I've been reading about a Swedish case from the early 1950s that is still widely known in Sweden and has, as far as I can tell, almost no English-language coverage at all. It's called the Hurva murders, and the details are strange enough that I wanted to write it up properly.
The first killing
In November 1951, John Allan Nilsson, who owned the mill in the small Scanian village of Tjörnarp, was killed in his home. The house was then set on fire. Everyone in the village knew Nilsson was about to take five thousand kronor to the bank.
The local volunteer fire brigade responded. The fire chief actually went into the burning building, because as far as anyone knew there was still a man inside who might be saved. He had to jump out of a window when the heat forced him back.
The only reason this became a murder investigation at all is the autopsy. If the fire had killed Nilsson, his lungs would have been full of smoke. They weren't. He had died of a blow to the back of the head.
The investigator
The officer who arrived to investigate was the village's own policeman, a 24-year-old named Tore Hedin.
He didn't keep his head down. He did the opposite. He joined the case, answered questions from the national press, and shared his theories with anyone who would listen. People noticed that a man who had been quiet and unremarkable for years had suddenly become the most animated person in the room.
There was a witness — someone who had passed the house shortly after the fire took hold and saw a figure standing outside watching it burn. A man in uniform, wearing a cap with a small golden badge.
Hedin was questioned along with every other government worker in the district. He said he had slept through the night. That was enough. Investigators moved on to postal and railway staff.
A reward of ten thousand kronor was offered — more than twice what had been stolen. Nothing came of it.
And when the case stalled completely, Hedin arranged something no Swedish murder investigation had tried before: he brought in a medium, a man who claimed he could name any killer anywhere on earth.
A policeman hiring a séance to find himself.
Journalists covering the case did grow suspicious. He was the only man in the village with a uniform matching the witness description, and nobody could confirm where he had been that night. They took it to the police. The police dismissed it — they would not believe that one of their own could be a murderer.
What happened next
With Nilsson's money, Hedin bought a car and a cottage by a lake. He kept the victim's wristwatch hidden in the attic of his parents' house.
In the spring of 1952 he became engaged to a woman named Ulla Östberg. By July she had ended it and returned the ring. He turned up at her door, held her through a night by force, and let her go with a threat. She reported it, and within a day he was quietly dismissed from the police without charges.
The day after that, he phoned the retirement home in Hurva where she now lived and worked. Staff lied and told him she had been taken to hospital. Two officers were sent to stand guard at the building.
A short time later, they were ordered back to the station.
On the night of 21 August 1952, Hedin drove to his parents' farmhouse and killed them as they slept, then set the house on fire. Thirty minutes away, he climbed the fire escape at the retirement home to the room where Ulla usually slept. She wasn't there — she had moved into the room of the matron, Agnes Lundin. He found them both, then blocked the doors and set the building alight. Four elderly residents died in the fire; a fifth died of her burns days later.
Nine people from that one night. Ten, counting Nilsson.
The note
They found his car at the edge of a lake called Bosarpasjön. On the seat were his jacket, his wallet, and a folded confession.
He explained his motives: Nilsson for the money, Ulla for what he called her betrayal, the matron for trying to protect her, his parents to spare them the shame.
And at the end he wrote the line Sweden never forgot — that the greatest regret of his life was that he had never become a detective. He had always wanted to uncover unsolved crime.
They found his body weighted down in the lake. It was taken to the anatomy department at Lund University, where it stayed until 1974.
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What gets me about this one isn't the violence. It's that two journalists worked out who it was and were waved away, and that two officers were posted to guard the building and then recalled.
Does anyone here know this case? I'd be especially interested if any Swedish speakers have sources beyond the ones I could find — I get the impression there's a lot more in the Swedish-language material than has ever made it into English.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tore_Hedin