Inside the twisted mind of an 18-year-old orderly who thought the elderly were better off dead.
They drank what he gave them—fruit juice, they thought. But it wasn’t juice. It was laced with Gevisol and Ivisol, industrial-grade cleaning fluids. And it killed them. The patients at Malmö Östra Hospital trusted Anders Hansson. He was 18, thin, soft-spoken, a nursing assistant in the geriatric ward. No one suspected that behind his quiet demeanor was a growing appetite for death.
From October 1978 to January 1979, elderly patients began dying in alarming numbers. Their symptoms—sudden vomiting, seizures, respiratory collapse—were brushed off as natural, the expected decline of the old and infirm. But as the bodies piled up, some staff began to suspect something far more sinister. The truth was even darker than they feared.
A Quiet Presence Turns Deadly
Anders Hansson had no formal medical training, just a role that gave him intimate access to the most defenseless people in the hospital. And it was that access he weaponized. He would enter their rooms with calm efficiency, speak to them gently, and offer them juice or soup. But he had mixed those drinks with caustic disinfectants used for cleaning floors and toilets. He watched them drink. He watched them die.
In his own words, he believed the elderly “were just lying there, waiting to die anyway.” He later told investigators he thought they “might as well” be put out of their misery. But there was more behind his crimes than deluded mercy. He admitted he got a feeling of power from it—that seeing the effects of his poison gave him a rush.
Some of the staff had suspicions. One nurse noticed that patients became critically ill only after Hansson had visited them. Another remembered a patient writhing in agony just minutes after sipping a drink he brought. Yet no one wanted to believe what that might mean. Hospitals are built on trust. Even suspicion feels like betrayal.
Eventually, hospital staff decided to act. One body was sent for autopsy. The result came back with something unexpected: high levels of Gevisol, a powerful cleaning agent. Shocked, investigators ordered more autopsies. Soon, a disturbing pattern emerged—multiple deceased patients showed signs of poisoning.
The Confession That Shattered Sweden
When Hansson was questioned, he quickly folded. There was no dramatic denial, no attempt to shift blame. He admitted everything. Calmly, almost casually, he told police how he had killed 15 patients and tried to kill 12 more. He described his methods, his thoughts, even the order in which he had carried out the murders. But many investigators—and the Swedish public—believe the real number may be even higher. At least 27 people were affected. Some believe the death toll was closer to 30.
Hansson showed no clear remorse. His affect was flat. He was evaluated by psychiatrists who declared him mentally disturbed but not insane. A court found him guilty, but because of his age and mental condition, he was sentenced not to prison but to compulsory psychiatric care.
Released Without Reckoning
He remained institutionalized for 15 years. And then, in 1994, he was released. It happened with little fanfare, no public statement. Under Swedish law, his identity and whereabouts were protected. All anyone knows is that he changed his name and vanished into society. Somewhere in southern Sweden, Anders Hansson may still be living under a new identity.
No parole board. No victims’ families notified. No final reckoning. The release caused quiet outrage. Some whispered about justice never served. Others pointed to Sweden’s rehabilitative model, asking: Can someone who murdered the elderly with poison ever truly be “better”?
To this day, there is no record of Hansson expressing genuine regret. His motives remain a haunting mixture of twisted logic, emotional emptiness, and psychological disturbance. He wasn’t seeking revenge. He wasn’t lashing out. He simply decided their lives were no longer worth living—and took it upon himself to end them. In the history of Swedish crime, few cases have left such a bitter, unresolved taste. Not because of how he killed—but because of how quietly he disappeared.
