbulent on-and-off relationship. This seemed to be the first stage of Tiffany’s downfall: becoming a stripper and rock’n’roll groupie.

Initially, however, things started out great. Tiffany reached the pinnacle of luxury by staying with Rick at his luxurious West 45th St Whitby co-op; occasionally inhabited by stars like Sinatra and the Barrymores. The place had an amazing view of the city, and made her feel glamorous and safe. Unfortunately, her life unraveled at a blinding pace.

Tiffany and Rick made a bizarre couple.

Tiffany suffered from a debilitating heroin addiction which caused her to turn to prostitution. A neighbor at the Whitby said that “she was always stoned. I used to worry so much about her. Most of the time, she was on drugs.” Rick and Tiffany’s relationship disintegrated over her addiction and sex work, and soon she was selling herself on gritty Allen Street to fund her habit.

Love Will Tear Us Apart

Around this time, she met her new lover: Dave Insurgent, lead singer and co-founder of the hardcore punk band Reagan Youth. His birth name was David Rubinstein, and his parents were Jewish Holocaust survivors from Poland.

Surrounded by Nazi punks and skinheads, the Reagan Youth were one of the few anarcho-leftist bands in the punk scene at that time. Their band name was a satirical mashup of Ronald Reagan + the infamous Hitler youth of WWII.

A grand view from the expensive Whitby apartments, where Tiffany once stayed.

They were the creators of such wonderful songs as Jesus Was A Communist and I Hate Hate, and regularly performed at the iconic CBGB nightclub. Quite honestly, their music is patently mediocre and I recommend the Dead Kennedys, Black Flag and the Misfits instead.

By the time Tiffany met Dave, he was extremely busted. Due to his erratic behavior, the Reagan Youth had disbanded in 1990. Dave was addicted to heroin and dealt drugs to make income, but he wasn’t very good at it and often pushed his luck. He used his own products instead of selling them, and when asked to repay his debts; he brashly informed seasoned thugs “you’ll get your money when I say you get it.” Wrong move.

During a smack deal gone wrong, Dave got his shit rocked for not paying up. A rival dealer beat Dave into a coma with a baseball bat, and he was taken to a hospital in emergency condition and lobotomized. Bandmate Paul “Cripple” Bakija described the horrific aftermath:

Dave “Insurgent” Rubinstein

The next day I visit Dave in the hospital and boy is it tough, he looks like hell. Dave’s eyelid was swollen so much it reached all the way down to his upper lip. His parents were there and I find out that he needed a lobotomy to save his life. 

Eventually, he gets discharged from the hospital but Dave now has stitches going around his forehead from ear to ear. When Dave finally recovered, as best he could, I asked him what happened. Dave told me he couldn’t remember anything.

Ouch.

Suffering from brain damage and post-surgical pain, Dave used marijuana to medicate himself. Sadly, the lobotomized ex-punk singer soon turned to heroin once again. He moved out of his parents’ home in Queens to an apartment on the Lower East Side. This is where he met Tiffany.

Tiffany’s sense of fashion was very cute and resembles the modern E-Girl aesthetic.

Dave once had a girlfriend named Susan Cordon, and she would cry and become extremely upset whenever he used heroin. Bakija said that she was the only thing preventing Dave from full fledged addiction. Once Susan dumped him, Dave became a junkie. She said that “after I left, he called one day freaked out that he had woken up in a crack house. Part of him knew what he was doing was scary and could have consequences.”

His friends now avoided him, and he couldn’t have looked too great with stitches running across his face from ear to ear. Dave was a shadow of his former self, and he would never perform again.

Despite all this, he somehow managed to hook up with beautiful Tiffany Bresciani. She was into alternative and edgy men, and dodgy Dave fit the bill. The clout from being in a known punk band, as well as their common heroin addiction must have created a strong toxic bond of love between the two. Without anyone to dissuade them from their drug use, the couple fell deeper into heroin abuse and degeneracy.

For some reason, Tiffany began to support Dave financially through prostitution; even though he was seven years her senior. Through her self sacrifice, Tiffany kept the couple afloat. Dave claimed to love her and even pronounced her his fiancée, yet he did not lift a finger to help the two out of the situation.

Instead, he often accompanied Tiffany while she went to solicit clients, and waited for her on the street. When she was finished, the two would go buy heroin together. If that sounds cucked, that’s because it was. Dave told his parents that Tiffany was a dancer. In a way, she was.

While she stripped at sleazy nightclubs, she caught the eye of a 34-year old unemployed landscaper named Joel Rifkin. He had seen her and been mesmerized by her performance, and was said to have been a regular customer.

On June 24, 1993, Tiffany would meet with Rifkin for the last time. Unknown to her and the other girls who worked the streets of New York; Rifkin was the worst serial killer in the city’s history. And now, it was Tiffany’s turn to die.

Who was Joel Rifkin and why did he murder women?

Joel Rifkin was a killer without a conscience. Born in 1959 and abandoned by his birth parents, he was adopted by a loving upper middle class family; so loving that detectives later on suspected that Joel’s mother Jeanne and sister Jan stayed silent despite knowing of his crimes.

While most serial killers have a fucked-up childhood filled with abuse and beatings, Rifkin’s family life was perfectly normal. What was problematic, however, was the bullying he faced in school. While in the gym showers, students threw eggs at him. Bullies dunked his head in toilets, and stole his clothes. Once some boys waited outside a library to beat him up, so he had to call his father to come rescue him. He was nicknamed “turtle” and “lardass” for his stooped posture and slow gait.

Geeky Joel

As for women, they thought Rifkin was creepy and ugly and he was rejected by all of them. The only time he had a relationship with a woman was when he was in college studying horticulture; and a heavyset dark-haired classmate briefly dated then dumped him. She said he was “sweet, but always depressed.” In 1987, Rifkin’s father committed suicide after a fatal prostate cancer diagnosis. 7 months later, Rifkin was arrested for soliciting prostitution.

On the outside, people thought Rifkin was a normal guy. He seemed a bit shy and awkward, and was 34- years old yet still living with his mother and struggling to remain employed. But there was nothing on the outside to suggest alarm, and he was tested at a high IQ of 128.

On the inside, however, he was a violent monster. In 1989, Rifkin began a 4 year killing spree in which he murdered 17 prostitutes (or possibly even more); and dismembered and mutilated their bodies. He strangled them to death, then strew their limbs all across New York state. He dumped the corpses in forests, rivers, canals, fields, and abandoned properties.

The murder scene from Frenzy (1972)

Rifkin had no mercy for his victims, and killed sex workers because he believed their lives were worthless and that nobody cared for them. At his trial, he would realize that wasn’t the case. But any how, he was addicted to murdering women and he couldn’t stop.

After his apprehension, police found in his room books about Jeffrey Dahmer, Gary “Green River Killer” Ridgway, and Arthur Shawcross; sick serial killers who also murdered prostitutes. They also found a bondage manual on tying ropes and knots, and Women and Love by the feminist sexologist Shere Hite. Rifkin was obsessed with Hitchcock’s 1972 thriller Frenzy, and watched the strangulation scene hundreds of times. He developed a fetish for choking women.

Joel Rifkin was basically an incel who had snapped. While working at the Planting Fields Arboretum in Oyster Bay, he was rejected by a pretty blonde intern he was crushing on. It was too much for him. He lost it, and took out his rage on helpless and vulnerable sex workers. And unfortunately, Tiffany would be his final victim.

Pickup on Allen Street

It was a warm summer night, and Tiffany Bresciani was back on the streets after briefly trying to get help at a methadone clinic. She wanted to stop using heroin, but it was impossible. Tiffany’s mother and grandmother still cared about her and often mailed her care packages. The most recent one contained pictures, summer dresses and a white teddy bear. They asked her to come back home, but by now heroin had taken over her life.

Tiffany and Dave were hanging around outside waiting for a potential client, when a blue 1986 Toyota sedan pulled up. Joel Rifkin was on the prowl- in his mother’s car. Tiffany might have recognized him from a previous meeting, and trusted Rifkin enough to get in the car with him.

Rifkin later noted that he could not stop staring at her flattering outfit; a sheer green blouse and a black skirt that highlighted her figure, and that he liked her wrist tattoo. He also claimed that her murder was not premeditated (she was his second prostitute that night, and he had not killed the first girl), and that he assumed she was high on either cocaine or methadone.

Rifkin negotiated an encounter with Tiffany for $40, but some sources give that number to be as low as $20. Tiffany bid farewell to Dave and told him she would only be 20 minutes. Instead, he would never see her again.

Tiffany got into the vehicle, and Rifkin drove her to the nearby Manhattan Bridge. As they prepared for sex, a passerby nearly peered into the car; causing Rifkin to suffer from erectile dysfunction. This was a common occurrence with him, and he had once murdered a prostitute after she cried over his inability to get it up.

During sex, Rifkin decided to murder Tiffany. He squeezed her throat with his hands until her eyes were wide with fear, just like scene he desired to emulate from Hitchcock’s Frenzy. After a minute of strangulation, Tiffany died at around 5:30 AM. She was only 22- years old, and her life had ended in the most sordid and tragic manner.

When quizzed on Tiffany’s killing afterwards, Rifkin coldly summed the situation up as “it was someone I met in the city, and things didn’t go well.”

A gruesome serial killer comes undone

Pleased with himself, Rifkin stared at Tiffany’s body and admired her beauty and her auburn hair. He thought to himself what a shame it was that she was dead when she had been so attractive. The psychopath then drove to a supply store to buy blue tarp and long cord, and wrapped up Tiffany’s naked body in a deserted parking lot.

By the time Rifkin arrived home, it was 9 AM and his mother wanted her sedan back to run errands. Amazingly, his mother never realized there was a dead body in the trunk. Had she opened it, she would’ve uncovered a shocking surprise. After she returned home in 30 minutes, Rifkin removed the corpse and left it on an orange wheelbarrow in his mother’s garage. He then went inside his home and slept.

Police later found a wheelbarrow full of blood at his home.

Tiffany was his 17th victim, and Rifkin was no longer phased by killing. When asked how he could do something as repulsive as dismember a body, he said that the act of murder in itself was the true point of no return. He killed mechanically, and took pleasure in all the acts that preceded and ensued from it.

During his interview for the A&E documentary on his life, Rifkin jokes about Tiffany’s decaying body being “nice and ripe,” and chuckles at how his mother never noticed it. The man clearly has a sick sense of humor, as there was a bumper sticker on the back of his vehicle which read “Sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains excite me.”

Almost four days later, Rifkin realized that the corpse was decaying in the summer heat. For whatever reason, he had lagged in disposing of the remains. At around 3 AM on June 28, he placed the body in in his white 1984 Mazda pickup truck, and drove around looking for a place to discard it.

The totaled pickup

A pair of cops spotted his pickup on Long Island’s Southern State Parkway, and observed that it had no license plates. Unfortunately for Rifkin, the plates fell off during that fateful ride. Gripped with fear and the knowledge that he would finally be apprehended, Rifkin hit the gas pedal.

A 20 minute-long high-speed chase ensued, in which Rifkin drove up to 90 mph trying to get away from the cops pursuing him. Tiffany’s corpse rattled around in the back of the trunk as he drove, and at one point the vehicle nearly tipped over. In his mind, Rifkin was hoping he could drive into a body of water, and swim away from the whole situation.

After a dangerous pursuit, Rifkin finally crashed the vehicle into a streetlight. As the officer walked up to Rifkin, he observed him sitting in the driver’s seat with his hands up and a calm expression on his face. The horrified officer then smelled the strong odor of a decaying body. He inspected the back of the pickup, and shone a flashlight onto its contents.

There he observed Tiffany Bresciani’s badly decomposed corpse; so rotten that he could not even tell her ethnicity or gender. Since the corpse smelled atrocious, Rifkin had put Noxzema skin cream under his nose to avoid inhaling the stench. He had learned this trick from the film The Silence of the Lambs.

Rifkin’s sick charade had finally come to an end. Yet officers at the scene noticed that he was oddly relaxed. It was as if he had wanted to be caught. He asked an officer to turn up the AC in the police vehicle, thanking him and stating “there won’t be any AC where I’m going.” Police captain Walter Heesch instructed fellow officers as such:

“This guy’s too calm. Here’s this body, it smells so awful, and he’s riding around with it. And he’s not excited; he’s not upset. It’s not like this is his first murder, where there were drugs and sex and he got excited and killed her. There have to be others. Start asking him if there are others.”

A bra found in Rifkin’s room. He collected trinkets from his victims, and Tiffany’s driver’s license was one of the many objects discovered there.

After two hours of interrogation, Rifkin cracked and confessed to 17 murders. After several well-publicized trials, he was sentenced to 203 years of life in prison. During his sentencing, the judge said he deserved to be in jail in his next life as well.

And what of Tiffany, who was was loved and missed?

Tiffany’s mother Cheryl became worried once her daughter stopped phoning her. They usually spoke three times a week, and when the calls stopped coming Cheryl said that she “had the most awful feeling.” The last time she saw Tiffany was 9 months ago. She had returned home to Louisiana to visit.

When she discovered her daughter was dead, Cheryl was heartbroken. She testified at Rifkin’s trial on behalf of the pain she felt as a mother. About him, Cheryl says “I don’t hate him, I don’t hate anybody. I just can’t understand that. It’s still a shock to me… I still have that heartache, you know, it never goes away. There’s that empty feeling without her.”

Tiffany’s mother points out her daughter’s crypt.

And what of Dave “Insurgent” Rubinstein? What became of him when his beloved fiancé disappeared? Let us go back to the night of June 24, 1993, when Tiffany vanished in a blue sedan, right before his very eyes.

The 20 minutes had passed, and turned into hours- yet Tiffany was still nowhere to be seen. A panicked Dave combed the city, going to familiar haunts hoping to spot his girlfriend. He went to the strip club she danced at, and searched through every local emergency room. Dave even phoned up police to report the vehicle Rifkin that had picked her up in, but it was to no avail.

Finally, he was informed that his girlfriend’s decomposed corpse had been found in the pickup truck of an infamous serial killer. Dave was devastated by the loss. They had shared their addiction and suffering with one another, and she had supported him financially and emotionally. Additionally, he may even have felt some guilt about the whole situation.

Dave sporting cringey white boy dreads

They had had a Panic in Needle Park and Sid and Nancy type of intense relationship. As if what had happened wasn’t bad enough, Dave was dealt another blow that would send him over the edge. On June 30, 1993, just two days after Tiffany’s body was discovered, a one in a million freak accident took place at the Rubinstein home.

His father, Ronald, had somehow run over Dave’s mother, Giza, with his vehicle and killed her. The cause of death was internal bleeding. How does that even happen? How does one accidentally run over their own wife in their home garage? It just seems absurd.

Giza Rubinstein had survived the Łódź ghetto of Nazi-occupied Poland, and was in the Auschwitz concentration camp when it was liberated in 1945. All of her family members were killed except for her sister. Dave’s poor mother had survived the worst circumstances, only to be accidentally killed by her own husband years later. The irony and cruelty of life is mystifying.

Giza Gitla Rubinstein

Unable to cope with the immensity of these two tragedies, Dave decided to kill himself. On July 3, 1993, three days after his mother’s death, Dave committed suicide by overdosing on heroin. His father Ronald buried his own wife and only son in the same week. Ronald himself had survived Stalin’s gulags, yet this truly was the worst time of his life.

The depression and loneliness of losing his girlfriend and mother at the exact same time understandably crushed poor Dave and obliterated his will to live. However, Dave’s ex-bandmate Paul Bakija had more insightful information into the situation:

“The last time we spoke was the night he died. He came over to my house. It all happened fast. I think his mom died a few days after his girlfriend, who was a prostitute. This wasn’t his main girl. His main girl is still alive. The one who ended up dying was some girl he picked up on the street. She was tricking, and she paid for his drugs. He put her in a car, and that was the last time he ever saw her. I think he committed suicide a week later.”

Yikes. According to the way he tells it, it sounds like Dave was literally acting as Tiffany’s pimp, and cheating on her as well. Though technically, Tiffany was unfaithful too. It is shocking though that Dave told his friends that Tiffany wasn’t even his “main girl,” and there was some other more prominent woman in his life.

Did Dave kill himself out of guilt? Did he somehow feel that he was responsible? Tiffany had tried to get clean a few times before her death, and despite failing to do so; it indicates she had the will to make a better life for herself. She was only 22, and her life was cut short so abruptly.

Ultimately, the toxic relationship that Dave Rubinstein and Tiffany Bresciani had going on between them contributed to their destruction. Running into Joel Rifkin was a shocking stroke of bad luck, as their lives had already been filled with so much misfortune.

The saddest part is, Tiffany Bresciani’s life is now defined by Joel Rifkin and Dave Rubinstein- it as if she has lost her own identity between these two. Information on the girl herself is rare and scarce to come by. Rifkin said about his victims, “I killed prostitutes because they had no one.  They had no lasting relationships.  No family who cared.  No one would ever come looking for them.” That is total bullshit, and he must be proven wrong.

Judging from the few photos and testimonies of her, Tiffany seemed like a sweet goth girl who was just lost in an awful addiction that ended up consuming her. She was an interesting, well-read, street smart, fashionable and fun individual, but she had lost herself in the end. Men had taken advantage of her when she was at her lowest and most helpless.

Some people hope that she and Dave are together in the afterlife. I just hope that wherever she is now, Tiffany is finally at peace.

How Rohinie Bisesar Lost Her Mind

Rohinie Bisesar is not an imposing woman. Standing at only 4’11” at 85 lbs, she appears utterly harmless and shy in her behavior and etiquette. She is pretty, and looks younger than the 40 years of age she was in the mugshot above. She is intelligent and highly educated, with an MBA and a Bachelor’s in Molecular Biology.

And yet; she stabbed a woman to death 2 weeks before Christmas in 2015, at a Toronto pharmacy while in the grip of a schizophrenic episode.

How did this attractive and well-schooled woman decompose psychologically? It is a complex tale of mental illness, child abuse, a strict Asian family, capitalism, careerism, delusion, abandonment, personal failure, and pure madness. This is the story of Rohinie Bisesar.

School portrait

A Strict Childhood

She was born in 1975 in Guyana, to Hindu Indian parents. Guyana is a beautiful South American tropical nation, but it suffers from extreme poverty and a culture of domestic violence and misogyny. It has the highest suicide rate in the world, and was home to the 1978 Jonestown Massacre; when crazed cult leader Jim Jones induced over 900 of his followers into “revolutionary suicide” via cyanide-laced Kool Aid.

Her parents moved to Canada in 1980, with their two oldest children. They left behind their youngest daughter, five-year old Rohinie, in the care of relatives. By all accounts, she was not their favorite child. After earning enough money to buy a house, her parents finally brought her to Toronto to live with them. They had another son shortly.

Rohinie occupied the lowest hierarchical position in the family: she was the second daughter. Her parents were more proud of their two boys, and they viewed her as the extra daughter they didn’t need.

The Bisesar Family Store

She was compared to her successful older sister Chandra; an ambitious investment banker and chartered accountant living in New York City.

Her parents ran a small clothing store called Sandra’s and Chico’s, and worked part time gigs as well. They were serial workaholics who expected Rohinie to have the same drive for labour that they did. Any time she was not at school, she was made to work at the family store.

She had no time for a social life or dating. Rohinie’s father was a super strict traditional Hindu, and she grew resentful at how her parents controlled every aspect of her life. Her father forbade her to wear makeup, well into her 20s.

Finally, she rebelled: Rohinie ran away from home as a teenager, but was discovered by a truck driver who took her to a police station.

The Bisesar Family Home

This was the last straw for her religious nut father. He took her to a Hindu faith healer, and they performed a bizarre and disturbing cleansing ceremony. They forced Rohinie to strip naked, and poured chicken blood onto her. With a father like that, who needs an enemy?

After this, Rohinie became skeptical of her religion; often ridiculing superstitious aspects of Hinduism. Her antipathy towards her abusive father may have driven her off dating Indian men. Later on, when asked out by men of her race, Rohinie would politely inform them that she only dated tall white men.

After graduating high school in 1993, Rohinie attained a Bachelor’s degree in Molecular Biology at the University of T Scarborough, and an Administrative Studies degree in General Management from York. She also had a certification from the Canadian Securities Institute, and a certificate in mining as well. She worked as a technical writer and computer technician at York’s math department, and attained her MBA in 2007. Her future looked promising.

Leaving the Nest

2003 was the year that Rohinie could not stand living with her parents any longer. She was 28 years old, yet still bound by a curfew and her parents had access to her bank account. Her life was one of mere work and study. It was no life at all.

Her traditional religious parents thought it was blasphemy for a woman to leave the home before marriage. But Rohinie defied them by moving out to live with a female roommate, prompting her parents to accuse her of being a lesbian.

She acquired a deadbeat boyfriend five years her junior. When interviewed later on about the murder by Toronto Life, he hides under an alias and basically just throws Rohinie under the bus and covers his own ass throughout the interview.

People who claimed to know Rohinie described the boyfriend as “a sloppy, ripped jeans and stained t-shirt type of guy who did not take care of himself.” This may just be slander, but the story gets even more eyebrow-raising.

They met when he and his male friend were driving down the street and whistling at Rohinie. She was initially annoyed, but Rohinie gave him her MSN messenger ID.

Their first date consisted of going to a restaurant for Thai food, then a dance club. Rohinie did not have many friends and was sheltered, so this must have been exciting for her. She appeared to be naïve about him as well: he was unemployed, living with his mother, and trying to launch a music career. Not exactly a prize catch.

At this point, Rohinie was in her 30s and wanted to make up for the years she lost living at her parents’ house. The boyfriend described her as “this outgoing, strong, assertive woman. She was a Type A personality. She helped to put me on a new path that benefitted me.”

Indeed she did. She became his mommy gf.

Dreaming of Success

Rohinie financially supported the boyfriend while he attended York University to attain a degree in commerce. She rented them an upscale apartment in heart of the city. This was a far shot from living with his mama and making mixtapes in the basement.

She struggled to stay afloat at harsh investment firms where 12 hour work days were the norm. She was overwhelmed and stopped showing up for weeks at a time. She was fired by her firm after 4 months.

For two years, Rohinie was unable to find a new job. She began taking out loans and huge lines of credit to support herself and her boyfriend, and amassed a crushing amount of financial debt.

In 2010, Rohinie finally managed to get a new job as a mining analyst associate. The couple moved into a better and more expensive apartment. The entirety of the couple’s financial responsibilities fell on her, and she tried her best.

At her brother’s wedding

Rohinie’s days were long and often lasted from 5 AM to 10 PM. Her work consumed her life, and she did not have money to indulge in luxuries. She had only a few outfits, and took her boyfriend out for dinner at swank restaurants whenever she could afford it.

And yet, she could not conform to the toxic codes of corporate culture. She was a small ethnic woman at a mostly male finance firm, but she still had the nerve to criticize her superiors in front of other people.

Rohinie grew extremely paranoid that her co-workers were going through her computer. She wanted to place a spy camera on her desk to prove this. These appear to be the first exterior indications of her schizophrenia. She was fired 7 months into the job.

Rohinie retook exams to become a chartered analyst despite failing six times, and applied to dozens of jobs to no avail. Nobody would hire her.

Working Girl

She now felt that someone, or something, was conspiring against her through nanotechnological mind control; that her ex-employers were somehow preventing her from getting hired somewhere else.

The stress she felt about being in debt probably contributed to her decline. Why didn’t her boyfriend chip in at this point and help take the pressure off of her shoulders? Why didn’t her parents provide assistance to their struggling daughter?

Breaking Up

The boyfriend criticized Rohinie for not applying to lower-status jobs, yet did not help out himself. Despite the fact that she was over $60k in debt, she kept using credit to pay monthly rent. The boyfriend’s six year-long gravy train had come to a halt, and he wanted out.

Yonge and King, the busy district where Rohinie and her boyfriend lived.

He began to avoid interactions with her, admitting he “would wake up, shower and leave for work as soon as I could. I just wanted to leave and let Rohinie do her thing.” This was the time in which she needed help the most, but he abandoned her.

He dumped Rohinie, and said that she “became hysterical” and screamed at him. He left the apartment, and told her to move back in with her parents as well. This was her worst nightmare.

Rohinie dreaded going back, and stayed alone in the apartment for 6 months. Later that autumn, the boyfriend gave her the measly sum of $2,500 and helped her move back in with her parents. She was doomed; sent back to the very same horrible environment she feared and resented.

She and her parents butted heads immediately. Ever the strict Hindus, her parents placed a curfew on their daughter even though she was nearly 40 years old. She didn’t even have her own house keys, and if she returned home after 10 PM, she was effectively homeless for the night.

A depressing view over Yonge and King.

Even when she attended networking events to gain employment, her parents still refused to allow her inside after curfew. Rohinie would sleep at Tim Hortons for the night. Her life was a walking nightmare.

Her parents, on the other hand, claimed that they were afraid of her, begged her ex-boyfriend to help her get therapy, and locked their doors at night out of fear of their daughter.

The ex-boyfriend sometimes saw Rohinie walking down city streets, and said she looked like a bag lady and reminded him of the Russell Crowe character in A Beautiful Mind.

Downwards Spiral

Things all came to a head in March of 2014.

For whatever reason, Rohinie threatened to burn her parents’ house down and pushed her mother so hard that it damaged a door. Her parents called the police, and she was taken away to a mental ward and diagnosed with schizophrenia.

The ex-boyfriend came to visit her, and found that she had been administered a strong dose of antipsychotics. With the medicine in her system, she was able to talk to him like a rational human being and finally admitted to hearing voices in her head for several years. One of the voices was an old white male business executive.

They had a touching moment where they cuddled in the bed of the mental ward. However, Rohinie would not recover because she refused to take her meds.

Not many people realize how strong antipsychotic drugs truly are. Countless schizophrenics struggle to stay on medication that keeps them assimilated into society, yet destroys their mind and body in other ways.

One of the drugs Rohinie was prescribed was Olanzapine. Common side effects are weight gain, sleepiness, a rise in prolactin which weakens the bones, dizziness, high cholesterol, pancreas issues, erectile dysfunction, OCD, suicidal thoughts and hyperglycemia/diabetes. And these are a few of the side effects.

Following her release, Rohinie moved in with her aunt and landed a contract job at a business firm. She tried to go straight, but once she was off the meds it was over.

Her parents attempted to get her institutionalized, but they had no legal precedent to do so. The stage was set for a disaster. Rohinie left her aunt’s house in the autumn of 2015, resigning herself to a life of homelessness and drifting.

Lost on the Streets of Toronto

She was known to wander around the city all day, most often on Bay Street; which is the main part of Toronto’s Financial District and like a shitty Wall Street, and in the PATH System; a rat-like maze of underground tunnels which contains thousands of shops and offices.

An eyewitness who worked at Goodlife Fitness gym described Rohinie as polite, yet disturbed. She spent 5-8 hours a day in the gym bathrooms, showered and groomed there, and even washed her underwear in the sinks. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for hours, sometimes screaming at it. One day, she had a psychotic episode and destroyed a blow dryer.

While being thrown out by security, she apologized profusely and claimed that “it was all because of these voices in her head who ruin everything, they’ve deprived her of her house, fiancé, and a career.”

Toronto is a city with a New York, Paris, and London tier price tag; but it is bleak and frozen and without style or uplifting scenery. It is a depressing, cold, lonely city; where the weak and impoverished often get crushed within the walls of the harsh and unforgiving concrete jungle.

She visited the same Starbucks on Yonge and King each day, and would “come in and always get an ice water or a tall pike coffee and would sit at a laptop turned away from the wall.” When she had no money, she just ordered hot water with cinnamon in it.

Rohinie stayed there from morning until closing time, and had only a few outfits which she wore over and over: a smart black pantsuit and a lavender or white shirt. When Starbucks employees tried to converse with her, Rohinie appeared awkward and was slow to answer.

The Starbucks that she was obsessed with.

They described her as “very antisocial. We knew something was off because she would stand at the cash and give us a blank stare.”

She put up small signs at her table offering financial services, walked around trying to give people her business card, and dropped off her resume at offices and firms.

At this point, Rohinie was functionally homeless. She emailed people and begged them for money: “I am asking all my friends to contribute, if they can and wish to, denominations of $1, $2, $5, $10, $20, $50 or $100. My goal is simply to ensure I have basic necessities (food, water, shelter, clothing, and products for hygiene and beauty).”

The only people who helped were men who had a crush on her, or those who pitied her. Rohinie still had her looks, and she was a pretty and petite size 00 who attracted many admirers. A broker who hit on her in public said she rejected him, but he allowed her to crash on his couch regardless. This man claimed that she was $200k in debt.

Toronto’s depressing PATH Undeground

80-year old Trueman MacHenry, Rohinie’s former mathematics professor from York University, tried to help her out as well and took her out for meals. He said of her:

“She was very friendly, she was very good with people, she was bright. Everybody who knows about [the stabbing] at work feels very badly, and I almost had a nervous breakdown over it. I tried to keep her from starving to death…

Rohinie bought a gym membership downtown, using it as a place to bathe and sleep until staff asked her to stop. Then she tried sleeping on the subway, a dangerous situation that she disliked very much. She slept in corners of the underground city and couch-surfed. The idea of staying in a shelter never came up: She was kind of a patrician.”

Her LinkedIn Page

Rohinie would also go to classy hotels and restaurants with her makeup and hair done, and sit there for hours not ordering anything. When asked to; she would tell the servers to first create a better menu, and instead ate sliced apples from a little container and a granola bar.

A server on Wellington Street saw her with a succession of different men each time, noting that “they looked like lonely guys probably trying to pick her up. They were older men who obviously didn’t know her.”

Professor MacHenry said that Rohinie once did obtain a place to live through social assistance money, but it went downhill quickly. She moved in with a man she knew, and things went sour when “he came onto her, and I don’t know if she moved out or what she did. She was angry,”

Before Rohinie snapped, she sent a final disturbing email to all her colleagues and friends:

“I need to speak to the top professionals in artificial intelligence, military and government. I need to get to the bottom of something that has been quite disruptive. Something has been happening to me and this is not my normal self and I would like to know who and why this is happening. There is either a single person or more responsible and who and why would be nice to know…. I am sorry about the incidence…. I felt the need to be extreme to see if it would work. I would normally not do such a thing.”

She truly believed that the government or some kind of powerful entity had inserted a microchip into her body, and was using nanotechnology to control her brain and actions. Rohinie had stopped taking her medication, was under extreme stress from being homeless, and was estranged and alienated from her family and loved ones.

Something terrible was about to happen; something gruesome that would shock all of Toronto.

Murder on Bay Street

The scene of the crime, one week after it happened.

If you’re a Canadian, you’ll be familiar with Shoppers Drug Mart; an overpriced pharmacy/drugstore/convenience shop hybrid that is literally everywhere. Nobody expects to get knifed while they’re grabbing groceries, but that’s exactly what happened on Dec 11, 2015 at the 66 Wellington St W location of Shoppers.

Rosemarie Junor was a 28-year old ultrasound technician who was newly married and well liked among family, friends and colleagues for her cheerful and uplifting spirit. Like Rohinie, she was of Indo-Caribbean descent (a Guyanese mother and Trinidadian father).

At 2:35 PM, Rosemarie left work to walk to the Shoppers located in the dungeon-like underground PATH system. As she browsed the aisles for lotion, she spoke with a friend on her cellphone. Suddenly and without warning, Rohinie Bisesar walked up to Rosemarie and stabbed her once in the heart. Rosemarie’s horrified friend heard her scream through the phone line.

Rosemarie Junor

The stabbing proved to be fatal, as the knife had pierced through Rosemarie’s heart and vital organs. Rohinie left the kitchen knife she had purchased at a local Dollar Store on a cosmetics display, and calmly walked out.

A bleeding Rosemarie collapsed at the pharmacy in the back of the store and yelled out, “Help me, I’ve just been stabbed!” When an employee asked her if she knew her assailant, Rosemarie told her that she did not. Tragically, Rosemarie died after five comatose days in the hospital. She was in a vegetative state, and her family was forced to take her off life support.

Earlier that year, a hopeful Rosemarie had posted this on her Facebook: “Dear God, Thank you for another day of Life. Thanks for another day of waking up healthy and happy.” Young, in love and successful; her life had been cut short abruptly.

Rosemarie on her wedding day.

Rohinie remained on the run for four days, during which she was the most wanted woman in the country. She was finally captured and set to a maximum security prison. When Rohinie’s father was quizzed by reporters, he gave a cryptic and strange answer: “People need to know what happened. Because she was highly educated.”

In prison, investigators tried to uncover why Rohinie committed the crime when she didn’t even know Rosemarie personally. Some felt like there was a connection between the two women because they were both Indo-Caribbean, as it is not often that women of South Asian descent randomly kill one another.

Rohinie gave police a surprisingly cold answer. She told them that she chose to stab Rosemarie because they were both of the same height. However, she claimed that she was being controlled by the voices in her head, and that they instructed her to kill.

Rohinie leaves the scene of the crime.

She gave a disturbing firsthand account of the murder during her psychiatric assessment:

“The day started as usual…I showered and dressed…was reading business newspapers to keep up my knowledge…I don’t recall how I got downtown…I heard the voice downtown in late morning… It said what is the worst thing you can do…I was really agitated and upset…phased out, not thinking, like those river stones again…stepping one at a time.

I’m usually in the Starbucks at Adelaide St., East and Yonge Street…It’s easy to sit and do work, I had my laptop…I pretend to read but I’m zoned out…distracted by the voice and the movements and communication.

The voice said to get a knife…went to the Dollar store to buy the knife…I’m familiar with the place and it’s close to the subway.

I went back through King or St. Andrew subway entrance…went to the bathroom in First Canadian place…didn’t want to hurt someone…A lady asked if I was okay…I’m in the concourse, moving from one bench to another…

Then the voice, communication and movements made me sit up, turn, walk straight into the Shopper’s fast…I was not an agreeable participant…went right up to the person (victim) with no hesitation, barely took it (knife) out of the bag…My arm was in L-shaped.

The voice said, if you mean it do it…The voice and movements raised my hand, pushed forward…It was like the knife was sticking to my hand and couldn’t be dropped…I was spending all my energy fighting the voice and communications…fighting the invisible entity…As soon as it happened I wanted to get away…traveled back home…The voice said I should have kept the knife.”

In Custody

Following her apprehension, Rohinie was charged with first degree murder. The media was shocked at how such a small and harmless looking woman could lash out so violently. Her former colleagues were surprised as well, with a friend named Andrius Pone describing Rohinie as a “professional career woman and a sophisticated individual. Rohinie is a very gentle person, she speaks in a whisper. I don’t know what has happened with her but it’s just so incredibly out of character.”

Karl Gutowski, a friend of Rohinie’s for eight years, had this to say about her:

 “She seemed very sweet but odd. She’s been able to sustain herself from a large network of friends, but I speculate the list got shorter and shorter. She got that one job, but she didn’t get to keep it for too long. She couldn’t adjust to pretty normal office politics.”

In court, Rohinie was disheveled and confused. With no access to makeup and hair grooming products; her acne scars and dark undereye circles were visible, and her hair was wild and uncombed. Her lawyer Calvin Barry said she was “very upset and like a deer in headlights.”

Rohinie in court, with odd marks on her face.

During a 2016 appearance, she ranted and raved in court about being involved in some obscure terrorist plot that went all the way up to the prime minister and the military, and was then hospitalized and medicated before the trial was resumed.

She had also claimed that she was being “damaged” somehow by those in charge, requested a “body scan” and had strange bruises on her face which she attributed to a microchip being implanted inside her.

Rohinie told the court that the voices in her head were “a real time, progressive dialogue and conversation. Whoever it is will tell me something, I’ll tell them to go away. I have somebody [else] communicating with me. I have to listen to both of you at the same time”

In 2017, Rohinie was declared unfit to stand trial due to her severe schizophrenic symptoms. She even denied that Rosemarie was really dead. The judge sent her off to the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health in Toronto for psychiatric treatment.

In November of 2018, the court found Rohinie not criminally responsible for the murder of Rosemarie Junor, because she was in the throes of a psychotic episode during the homicide.

In early 2019, The Ontario Review Board decided to keep Rohinie in the CAMH mental hospital because she was still in denial about her own involvement in the murder. The board continued trying to rehabilitate her; keeping her on “a strict regime of medication, cognitive behavioural therapy and psychotherapy.”

In May of 2020, the board granted Rohinie more freedom and access to the community, due to the fact that she is now supposedly of sound mind. It is now up to her case officer to decide whether or not she can leave the facility unsupervised, and even live outside of it.

The only conditions are that she must report to her review officer on a weekly basis, as well as refrain from purchasing firearms and weapons.

Aftermath

Rohinie appears to have changed her tune about the killing, almost seeming to express remorse and awareness of her actions:

“I did not plan to go murder someone…It was just like time stopped with all the chaos in my mind…I feel sorry for the person (victim) caught in my illness.”

Rosemarie Junor’s family members and the broader public were not happy about the court’s recent decision. Less than five years after the unprovoked killing, Rohinie is being given lenient privileges that could perhaps go terribly wrong in regards to public safety.

Even weirder is the fact that Rohinie is still trying to apply to jobs, to this very day, deluded to the fact literally nobody will ever hire her again.

During her appearances, the courtrooms were usually packed; as Torontonians were fascinated with the macabre case and its odd defendant. The presence of so many spectators led clueless judge John Ritchie to remark, “What does Rohinie do? Is he a sports figure or something?”

A spectator tried to give Rohinie’s lawyer David Burke his contact info on a small folded note of paper as he left the courtroom; stating that he wanted to go on a date with Rohinie. Burke refused to be an intermediary.

Rohinie’s story is shocking and saddening, yet it is not surprising. Had she received proper medical treatment earlier, Rosemarie Junor would have still been alive.

Instead, the combination of parental abuse, abandonment from a man who she loved and devoted herself to for six years, schizophrenia, homelessness, debt, work-related pressures and unemployment all came together to create a volatile outburst of unpredictable violence. Being a South Asian woman in Canada is tough, and this may have contributed to her stress and frustration as well.

At the time of the stabbing, Rohinie was 40 years old and most likely in the grip of a midlife crisis, without a home or anyone to care for her, and Christmas was fast approaching. She snapped and did something awful that the world will never be able to forgive her of, due to things beyond her control.

The question remains- will they really release her from the institution? Should they? While she should not rot her life away in a traditional prison, the memory of her crime still seems too fresh and new. She needs help and long term care.

What will become of Rohinie Bisesar? Only time and her own sense of guilt and repentance will answer that.

The Baffling Case of Little Miss X

Halloween: a time of celebration and candy; of horror and ghouls and costumes and elaborate parties. There are phantoms and ghosts, but the scariness is all in good jest and one goes home at the end of the night with a sense of merriment.

But on October. 31, 1958 in Coconino County, Arizona, a young girl lay dead 10 miles southeast of the Grand Canyon. Something horrible had happened to her. And even now, over 60 years later, we still have no idea of who she was and how she met her demise.

Authorities gave her the fittingly haunting nickname of Little Miss X. Her body was found on a remote hillside dirt road off Skinner Ridge in totally skeletal condition, and therefore no cause of death could accurately be determined. They estimated that she had lain there undiscovered for at least 9 to 18 months.

With such a long postmortem interval, it would prove impossible to find any evidence or suspects in her case.

Little Miss X was anywhere from 5′ to 5’3″, approximately 105 lbs, and was white with Hispanic ancestry. She had reddish/dark brown hair that was dyed a lighter shade. Her hair was wavy, but possibly because she had gotten it permed. She was thought to have a brown skin tone.

She was determined to be anywhere from 11 to 17 years old. This is odd because anyone with even a basic knowledge of forensics knows that female skeletons show obvious signs of puberty in their pelvis and bone structure.

Remnants of the victim’s hair.

So how were police investigators so unspecific and clueless in their estimation of her age? An 11-year old’s skeleton is very different in appearance from a 17-year old’s, and the forensic pathologist performing the examination should have been easily able to differentiate. Something smells botched here…

Her teeth were well-cared for and in good condition, proving she was from some sort of middle class background. She had had seven fillings in four of her teeth during her lifetime.

Disturbingly, Little Miss X was found naked. But she did have a bunch of clothing and items lying next to her.

Necklace found at the scene.

There was a powder puff, a tiny jar of Pond’s cold cream, an 18″ 10-karat gold chain, a white nylon comb, and a blue plastic nail file with the letter P imprinted onto it, and R written by hand.

There was also a short sleeved white wool cardigan, a size 34C white cotton Maidenform Alloette bra, size small white rayon underwear, and GRAFF California Wear pedal pusher capris with a green, brown and red plaid pattern.

Weirdly, the clothes at the scene were too big for her. Investigators were unable to tell if the clothes even belonged to the girl. They probably didn’t.

Could the killer have left these items at the scene to throw off police and cause confusion? Could these items be from a different crime scene, from a different dead girl?

The comb, powder puff and Pond’s cream.

Or were these just random personal effects the killer had somehow accumulated? Some even wonder if the killer was a woman.

If Little Miss X really was an 11-year old, why would she have this type of clothing and these items anyways? This suggests something alarming, like the presence of child exploitation and a possible sex trafficking ring.

This was a case that was cold from the very beginning. Little Miss X’s identity eluded authorities, so they gave up and buried her. Four years later in 1962, she was exhumed and her body was re-examined.

The sweater found at the scene. Probably the worst possible way they could have photographed it.

Unfortunately, when the clueless authorities re-buried her; Little Miss X’s remains stayed lost for years because they had forgotten where exactly they had interred her. According to the Doe Network, her remains were finally re-discovered in the summer of 2018.

Little Miss X’s NamUs page once had an image of her skull, but it was taken down. This is important because this picture would have helped artists and amateur e-sleuths to create newer and more accurate reconstructions of her.

It is also possible that Little Miss X had shovel-shaped incisors, a common trait in those with indigenous DNA; which could be why police suspect she was of Hispanic descent. It would have been useful to concretely know this as well, as web sleuths could compare Little Miss X to missing people who also had this trait.

Sheriff Cecil Richardson and Deputy Johnny Ortiz look over the case file of Little Miss X in the 1950s.

There is a clue as well in the pants found at the scene. As previously stated, they were Graff California Wear brand capris.

Graff was founded in 1933, and became popular in the 1940s and 1950s among Californian women for their comfy and tacky two piece suits and slacks. It was modern clothing for modern women, who were constantly on the go and wanted to resemble Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce.

These were not pants that an 11-17 year old would wear, and they didn’t seem to fit Little Miss X anyways. Were authorities ever able to trace back who purchased these capris? It doesn’t seem so. Was the killer then from California? God only knows.

A very swag Graff pinstripe pantsuit.

A case this mysterious causes all kinds of speculation, and in the past false theorizing led investigators down several dead ends.

It was suspected at one point that Little Miss X was Donnis “Pinky” Redman, a California girl who vanished without a trace on March. 1, 1958. 14-year old Pinky and her 18-year old boyfriend Mike Griffin (creepy age difference imo) eloped to Las Vegas, Nevada, but their journey was cut short before they could marry.

The couple disappeared along the way, and Mike’s abandoned 1950 Dodge Clipper turned up in Williams, Arizona. Their bodies were never found.

Donnis “Pinky” Redman

Williams is an approximately 1 hour and 20 minutes drive to Skinner Ridge, where Little Miss X was found. Naturally, people would connect these two cases together; as the body and car were found just 59 miles apart.

However, Little Miss X had lain there dead for at least 9 months minimum, whereas Pinky vanished just that March of 1958. The time frame is off.

Other clues that led people to suspect Little Miss X was Pinky Redman was the fact that the latter also had a petite frame, at 5’2″ tall and 105 lbs. The age bracket also fit, and Little Miss X was found with the nail file initialed “PR.” Did it belong to Pinky?

Michael “Mike” Lawrence Griffin

Pinky was last seen wearing a yellow sweater and brown capris, similar to the clothing found near Little Miss X.

What didn’t fit was the fact that Pinky was blonde, blue-eyed, and white; whereas Little Miss X was dark haired with swarthier skin and was most likely a Latina. Investigators eventually ruled out Pinky Redman as a possible match.

It is possible, however, that the person who killed Pinky and Mike + Little Miss X was one and the same. Was there a serial killer operating in the Arizona desert in 1958?

A more recent reconstruction of Little Miss X.

In Pinky and Mike’s case, anything could’ve happened along the dusty stretch of highways that connected California to Vegas. They could’ve picked up some unruly hitchhiker, who preyed upon the young, naïve couple and stole their car.

Mike was a small ginger boy who only stood 5’3″ tall and weighed 120 lbs. Any form of criminal could have taken advantage of the poor pair. Hopefully one day their bodies are recovered from the vast and giant Arizona desert, or wherever they may lie.

Another dead end that occurred in the Little Miss X investigation was was when she was suspected of being Connie Smith.

Constance Christine “Connie” Smith was a 10-year old girl from Wyoming, whose grandfather was a former Republican governor named Nels Hansen Smith. She ran away from Camp Sloane in Salisbury, Connecticut in the summer of 1952, after being bullied by fellow campers.

On July. 16, after being punched in the face by girls the day before, Connie nursed a bloodied nose with an ice pack. She left the camp and wandered down Indian Mountain Road. People witnessed Connie walking down the road with tears in her eyes, picking daisies and trying to hitchhike back home.

After this, she was never seen again. Despite attempts by her wealthy family to track her down, Connie had vanished into thin air somewhere down that highway.

Connie’s dental records.

Police once suspected that Little Miss X was Connie, and tested the former’s teeth against Connie’s dental charts. The results proved to inconclusive, and Connie was ruled out.

And anyways, Connie was a bit too young to be Little Miss X, and physically she was much smaller; standing at 5′ tall and weighing 85 lbs.

The only explanation would then be that Connie was held captive for at least 4- 5 years, and then murdered and dumped in Arizona. But that seems to be a stretch. Also, Connie had no Hispanic or Native American DNA. It is very unlikely that she is Little Miss X.

An amateur reconstruction of Little Miss X, done by a Redditor.

It is disheartening that Connie Smith’s killer was never found. Neither was Pinky Redman’s, or the person who murdered Little Miss X.

The 1950s were a troubling era for crime; where the lack of technology rendered the identification of murderers, and even victims, as a difficult and sometimes impossible task. In Little Miss X’s case, there is so much mystery and so few answers. Though her killer is perhaps dead and gone, it could still be possible to discern her identity.

If police have not yet located Little Miss X’s body, they should do so immediately. It is tragic that faulty police work caused them to lose the unknown girl’s remains and therefore botch her case.

Coconino County, Arizona

Little Miss X lay out there in that lonely desert for perhaps a year, decomposing until she became a skeleton. She was once forgotten, but then found again on Halloween of 1958. It is time we find out who Little Miss X was, and give her back her name and dignity.

The Enigma of Eklutna Annie

A creepy clay reconstruction of the victim.

What do you think of when you imagine Alaska? You conjure up a grand, snowy vision of unconquered terrain: vast, far and endless. It is as if the icy territory lasts forever in continuous isolation and secrecy.

Since the inception of Alaska, Americans who could be categorized as misfits and unconventional loners have taken advantage of the privacy and desolation of this state, and its sparsely populated lands.

In many areas of Alaska, you are completely alone: surrounded by wild, untouched nature. You are undisturbed by the burdens of being social and fitting in.

You are free and in your natural state…. if you can survive in such an intimidating environment, that is.

Resurrection Bay, a fjord where Robert Hansen buried three of his victims.

Robert Hansen was a serial killer who used the remoteness of Alaskan terrain to torture, rape and murder young women. Many of them were sex workers, as well as young girls struggling to survive the harshness of their environment.

Eklutna Annie is perhaps his most famous victim. She is a total mystery; unidentified for over 40 years without even a glimmer of clue to who she may have been.

Annie is one of Hansen’s earliest victims, and was killed anywhere from November 1979 to June 1980.

Electricians found her badly decomposed body in a shallow grave, buried alongside a set of power lines that stretched down South Eklutna Lake Road, approximately a year after her death. Her body had been eaten away at by wild animals (particularly bears), and was left unrecognizable and in mostly skeletal condition.

A less disturbing (?) reconstruction.

Investigators tried their best to create a profile of Eklutna Annie from the remnants of her body. She was a short girl with a small frame, between 4 ft 11″ and 5 ft 3″ tall. She was thought to be anywhere from 16 to 25 years old, and had auburn/strawberry blonde hair.

She was thought to be white, but with a degree of Native American DNA. She wore a light colored sleeveless knit sweater, a brown leather jacket, jeans, and red knee-high heeled boots with a nylon zipper on the side.

Judging from her apparel, Anchorage PD officer Maxine Farrell assumed that Eklutna Annie was either a topless dancer or a prostitute. Hansen himself claimed this, but he seemed to say this about all of his victims.

Farrell was mocked by other officers for her theories:

Eklutna Lake, the general area where the victim was found.

“Shortly after that I got a report of another one missing, she was a street prostitute and I thought this is a prostitute missing, so that would match up with Eklutna Annie. After that, almost every month I had two or three women missing. That’s when I started asking questions.

I got the missing persons reports and I began to get information about relatives and information about jewelry they wore. I was a psychology major, so I knew a lot of these serial killers kept souvenirs. I finally made a spreadsheet of it …

By the time I got finished, I had about 10 girls. I went to my superiors, advised them that there was a serial killer because of the number of girls I was collecting as missing persons and they laughed at me and said no, you’re wrong. They thought I was stupid. Stupid woman thinking there’s a serial killer. I wasn’t stupid.”

Just as Farrell had claimed, officers would eventually discover that Hansen actually did keep souvenirs of his victims.

A brand new composite, created in 2020.

Officers also pondered whether she was a runaway from California, Washington, or Canada- a hitchhiker who was not originally from Alaska. Hansen, however, said she was from Kodiak, and spoke to him about living there with her family.

No ID was found on the victim, and neither did she match any missing persons reports. Who was this mysterious woman? The secret died with Robert Hansen. But then again, even he claimed to be unaware of her identity.

According to his story, he had picked up Eklutna Annie from a bar and given her a lift. He told her that he lived in Muldoon, and that he would give her a ride home. As Hansen sped past Muldoon Road, she grew suspicious and afraid, and asked him to let her out of the vehicle.

Hansen relayed the story to cops while in custody:

”I just pointed the gun and I tell her, I says, ‘Now look, if you do exactly what I tell you and don’t give me any problem whatsoever, there’s going to be no — you won’t get hurt any way, shape or form.”

But that wasn’t how it went down.

During this ride of terror, Hansen’s car got stuck on a muddy road, and he told her to get out of the car to help him. She took this as her chance to escape.

As she tried to run away, Hansen pursued and overpowered her; grabbing her by her long hair. He claimed this was when she pulled out a knife from her purse, and attempted to stab him in self defense. To the very end, she fought for her life.

Twisted Bob Hansen was an experienced hunter.

Hansen managed to tear the knife away from her, and stabbed the unknown woman in the back until she was lifeless. During the struggle, as the terrified woman realized she was going to die, she screamed out “You’re going to kill me!” in hysterical fear.

For all her bravery, she could not survive the scourge of her deranged killer. When reflecting back on Eklutna Annie’s murder, Robert Hansen said it gave him a sense of sadistic pleasure.

There was nothing he hated more than a woman who fought back against him, and nothing gave him more satisfaction than subduing and killing a wily prey.

During his 1984 interrogation by police, Hansen claimed Annie was his very first victim. However, this seems unlikely as he is suspected of killing even more women before her.

Hansen and a dead goat

Who was this sick man?

Robert Hansen was born in 1939, and grew up a shy, skinny, nerdy kid in Iowa; suffering from a stutter and chronic acne. Like his Danish immigrant father, he grew up to be a baker. Later on the media would grant him the moniker “The Butcher Baker.” He killed anywhere from 17 to 21 women until his capture, maybe even more.

His humiliating high school years, filled with rejection and inceldom, would cause him to hate women with a passion as he grew into an adult. These misogynistic tendencies would eventually become violent.

At the age of 20, he lost his virginity to a prostitute while in the army.

In high school, he was bullied because he looked like Jerry Lewis in The Nutty Professor.

At the age of 21, Hansen attempted to burn a school bus to gain vengeance for being a loser in high school. A series of petty crimes followed, which then escalated to murder in the 1970s.

Although Hansen had a track record of kidnapping, raping and abusing women, police did not suspect him of murder for many years; which allowed him to easily kill dozens of women for a decade.

Hansen was a sadist and psychopath who took refuge in Alaska to torture and murder women in a more private setting. He drove women out to remote areas, forced them to strip naked, and shot them as they ran through the snowy wilderness.

Hansen’s aviation map of Anchorage. Noted are the spots where he buried his victims.

It thrilled him to hunt live victims, and he often tortured them for days before the final coup de grace. He even had a private plane which he used to fly out victims to distant cabins where they could never be found.

Hansen was finally captured and imprisoned in 1983, after one of his victims escaped alive and spilled the beans on his disgusting antics. Although he was finally caught and locked up like the animal he was, Eklutna Annie remained unidentified.

Usually, Hansen kept his victim’s possessions as souvenirs- especially their jewelry. Not in Eklutna Annie’s case: it was one of the rare crimes in which he left the jewelry alone, most likely because she was one of his earliest murders and he was then an inexperienced killer.

Her necklace.

She had on her a plethora of beautiful and unique handmade jewelry: a copper bracelet with three turquoise stones, a heart shaped pendant, gold hoop earrings, a white shell ring, and a gold plated Timex wristwatch. She also had a pack of Salem brand matches in her pocket.

Some believe that Eklutna Annie’s jewelry was of Native origin, but authorities were never able to trace any of it back to its source. It is also worth noting that most Native jewelry is made from silver, and not gold as she was wearing.

From her jewelry, you get the impression she was an interesting woman with exquisite taste in jewelry. That morning, she had dressed herself with care and attention, never knowing it would be her last day on earth.

Her turquoise bracelet.

So if Eklutna Annie was well dressed, wearing distinctive jewelry, and a possible topless dancer/sex worker in Alaska- why didn’t anyone ever come forward to identify her? Officer Maxine Farrell had some theories:

“The fact that a prime source of information in these cases was women who worked the streets was the first obstacle. These women have very little trust in the police, which is understandable given the fact that most of the time we’re adversaries. As a result, most were reluctant to talk.

Her Timex wristwatch

The second obstacle was the constant movement of these women. In a year’s time, one of these women might work in a club, then out on the street, then in a massage parlor. She might also work the circuit and move city to city… those circuits tracked from Seattle to Anchorage to Honolulu. And after all that upheaval, this same woman might get sick of the routine and quit without giving notice…

A third obstacle was the fact that many of these women used stage names. Investigators would talk to a woman on the street or in a club, who’d tell them she had worked with a woman named ‘Tania’ a few months before — and hadn’t seen her in a while. In checking out the lead, investigators would go to some of the other clubs in the Anchorage area. At ten different clubs, they’d find 15 different ‘Tania’s.’ So which Tania was that, anyway?”

One of her hoop earrings, and her ring

This is exactly what Hansen, and other serial killers of his ilk count on. They victimize sex workers and transient women, as it is often more difficult for authorities to identify and search for them.

Hansen believed his victims were not worthy of life because they dwelled in prostitution and vice. He used excuses to justify his cruel murders. Even during his confession in which he admitted to killing Eklutna Annie, he tried to blame her by claiming she had pulled a knife on him, therefore she deserved to die.

In his twisted mind, the women he killed were nothing but his pawns. But this is untrue. This woman he killed belonged somewhere, had a family, dreams, hopes and goals. And there are many of us out there who want to find out who she was in her lifetime.

Salem Matches found in her pocket

Although investigators possess Eklutna Annie’s DNA, and have tested it against other suspected murder victims, none have ever matched up so far. The case has gone cold, to the point where we can only pray that something substantial eventually turns up.

Although she was killed near the small village of Eklutna, which has only about 70 inhabitants; she was buried in Anchorage Memorial Park Cemetery, about a half an hour’s drive away. Her grave is simply marked “Jane Doe/Died 1980.”

Occasionally, visitors leave flowers on her gravestone. Sometimes, Alaskans even hold reenactments where actresses assume the role of Eklutna Annie and describe the limited details we have about her. But most importantly- she is still remembered and thought about, despite remaining nameless for over 40 years.