July 20, 2025 • 43 mins
"You can't r*** a prostitute, can you?"
In the Fall of 1983, Robert Hansen was arrested after the daring escape of 17-year-old Cindy Paulson. With Paulson’s testimony and an FBI profile pointing squarely at Hansen, Alaska State Troopers obtained a warrant and uncovered damning evidence in Hansen’s home. There, they found a hunting rifle linked to multiple murders, jewelry and other belongings from several victims, as well as a haunting map leading them to more than a dozen bodies.
In the weeks and months that followed, authorities would begin to dig into Robert Hansen's backstory, uncovering not just prior incidents in his youth that had essentially brushed off, but a long history of hatred against women...
Part three of four
Research, writing, hosting, and production by Micheal Whelan
Learn more about this podcast at http://unresolved.me
If you would like to support this podcast, consider heading to https://www.patreon.com/unresolvedpod to become a Patron or Producer
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/unresolved--3266604/support.
In the Fall of 1983, Robert Hansen was arrested after the daring escape of 17-year-old Cindy Paulson. With Paulson’s testimony and an FBI profile pointing squarely at Hansen, Alaska State Troopers obtained a warrant and uncovered damning evidence in Hansen’s home. There, they found a hunting rifle linked to multiple murders, jewelry and other belongings from several victims, as well as a haunting map leading them to more than a dozen bodies.
In the weeks and months that followed, authorities would begin to dig into Robert Hansen's backstory, uncovering not just prior incidents in his youth that had essentially brushed off, but a long history of hatred against women...
Part three of four
Research, writing, hosting, and production by Micheal Whelan
Learn more about this podcast at http://unresolved.me
If you would like to support this podcast, consider heading to https://www.patreon.com/unresolvedpod to become a Patron or Producer
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/unresolved--3266604/support.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:03):
This episode contains graphic content that may not be suitable
for all ages. Listener discretion is advised. If you or
someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available,
call or text nine eight eight, or chat with someone
at nine eight eight lifeline dot Org. Those outside of
the US, reach out to someone at your local crisis
(00:24):
center or hotline. Please do not suffer in silence. A
lone street light cast an icy glow on a nearly
empty Anchorage street in the winter of nineteen seventy one.
Under that dim light, a young woman shivers, not just
(00:47):
from the cold, but from fear. Moments ago, she thought
she was getting into a polite stranger's car for a
paid encounter, a routine transaction on a frigid December night.
Now her reality has shifted into some of a nightmare.
The driver, a wiry, bespectacled man with acne scarred cheeks,
presses the muzzle of a handgun against her temple. His
(01:09):
voice stutters as he issues low, halting commands, but the
threat in his tone is unmistakable. In a desolate gravel
pull out beyond the city lights, Robert Hanson forces her
from the vehicle. Her breaths, puffin clouds of mist as
she pleads for her life. Hanson's demeanor is eerily calm,
almost detached, as he ties her wrist. The only sounds
(01:31):
are the crunch of hard snow under his boots and
her own sobs hanging in the Alaskan air. The man
who appeared so unassuming just moments ago now has eyes
cold with predatory excitement. In that isolated spot, Hanson sexually
assaults this young woman, a brutal rape that leaves the
eighteen year old sex worker terrified and in pain. When
(01:52):
he's finished, Hanson's grip on the pistol tightens, evans inclose,
his voice dripping with contempt, and mutters that no one
will believe her over a family man like him. For
a moment, this young woman believes Hanson is about to
pull the trigger. Instead, he shoves her out of the way,
climbs back into his car, and drives off into the
(02:12):
Alaskan night, leaving her traumatized but alive. Hours later, this
victim finds the courage to contact authorities. She endures the
traumatic ordeal of reliving the assault as she gives her
statement to Anchorage police, describing her attacker in vivid detail.
It isn't long before detectives identify the suspect, Robert Hanson,
(02:33):
a local baker with a wife and children. Incredibly, Hansen
had been arrested just weeks earlier for a similarly violent incident,
attempting to abduct and rape a housewife at gunpoint. Now
with this sex worker's report, Hanson is charged again, this
time for rape, but the case does not proceed as
one might expect. Hanson's lawyers negotiate a deal. He pleads
(02:56):
no contest to an assault with a deadly weapon for
the first attack, and in exchange the rape charge, this
case is dropped. The mild looking thirty two year old
receives a five year sentence, but serves only about six
months before he's quietly released on a work program. The
survivor of that December nineteen seventy one assault is left
to grapple with her trauma, never named in public records,
(03:19):
while her attacker goes free to return to his wife,
his bakery, and his seemingly ordinary life, at least until
nineteen eighty three, when another victim of Hanson's cruelty escaped
from his clutches, leading authorities straight to him. This is
the story of the Butcher Baker, Part three in plain Sight.
(03:52):
When we last left off, investigators in Anchorage finally closed
in on the serial predator who had stocked their city
for about a decade. It's now the fall of nineteen
eighty three. Robert Hanson has been arrested after the daring
escape of seventeen year old Cindy Paulsen, a teenage sex
worker who survived Hanson's brutality and ran for her life
in nothing but handcuffs. With Paulson's testimony and an FBI
(04:15):
profile pointing squarely at Hanson, Alaska State troopers obtained a
warrant and uncovered damning evidence in Hanson's home. They found
a hidden trove of women's jewelry, trophies taken from missing victims,
and an arsenal of guns, including Hansen's favored two to
three caliber Ruger Mini fourteen hunting rifle, tucked behind the
(04:36):
headboard in his bedroom. Investigators discovered perhaps the most chilling item,
an aeronautical map of south central Alaska marked with thirty
seven tiny axes, each placed in remote wilderness areas. Many
of those exes would soon correlate to shallow graves of
women who had vanished without a trace. On the afternoon
of October twenty seventh, nineteen eighty three, Robert Hanson sits
(04:58):
in a small interrogation room with the Alaska State Trooper
Post in Anchorage. At this point, he's forty four years old,
balding and bespectacled, with the unassuming look of the baker
next door because that's what he was. But across the table,
Trooper Sergeant Glenn Flota and Anchorage Police Officer Greg Baker
see through the facade in front of them lead pieces
(05:19):
of the puzzle that will ultimately crush Hanson's denials. A
ballistic report, a spread of cheap trinkets and jewelry recovered
from Hanson's attic, and that ominously marked map. At first,
Hanson remains cool and cocky. He slouches back, arms folded,
insisting there's been a mistake of some kind. This isn't
his first brush with the law, after all, he's talked
(05:41):
his way out of these accusations before. In a tone
of practiced indignation, Hanson swears that Cindy Paulsen's story is fabricated.
He claims never to have met her, scoffing that the
seventeen year old only concocted a wild tale to try
and extort him. She was just trying to shake me
down for money, he tells the officers, leaving a hand
dismissively at her account, Hanson smirks and dads with a shrug.
(06:04):
You can't rape a prostitute, can you. It's a poisonous statement,
revealing the warped mindset of a man who sees some
women as less than human. Sergeant Floda files it away.
As Hanson continues. He even claims to have an alibi
for the night. Cindy claims she was attacked. A friend
can vouch that they were together, thus proving Hanson's innocence
(06:25):
to him. The whole accusation is absurd and beneath consideration,
but the investigators keep pressing, methodically dismantling Hanson's story. Floda
lays out a photograph of a spent rifle cartridge recovered
from a Kinnick River sandbar, the same desolate area where
hunters had found the exhumed remains of Sherry Morrow, a
twenty three year old dancer missing since nineteen eighty one.
(06:48):
Floda ask evenly Bob, how do you explain the shellcasing
from your weapon at the gravesite? Floda explains that technicians
have matched this two two three caliber casing to Hanson's
Ruger Mis tenty fourteen hunting rifle. Hanson's eyes flicker for
a moment. He wasn't expecting physical evidence tying him to
a body. Still, he tries to muster a dismissive reply.
(07:11):
You guys are telling me that I shot this person. Well,
you're wrong. I didn't shoot anybody. I would not hurt anybody.
That's the truth. Flota, maintaining a steady, calm voice, begins
to tighten the vice. He reminds Hanson that hunters frequently
returned to the same areas. Perhaps Flowa suggest Hansen will
claim he'd simply been target shooting out by the Kinnik River,
(07:33):
innocently leaving shell casings all over Alaska. Hansen seems to
seize on that lifeline. Oh yeah, he knows, I've been
out there at a Klutna. I probably have shell casings
halfway across Alaska. His attempt at nonchalance's transparent. Investigators know
this single casing is no fluke. Cherry Moro's grave had
three bullet wounds and no bullet holes in her clothing,
(07:56):
indicating she had been shot while naked and then re dressed.
The bullet that killed her matched Hanson's rifle exactly. Flotas
spells it out, We've got the ballistics. Hanson's facade falters
as that reality begins to sink in. Piece by piece,
the troopers can front Hanson with each incriminating discovery. They
(08:16):
produce some of the jewelry found hidden in his attic,
a gold necklace, a cheap bracelet. These items belonged to
missing women like Andrea fish Altieri and Sue Luna, trophies
that Hanson kept as morbid souvenirs Hanson's jaw titans. He
can no longer claim these are lies invented by a
girl out to get him. The evidences ride on the table.
(08:38):
Caught in one lie after another, Hanson starts to sputter
some new excuses. He now concedes that he has been
with many of these women, but only as a paying customer.
He insists, if they ended up dead, it wasn't his doing. Perhaps,
he suggests some one else harmed them after he last
saw them. It's a feeble ploy and the detectives aren't
buying it. Finally, Sergeant Flota reveals their trump cart. Unfolding
(09:03):
the stained aeronautical map found behind Hanson's bed, he slides
it in front of the suspect. Dozens of red X
marks are scattered across the untamed wilderness just north of Anchorage,
across the Kinnick River, deep into the Chugach State Park.
Floda's voice remains almost soft, Bob, we need to talk
about this map, about what these exes mean. Seemingly, in
(09:25):
that moment, Hanson knows the game is over. Only the
killer himself could plot that hidden graveyard. Faced with the
undeniable evidence of his secret hunts, Robert Hanson's shoulders slump,
The mask of the falsely accused, indignant family man drops away,
and a glimpse of the real Robert Hanson emerges, a
(09:45):
man who has spent the last twelve years abducting women,
assaulting them, and hunting them down like animals. According to reports,
Hanson denied everything for as long as he could, but
the cumulative weight of proof broke him down. He began
to rashtionalizes crimes, shifting blame onto the victims. In a
bitter tone, Hanson claimed these women were lower in virtue,
(10:08):
accusing them of things like greed or promiscuity, as if
that justified his brutality. Investigators recall him protesting that many
of the women asked for what happened because they had
tried to rip him off or run away. It's the
same type of misogyny he had revealed earlier. The twisted
belief that you can't rape a prostitute now laid bare
(10:29):
as a feeble defense for unspeakable acts. But the troopers
press on relentlessly, forcing Hanson to confront each fact, each
piece of evidence, one by one, and one by one,
Robert Hanson begins to confess. Over hours of interrogation, Hanson's
tone turns from defiant to flat and matter of fact.
The flood gets open. He starts by conceding details tied
(10:52):
to physical evidence. Yes, Sherry Morrow had been on his boat. Yes,
he did own the rifle that killed her. Yes he
recognized the golden necklace. He tore it from a girl's
neck out by the Kinnik River. As his lies crumble, Hanson,
in a detached voice, admits to a spree of attacks
dating back to nineteen seventy one. Shocked investigators listen as
(11:13):
Hanson coolly details his violent career. He describes how through
the nineteen seventies he routinely preyed on vulnerable young women,
often teenagers, whom he saw as expendable. At first, Hanson
claims he did not plan to kill. I just I
wanted to dominate them, he says in a faltering tone,
But if a victim resisted or could not be easily controlled,
(11:36):
his response was to escalate the violence. Several women, perhaps dozens,
Hanson raped and then released, warning them to keep quiet
or face death. Those who didn't cooperate or whom he
couldn't trust not to talk, he admits he disposed of permanently.
Investigators lean in as Robert Hanson, avoiding eye contact, begins
(11:58):
to outline his method in an unnervingly clinical fashion. By
the late nineteen seventies, he explains, he had refined a
ritual for murder. He would visit Anchorage's c D Fourth
Avenue strip, a row of clubs and transient hotels, and
prowl for sex workers or dancers who were desperate enough
for money to take a chance. He was always careful,
(12:18):
he notes to appear harmless, presenting himself as an awkward,
soft spoken every man with a stutter in thick classes.
If a woman agreed to his price, Hansen would lure
her into trusting him just enough that he could get
the upper hand. Once alone, often in his vehicle, Hansen
would suddenly produce a gun and take control, finding or
handcuffing the terrified woman. He would drive her to his
(12:41):
modest home, or sometimes directly out to the local Merrillfield airport,
where his private plane waited. Always he assured his victims
that if they cooperated, he would let them live. Hanson's
voice remains emotionless as he describes what came next. Rape
and torture became his prelude to murder. At his house,
Often when his wife and children were away, he would
(13:04):
chain women by the neck in his basement or brutalize
them for hours. He speaks of this almost as an addiction,
saying that he couldn't control it when his rage and
desire mixed. After satisfying himself sexually, Hansen would then enact
the final phase of his perverse game. He would force
his victim, often still naked or partially clothed, back into
(13:25):
his vehicle and drive or fly them out to the
Alaskan wilderness, a patch of woods by the Kinnik River,
or a remote stretch near the Kinnick Arm accessible only
by boat, or his small piper supercub Plaine. If by plane,
they would land near his hunting cabin by the river. Here,
far from any help, Hansen would set the stakes of
a statistic hunt. Sometimes he even removed the woman's blindfold
(13:48):
and restraints, giving her a false glimmer of hope that
he might spare her. Then, Hansen admits, with a chilling ease,
he would let his victim run. He often gave them
a brief head start, a few seconds or minutes to
stumble into the dense birch and spruce forest, barefoot and desperate.
For these women, it must have been a moment of
pure terror and confusion, the realization that they were prey.
(14:11):
Hansen describes how he would then arm himself with his
hunting rifle or sometimes a knife, and take off in pursuit.
In his confession, Hansen compared these human hunts to the
big game hunts that had once been his passion. It
was like going after a trophy sheep or a grizzly bear,
he says, without emotion. Hearing this, even the seasoned detectives
feel a chill. Hansen had turned the frozen Alaskan terrain
(14:34):
into his personal killing field, treating frightened women as if
they were wild animals to be stalked and shot for sport.
In at least seventeen instances that authorities could later verify,
Hansen carried out this deadly game to its natural end,
chasing the victim through the woods until he caught up
and dispatched her with either a gunshot or a knife thrust.
(14:54):
Some he shot multiple times, savoring the kill, in one
case emptying one weapon and then another into a victim's
body long after life had left her. As these admissions
tumble out, Sergeant Floyda and the others press Hanson for
as many specifics as possible. They know this may be
their only chance to give names back to the many
Jane does scattered across the wilderness. Hanson confirmed some key
(15:18):
details of the murder's investigators already suspected him of. At Klutona, Annie,
the unidentified woman found stab to death near a Klutona
lake in nineteen eighty, was his first kill Hanson claims.
He says he picked her up in town and she
was either a topless dancer or a prostitute, a detail
consistent with what police believed. When she tried to escape
(15:38):
his car, he stabbed her in the back. He left
her body in a shallow grave where wild animals later
scavenged it. Hanson also admitted to killing Joanna Messina, a
twenty four year old topless dancer he had taken to
dinner and seward in nineteen eighty after an argument over payment.
He even recounts how he shot her dog when it barked,
and dumped both bodies in the wilderness. He acknowledged that
(16:00):
murder of Sherri Morrow, whose case had kicked off the investigation,
describing how she thought she was meeting a photographer for
three hundred dollars, but ended up running for her life
along the Kinnick River before he shot her in the back.
One by one, Hanson accounts for victims known and unknown.
There's Andrea Altieri aka Fish Sue, Luna Paula Golding, Malai Larson,
(16:23):
Angela Vetern, Teresa Watson. The list goes on. By the
time Robert Hanson finishes, he has confessed to a staggering
seventeen murders and over thirty rapes. The investigators take a breath,
exchanging looks of grim, satisfaction and horror. Hanson, for his part,
sits drained of his earlier bravado. In a final act
(16:45):
of cooperation, one likely motivated by the deal his attorneys
are already crafting, Hanson agrees to physically point out the
gravesites he marked on that map. In the coming days,
he has flown in a military helicopter over the wilderness,
directing authorities to the places where he victims lie. They
mark trees with paint in each spot that he indicates.
Thanks to this, twelve previously unknown bodies are eventually found
(17:09):
and brought home to their families. Several of Hanson's victims
remain missing, taken by predators, or lost in terrain too
vast to search, but at last, many of their stories
have an ending. However, tragic. Hanson's confession, thorough and unflinching,
ensures that law enforcement has the full scope of his crimes,
(17:31):
they think, but at the very least, it will ensure
that Robert Hanson never taste freedom again. As Robert Hanson's
double life unravels in that interrogation room. One question echoes
how did an ordinary baker and family man become capable
of such atrocities. To answer that, we must journey back
to Hanson's past, decades before he ever set foot in Alaska,
(17:54):
to the cornfields of the American Midwest. Robert Christian Hanson
(18:18):
was born on February fifteenth, nineteen thirty nine, in the
small town of Esterville, Iowa. He was the first of
two children in a family of Danish descent. His father,
Christian Hanson, was a baker by trade, a domineering immigrant
father who ran his household with an iron fist. From
a young age, Robert was forced to work long hours
in the family bakery, even on school days. His father
(18:41):
would rout him out of bed at two am to
help bake bread before classes. One childhood acquaintance remembered his
dad was a big, old, mean guy. He was real
hard on him. The boy who would later become a
hunter of women, first learned about power and control under
the thumb of an overbearing parent. At school, Robert fared
no better. He was painfully shy and struggled with a
(19:04):
debilitating stutter from early on. In his life, classmates teased
and bullied him for his halting speech. Worse, Hanson suffered
from severe adolescent acne that erupted into angry red cyst
across his face and back, leaving him permanently scarred. Mirrors
became his enemy every time he saw his pockmark reflection
(19:24):
his self hatred deepened, watched other boys start to date girls,
while he himself was mocked and rejected whenever he worked
up the nerve to ask someone out. Years later, Hanson
would candidly admit how these experiences twisted his view of women.
From the scars on my face, you can probably see
why girls wouldn't want to get close to me, he recalled,
(19:44):
how their rejection made him feel helpless and humiliated, to
the point that he hated the word school. That burning
mix of loneliness and resentment would only fester over time,
a fear of women turned into loathing. In the words
of one psychologist, young Roberts developed a general hate for
women that later coupled with his sexual desires, a dangerous combination.
(20:07):
Hansen did find one refuge during those turbulent teenage years,
the great outdoors. Too awkward for social circles, He retreated
to the fields and wooded areas around Pocahontas and Esterville
after his family moved towns. There, Alone with nature, he
cultivated skills that gave him a sense of pride. He
became an avid hunter, spending hours tracking deer, squirrels, and
(20:29):
other game through the Iowa backcountry. Armed with a rifle
or a beau Robert discovered a place where his stutter
and scars did not matter. In the woods. With a
target in his sights, he felt powerful. He was an
excellent shot, patient and methodical, able to hit a moving
animal at a distance. This would later translate chillingly into
(20:49):
how he hunted humans, but in those early days it
was a seemingly wholesome hobby for a loner. Teen Anson
also found structure in the military. In nineteen fifty U seven,
at age eighteen, he enlisted in the U. S. Army Reserve,
serving a short stint of about one year. Military life
did not last long for him, but nineteen fifty eight
(21:10):
he was back home working as an assistant drill instructor
at a police academy in Pocahontas. The irony of Hanson
briefly training aspiring police officers is not lost on any
of us nowadays. On the surface, young Robert Hanson was
trying to fit into normal life. He even found a girlfriend,
a girl three years his junior, and he married her
in the summer of nineteen sixty. It seemed like a
(21:33):
fresh start for the awkward boy now in early adulthood.
But behind this facade, Hanson's inner turmoil and rage were
still mounting. He was twenty one years old and full
of unresolved anger at a world he felt had wronged him.
That anger needed an outlet, and he found one in
a shocking act of revenge. On December seventh, nineteen sixty,
(21:56):
Hanson crept out under cover of darkness in Pocahontas, Iowa,
and carried out an act of arson that would land
him in serious trouble. He set fire to a school
bus garage, specifically the Pocahontas County Board of Education bus barn.
It was a building that held school buses for the
local high school. I'm sure you're probably wondering why this target.
(22:17):
While in Hanson's mind, this was payback to the community
that had ostracized him. He later admitted he burned down
the bus barn as revenge for the cruelty and ridicule
he suffered in high school. In a dark twist, Hanson
was actually a volunteer firefighter at the time. He was
one of the first to respond to the blaze he
himself had ignited. A former friend noted he was the
(22:39):
first guy on the fire because he said it. It
did not take long for investigators to suspect the quiet,
twenty one year old with a grudge. Hanson was arrested
for arson within weeks, and he eventually confessed to the crime.
The consequences were significant, at least on paper. A judge
sentenced Robert Hanson to three years in prison for the
(22:59):
bus bar and fire. In nineteen sixty one. He entered
the Animosis State Penitentiary in Iowa to begin serving his time.
For the first time in his life, Hanson faced real
punishment for his actions. While incarcerated, he underwent psychiatric evaluation.
The diagnosis was pretty unsettling. Hanson was found to suffer
from manic depression bipolar disorder with periodic schizophrenic episodes. In
(23:24):
other words, he had significant mood swings and potential breaks
from reality. A prison psychiatrist noted that Robert Hanson had
an infantile personality and was obsessed with getting back at
people he felt had humiliated him. He was prescribed lithium
to stabilize his moods, but it's unclear if he ever
consistently took it. While Hanson served his sentence, his first wife,
(23:46):
the girl who likely thought she could save this troubled
young man, filed for divorce, cutting ties with Robert for good.
Hansen would only spend twenty months of his three year
sentence behind bars. In nineteen sixty two, he was released
on parole, a pattern of leniency that would repeat multiple
times in his life. The twenty three year old Hanson
emerged from prison with even more resentment. He had been
(24:08):
locked up, labeled mentally ill by the state, and abandoned
by his wife. Yet he also had a chance to
start anew and for a time it appeared like Robert
Hanson was ready to build a normal life for himself.
In nineteen sixty three, he remarried, this time to a quiet,
church going woman named Darla. Darla was deeply religious and
(24:29):
by all accounts, was a kind, patient soul. The couple
would go on to have two children together, a son
and a daughter. Seeking a clean slate far from Iowa gossip,
Hanson decided to make a drastic move. In nineteen sixty seven,
Robert Hanson left the Midwest with his new wife and
headed north, just about as north as you can get,
(24:49):
to Anchorage, Alaska. In the sixties, Anchorage was a frontier
boom town, fueled by oil money and an expanding population.
For Hanson, though, it represented a place where no one
knew his past, a place of opportunity and adventure. Arriving
in Anchorage a short while later, Hanson did his best
to blend in as a hard working family man. He
(25:09):
put his baking skills to use and eventually opened up
Hanson's Bakery, a small shop on downtown Ninth Avenue. He
worked long hours crafting doughnuts, rolls, and pies, earning the
nickname Bob the Baker among locals. By dawn, he would
be serving coffee and pastries with a meek smile and
small talk. Hanson was mild mannered and helpful with customers.
(25:31):
Many in the community came to appreciate the baker who
made their morning cruelers and loads. Neighbors described him as
unremarkable and polite, if a bit socially awkward. He also
became an enthusiastic hunter in the Alaskan wilderness, gaining a
reputation for his marksmanship. In fact, Hanson set some local
hunting records. At one point, he proudly got his name
(25:52):
in the record books of the Pope and Young Club,
a prestigious bow hunting organization, for a world class sheep
trophy he bagged. The achievement was even written up in
the press. Bob Hansen, It's aimed, had finally found the
respect he so clearly desired. With a thriving bakery, a
wife active in the church, two young children, and hunting
trophies all over his wall, he was outwardly living the
(26:15):
American dream on the last Frontier. But this wholesome exterior
concealed Hanson's lifelong demons, which were nowhere near gone. If anything,
Alaska provided new temptations for his dark side. By the
(26:41):
early nineteen seventies, Anchorage had a burgeoning sex trade. Fourth
Avenue and Anchorage lit up with neon signs for strip clubs,
massage parlors, and bars, teeming with transient women looking to
make a living. To Hanson, these women represented both an
opportunity and a target. As he saw it, they were
quote unquote bad girls, the kind of women who had
(27:02):
spurned him in his youth, and they were now readily
available for purchase. And crucially, they were often drifters far
from home, unlikely to be missed immediately if they disappeared.
Anchorage in that era provided Robert Hanson exactly what he wanted,
a hunting ground of human prey amid the anonymity of
a boom town. Hanson's simmering resentments soon boiled over into action.
(27:25):
We have already heard how in nineteen seventy one he
was arrested for attempting to kidnap a housewife at gunpoint
and for raping a sex worker, and how he managed
to slip through with a slap on the wrist for
both those incidents in December nineteen seventy one, were the
first clear signs of Hanson's emerging pattern. It later came
out that Hanson had stalked a young woman to her
house after she rebuffed him on a date. She answered
(27:47):
her door to find Hanson pointing a gun at her,
a stranger fueled by obsessive revenge for that simple rejection.
Though she escaped the trauma was immense. Hanson's own lawyer
had him examined by a psychi addressed following that incident
in early nineteen seventy two, and Hansen admitted to the
doctor that he had long fantasized about hurting girls who
rejected him. This was, in effect the psychological manifesto of
(28:11):
Robert Hanson's crimes, that he would take what he couldn't
have when he was younger and to punish those who,
in his mind, belittled him. Sergeant Floda, reflecting on Hanson's trajectory,
later put it very succinctly. I think it was getting
back at women. It was hate coupled with sexual desire.
Over time, the sexual component seemed to lessen for a
(28:33):
Robert Hanson. It seemed to become purely about the hate,
the thrill of the chase, and the kill, like an
animal that's tasted blood. After nineteen seventy one, Robert Hanson
learned how to keep a lower profile, but that did
not stop him from attacking women. Then, in nineteen seventy six,
he was caught shoplifting a chainsaw from an Anchorage store,
(28:54):
a strange detour into petty crime amidst more heinous acts.
For that theft, he was sentenced to five years and
even ordered to get psychiatric treatment for his bipolar disorder.
But once again Hanson got a lucky break. The sentence
was reduced and he was released after serving just over
a year. By the late nineteen seventies, he was back
(29:14):
in Anchorage, outwardly the same unremarkable family man. In reality,
though he was honing in his predatory routines. It refined
how to earn a woman's trust just long enough to trapper.
A telling clue is that by this point he had
acquired his own private plane, the small light aircraft we
mentioned earlier. In fact, Hanson financed that plane through insurance fraud.
(29:37):
He once filed a claim for stolen hunting trophies, collected
the money, bought the plane, then nonchalantly found quote unquote
the missing trophies in his backyard and never told the insurer.
It was a scam, and investigators would later charge him
for that theft by deception, But the plane served its purpose.
It gave Hanson a way to access truly remote areas
(29:58):
where he could become the ultimate out doorsman slash killer.
Between nineteen seventy nine and nineteen eighty three, women began
vanishing in Anchorage at an alarming rate. Most were young,
in their late teens or early twenties. Many were dancers,
some were prostitutes. A few were just teenagers in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Hanson admits that this
(30:20):
period was when he transitioned fully into serial murder. At night,
he would kiss his wife and children goodbye, telling them
he was going on one of his frequent hunting trips.
Sometimes he really did hunt animals. He maintained his reputation
by bringing home wild goat or cariboo meat, but other
times Hansen hunted a different prey. He cruised downtown streets
(30:40):
to pick up women. Authorities believed that at least seventeen
women were murdered by Robert Hanson from nineteen seventy nine
to nineteen eighty three, and more than thirty others were
raped and terrorized, but ultimately spared. The savagery seemed to
intensify with each passing year. In several cases, when the
bodies were later found, it appear like Hanson had inflicted overkill.
(31:02):
There were multiple gunshot wounds or post mortem stabbings, even
instances where clothing was put back on corpses in a
macawb act of staging. This was a man deep in
the grips of compulsion. Sergeant Floyda remarked that by the end,
hunting human beings became Hanson's life, an obsession that consumed
his every free moment. If weeks went by without an attack,
(31:24):
Hanson grew antsy. Eventually, he stopped waiting so long between hunts,
striking whenever the arch hit him, knowing the transient nature
of his victims would buy him time. Throughout these years,
Hansen managed to evade serious suspicion, largely because he played
the part of the benign neighbors so convincingly. When the
police did interview him early on, as they did after
(31:45):
Cindy Paulson escaped in June nineteen eighty three, Hanson had
plausible answers. He was calm, protested his innocence, and pointed
to his standing in the community that of a business owner,
a devoted father, a man who even had friends in
local law enform horsement from his bakery customers. After Cindy's escape,
some in Anchorage, PD initially found it hard to believe
(32:06):
that Bob the baker now in his mid forties with
thinning hair and a pot belly could be the same
monster who had left a teenager barefoot and shackled in
the street. Hanson even had an old friend provide a
false alibi, which briefly led detective's office trail. But as
more bodies turned up in the wilderness, a grisly parade
of skeletons and shallow graves discovered by hunters and hikers,
(32:28):
the Alaska State Troopers grew convinced a serial killer was
at work. By September nineteen eighty three, they had throwed
in on Hanson thanks to FBI profiler John Douglas's analysis.
Douglas predicted the killer would be an unassuming local man
with a stutter, low self esteem, a history of rejection,
and a penchant for keeping trophies like jewelry. It was
(32:49):
a profile that fit Robert Hanson to a tee with
Cindy Paulson's testimony added to that the dominoes finally fell.
A renewed investigation led by Sergeant Floyda gathered enough evidence
for the search warrant that finally brought Hanson's crimes to light.
When troopers found Hanson's murder map, with its dozens of exes,
it became clear just how prolific and organized his carnage was. Now,
(33:11):
having confessed in detail, Robert Hanson awaited the consequences of
his lifetime of cruelty. Anchorage, Alaska, February twenty seventh, nineteen
eighty four. Word has spread that Robert Hanson, now known
as the Butcher Baker, is about to face justice for
his decade long killingsbury. The room is filled with an
(33:31):
extraordinary mix of people. On one side sits families and
friends of the victims, their faces etched with grief and anger.
In the front row, young Cindy Paulsen nervously fidgets. The
now eighteen year old is visibly anxious, knowing that she
might come face to face with a man who raped
and almost killed her less than a year beforehand. Scattered
among the crowd are off duty dancers from the clubs
(33:54):
were Hanson stalked, some curious citizens, and a heavy contingent
of press ready to report the concl illusion of one
of the most shocking cases in Alaskan history. At two
forty five PM, Robert Hanson is led into the court
room in shackles. He's thinner than before the result of
four months in custody, but otherwise he appears as he
always did, nondescript, bow legged, peering from behind large glasses.
(34:19):
As the clerk calls the court order, Judge Ralph E.
Moody takes the bench to preside over the sentencing. The
proceedings are unusual. There has been no jury trial. In
a strategic move to avoid multiple trials and spare the
victim's families from further agony, Hanson and the prosecutors struck
a plea bargain. Hanson agreed to plead guilty to four
counts of first degree murder, specifically for the murders of
(34:42):
Paula Golding, Joanna Messina, Sherry Morrow, and a Klutna Annie.
He also pleads guilty to the kidnapping and drape of
Cindy Paulson, and to several lesser charges, including firearms theft
and insurance fraud related to his other misdeeds. In exchange,
he has provided details on all the other victims and
help locate their remains. Crucially, the deal guarantees that Hanson
(35:04):
will serve his time in a federal penitentiary out of
state for his own safety. And that Alaska will not
prosecute him for the remaining murders, not that it matters
given the severity of the sentence he's about to receive.
The courtroom listens as Assistant District Attorney Vic Crumb calmly
recites the terms of Hanson's plea in the summary of
his admissions. When Crumb announces that Hanson has confessed to
(35:25):
being a serial murderer, a ripple of emotion courses through
the audience. Cindy Paulson suddenly breaks out in sobs and
dashes out of the court room, overwhelmed. Others among the
victim's friends and families openly weep, some in sorrow, others
in relief that the horror has finally been acknowledged by
Hanson himself. Hanson stands silently, his head bowed. He has agreed,
(35:48):
as part of the plea to recount his crimes, but
today he offers no spontaneous apology or statement of remorse.
In fact, throughout the hearing, Robert Hanson barely speaks at all,
except to utter the required words guilty, your honor as
each charge is formally read. His quiet demeanor is shattered
only once, at one point he begins lightly sobbing, not
(36:09):
for the victims, it seems, but in self pity as
the weight of his fate dawns on him. According to
some observers, then it's time for the prosecution and any
victims to make statements before sentencing. Frank Roth's child, a
seasoned prosecutor who has handled many brutal crimes, rises to
address the court. What comes next is often described as
a prosecutorial tour de force, the speech of rothschild's career.
(36:34):
Fueled by genuine outrage at Hansen's deeds. Frank Roth's child
steps toward the judge and with controlled fervor, begins, your
honor before you sits a monster, an extreme aberration of
a human being. A man who walked among us for
seventeen years, serving us doughnuts, Danish, and hot coffee, all
with a pleasant smile. Mellow, mild mannered, bespectacled Bob the Baker,
(36:56):
a family man, a man so cunning, so clever that
his friends and a quaintances are in shock at what
he now admits to before the court. Not even his
wife of nearly twenty years had any idea of his dark,
evil side. Roth's child has the courtroom spellbound. He speaks
directly to the heinousness of Robert Hanson's acts, how he
prayed on the vulnerable, how he betrayed the community's trust,
(37:19):
and how each of the women he murdered was a
human being snuffed out in the prime of life. He
does not shy away from describing Robert Hanson as being
beyond rehabilitation. At one point, roth's Child motions toward Hanson
and declares, for those people that he is slain, for
those lucky enough to have survived, for all of us,
your honor, we ask that you rid us of this
beastly man forever. When Rothschild concludes, there's a long pause
(37:43):
as he and the other prosecutors exchange some looks. They
know that what they're asking for is effectively a life
sentence times five. The defense attorney, unsure how to salvage
anything for his client, simply notes that Hanson has chosen
not to make a statement. Hanson's own lawyer, Fred Dewey,
then says quietly, it's my client's wish that nothing further
be said on his behalf. In other words, there is
(38:05):
no defense. There's no explanation. Hanson himself declines to speak.
When the judge pointedly ask if he has anything to
say before sentencing. In a low voice, the serial killer responds, no, sir,
I don't. There will be no apology, no explanation from
Robert Hanson here. At the end he has relinquished his voice.
Judge Ralph Moody, a man known for his stern demeanor,
(38:28):
then delivers the final pronouncement. It's hard to believe that
humanity produces and sustains people who have the ability and
propensities to commit such enormous, such beastly, such indescribable crimes.
If ever, there was a case in which a man
deserves to be kept away from the public for the
rest of his life, it is this gentleman here. Then,
Judge Mooney delivers the sentence that, while expected, is still
(38:50):
breathtaking in its scope. Robert Hanson is sentenced to four
hundred and sixty one years plus life in prison without
the possibility of parole. In effect, it is a condemnation
to spend the remainder of his natural life behind bars.
And then some gasp in size of relief emanate from
the audience. It's a number deliberately chosen to ensure Hanson
(39:11):
can never walk free again, a symbolic total reflecting each
precious life that he stole. The judge adds that these
terms will run consecutively. Even if, by some miracle, one
charge were overturned, dozens of others would keep him locked up.
Alaska has imposed the maximum penalty allowed by law. Moody concludes,
(39:31):
this is the case for which we make sure a
man never again sees the light of day as a freeman.
As the judge bangs's gavel, Robert Hanson, the butcher Baker,
officially becomes state inmate number f P two two one,
a man erased from open society. The courtroom begins to
breathe again. Some people quietly applaud or hug one another.
(39:52):
In a poignant moment, Prosecutor Frank Roth's child steps over
to the front row, where a few of the victim's
family members are sitting. Are tears in his eye as
he nods to them. Outside the courthouse, reporters catch a
brief comment from a state trooper who worked the case.
The state trooper says of Hanson, the world is better
without him out here, and now he'll stay where he
belongs in the aftermath, Robert Hanson was quickly remanded to
(40:31):
a federal penitentiary far from Alaska, first in Pennsylvania to
begin his four hundred and sixty one year punishment. He
would eventually be transferred back to Alaska years later to
serve out his time in a newly built state facility.
His second wife, Darla, who had stood by him, initially
filed for divorce within two years of his conviction and
left Alaska with their children, Attempting to escape the shadow
(40:54):
of Hanson's infamy. The record keepers of the Pope and
Young Hunting Club swiftly stripped hanson name from their books,
removing the once proud bow hunting records he had held.
In every way possible, society tried to erase the honors
and freedoms Robert Hanson had once enjoyed. He became a
cautionary tale, a prime example in criminology classes of the
(41:15):
so called organized serial killer who lived a Jekyll and
Hyde life. Robert Hanson never again saw freedom. He died
in prison in twenty fourteen at the age of seventy five,
after thirty years behind bars of natural causes. In those
decades locked away, it's reported that He was a quiet
inmate who spent a lot of his time in the library,
perhaps reflecting on the life he wasted. But he gave
(41:38):
no further interviews, and he never showed genuine remorse to
the world for the lives that he snuffed out. For
the people of Anchorage and the families of Hanson's victims,
the scars would linger, Yet there was some solace in
knowing this predator would never hurt another soul. In the
words of Assistant Da Frank Rothschild, in court, we asked
that you rid us of this beastly man forever, and
(42:00):
the justice system answered that plea. The cold blooded hunter
who had terrorized the last Frontier was permanently caged, leaving
behind a legacy of grief, but also of survival and
resilience in those who escaped him. Cindy Paulson, the teenager
whose courage triggered Hanson's downfall, went on to build a
new life, forever changed but defiantly alive. The city of Anchorage,
(42:23):
which had once looked at Robert Hanson and seen only
a benign baker, now knew the truth that evil can
wear the most ordinary face, and that monsters can hide
in the plain Sight to be concluded on the next
episode of Unresolved
This episode contains graphic content that may not be suitable
for all ages. Listener discretion is advised. If you or
someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available,
call or text nine eight eight, or chat with someone
at nine eight eight lifeline dot Org. Those outside of
the US, reach out to someone at your local crisis
(00:24):
center or hotline. Please do not suffer in silence. A
lone street light cast an icy glow on a nearly
empty Anchorage street in the winter of nineteen seventy one.
Under that dim light, a young woman shivers, not just
(00:47):
from the cold, but from fear. Moments ago, she thought
she was getting into a polite stranger's car for a
paid encounter, a routine transaction on a frigid December night.
Now her reality has shifted into some of a nightmare.
The driver, a wiry, bespectacled man with acne scarred cheeks,
presses the muzzle of a handgun against her temple. His
(01:09):
voice stutters as he issues low, halting commands, but the
threat in his tone is unmistakable. In a desolate gravel
pull out beyond the city lights, Robert Hanson forces her
from the vehicle. Her breaths, puffin clouds of mist as
she pleads for her life. Hanson's demeanor is eerily calm,
almost detached, as he ties her wrist. The only sounds
(01:31):
are the crunch of hard snow under his boots and
her own sobs hanging in the Alaskan air. The man
who appeared so unassuming just moments ago now has eyes
cold with predatory excitement. In that isolated spot, Hanson sexually
assaults this young woman, a brutal rape that leaves the
eighteen year old sex worker terrified and in pain. When
(01:52):
he's finished, Hanson's grip on the pistol tightens, evans inclose,
his voice dripping with contempt, and mutters that no one
will believe her over a family man like him. For
a moment, this young woman believes Hanson is about to
pull the trigger. Instead, he shoves her out of the way,
climbs back into his car, and drives off into the
(02:12):
Alaskan night, leaving her traumatized but alive. Hours later, this
victim finds the courage to contact authorities. She endures the
traumatic ordeal of reliving the assault as she gives her
statement to Anchorage police, describing her attacker in vivid detail.
It isn't long before detectives identify the suspect, Robert Hanson,
(02:33):
a local baker with a wife and children. Incredibly, Hansen
had been arrested just weeks earlier for a similarly violent incident,
attempting to abduct and rape a housewife at gunpoint. Now
with this sex worker's report, Hanson is charged again, this
time for rape, but the case does not proceed as
one might expect. Hanson's lawyers negotiate a deal. He pleads
(02:56):
no contest to an assault with a deadly weapon for
the first attack, and in exchange the rape charge, this
case is dropped. The mild looking thirty two year old
receives a five year sentence, but serves only about six
months before he's quietly released on a work program. The
survivor of that December nineteen seventy one assault is left
to grapple with her trauma, never named in public records,
(03:19):
while her attacker goes free to return to his wife,
his bakery, and his seemingly ordinary life, at least until
nineteen eighty three, when another victim of Hanson's cruelty escaped
from his clutches, leading authorities straight to him. This is
the story of the Butcher Baker, Part three in plain Sight.
(03:52):
When we last left off, investigators in Anchorage finally closed
in on the serial predator who had stocked their city
for about a decade. It's now the fall of nineteen
eighty three. Robert Hanson has been arrested after the daring
escape of seventeen year old Cindy Paulsen, a teenage sex
worker who survived Hanson's brutality and ran for her life
in nothing but handcuffs. With Paulson's testimony and an FBI
(04:15):
profile pointing squarely at Hanson, Alaska State troopers obtained a
warrant and uncovered damning evidence in Hanson's home. They found
a hidden trove of women's jewelry, trophies taken from missing victims,
and an arsenal of guns, including Hansen's favored two to
three caliber Ruger Mini fourteen hunting rifle, tucked behind the
(04:36):
headboard in his bedroom. Investigators discovered perhaps the most chilling item,
an aeronautical map of south central Alaska marked with thirty
seven tiny axes, each placed in remote wilderness areas. Many
of those exes would soon correlate to shallow graves of
women who had vanished without a trace. On the afternoon
of October twenty seventh, nineteen eighty three, Robert Hanson sits
(04:58):
in a small interrogation room with the Alaska State Trooper
Post in Anchorage. At this point, he's forty four years old,
balding and bespectacled, with the unassuming look of the baker
next door because that's what he was. But across the table,
Trooper Sergeant Glenn Flota and Anchorage Police Officer Greg Baker
see through the facade in front of them lead pieces
(05:19):
of the puzzle that will ultimately crush Hanson's denials. A
ballistic report, a spread of cheap trinkets and jewelry recovered
from Hanson's attic, and that ominously marked map. At first,
Hanson remains cool and cocky. He slouches back, arms folded,
insisting there's been a mistake of some kind. This isn't
his first brush with the law, after all, he's talked
(05:41):
his way out of these accusations before. In a tone
of practiced indignation, Hanson swears that Cindy Paulsen's story is fabricated.
He claims never to have met her, scoffing that the
seventeen year old only concocted a wild tale to try
and extort him. She was just trying to shake me
down for money, he tells the officers, leaving a hand
dismissively at her account, Hanson smirks and dads with a shrug.
(06:04):
You can't rape a prostitute, can you. It's a poisonous statement,
revealing the warped mindset of a man who sees some
women as less than human. Sergeant Floda files it away.
As Hanson continues. He even claims to have an alibi
for the night. Cindy claims she was attacked. A friend
can vouch that they were together, thus proving Hanson's innocence
(06:25):
to him. The whole accusation is absurd and beneath consideration,
but the investigators keep pressing, methodically dismantling Hanson's story. Floda
lays out a photograph of a spent rifle cartridge recovered
from a Kinnick River sandbar, the same desolate area where
hunters had found the exhumed remains of Sherry Morrow, a
twenty three year old dancer missing since nineteen eighty one.
(06:48):
Floda ask evenly Bob, how do you explain the shellcasing
from your weapon at the gravesite? Floda explains that technicians
have matched this two two three caliber casing to Hanson's
Ruger Mis tenty fourteen hunting rifle. Hanson's eyes flicker for
a moment. He wasn't expecting physical evidence tying him to
a body. Still, he tries to muster a dismissive reply.
(07:11):
You guys are telling me that I shot this person. Well,
you're wrong. I didn't shoot anybody. I would not hurt anybody.
That's the truth. Flota, maintaining a steady, calm voice, begins
to tighten the vice. He reminds Hanson that hunters frequently
returned to the same areas. Perhaps Flowa suggest Hansen will
claim he'd simply been target shooting out by the Kinnik River,
(07:33):
innocently leaving shell casings all over Alaska. Hansen seems to
seize on that lifeline. Oh yeah, he knows, I've been
out there at a Klutna. I probably have shell casings
halfway across Alaska. His attempt at nonchalance's transparent. Investigators know
this single casing is no fluke. Cherry Moro's grave had
three bullet wounds and no bullet holes in her clothing,
(07:56):
indicating she had been shot while naked and then re dressed.
The bullet that killed her matched Hanson's rifle exactly. Flotas
spells it out, We've got the ballistics. Hanson's facade falters
as that reality begins to sink in. Piece by piece,
the troopers can front Hanson with each incriminating discovery. They
(08:16):
produce some of the jewelry found hidden in his attic,
a gold necklace, a cheap bracelet. These items belonged to
missing women like Andrea fish Altieri and Sue Luna, trophies
that Hanson kept as morbid souvenirs Hanson's jaw titans. He
can no longer claim these are lies invented by a
girl out to get him. The evidences ride on the table.
(08:38):
Caught in one lie after another, Hanson starts to sputter
some new excuses. He now concedes that he has been
with many of these women, but only as a paying customer.
He insists, if they ended up dead, it wasn't his doing. Perhaps,
he suggests some one else harmed them after he last
saw them. It's a feeble ploy and the detectives aren't
buying it. Finally, Sergeant Flota reveals their trump cart. Unfolding
(09:03):
the stained aeronautical map found behind Hanson's bed, he slides
it in front of the suspect. Dozens of red X
marks are scattered across the untamed wilderness just north of Anchorage,
across the Kinnick River, deep into the Chugach State Park.
Floda's voice remains almost soft, Bob, we need to talk
about this map, about what these exes mean. Seemingly, in
(09:25):
that moment, Hanson knows the game is over. Only the
killer himself could plot that hidden graveyard. Faced with the
undeniable evidence of his secret hunts, Robert Hanson's shoulders slump,
The mask of the falsely accused, indignant family man drops away,
and a glimpse of the real Robert Hanson emerges, a
(09:45):
man who has spent the last twelve years abducting women,
assaulting them, and hunting them down like animals. According to reports,
Hanson denied everything for as long as he could, but
the cumulative weight of proof broke him down. He began
to rashtionalizes crimes, shifting blame onto the victims. In a
bitter tone, Hanson claimed these women were lower in virtue,
(10:08):
accusing them of things like greed or promiscuity, as if
that justified his brutality. Investigators recall him protesting that many
of the women asked for what happened because they had
tried to rip him off or run away. It's the
same type of misogyny he had revealed earlier. The twisted
belief that you can't rape a prostitute now laid bare
(10:29):
as a feeble defense for unspeakable acts. But the troopers
press on relentlessly, forcing Hanson to confront each fact, each
piece of evidence, one by one, and one by one,
Robert Hanson begins to confess. Over hours of interrogation, Hanson's
tone turns from defiant to flat and matter of fact.
The flood gets open. He starts by conceding details tied
(10:52):
to physical evidence. Yes, Sherry Morrow had been on his boat. Yes,
he did own the rifle that killed her. Yes he
recognized the golden necklace. He tore it from a girl's
neck out by the Kinnik River. As his lies crumble, Hanson,
in a detached voice, admits to a spree of attacks
dating back to nineteen seventy one. Shocked investigators listen as
(11:13):
Hanson coolly details his violent career. He describes how through
the nineteen seventies he routinely preyed on vulnerable young women,
often teenagers, whom he saw as expendable. At first, Hanson
claims he did not plan to kill. I just I
wanted to dominate them, he says in a faltering tone,
But if a victim resisted or could not be easily controlled,
(11:36):
his response was to escalate the violence. Several women, perhaps dozens,
Hanson raped and then released, warning them to keep quiet
or face death. Those who didn't cooperate or whom he
couldn't trust not to talk, he admits he disposed of permanently.
Investigators lean in as Robert Hanson, avoiding eye contact, begins
(11:58):
to outline his method in an unnervingly clinical fashion. By
the late nineteen seventies, he explains, he had refined a
ritual for murder. He would visit Anchorage's c D Fourth
Avenue strip, a row of clubs and transient hotels, and
prowl for sex workers or dancers who were desperate enough
for money to take a chance. He was always careful,
(12:18):
he notes to appear harmless, presenting himself as an awkward,
soft spoken every man with a stutter in thick classes.
If a woman agreed to his price, Hansen would lure
her into trusting him just enough that he could get
the upper hand. Once alone, often in his vehicle, Hansen
would suddenly produce a gun and take control, finding or
handcuffing the terrified woman. He would drive her to his
(12:41):
modest home, or sometimes directly out to the local Merrillfield airport,
where his private plane waited. Always he assured his victims
that if they cooperated, he would let them live. Hanson's
voice remains emotionless as he describes what came next. Rape
and torture became his prelude to murder. At his house,
Often when his wife and children were away, he would
(13:04):
chain women by the neck in his basement or brutalize
them for hours. He speaks of this almost as an addiction,
saying that he couldn't control it when his rage and
desire mixed. After satisfying himself sexually, Hansen would then enact
the final phase of his perverse game. He would force
his victim, often still naked or partially clothed, back into
(13:25):
his vehicle and drive or fly them out to the
Alaskan wilderness, a patch of woods by the Kinnik River,
or a remote stretch near the Kinnick Arm accessible only
by boat, or his small piper supercub Plaine. If by plane,
they would land near his hunting cabin by the river. Here,
far from any help, Hansen would set the stakes of
a statistic hunt. Sometimes he even removed the woman's blindfold
(13:48):
and restraints, giving her a false glimmer of hope that
he might spare her. Then, Hansen admits, with a chilling ease,
he would let his victim run. He often gave them
a brief head start, a few seconds or minutes to
stumble into the dense birch and spruce forest, barefoot and desperate.
For these women, it must have been a moment of
pure terror and confusion, the realization that they were prey.
(14:11):
Hansen describes how he would then arm himself with his
hunting rifle or sometimes a knife, and take off in pursuit.
In his confession, Hansen compared these human hunts to the
big game hunts that had once been his passion. It
was like going after a trophy sheep or a grizzly bear,
he says, without emotion. Hearing this, even the seasoned detectives
feel a chill. Hansen had turned the frozen Alaskan terrain
(14:34):
into his personal killing field, treating frightened women as if
they were wild animals to be stalked and shot for sport.
In at least seventeen instances that authorities could later verify,
Hansen carried out this deadly game to its natural end,
chasing the victim through the woods until he caught up
and dispatched her with either a gunshot or a knife thrust.
(14:54):
Some he shot multiple times, savoring the kill, in one
case emptying one weapon and then another into a victim's
body long after life had left her. As these admissions
tumble out, Sergeant Floyda and the others press Hanson for
as many specifics as possible. They know this may be
their only chance to give names back to the many
Jane does scattered across the wilderness. Hanson confirmed some key
(15:18):
details of the murder's investigators already suspected him of. At Klutona, Annie,
the unidentified woman found stab to death near a Klutona
lake in nineteen eighty, was his first kill Hanson claims.
He says he picked her up in town and she
was either a topless dancer or a prostitute, a detail
consistent with what police believed. When she tried to escape
(15:38):
his car, he stabbed her in the back. He left
her body in a shallow grave where wild animals later
scavenged it. Hanson also admitted to killing Joanna Messina, a
twenty four year old topless dancer he had taken to
dinner and seward in nineteen eighty after an argument over payment.
He even recounts how he shot her dog when it barked,
and dumped both bodies in the wilderness. He acknowledged that
(16:00):
murder of Sherri Morrow, whose case had kicked off the investigation,
describing how she thought she was meeting a photographer for
three hundred dollars, but ended up running for her life
along the Kinnick River before he shot her in the back.
One by one, Hanson accounts for victims known and unknown.
There's Andrea Altieri aka Fish Sue, Luna Paula Golding, Malai Larson,
(16:23):
Angela Vetern, Teresa Watson. The list goes on. By the
time Robert Hanson finishes, he has confessed to a staggering
seventeen murders and over thirty rapes. The investigators take a breath,
exchanging looks of grim, satisfaction and horror. Hanson, for his part,
sits drained of his earlier bravado. In a final act
(16:45):
of cooperation, one likely motivated by the deal his attorneys
are already crafting, Hanson agrees to physically point out the
gravesites he marked on that map. In the coming days,
he has flown in a military helicopter over the wilderness,
directing authorities to the places where he victims lie. They
mark trees with paint in each spot that he indicates.
Thanks to this, twelve previously unknown bodies are eventually found
(17:09):
and brought home to their families. Several of Hanson's victims
remain missing, taken by predators, or lost in terrain too
vast to search, but at last, many of their stories
have an ending. However, tragic. Hanson's confession, thorough and unflinching,
ensures that law enforcement has the full scope of his crimes,
(17:31):
they think, but at the very least, it will ensure
that Robert Hanson never taste freedom again. As Robert Hanson's
double life unravels in that interrogation room. One question echoes
how did an ordinary baker and family man become capable
of such atrocities. To answer that, we must journey back
to Hanson's past, decades before he ever set foot in Alaska,
(17:54):
to the cornfields of the American Midwest. Robert Christian Hanson
(18:18):
was born on February fifteenth, nineteen thirty nine, in the
small town of Esterville, Iowa. He was the first of
two children in a family of Danish descent. His father,
Christian Hanson, was a baker by trade, a domineering immigrant
father who ran his household with an iron fist. From
a young age, Robert was forced to work long hours
in the family bakery, even on school days. His father
(18:41):
would rout him out of bed at two am to
help bake bread before classes. One childhood acquaintance remembered his
dad was a big, old, mean guy. He was real
hard on him. The boy who would later become a
hunter of women, first learned about power and control under
the thumb of an overbearing parent. At school, Robert fared
no better. He was painfully shy and struggled with a
(19:04):
debilitating stutter from early on. In his life, classmates teased
and bullied him for his halting speech. Worse, Hanson suffered
from severe adolescent acne that erupted into angry red cyst
across his face and back, leaving him permanently scarred. Mirrors
became his enemy every time he saw his pockmark reflection
(19:24):
his self hatred deepened, watched other boys start to date girls,
while he himself was mocked and rejected whenever he worked
up the nerve to ask someone out. Years later, Hanson
would candidly admit how these experiences twisted his view of women.
From the scars on my face, you can probably see
why girls wouldn't want to get close to me, he recalled,
(19:44):
how their rejection made him feel helpless and humiliated, to
the point that he hated the word school. That burning
mix of loneliness and resentment would only fester over time,
a fear of women turned into loathing. In the words
of one psychologist, young Roberts developed a general hate for
women that later coupled with his sexual desires, a dangerous combination.
(20:07):
Hansen did find one refuge during those turbulent teenage years,
the great outdoors. Too awkward for social circles, He retreated
to the fields and wooded areas around Pocahontas and Esterville
after his family moved towns. There, Alone with nature, he
cultivated skills that gave him a sense of pride. He
became an avid hunter, spending hours tracking deer, squirrels, and
(20:29):
other game through the Iowa backcountry. Armed with a rifle
or a beau Robert discovered a place where his stutter
and scars did not matter. In the woods. With a
target in his sights, he felt powerful. He was an
excellent shot, patient and methodical, able to hit a moving
animal at a distance. This would later translate chillingly into
(20:49):
how he hunted humans, but in those early days it
was a seemingly wholesome hobby for a loner. Teen Anson
also found structure in the military. In nineteen fifty U seven,
at age eighteen, he enlisted in the U. S. Army Reserve,
serving a short stint of about one year. Military life
did not last long for him, but nineteen fifty eight
(21:10):
he was back home working as an assistant drill instructor
at a police academy in Pocahontas. The irony of Hanson
briefly training aspiring police officers is not lost on any
of us nowadays. On the surface, young Robert Hanson was
trying to fit into normal life. He even found a girlfriend,
a girl three years his junior, and he married her
in the summer of nineteen sixty. It seemed like a
(21:33):
fresh start for the awkward boy now in early adulthood.
But behind this facade, Hanson's inner turmoil and rage were
still mounting. He was twenty one years old and full
of unresolved anger at a world he felt had wronged him.
That anger needed an outlet, and he found one in
a shocking act of revenge. On December seventh, nineteen sixty,
(21:56):
Hanson crept out under cover of darkness in Pocahontas, Iowa,
and carried out an act of arson that would land
him in serious trouble. He set fire to a school
bus garage, specifically the Pocahontas County Board of Education bus barn.
It was a building that held school buses for the
local high school. I'm sure you're probably wondering why this target.
(22:17):
While in Hanson's mind, this was payback to the community
that had ostracized him. He later admitted he burned down
the bus barn as revenge for the cruelty and ridicule
he suffered in high school. In a dark twist, Hanson
was actually a volunteer firefighter at the time. He was
one of the first to respond to the blaze he
himself had ignited. A former friend noted he was the
(22:39):
first guy on the fire because he said it. It
did not take long for investigators to suspect the quiet,
twenty one year old with a grudge. Hanson was arrested
for arson within weeks, and he eventually confessed to the crime.
The consequences were significant, at least on paper. A judge
sentenced Robert Hanson to three years in prison for the
(22:59):
bus bar and fire. In nineteen sixty one. He entered
the Animosis State Penitentiary in Iowa to begin serving his time.
For the first time in his life, Hanson faced real
punishment for his actions. While incarcerated, he underwent psychiatric evaluation.
The diagnosis was pretty unsettling. Hanson was found to suffer
from manic depression bipolar disorder with periodic schizophrenic episodes. In
(23:24):
other words, he had significant mood swings and potential breaks
from reality. A prison psychiatrist noted that Robert Hanson had
an infantile personality and was obsessed with getting back at
people he felt had humiliated him. He was prescribed lithium
to stabilize his moods, but it's unclear if he ever
consistently took it. While Hanson served his sentence, his first wife,
(23:46):
the girl who likely thought she could save this troubled
young man, filed for divorce, cutting ties with Robert for good.
Hansen would only spend twenty months of his three year
sentence behind bars. In nineteen sixty two, he was released
on parole, a pattern of leniency that would repeat multiple
times in his life. The twenty three year old Hanson
emerged from prison with even more resentment. He had been
(24:08):
locked up, labeled mentally ill by the state, and abandoned
by his wife. Yet he also had a chance to
start anew and for a time it appeared like Robert
Hanson was ready to build a normal life for himself.
In nineteen sixty three, he remarried, this time to a quiet,
church going woman named Darla. Darla was deeply religious and
(24:29):
by all accounts, was a kind, patient soul. The couple
would go on to have two children together, a son
and a daughter. Seeking a clean slate far from Iowa gossip,
Hanson decided to make a drastic move. In nineteen sixty seven,
Robert Hanson left the Midwest with his new wife and
headed north, just about as north as you can get,
(24:49):
to Anchorage, Alaska. In the sixties, Anchorage was a frontier
boom town, fueled by oil money and an expanding population.
For Hanson, though, it represented a place where no one
knew his past, a place of opportunity and adventure. Arriving
in Anchorage a short while later, Hanson did his best
to blend in as a hard working family man. He
(25:09):
put his baking skills to use and eventually opened up
Hanson's Bakery, a small shop on downtown Ninth Avenue. He
worked long hours crafting doughnuts, rolls, and pies, earning the
nickname Bob the Baker among locals. By dawn, he would
be serving coffee and pastries with a meek smile and
small talk. Hanson was mild mannered and helpful with customers.
(25:31):
Many in the community came to appreciate the baker who
made their morning cruelers and loads. Neighbors described him as
unremarkable and polite, if a bit socially awkward. He also
became an enthusiastic hunter in the Alaskan wilderness, gaining a
reputation for his marksmanship. In fact, Hanson set some local
hunting records. At one point, he proudly got his name
(25:52):
in the record books of the Pope and Young Club,
a prestigious bow hunting organization, for a world class sheep
trophy he bagged. The achievement was even written up in
the press. Bob Hansen, It's aimed, had finally found the
respect he so clearly desired. With a thriving bakery, a
wife active in the church, two young children, and hunting
trophies all over his wall, he was outwardly living the
(26:15):
American dream on the last Frontier. But this wholesome exterior
concealed Hanson's lifelong demons, which were nowhere near gone. If anything,
Alaska provided new temptations for his dark side. By the
(26:41):
early nineteen seventies, Anchorage had a burgeoning sex trade. Fourth
Avenue and Anchorage lit up with neon signs for strip clubs,
massage parlors, and bars, teeming with transient women looking to
make a living. To Hanson, these women represented both an
opportunity and a target. As he saw it, they were
quote unquote bad girls, the kind of women who had
(27:02):
spurned him in his youth, and they were now readily
available for purchase. And crucially, they were often drifters far
from home, unlikely to be missed immediately if they disappeared.
Anchorage in that era provided Robert Hanson exactly what he wanted,
a hunting ground of human prey amid the anonymity of
a boom town. Hanson's simmering resentments soon boiled over into action.
(27:25):
We have already heard how in nineteen seventy one he
was arrested for attempting to kidnap a housewife at gunpoint
and for raping a sex worker, and how he managed
to slip through with a slap on the wrist for
both those incidents in December nineteen seventy one, were the
first clear signs of Hanson's emerging pattern. It later came
out that Hanson had stalked a young woman to her
house after she rebuffed him on a date. She answered
(27:47):
her door to find Hanson pointing a gun at her,
a stranger fueled by obsessive revenge for that simple rejection.
Though she escaped the trauma was immense. Hanson's own lawyer
had him examined by a psychi addressed following that incident
in early nineteen seventy two, and Hansen admitted to the
doctor that he had long fantasized about hurting girls who
rejected him. This was, in effect the psychological manifesto of
(28:11):
Robert Hanson's crimes, that he would take what he couldn't
have when he was younger and to punish those who,
in his mind, belittled him. Sergeant Floda, reflecting on Hanson's trajectory,
later put it very succinctly. I think it was getting
back at women. It was hate coupled with sexual desire.
Over time, the sexual component seemed to lessen for a
(28:33):
Robert Hanson. It seemed to become purely about the hate,
the thrill of the chase, and the kill, like an
animal that's tasted blood. After nineteen seventy one, Robert Hanson
learned how to keep a lower profile, but that did
not stop him from attacking women. Then, in nineteen seventy six,
he was caught shoplifting a chainsaw from an Anchorage store,
(28:54):
a strange detour into petty crime amidst more heinous acts.
For that theft, he was sentenced to five years and
even ordered to get psychiatric treatment for his bipolar disorder.
But once again Hanson got a lucky break. The sentence
was reduced and he was released after serving just over
a year. By the late nineteen seventies, he was back
(29:14):
in Anchorage, outwardly the same unremarkable family man. In reality,
though he was honing in his predatory routines. It refined
how to earn a woman's trust just long enough to trapper.
A telling clue is that by this point he had
acquired his own private plane, the small light aircraft we
mentioned earlier. In fact, Hanson financed that plane through insurance fraud.
(29:37):
He once filed a claim for stolen hunting trophies, collected
the money, bought the plane, then nonchalantly found quote unquote
the missing trophies in his backyard and never told the insurer.
It was a scam, and investigators would later charge him
for that theft by deception, But the plane served its purpose.
It gave Hanson a way to access truly remote areas
(29:58):
where he could become the ultimate out doorsman slash killer.
Between nineteen seventy nine and nineteen eighty three, women began
vanishing in Anchorage at an alarming rate. Most were young,
in their late teens or early twenties. Many were dancers,
some were prostitutes. A few were just teenagers in the
wrong place at the wrong time. Hanson admits that this
(30:20):
period was when he transitioned fully into serial murder. At night,
he would kiss his wife and children goodbye, telling them
he was going on one of his frequent hunting trips.
Sometimes he really did hunt animals. He maintained his reputation
by bringing home wild goat or cariboo meat, but other
times Hansen hunted a different prey. He cruised downtown streets
(30:40):
to pick up women. Authorities believed that at least seventeen
women were murdered by Robert Hanson from nineteen seventy nine
to nineteen eighty three, and more than thirty others were
raped and terrorized, but ultimately spared. The savagery seemed to
intensify with each passing year. In several cases, when the
bodies were later found, it appear like Hanson had inflicted overkill.
(31:02):
There were multiple gunshot wounds or post mortem stabbings, even
instances where clothing was put back on corpses in a
macawb act of staging. This was a man deep in
the grips of compulsion. Sergeant Floyda remarked that by the end,
hunting human beings became Hanson's life, an obsession that consumed
his every free moment. If weeks went by without an attack,
(31:24):
Hanson grew antsy. Eventually, he stopped waiting so long between hunts,
striking whenever the arch hit him, knowing the transient nature
of his victims would buy him time. Throughout these years,
Hansen managed to evade serious suspicion, largely because he played
the part of the benign neighbors so convincingly. When the
police did interview him early on, as they did after
(31:45):
Cindy Paulson escaped in June nineteen eighty three, Hanson had
plausible answers. He was calm, protested his innocence, and pointed
to his standing in the community that of a business owner,
a devoted father, a man who even had friends in
local law enform horsement from his bakery customers. After Cindy's escape,
some in Anchorage, PD initially found it hard to believe
(32:06):
that Bob the baker now in his mid forties with
thinning hair and a pot belly could be the same
monster who had left a teenager barefoot and shackled in
the street. Hanson even had an old friend provide a
false alibi, which briefly led detective's office trail. But as
more bodies turned up in the wilderness, a grisly parade
of skeletons and shallow graves discovered by hunters and hikers,
(32:28):
the Alaska State Troopers grew convinced a serial killer was
at work. By September nineteen eighty three, they had throwed
in on Hanson thanks to FBI profiler John Douglas's analysis.
Douglas predicted the killer would be an unassuming local man
with a stutter, low self esteem, a history of rejection,
and a penchant for keeping trophies like jewelry. It was
(32:49):
a profile that fit Robert Hanson to a tee with
Cindy Paulson's testimony added to that the dominoes finally fell.
A renewed investigation led by Sergeant Floyda gathered enough evidence
for the search warrant that finally brought Hanson's crimes to light.
When troopers found Hanson's murder map, with its dozens of exes,
it became clear just how prolific and organized his carnage was. Now,
(33:11):
having confessed in detail, Robert Hanson awaited the consequences of
his lifetime of cruelty. Anchorage, Alaska, February twenty seventh, nineteen
eighty four. Word has spread that Robert Hanson, now known
as the Butcher Baker, is about to face justice for
his decade long killingsbury. The room is filled with an
(33:31):
extraordinary mix of people. On one side sits families and
friends of the victims, their faces etched with grief and anger.
In the front row, young Cindy Paulsen nervously fidgets. The
now eighteen year old is visibly anxious, knowing that she
might come face to face with a man who raped
and almost killed her less than a year beforehand. Scattered
among the crowd are off duty dancers from the clubs
(33:54):
were Hanson stalked, some curious citizens, and a heavy contingent
of press ready to report the concl illusion of one
of the most shocking cases in Alaskan history. At two
forty five PM, Robert Hanson is led into the court
room in shackles. He's thinner than before the result of
four months in custody, but otherwise he appears as he
always did, nondescript, bow legged, peering from behind large glasses.
(34:19):
As the clerk calls the court order, Judge Ralph E.
Moody takes the bench to preside over the sentencing. The
proceedings are unusual. There has been no jury trial. In
a strategic move to avoid multiple trials and spare the
victim's families from further agony, Hanson and the prosecutors struck
a plea bargain. Hanson agreed to plead guilty to four
counts of first degree murder, specifically for the murders of
(34:42):
Paula Golding, Joanna Messina, Sherry Morrow, and a Klutna Annie.
He also pleads guilty to the kidnapping and drape of
Cindy Paulson, and to several lesser charges, including firearms theft
and insurance fraud related to his other misdeeds. In exchange,
he has provided details on all the other victims and
help locate their remains. Crucially, the deal guarantees that Hanson
(35:04):
will serve his time in a federal penitentiary out of
state for his own safety. And that Alaska will not
prosecute him for the remaining murders, not that it matters
given the severity of the sentence he's about to receive.
The courtroom listens as Assistant District Attorney Vic Crumb calmly
recites the terms of Hanson's plea in the summary of
his admissions. When Crumb announces that Hanson has confessed to
(35:25):
being a serial murderer, a ripple of emotion courses through
the audience. Cindy Paulson suddenly breaks out in sobs and
dashes out of the court room, overwhelmed. Others among the
victim's friends and families openly weep, some in sorrow, others
in relief that the horror has finally been acknowledged by
Hanson himself. Hanson stands silently, his head bowed. He has agreed,
(35:48):
as part of the plea to recount his crimes, but
today he offers no spontaneous apology or statement of remorse.
In fact, throughout the hearing, Robert Hanson barely speaks at all,
except to utter the required words guilty, your honor as
each charge is formally read. His quiet demeanor is shattered
only once, at one point he begins lightly sobbing, not
(36:09):
for the victims, it seems, but in self pity as
the weight of his fate dawns on him. According to
some observers, then it's time for the prosecution and any
victims to make statements before sentencing. Frank Roth's child, a
seasoned prosecutor who has handled many brutal crimes, rises to
address the court. What comes next is often described as
a prosecutorial tour de force, the speech of rothschild's career.
(36:34):
Fueled by genuine outrage at Hansen's deeds. Frank Roth's child
steps toward the judge and with controlled fervor, begins, your
honor before you sits a monster, an extreme aberration of
a human being. A man who walked among us for
seventeen years, serving us doughnuts, Danish, and hot coffee, all
with a pleasant smile. Mellow, mild mannered, bespectacled Bob the Baker,
(36:56):
a family man, a man so cunning, so clever that
his friends and a quaintances are in shock at what
he now admits to before the court. Not even his
wife of nearly twenty years had any idea of his dark,
evil side. Roth's child has the courtroom spellbound. He speaks
directly to the heinousness of Robert Hanson's acts, how he
prayed on the vulnerable, how he betrayed the community's trust,
(37:19):
and how each of the women he murdered was a
human being snuffed out in the prime of life. He
does not shy away from describing Robert Hanson as being
beyond rehabilitation. At one point, roth's Child motions toward Hanson
and declares, for those people that he is slain, for
those lucky enough to have survived, for all of us,
your honor, we ask that you rid us of this
beastly man forever. When Rothschild concludes, there's a long pause
(37:43):
as he and the other prosecutors exchange some looks. They
know that what they're asking for is effectively a life
sentence times five. The defense attorney, unsure how to salvage
anything for his client, simply notes that Hanson has chosen
not to make a statement. Hanson's own lawyer, Fred Dewey,
then says quietly, it's my client's wish that nothing further
be said on his behalf. In other words, there is
(38:05):
no defense. There's no explanation. Hanson himself declines to speak.
When the judge pointedly ask if he has anything to
say before sentencing. In a low voice, the serial killer responds, no, sir,
I don't. There will be no apology, no explanation from
Robert Hanson here. At the end he has relinquished his voice.
Judge Ralph Moody, a man known for his stern demeanor,
(38:28):
then delivers the final pronouncement. It's hard to believe that
humanity produces and sustains people who have the ability and
propensities to commit such enormous, such beastly, such indescribable crimes.
If ever, there was a case in which a man
deserves to be kept away from the public for the
rest of his life, it is this gentleman here. Then,
Judge Mooney delivers the sentence that, while expected, is still
(38:50):
breathtaking in its scope. Robert Hanson is sentenced to four
hundred and sixty one years plus life in prison without
the possibility of parole. In effect, it is a condemnation
to spend the remainder of his natural life behind bars.
And then some gasp in size of relief emanate from
the audience. It's a number deliberately chosen to ensure Hanson
(39:11):
can never walk free again, a symbolic total reflecting each
precious life that he stole. The judge adds that these
terms will run consecutively. Even if, by some miracle, one
charge were overturned, dozens of others would keep him locked up.
Alaska has imposed the maximum penalty allowed by law. Moody concludes,
(39:31):
this is the case for which we make sure a
man never again sees the light of day as a freeman.
As the judge bangs's gavel, Robert Hanson, the butcher Baker,
officially becomes state inmate number f P two two one,
a man erased from open society. The courtroom begins to
breathe again. Some people quietly applaud or hug one another.
(39:52):
In a poignant moment, Prosecutor Frank Roth's child steps over
to the front row, where a few of the victim's
family members are sitting. Are tears in his eye as
he nods to them. Outside the courthouse, reporters catch a
brief comment from a state trooper who worked the case.
The state trooper says of Hanson, the world is better
without him out here, and now he'll stay where he
belongs in the aftermath, Robert Hanson was quickly remanded to
(40:31):
a federal penitentiary far from Alaska, first in Pennsylvania to
begin his four hundred and sixty one year punishment. He
would eventually be transferred back to Alaska years later to
serve out his time in a newly built state facility.
His second wife, Darla, who had stood by him, initially
filed for divorce within two years of his conviction and
left Alaska with their children, Attempting to escape the shadow
(40:54):
of Hanson's infamy. The record keepers of the Pope and
Young Hunting Club swiftly stripped hanson name from their books,
removing the once proud bow hunting records he had held.
In every way possible, society tried to erase the honors
and freedoms Robert Hanson had once enjoyed. He became a
cautionary tale, a prime example in criminology classes of the
(41:15):
so called organized serial killer who lived a Jekyll and
Hyde life. Robert Hanson never again saw freedom. He died
in prison in twenty fourteen at the age of seventy five,
after thirty years behind bars of natural causes. In those
decades locked away, it's reported that He was a quiet
inmate who spent a lot of his time in the library,
perhaps reflecting on the life he wasted. But he gave
(41:38):
no further interviews, and he never showed genuine remorse to
the world for the lives that he snuffed out. For
the people of Anchorage and the families of Hanson's victims,
the scars would linger, Yet there was some solace in
knowing this predator would never hurt another soul. In the
words of Assistant Da Frank Rothschild, in court, we asked
that you rid us of this beastly man forever, and
(42:00):
the justice system answered that plea. The cold blooded hunter
who had terrorized the last Frontier was permanently caged, leaving
behind a legacy of grief, but also of survival and
resilience in those who escaped him. Cindy Paulson, the teenager
whose courage triggered Hanson's downfall, went on to build a
new life, forever changed but defiantly alive. The city of Anchorage,
(42:23):
which had once looked at Robert Hanson and seen only
a benign baker, now knew the truth that evil can
wear the most ordinary face, and that monsters can hide
in the plain Sight to be concluded on the next
episode of Unresolved
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