Myra Hindley (1942-2002) spent thirty-six years in prison, that is, she spent more time in captivity than in the enjoyment of her freedom. He lived for sixty years and died of respiratory failure. The facts ─abominable, without explanation, far from any humanity─ are known to all, although they remain controversial for those who seek a single truth where there seem to be too many. Hindley wrote repeatedly in prison letters to his mother as well as the most diverse explanations about what happened. These papers, which could have been written by her, must be read in the light of the events of her life between 1966 and 2002, in which her existence was transformed into a long tunnel of iridescences that sometimes carried some hope of freedom.

Hindley would have practiced confessional writing because he had no other way to free herself from remorse, boredom, or the unfulfilled longings to get back on the streets. More than fifty years after she was sentenced and ten years after she died at West Suffolk Hospital in Bury St. Edmunds, her figure imposes a long shadow on the recent history of the United Kingdom, which extends to the West. The predatory instinct exists in society and there is no education to help eliminate it completely.