Header Image Source: Photo by Andre Benz on Unsplash
1. Security footage of the “The Videotaped Man”
2. Police sketch of the “The Fox-Eyed Man” (National Police Agency)
3. Vending Machines in Tokyo (Alamy)
"The Glico-Morinaga incident (or The Monster With 21 Faces) is a notorious police case of extortion and manhunt in Japan, beginning in 1984 and ending in 1985.
The identity and motives of the group behind this mystery puzzled police investigators and panicked Japan’s urban population for years. An unexplained mystery police had to abandon in 2000 without solving the case.
Almost forty years later, nobody knows who was behind the team or the person with the moniker “The Monster with the 21 Faces” (かい人21面相, Kaijin Nijūichi Mensō).
The main suspect passed away in March 2022. The police never arrested this person, as he presented a solid alibi and consistently denied involvement.
Close to one million police officials were involved in the search for the group that terrorized modern Japan in the most absurd case in the country’s history.
Right from the beginning, the shocking acts of this strange group will puzzle researchers regarding the group’s true intentions. However, as the story unfolds, the bizarre circumstances may uncover a particular purpose.
As we enter this maze with no exit, we encounter one of the most fascinating and bizarre real-life mysteries ever..."
Source: “Glico Morinaga And The Mystery of the “Monster With 21 Faces” by Ex Cathedra (Medium)
1. Marvin “Popcorn” Sutton
2. Cow Shoes from the Prohibition Era
"The grave of the last American outlaw sits off a dirt road in the backwoods of Maggie Valley, North Carolina, the hillbilly haven where Marvin “Popcorn” Sutton, the most notorious moonshiner ever, lived and died in the wildest of ways. The most notable thing about the grave? It’s empty.
I’m here to follow the path of Sutton’s exhumed bones and unravel the mystery behind this modern-day legend. A third-generation moonshiner, born in 1946, Popcorn spent his life distilling the secret recipe for corn whiskey that his Scotch-Irish forefathers brought over centuries ago. His white lightning wasn’t just potent and sweet—it was illegal. And Popcorn, who refused to pay taxes and considered moonshine part of his “don’t tread on me” heritage, wore his rebel badge with pride. As Hank Williams Jr. says of Popcorn, “This guy was real Appalachian Americana. He was a folk hero.” Even in death his battles wage on: Popcorn’s whiskey recently became available legally for the first time, but a family feud over his legacy shows no signs of resolution.
As I discover over several sweltering days and clandestine jugs of moonshine, Popcorn left a twisted trail: scorned women, abandoned kids, complicit cops, even homemade sex machines, exploding stills, and the tale of a throat-slit fiddler on the side of the road. At the center of it all was a guy who, right up until his bizarre death, defied his stereotype as much as he seemed to fulfill it. To the fans and celebs who came from around the world to buy his booze, Popcorn was the banjo-picking cracker with the long beard, grimy overalls, and bawdy stories. But to those who knew him, he was something more: a brilliant self-promoter and chemist who ultimately despised the persona he had crafted as expertly as his booze. “He hated the persona,” says his widow, Pam Sutton. Through it all, there was just one thing that guided him: his likker (as he liked to spell it). “I can brag about one thing,” Popcorn once said in his thick Southern drawl. “Making likker. They ain’t no damn body that can beat me making likker.” And, in the end, he chose to die rather than get beat..."
Source: “The Last Hillbilly Hero” by David Kushner (Maxim) 2012