168: London's oldest missing person's case: Mary Flanagan

32 years ago, much-loved mum Vera Anderson received a phone call that resulted in her leaving her home at 10pm on a Saturday night and driving to a quiet, deserted area. Hours later, she would be found murdered in her car, in what appeared to be a hit. Despite extensive investigation, authorities have never found any motive, any reason as to why someone might want Vera dead.

Hidden away in suburbs, small towns, and rented halls, some of the strangest cults in history never made the headlines but their stories are wilder than anything you’ve seen in a documentary. From doomsday prophets with bizarre end‑of‑the‑world plans, to self‑styled messiahs controlling every second of their followers’ lives, these groups operated on the fringes, quietly ruining lives under a cloak of secrecy. This time, we’re diving into the cults you’ve probably never heard of: the obscure movements, the unhinged beliefs, and the chilling lengths people will go to for a promised sense of purpose and belonging.

In 1982, a steamer trunk abandoned near a quiet Maryland roadside was opened to reveal the decomposed body of a young woman, nicknamed the “Cheerleader in the Trunk,” also known as the “Woman in the Trunk” and “Lady in the Trunk.” She was likely a teenager or young adult, and to this day, no one knows her name, where she came from, or who put her in that footlocker. All that’s left is a Jane Doe, a handful of clues, and a decades‑old question hanging over Frederick County: who was she, and why did her life end in a box in the woods?

Just how gay was Ancient Rome? To answer that, you have to step into a world where desire wasn’t neatly labelled, and power mattered more than gender. Roman writers joked, bragged, and gossiped about sex with men and women, yet what really raised eyebrows wasn’t who you slept with but whether you were in control. From emperors with male lovers to graffiti that left nothing to the imagination, Rome was a place where queerness was everywhere and nowhere at the same time: visible in daily life, yet filtered through strict rules about class, status, and shame.

In December 1989, 22‑year‑old pizza delivery girl Julie Hogg vanished from her home in Billingham, Teesside, leaving behind a locked house, an unfinished bath, and a family who knew instantly that something was wrong. For months, her disappearance hung over the town like a fog, no clear crime scene, no confession, just rumours and a chilling sense that the danger was closer than anyone wanted to believe. When Julie’s body was finally discovered hidden inside her own home, the truth that followed exposed not only a killer, but a justice system that would take years, and multiple trials, to truly call him what he was.

Long before the pill became a symbol of choice and freedom, birth control was built on secrets, lies, and experiments done on bodies that never truly got to say “yes.” From dangerous early trials on poor and marginalized women to forced sterilisation laws and eugenics‑driven policies, the fight to control pregnancy has often gone hand in hand with attempts to control entire groups of people. Behind every neat little packet of pills and every “liberating” slogan sits a much darker truth: who got safe options, who got harmed in the name of progress, and who still pays the price for that history today.

Anyone with information on the whereabouts of Leigh Occhi or details about her disappearance is asked to call the Tupelo Police Department at (662) 841-6491 or Crime Stoppers of Northeast Mississippi at 1-800-773-TIPS (8477).On a stormy morning in 1992, 13‑year‑old Leigh Occhi vanished from her Mississippi home, leaving behind blood, questions, and a mother who insists she has no idea what happened. The front door was locked, the house was quiet, and Leigh was simply gone, as if she’d stepped out of her life mid‑routine. Decades later, her disappearance still lingers like a ghost over Tupelo, a mystery etched in storm clouds, unanswered phone calls, and a single, haunting question: how does a child disappear without a trace from her own home?

Giulia Tofana was the whispered secret of desperate wives: a woman who bottled death and sold it as salvation. Her creation, the infamous Aqua Tofana, slipped into wine and soup without taste or trace, leaving doctors baffled and husbands quietly buried. In the candlelit streets of 17th‑century Italy, her name became a rumour, a warning, and a legend, proof that sometimes the most dangerous killer looks like a helpful friend.

In 1984, the body of an unidentified man was found in Volusia County, Florida, leaving behind almost no clues to who he was, how he lived, or why he died. Decades later, investigators and online sleuths are still trying to put a name to this John Doe and piece together the final hours that led to his lonely death. This episode takes a broad, introductory look at the case, the few details we do know, and the haunting question at the heart of every unidentified victim: how does someone simply vanish from the record?

One killer, six young girls, one city gripped by fear. In the early 1970s, an unknown predator stalked the highways around Washington, D.C., snatching children off the streets and leaving their bodies by the roadside. In this episode, we step into the shadow of the Freeway Phantom: a faceless figure who taunted police, devastated families, and then vanished, leaving behind a trail of questions that still haunt investigators today.