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Thomas Rosseland Wiborg-Thune

TSK is the podcast dedicated to exploring the serial killer phenomenon. Who the killers were, what they did and how. The show makes a significant effort into exploring the serial killers' background, especially their childhood and youth. It goes into detail in the killers' development, and describes the murders in graphic detail to give the listener a truthful understanding of who these killers really were and the extent of their criminal behavior. The show is produced and hosted by Thomas Wiborg-Thune. He is a 37 year old Norwegian living in the Norwegian capital city of Oslo. The show airs every week and currently has in excess of 17 million downloads. 
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The Serial Killer Podcast

She bent down and grabbed it. It was lighter than she remembered. With slightly shaking hands, she opened it and looked down at the small corpse, which stared back with empty, lifeless eyes. Reflexively she turned her face away. She still didn't like looking dead babies in the eyes, but she quickly got control of herself and fixed her gaze on the baby’s chest instead. So quiet and calm it was, not a sound came from its small, pale lips. Dagmar smiled blissfully as she lifted the infant to her. She held it close to her body as she moved back to the living room. With confident steps she approached the roaring stove again. She knelt down once more and opened the middle shutter. Laboriously and with some difficulty she managed to push the lifeless body through the hole and was finally able to close the door again. Dagmar got up and stood completely still in front of the stove. Almost devoutly, she held out her hands and accepted the warmth that spread from the hot metal to her cold fingers. Her eyes were still fixed on the flames she could see through the shutter, and a small smile curled her lips. That's how easy it was. The stove was a good servant in her fight for survival, in the fight to erase all traces.

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Dagmar Overby - Part 1

Rasmine looked down at the infant and first clutched it to herself, but then hesitantly held it out to Dagmar, who immediately accepted it. Dagmar held the child close to her body, rolled the swaddling aside, and the most adorable baby boy revealed himself. The child slept safely and soundly. Dagmar could feel the warm breath against her fingers and let the tip of her finger brush across his cheek, mostly because she felt that Rasmine was watching her intently. Apparently, Rasmine liked what she saw, because she relaxed her body, and Dagmar felt approved.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcast

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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcast

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Dagmar Overby - Part 3

Through a combination of deception and coercion, they elicited a confession from Atkins, who admitted to holding Hinman while Beausoleil inflicted the fatal wounds. This confession proved to be a pivotal moment in the investigation, solidifying the link between the Manson Family and the gruesome murders.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcast

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Charles Manson - Part 8

Deciphering Charles Manson's words is always challenging, but this particular note is less obscure than his usual communications. "Gold" was his nickname for Nancy Pitman, one of his favored Family members, whom he had earlier called "Nancy" in the same message. In early 1970, Pitman was a regular visitor to the jailed defendants, acting on Manson's instructions.

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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcast

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Charles Manson - Part 9

When we dive into the dark saga of the Manson Family, the names Sharon Tate, Leno and Rosemary LaBianca often dominate the narrative. Yet, the shadow cast by Charles Manson and his followers extends into numerous other grim chapters, each involving real people with lives, dreams, and stories that were cut short. Let's take a closer look at these lesser-known victims, their lives, and the circumstances surrounding their tragic ends.

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Charles Manson - Part 10

He had to offer Her blood, much like the ancient cultures did, recognizing Her under various guises of gods and goddesses but understanding that sacrifice was necessary to stave off Her wrath. Her anger, palpable even now, was seething beneath the earth's crust, knocking at the edges of his psyche. She was incensed at humanity's degeneration, furious at their shortcomings.

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Herbert Mullin - Part 1

Herb began experimenting with drugs, initially using marijuana to soothe his anxiety. However, he soon recognized its impact on his intellectual sharpness, which was crucial for his self-image as the "most likely to succeed." He switched to hallucinogens, particularly LSD, becoming so enamored with it that he inked a tattoo across his stomach advocating for its legalization.

 

While these drugs offered him new perspectives on reality, they also intensified his underlying mental health issues. Marijuana had already influenced his mood and stability, but LSD pushed him into deeper paranoia and persistent hallucinations. During this period, Herb's worldview began to crystallize, shaped by voices in his head that commanded him to act, often against his will, giving him a twisted sense of purpose.

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Herbert Mullin - Part 2

The police approached the Mullin family home, their knocks echoing like the tolling of a death knell through the silent house, surrounded by uncollected mail, a silent testament to absence. Imagining the worst, they prepared to breach this fortress of solitude, fearing Herb had taken his own life in some final, desperate act. As they made arrangements for a warrant, a neighbor emerged, a ghoul from normalcy, to explain that no amount of knocking would summon the Mullins, for they had escaped to the tropical paradise of Hawaii, oblivious to the storm brewing back home.

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Herbert Mullin - Part 3

The blade sliced her open, her flesh separating with a cold precision, skin and fat sliding apart as if they’d been primed to rupture all along. Blood saturated everything—her dress, the grass, his hands, the knife—a predictable mess, though far worse was still to come. He set the knife aside and forced his fingers into the incision, pushing past the spasming muscle that gripped his wrist with the tautness of a worn elastic sheet. Inside, he grasped something solid yet rubbery, with a slight yield to it. He tugged hard, extracting the organ from the abdominal breach he’d carved, its odd, irregular shape further distorted by his clamping hold. It remained connected at both ends to the obscured tangle of organs still housed within her, serving as an initial point for further exploration. Two crude cuts with the knife detached it completely, and it began leaking at once—not blood, but a bitter, foul-smelling substance

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcast

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Herbert Mullin - Part 4

Mullin didn’t fit the killer mold. This clean-cut ex-flower-child looked more like he’d stumble over a peace rally than a murder scene. Cops might’ve sneered at hippies, but they didn’t peg them—or guys like Mullin—for bloody rampages. At first, his calm vibe seemed like he’d play ball. They figured prying answers out of him about that day’s madness would be a breeze. That illusion shattered fast. Mullin bolted up from his chair, barking “Silence!” like some deranged king. It actually worked—the detective froze long enough for Mullin to tilt his head and listen to whatever ghost was whispering in his ear. Inside, Mullin was a mess, a tangle of broken wires and crossed signals. He’d shown a itch to spill his guts before, like when he’d bent Father Henri Tomei’s ear, but it was a messy urge, full of knots. On some faint, flickering level of sense—if you could call it that—he knew he’d been caught with blood on his hands. Jail loomed, and he got that much.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcast

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Herbert Mullin - Part 5

In the subterfuge of this turbulent environment, a prolific monster operated right under the noses of law enforcement, preying on victims from the city’s most vulnerable population demographic.

 

On the 2nd of February, 2009, Christine Ross was walking her dog Rucca through the morning shadows of Paradise, her West Mesa subdivision community, when the hound caught a scent. Within a minute, he'd dug up a large bone and proudly presented it. Disturbed, Christine texted a picture of the fossil to her sister, who was a nurse. It looked like a human femur bone, her sister replied. Police investigators arrived on the scene and discovered the remains of multiple human bodies buried across 100 acres of barren land.

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The West Mesa Bone Collector

Lyt når som helst, hvor som helst

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