The Real Story Of Angel Makers Of Nagyrev

Located in the heart of Hungary is the little town of Nagyrév. Like many tiny towns in the nation in the early 1900s, Nagyrév, an agricultural hamlet to the southeast of Budapest with a sparse population of around 800 people, was a peaceful and unassuming place. There was a strong sense of community and the facilities were basic.

But it was missing one thing: a resident doctor. Few choices were available to those who were ill or desperately needed medical guidance. When Zsuzsanna Fazekas arrived in town in 1911, it all changed. Within fifteen years, she would rise to prominence as one of Europe's most notorious women, accused of poisoning over 300 people under the guise of a group she had self-styled as her leader. The Angel Makers of Nagyrév is the name they were given.

A few eyebrows were raised by Zsuzsanna Fazekas upon her arrival at Nagyrév. Nobody knew her origins, her spouse had mysteriously disappeared, and her history was a mystery. But her background as a midwife and excellent recommendations helped her stand out.

Local communities frequently accorded midwives a degree of authority and respect that women did not normally get for thousands of years. Among ancient Egyptians, midwifery was a highly esteemed profession; among Romans, it was a much sought-after way of emancipation for many enslaved or servile women. Midwifery was formerly thought to as a kind of witchcraft, but that all changed throughout the Middle Ages.

Midwives who were well-versed in medicine and had expertise with natural cures were among the women that the church accused of being witches. At some point, rules for the profession became the norm, and naturally, males started to drive women out of the industry. Men were hired to give birth, not women who worked as midwives. Midwives continued to play a significant role in the lives of people in less populous areas where big medical facilities were not readily available. These ladies were also recognized for their expertise in abortion. Additionally, midwives served as "agony aunts," or wise ladies whom other women may confide in during their most difficult moments. For the Nagyrév people, Zsuzsanna Fazekas became that kind of lady.

In the 1910s, Hungary was a country rife with political turmoil, extreme poverty, and women's lack of agency. The First World War, which had a devastating death toll and recruited 9 million men from the Austro-Hungarian Empire, had a devastating impact on the nation. Teenage girls' families would often choose older men for them to marry, making arranged weddings the norm.

They had no voice in the matter, since divorce was still illegal, even for victims of domestic violence. As a result, many women, like those in Nagyrév, were forced into marriages characterized by indifference and even terror by males, and that was before they were shipped out to fight in wars. They were burdened with expanding family, few resources, and no one to turn to for help. The fact that Nagyrév became a detention camp for Allied prisoners of war meant that they weren't entirely bereft of men.

After being conscripted, many of these guys were assigned to work on the fields that the locals had abandoned. A few integrated into village life to the extent that they began having love encounters with the married ladies. Having many partners at once was common for some women. During this short time of sexual freedom, Fazekas would volunteer her services to help with a number of unintended pregnancies. At least ten times between 1911 and 1921, Fazekas was arrested for conducting illegal abortions. However, each time, judges who were sympathetic to her case acquitted her, and she was free to continue working in Nagyrév.

Having been through so much fighting, several of Nagyrév's soldiers went back to the hamlet after the war, but they were never the same. A lot of people had endured terrible injuries that never fully healed, and post-traumatic stress disorder wasn't even a medically acknowledged diagnosis yet. Contrary to what many of their spouses had experienced after years of freedom, they had transformed from providers to dependents.

As a result of their husbands' increasing demands, the ladies sought Fazekas' counsel. since women bemoaned life with their returning spouses, Fazekas provided a novel solution, since she had been used to hearing them vent about their deepest, darkest secrets.

From treating syphilis to lightening skin, arsenic has a long and storied history in medicine and cosmetics. One of the most prevalent means of murder for millennia, it was also sold as a remedy for ugly face imperfections during the Victorian period.

The fact that arsenic poisoning may occur naturally from drinking contaminated water sources attracted serial killers who want to cover their tracks by claiming to have suffered from cholera (which causes comparable symptoms, such as nausea, vomiting, abdominal discomfort, diarrhea, and skin discoloration). As a kind of ideal crime, arsenic poisoning appeared to fit the bill for the ladies of Nagyrév, a place with almost no structures and no trustworthy water supplies.

Claiming her arsenic solutions would be undetectable in the body, Fazekas started covertly convincing wives to poison their husbands. Another lady, Susi Oláh, was recruited by her to fill out death certificates that masked the true cause of death. At the tender age of eighteen, Oláh poisoned her considerably older spouse.

The news circulated rapidly across the neighborhood, and the dead started to pile up shortly after. No one suffered more than husbands. Mothers began murdering their own children and other dependant relatives not long after. The accusing lady claims that Fazekas asked her, "Why put up with them?" For the 18 years that Mrs. Fazekas resided there, the murder rate was about 45–50, earning Nagyrév the unsavory moniker of "the murder district."

The method by which the so-called Angel Makers were subsequently identified remains a mystery. According to one story, an inquiry was sparked after a medical student from a nearby town discovered elevated amounts of arsenic in a corpse that had washed up on the riverside.

According to Hungarian-American historian Béla Bodó, the ladies were accused of mass murder in an anonymous letter that was published in a local newspaper. Whatever the reason, the local cemetery had to have dozens of graves exhumed by the authorities, and out of fifty corpses, 46 had large arsenic residues.

By the time the authorities arrived to apprehend Fazekas, she had already succumbed to her own poison. In the end, 26 of the women accused in the murders went to trial. They committed crimes for a variety of reasons, and their stories became legendary in their hometowns. It was said that some ladies were weary of being abused by their husbands.

Still others yearned to seize ancestral property. Many of them spoke of wanting to protect their loved ones from the battle. At the time, many were shocked to see these ladies seem so unapologetic and even bored by the courtroom atmosphere while testifying. No matter how horrible their acts were, they thought they had to act in order to accomplish their mission. Eight of Nagyrév's Angel Makers were eventually found guilty and condemned to death, although only two of them were actually put to death. Sentenced to jail were twelve others.