A physician who turned medical knowledge into a method of killing, Babor carried out phenol injections at Gross-Rosen concentration camp — a technique used across the SS system to murder prisoners without the overhead of conventional execution. His postwar years trace a familiar arc of evasion: a brief capture, a resumed career, and years of freedom before former survivors identified him. Simon Wiesenthal's intervention brought international attention, but Babor died before he could face trial, his body recovered from an Ethiopian river in 1964.

He committed his first murders at fourteen, then returned home and behaved normally — an early demonstration of the detachment that would define his case. By the time investigators identified him, he had killed at least five people across several years, while an innocent man had already been arrested, imprisoned, and compensated by Mussolini for a crime Vizzardelli committed. His subsequent escape from prison and enlistment in the fascist Black Brigades added a political dimension to a record that began in adolescence.

His case became less a story of crimes committed than of a criminal justice system willing to accept them. Lucas confessed to hundreds of murders across the United States, providing investigators with enough detail to close cold cases in multiple states — until scrutiny revealed that many of those confessions were impossible to verify and, in numerous instances, flatly contradicted by evidence. The resulting scandal exposed how readily law enforcement agencies had accepted unsubstantiated confessions, raising serious questions about the cases closed in his name.

His active career spanned barely two years, yet the raid on the Mughal convoy in 1695 — seizing what may have been the largest single haul in the history of piracy — was enough to make Every a figure of enduring notoriety. The attack on the Ganj-i-Sawai strained diplomatic relations between England and the Mughal Empire and prompted one of the first coordinated international manhunts for a private individual. That he was never caught gave his story a quality that inspired imitation and legend in roughly equal measure.

Over nearly two decades, she reported the deaths of eight infants in succession, each ruled a natural cause at the time — a pattern that went unquestioned for thirty years before investigators revisited the cases. The span of the crimes, the age of the victims, and the systemic failures that allowed them to continue make her case a significant one in the history of forensic medicine and child death investigation.

What distinguished Alcala was not only the confirmed death toll but the vast, unresolved archive he left behind — more than a thousand photographs of individuals whose fates remain largely unknown. His crimes spanned California and New York across several years, and investigators have long suspected the confirmed convictions represent only a fraction of his actual victims. The photographs, many recovered decades after his initial arrest, turned the investigation into something open-ended and ongoing, with identifications still being sought well into the 2010s.

His career bridged official military structures and clandestine violence in ways that proved especially difficult to confront or prosecute during El Salvador's civil war years. As a death squad organizer and political architect of the ARENA party, he helped shape both the extrajudicial killing apparatus and the formal right-wing opposition in a single country simultaneously. The UN Truth Commission's finding that he ordered the assassination of Archbishop Óscar Romero — shot dead while celebrating Mass — remains the act most associated with his name.