Fast forward to today. The address? It no longer exists. The street was renamed, the house number removed, and the whole area redeveloped. You can walk down Bartle Road (that’s the new name) and you’ll find a bland, modern block of flats where number ten used to be. It’s like London tried to erase its own dark little secret.
And you know what? It almost worked. Tourists flock to the Portobello Road market for vintage clothes and antiques, oblivious that a few streets away, a man tucked human skulls under the floorboards. There’s no blue plaque. No “Christie slept here” sign. Just a weird, heavy silence.
Why Should You Care?
Look, I’m not asking you to become a true-crime obsessive (though, let’s be honest, we all are a bit now). But 10 Rillington Place teaches us something uncomfortable: ordinary places can hide extraordinary evil. That pretty, quiet street you walk down? It might have a basement full of secrets. And the most dangerous man isn’t the one in the dark alley—it’s the one who brings you tea and offers to help.
What the real 10 Rillington Place in London looks like today | Metro News
There’s also the question of moral failure. Neighbors heard screams, but nobody called the police. The law hanged an innocent man. Everyone wanted to look away. That’s the real ghost of Rillington Place—not Christie’s spirit, but the habit of collective silence.
