AARON MAHNKE: On June 2, 2009,
Caroline Coffey and her husband Blazej Kot
went out for a run.
They had recently returned
from their honeymoon in Costa Rica.
[panting]
Caroline, at 28,
was settling into her new job
as a cancer researcher.
Blazej, 24,
was a failing Ph.D. candidate
working 80-hour weeks for a startup.
The stress was taking its toll.
[panting, running footsteps]
As he ran with Caroline that day,
he was overcome by the unshakable conviction
that this woman was not Caroline.
She was someone else,
someone pretending to be Caroline,
whose intention was to destroy him.
[panting]
[screaming]
[knife slices]
His defense attorney told the jury
that Blazej was suffering from Capgras syndrome,
a rare psychiatric disorder
whose victims suffer from the belief
that someone they love has been replaced
with someone who looks identical,
a deceiver who looks exactly like them.
Caroline's body was found the following day.
She had bled to death.
Blazej explained that he slit her throat
so that she would die quickly without too much pain.
I still cannot understand
what came over me to lead me to do this.
But I know I have done something terrible...
and it torments me every single day.
Blazej Kot was sentenced to life in prison
after the jury rejected his explanation
of that day's events:
that his wife was not his wife...
but an imposter.
Yet a century earlier,
this explanation was surprisingly widespread.
But it wasn't that everyone
was in the grips of a psychological illness.
Rather, society itself was gripped by a powerful belief,
and its most chilling instance
lies in the country
of Caroline Coffey's birth: Ireland.
I'm Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.
When strange things happened in 19th century Ireland,
people often looked to magic and superstition for answers.
And they believed that spirit creatures were the cause.
These creatures were a type of fairy
called a changeling.
And a changeling could come and take you away.
There's a superstition
that if the person you love suddenly seems different,
almost like they've become someone else,
that it wasn't in fact your loved one at all
but a replacement, a doppelganger,
a changeling.
Like many of the people
in the Irish village of Ballyvadlea,
Bridget Cleary had grown up with those superstitions.
She may have even believed some of them,
but, unlike many of her neighbors,
Bridget was a modern woman,
empowered by the Singer sewing machine.
Bridget lived with her husband
in a small cottage owned by her father Patrick Boland.
Her husband Michael Cleary
was a cooper for the local creamery.
Bridget's dressmaking and egg selling businesses
were lifting Bridget and her husband
above the poverty line of their neighbors.
Everyone in town knew
that the couple increasingly depended
on Bridget's rising income.
When I married you, you were a modest, sweet country lass.
You know who I am.
I am the same woman you married...
who loves you just the same.
[clock chimes]
Ah.
We can continue chatting fashion
after me egg deliveries.
[chiming continues]
I'll wake your da.
Oh, let him sleep.
Father's cared for me enough in a life.
Beside, ah,
the thought of him trudging up that hill.
Up that hill?
Yeah.
To William Simpson's?
No.
To Cousin Jack Dunne's.
William Simpson's?
Hah.
Shame on you for hearing such gossip about me.
You should be at home.
I have deliveries, Mike.
Come with me.
I don't work for you.
I have a business...
and a schedule.
You mock, but if you lived as I, you'd follow my road.
And if you had as many customers as I,
you'd understand mine.
Mike,
I didn't mean it like that.
Bridgie, I know since your mommy died
that you've been going to fairy rings
hoping to see her again,
and we both know the town still gossips
how often she'd go to the fairy rings,
that she practiced fairy craft,
and, because she wasn't careful,
the changelings almost took her away.
I warn you, Bridgie,
going there is tempting them take you.
You belong to me, Bridget Cleary.
No other man, not mortal
nor any man of good people, shall have you.
Only me.
AARON MAHNKE: By custom and religion,
an Irish wife belonged to her husband.
But there was also a superstition:
the changelings had the power
to steal her away.
The favorite targets of changelings were women,
sometimes even children,
and that's because they were seen as weak and vulnerable.
But before I go on with Bridget's story...
I need to tell you more about these mysterious creatures.
[clanging]
[coughing]
Abducted humans would be taken to wraths,
which, in fact,
were the remains of Iron Age forts.
On old maps these wraths were clearly marked
because the local residents viewed them
as something else entirely.
They were feared to be portals to another realm,
and they were known as fairy rings.
It was from these rings
that changelings would emerge in search of humans.
But don't think Tinker Bell.
Think Body Snatchers.
They could slip into our world
and transform their appearance
to look like their victim...
who would then be kidnapped
and held captive in the fairy realm.
If a child became sick or ill-tempered,
the explanation would often be
that a changeling had taken its place.
Anyone could be replaced,
and a sudden lack of interest in friends and family
might be a telltale sign.
There were ways to banish a changeling,
remedies that could cure you
if they didn't kill you first,
like holding a changeling over the fire
until it could no longer stand the heat.
[screaming]
Or using foxglove, also known as digitalis,
a powerful heart medicine still in use today.
Children might be bathed in a solution of foxglove
to purge a changeling.
If that failed,
they'd be forced to drink it,
and foxglove can be lethal.
One desperate family was driven
to the most extreme cure.
One of their children suffered
from what we would surely recognize today
as epilepsy,
but to his distraught mother,
this could only be one thing.
[door creaks]
The way they saw it,
at least there would be one less mouth to feed.
[screaming]
[rain falling]
[coughing]
Jack Dunne never showed--
[coughing]-- for two hours.
[cough]
The weather turned sour.
I'll put you to bed.
I beg your pardon, sir.
I am a married--
[cough]-- woman.
[coughing]
How do you not know me?
Do you know this man?
[cough]
Maybe she caught a touch of the brain fever.
How does she not recognize her own husband and father?
Tell us you didn't go to the fairy ring to see your mother.
Did you, Bridget? Did you?
[coughing]
[gasping]
[coughing]
Does she look taller to you?
If it were a fairy stroke, she'd be having seizures.
She has the shivers,
but she's been outside in the cold.
[coughing]
Don't. Put it down.
Afraid of the iron. It's a sure sign.
Oh. I think we better fetch Dr. Crean.
He should be here tomorrow.
[gasp, coughing]
If what Michael believed was true,
they had no time to lose
because there's one final detail I forgot to tell you.
He only had nine days to rescue Bridget,
or she'd be lost to the fairy realm forever.
In small town Ireland,
you couldn't keep something like a changeling
a secret for long.
Uncle.
Doc Crean's inside.
He finally showed up after a whole week
of me trying to get him here.
Michael's gone
to lodge a complaint against Dr. Crean.
If you had told Crean a bottle of Jameson's needed a doctor.
I've never seen a changeling before.
I brought iron nails to protect us.
Why don't you stay here, brother,
till Dr. Crean leaves?
Dr. Crean.
You're langered.
Even drunk I make more sense than you.
Old Irishry.
Your home remedies and potions do more harm than good.
Perhaps if the doctor responded when called upon.
She's always been healthy,
so no need to be overly concerned.
Bronchitis, hmm?
She has bronchitis and nervous excitement.
With some modern medicine and rest,
she'll be better in a few days.
See that she takes
two spoonfuls of this in the morning
and two at night.
Hmm?
Hmm.
Oh, hey. Hey, hey, hey.
Mm-mm.
If I had my mother...
I would not be this way.
I'll nurse you back to health,
just as she would have.
The doctor says you need to have this.
Mm.
Mm-- [cough]
I demanded he explain why he didn't come when sent for.
And very rude in turn,
saying sickly women shouldn't question their doctors.
I hear Michael left before sunrise
to lodge a complaint against Doctor Crean.
[both chuckling]
Ohh.
Mike may has his faults...
but...
how many husbands would wander the countryside
for days on end...
tirelessly looking for the-- [cough]-- doctor?
[coughing]
Mike-- [cough]-- is not one to-- [cough]-- ever--
[coughing]-- give up.
PRIEST: Per istam sanctam Unctiónem
et suam piisimam misericórdiam.
Last rite?
Now don't be alarmed.
I do this often, Michael. It's just cautious.
The distance, should...
there be a problem and I can't get here in time.
Father,
will you make a sign of the cross over this cure?
Cure?
Is that Dr. Crean's medicine?
I was given this by a fairy doctor in Fethard.
The Seven Sisters Kill Or Cure.
So you went to see this fairy doctor
before or after you went to fetch Dr. Crean in Fethard?
I don't know what you believe.
We can't all be right.
But I know that you must forget
the superstitions of the old Irishry.
I do, Father, I surely do, but...
if the changelings have taken Bridget,
we've only nine days to get her back,
or we lose her to the other world forever.
This is--
This may be day 7.
There are only two days, or my Bridget is gone.
Then you must put your faith in Christ.
I do, but, you see, with my faith in Christ,
Dr. Crean's modern medicine,
and the Seven Sisters Kill Or Cure,
every-- every possibility is attended to, you see?
And, Father, everyone knows
that a priest and the power of his cross
is stronger than the fairies.
So this is sure to work.
Father,
in my time I've seen what fairies can do.
I have yet to see what Christ can.
[door opens, closes]
MAHNKE: Strong...
independent...
seductive...
empowered.
These Victorian-era photographs
depict women who, like Bridget,
possessed qualities that could be threatening
to the men in their lives.
In fact, they were often considered deviant behavior.
They're the work of Julia Margaret Cameron.
At the age of 48 she was given a camera as a gift,
and she became a photographer,
a rare vocation for a woman in 1863.
This man was also a photographer.
Dr. Hugh Welch Diamond was the superintendent
of the Female Department at the Surrey County Asylum.
The women he photographed were his patients,
and he photographed them during their confinement
in English mental hospitals.
The women who couldn't or wouldn't conform
to the constraints of Victorian social rules
ran the risk of being declared insane.
Men had the right
to have their wives committed to an asylum.
If a husband or father could persuade two doctors
that a woman was insane,
that's all it took to send her to the madhouse.
It wasn't hard to do, either.
Moral insanity,
another term for infidelity,
was just one cause for being committed.
Hysteria, a frequent diagnosis, was another.
It's a term derived from "hystra,"
the Greek word for "womb."
In other words,
a mental disorder unique to women.
Some were given mercury chloride,
also known as Calomel,
to treat their emotional outbursts,
which is ironic because we now know
that mercury can cause actual insanity.
There were those, of course,
who would be considered mentally ill
even by today's standards.
But that only made it harder
for the women who really weren't.
Dr. Diamond had a therapeutic reason
for taking these photographs.
He believed that the site of their own faces
would have a healing effect on the women.
Although the intention was to save them through science,
in the end they were as powerless as Bridget
to control their own fate.
Out of desperation,
Michael called for the assistance
of Bridget's cousin Jack Dunne.
Being disabled, he couldn't work in the fields.
He spent years learning the secrets
of fairy lore and magical incantations.
Before we begin,
I'm afraid, Michael,
I bring sad news from your family in Killenaule.
Your father has died two days ago.
The death of our family often occurs
during the nine days of a changelings abduction,
to distract the bereaved family members
from getting those taken by the changelings
back in due time.
I hear them, Han...
talking about me.
Jack Dunne's out there.
Don't mind them.
You don't believe them, do you?
I don't mind them none.
I fear...
Mike is trying to make a fairy of me now...
and in every way.
That fear goes away if you just get better.
I wasn't sure about my wife.
But my dad's death,
the timing of it, it being the eighth day...
It's too much coincidence.
Promise me...
not to tell this to anyone.
He almost burned me.
Once back,
he'd heard I had gone to the fairy fort.
He said that...
I had to do as he told me.
That he forbid me to go...
and I needed to listen...
like when we were first wed.
But you did go.
Being Bridget Cleary,
you did because he said not to.
I hoped to see my mommy.
Aye.
Mike followed me.
Saw me.
And when I got home...
he held the poker from the fireplace
this far from my face.
He told me that the fairies fear nothing more than fire.
So I had to stand there...
and not be afraid.
But inside--
[shuddering]
That thing in there is not my Bridgie.
And if we don't get her back by midnight,
I lose her forever.
I don't give a devil about my father, dead or alive.
He never cared for me.
I care about my father-in-law
Patrick.
And we need to get his girl back from these creatures.
Now I want to tell you something.
And please, keep it between us.
Huh.
I know you do believe.
But as for me, I do not believe.
There are no such things as fairies.
And if Ireland is ever going to become a part of the world,
they need to go away.
And it's up to us to make them
by trusting in the priests and the Lord and each other,
not in the old ways.
The only good people I believe in
are people like you.
I have brought with me no more powerful a cure.
Nine In One.
It's nine times more powerful
than the Seven Sisters Kill Cure.
It can only be used on the brink of the ninth day.
Once we get this down her, no doubt she'll be cured.
It's bitter and foul.
These herbs have been mixed with urine.
It purifies.
Jim, Pat,
you boys will have to hold her down.
[Bridget screaming]
Open the creature's mouth!
Swallow it, devil!
No! No!
Don't! Mike, no!
This is your wife! This is your wife!
- I love my wife. - No!
- I'm trying to bring her back. - No!
Go about your business. You know nothing of this work.
Michael! [shouting]
- [pounding at door] - BRIDGET: No!
[shouting]
If you don't want to be hurt--
- [Johanna shouting] - ...let her go!
Drink the cure and bring her back!
Dad! Why are you doing this to me, Dad?
Because I love me daughter and I want her back.
- Don't talk to it. It lies! - Father, please! Father!
Father, please! Please, Father. Aah!
[sputtering]
The creature knows that the cure will cast it out.
Three is a holy number to the fir bolgs.
Three times the changeling will deny our questions.
In the name of the Father and the Son of the Holy Ghost,
I command you! Tell us your name!
- [screaming] - Answer him!
JACK: Open the creature's mouth!
Aah!
Is your name Bridget Boland Cleary?
Aah!
See how it feels to answer! That's twice!
- Aah! - Ohh! Hold the bitch down, Michael.
- Michael! - JACK: Don't listen to it!
- I just want my life back. - Michael!
Fifteen minutes to midnight.
We'll have to use the final remedy.
[breathing heavily]
Bridget.
Michael?
They're gone.
Let me go.
You didn't answer when I said your name.
I don't know who you are.
You took my Bridget away to the other world.
You're right, Mike.
You are right.
They took me in the fairy ring.
They took me to the other world.
Your mother was there.
I saw your mother Bridget with the fairies.
She wants you to know that she's happy.
You know how she went to the fairy rings when she was alive?
I saw her there.
But she knew.
She knew I wanted to be only with you...
to go back to our home.
And so she let me go.
She let me return to her son.
And now I'm back, Mike.
I'm back for good.
The old Bridget...
the one you married.
[whimpering]
[deep sigh]
It was the rare man in Bridget's time
who could handle a strong woman.
No one understood that better
than sharpshooter Frank Butler.
Frank traveled throughout the Midwest
betting town folk
that he could beat the best among them.
He rarely lost.
When he arrived in one small Ohio town,
Butler later recalled that everyone seemed
a little too eager to bet against him.
And they didn't tell Butler that his competitor
would be 5-foot-tall 15-year-old girl.
Taking her on in direct competition
was a risky choice. How would it look
if a professional gunslinger lost in a showdown to a girl?
After all,
Butler's reputation was his livelihood.
The girl never missed a shot.
[gunshots]
But here's the thing.
Butler wasn't humiliated.
He was in love.
He was beaten and smitten all at the same time.
The girl's name was Annie Oakley,
and she was smitten, too.
Frank and Annie were soon married.
They became a husband and wife team
on the vaudeville circuit.
Frank quickly learned
he was no match for Annie's shooting.
He hung up his gun,
and he became her assistant.
He's usually portrayed in history
as a jealous husband,
envious of his wife's talent and fame.
But nothing could be further from the truth.
There's no evidence that he was anything but proud.
He called her his angel.
Nobody in the late 19th century
was more famous than Annie Oakley.
She was America's first female superstar.
Her career lasted decades,
and Frank was always there by her side.
Annie passed away in 1926.
Frank,
broken without his dear Annie,
stopped eating...
and died 18 days later.
In nominae Patris et Filii et Spiritús Sancti.
Father Ryan showed up the next day
to check on Bridget.
He performed Mass for the couple
and continued to urge them
to reject the superstitions of the Old Irishry.
[coughing]
[knock on door]
PATRICK: Bridgie,
Han and James are here to see you.
I'll take my leave.
It would be nice... to get some air.
Put your clothes on. It's cold outside.
Here.
Thank ye.
[door opens]
Oh! Glory be!
Ha ha ha! Bridgie!
You're a vision! Oh, welcome back.
[laughing]
Is there anything you need, me daughter?
Hmm.
What's this, Da?
Did the dog get the best of you?
Yes.
- Hello, James. - Bridgie.
[chuckling]
Ah, you're-- you're a sight.
I'd like to go outside.
Have some tea and jam first.
Get your strength up.
Hmm.
Here.
- Exactly what I need, Han. - Hmm.
[chuckling]
Three pieces.
You broke the bread into three pieces!
I didn't notice I had.
Are you Bridget Cleary? My wife?
In the name of God!
- Michael! - Quiet!
I am...Bridget Cleary.
- Eat! - What are you doing?
She spat out her communion wafer.
What?
I've had bronchitis for a week, Mike!
I've been coughing for a week!
You yourself said she was back last night.
Jack Dunne agreed.
He went home, he was so sure.
I don't need Jack Dunne to know!
My wife does not wear
red knickers and black stockings.
Are you Bridget Cleary, my wife,
in the name of God?
Yes.
I am...
Bridget Cleary.
You know who I am, Michael?
I'm the woman you married, and I always will be.
Swallow it.
I'm not a changeling
or a dog or a slave to you!
Or to anyone!
If you don't swallow it,
I know exactly what you are!
Aah!
[shouting]
Swallow it!
Is it down? Is it down?
Stop him, please.
- [grunt] - Pull him off!
Oh, Michael! Michael, don't hurt her no more!
Michael, she's your wife.
Bridget is gone!
This is an old deceiver sent in place of my wife.
Even fooled the priest today, she did.
But the bitch won't fool anyone no more.
No! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Michael, stop! Oh, my God!
PATRICK: Michael, don't hurt her anymore!
JOHANNA: Stand away from her this minute!
JAMES: She's your wife!
You'll soon see her up the chimney.
JOHANNA [sobbing]: Michael!
- PATRICK: No, Michael, no! - JOHANNA: Aah!
[screaming]
- [Patrick wails] - JOHANNA: Michael!
Michael. Michael.
[breathing heavily]
- [sobbing] - No. No.
MAHNKE: "Are you a witch or are you a fairy?
Or are you the wife of Michael Cleary?"
A jump rope rhyme you can still hear
in the schoolyards of Ireland today.
Michael Cleary was tried for Bridget's murder.
The public devoured the strange tale
which newspapers dubbed The Fairy Trial.
Bridget's murder played into
the most insidious British stereotypes of the Irish:
that they were savages
and incapable of ruling themselves.
I'm gonna wait here for her, Father...
at this fairy ring.
And in three days,
a white horse will appear from over there.
They'll have her in her fairy shackles.
I'll break her bindings with my black knife.
And it'll be me. [sniffle]
It'll be me.
I'll be the one to bring my beautiful Bridgie back home.
Sometimes we don't want answers.
We want to reaffirm
the world is how we want it to be.
And in the face of a changing world...
Michael Cleary needed to believe in changelings.
Officer.
Over there.
Bridget was buried in a shallow grave...
a cloth sack over her head,
still wearing her black stockings.