The deadliest serial killer in the history of the United States, Samuel Little, confessed
to the murder of 93 people - 60 of which have been proven to be his handiwork.
If the remaining 33 kills were confirmed, Little’s number of victims would only be
around half of the number that elephant poacher and domestic terrorist Veerappan massacred
during his lifetime:
A total of one hundred and eighty-four.
While many men throughout time have been called “evil”, the brutal crimes of Koose Munisamy
Veerappan showed him to be a mustache-twirling villain straight out of a silent film - and
he even came complete with the iconic mustache.
But Veerappan was anything but silent, and his rise from banditry to a hot war against
the state of India has made the infamous criminal an enduring local legend following his death
in 2004.
He was beloved by some in his home village of Gopinatham as a Robin Hood figure, but
equally feared by all who might find themselves on the business end of his weapon.
Which, given that Veerappan had a reputation for killing anyone who crossed him - including
civilians - could have been everyone.
His prodigious and ever-rising kill count was proof of his remorseless nature, something
that followed Veerappan from his violent upbringing to his adulthood.
From a young age, Veerappan was a gifted sharpshooter - having single-handedly killed both a tiger
and an elephant by the time he was 12.
He was given an English rifle by an ivory trader named Sevi Gounder, Veerappan’s uncle,
who served as his initiator into the seedy world of tusking.
Crime was central to Veerappan during his adolescence, and he never knew any other means
of earning a livelihood.
Even Veerappan’s most aspirational heroes were also bandits, as another famous tamil-speaking
outlaw Malaiyur Mammatiyan, had been active in the 1950s and was killed for his bounty.
It’s only fitting that the earliest recorded murder attributed to Veerappan was the killing
of the brother of Mammatiyan’s shooter.
He would go on to murder several rival tuskers in the jungles around Gopinatham before he
was even fully an adult.
All were gunned down by Veerappan in the struggle for game and hunting territory.
As the ‘60s marched on and the jungle became heavily trafficked by opportunistic poachers,
the authorities put forth bans on the practice to protect the local wildlife.
These new restrictions forced Sevi Gounder into retirement, but did not stop his young
ward Veerappan from coming into his own in the illegal business.
Elephant poaching and the violence needed to get ahead in it came naturally to Veerappan,
and he soon joined up with a gang to scour the jungles for more precious ivory.
While we don’t know the number of elephants he personally killed, the collective number
that his gang brought down in the following decades was well over a thousand.
Surrounded by death and the trackless wilderness, Veerappan was profoundly transformed into
a man who embodied the law of the jungle.
He was the apex predator in his domain, and in the 1980s, Veerappan began to kill forest
guards, starting with K.M.
Prithvi in August 1983.
This was followed by the killing of Siddarama Naik in 1986 and Chidambaram in 1987.
It was the murder of these honest men that brought Veerappan into the headlines of the
Karnataka state.
Both he and his impressive mustache had experienced brushes with the law before, but now he was
no longer some anonymous tusker.
The government of Karnataka had a public enemy in Veerappan and would spare no expense trying
to bring the deadly criminal to justice.
Enter Deputy Conservator of Forests Pandillapalli Srinivas - an academic, philanthropist, and
all-around man of the people.
Srinivas was brought in at the behest of a newly formed Special Task Force in order to
deal with Veerappan.
By this time, Veerappan had graduated from solely poaching and was making a killing as
a sandalwood smuggler.
Domestically, the sweet-smelling wood of the sandalwood trees was worth very little, but
it could be sold internationally for exorbitant prices when refined into sandal oil.
In addition to the consistent payout, sandalwood was easier to acquire and store than ivory,
and for those reasons, Veerappan chose to build his criminal empire on illicit smuggling.
Srinivas - on the other hand - was a dedicated proponent of conservation and reforestation
and couldn’t bear to see the environment destroyed by criminals.
But unlike Veerappan, Srinivas was not a man of violence.
His plan to stop the mustachioed menace was based on empathy and understanding.
More than just putting an end to his crimes, Srinivas could see that Veerappan was an economic
pillar of the community in Gopinatham and hoped to reform him into a more positive figure.
To lure the criminal out, Srinivas embedded himself into the local population - enriching
it through good works.
He raised the funds to erect a Hindu temple in the village, and distributed clean drinking
water and medicine to the poor residents.
Srinivas was even able to provide affordable housing to many of the Gopinatham homeless
and paid for these humanitarian acts using his own salary and money borrowed from his
family members.
In essence, Deputy Srinivas mustered all the resources available to him to lessen the hardships
of Veerappan’s community - thus earning him the trust of several members of the poacher’s
gang.
With his foothold in Gopinatham firmly established, Srinivas built a network of informants who
could report Veerappan's whereabouts to him.
There was a great deal of skepticism from the rest of the police force directed at Srinivas
and his peaceful methods, as the bandit’s vicious streak of crimes continued even while
Gopinatham was receiving relief.
According to the testimony of Veerappan’s wife, Muthulakshmi, her husband had great
contempt for Srinivas during this time.
The deputy’s charitable actions were starting to turn the people of Gopinatham against the
poacher, and that could not be tolerated.
Veerappan’s response was barbaric yet effective.
He put the informers to death and displayed their heads to the town as an example of what
would happen to those who were disloyal to him.
He also fought back against Srinivas’ attempts to win the hearts of the other villagers by
letting part of his own wealth flow freely into Gopinatham.
It seemed that the ongoing clash between Veerappan and Srinivas was becoming more than a battle
of men: it was a test to see which of their moral philosophies was more enduring.
Would the slipshod double-dealing of criminality be overcome by the ideals of civic virtue?
Or would justice once again meet its limits in pursuit of an uncatchable monster?
As it so happens, history would provide us an answer to these questions - one as bleak
as the knowledge that this next act of terror was only the beginning for Veerappan.
However it happened, the situation turned from cat-and-mouse to something more personal.
Srinivas was suspected of having an affair with Veerappan’s own sister Maari - a rumor
that was believed to have been started among those members of the police who were embittered
by Srinivas’ hands-off approach.
Veerappan was furious that his own family could be romantically involved with his sworn
enemy, and he persuaded his sister to cut things short immediately if the rumors were
true.
When the pressure from all sides of the gossip became too much for Maari, her passage from
this life was abrupt and tragic.
Soon, all eyes were on Srinivas, and his credibility and position were challenged by this alleged
relationship gone fatal.
He agreed to meet with Veerappan alone in an effort to reconcile the bad blood between
them, unknowingly leading himself to his own untimely demise.
His penultimate communication leading up to this meeting was, “We are hoping for the
best.
God will help us.”
But if God was watching on that day of November 10, 1991, he was not on Srinivas’ side.
When Veerappan confronted Srinivas, he flew into a rage and shot the other man in order
to avenge his sister.
He then proceeded to behead Srinivas and burn his body to make an example of him.
In an exclusive 1993 interview with India Today, the notorious criminal described the
incident himself in gruesome detail:
“My blood was boiling.
I was waiting for the time I could tear his chest open and see the blood gushing forth.
I took out my gun and before he knew what was happening shot him.
I then cut off his head and began hacking off his hands.
These were the very hands that wanted to turn machine guns on me.
I then kept his head as a souvenir."
A collective shudder ran throughout the village of Gopinatham and then reverberated through
all of the Karnataka state.
The death of Srinivas signaled the death of diplomacy with Veerappan.
He was more feared than ever, and it became apparent that the Special Task Force would
need to utilize different tactics to nab the bandit.
Veerappan, for his part in it, was on a warpath now.
He would kill any man who tried to come for him, whether they were forest guard, police,
or even civilians.
In 1992, during one particularly brazen maneuver, Veerappan and a few members of his gang walked
straight into a police station in Ramapura, Karnataka, and murdered five officers while
stealing guns and ammunition.
Then he disappeared back into the jungle as he always had.
The Special Task Force didn’t take this lying down and retaliated by killing two of
Veerappan’s gang members.
But they still couldn’t catch the man himself, heightening the tension of the situation even
further.
One chief of police, Mr. T. Harikrishna, went as far enough to say that the police would
“take Veerappan’s body on procession through Bangalore.”
Harikrishna was known as a daring and confident leader, despite his explosive temper.
The police chief was still no match for Veerappan, who, on August 14, 1992, set an ambush for
him and his fellow officers on a hairpin turn near Meenyam, Karnataka.
Thanks to intelligence provided by a false informant, Veerappan was able to corner the
men of the law right where he wanted them.
When reconstructing the tactics used in the Meenyam ambush, former special task force
member Ashok “Tiger” Kumar said, “We should not praise him, but outstanding.
Outstanding, I tell you!”
The bandit and his gang neatly arranged a heap of rocks on the turn around where cars
usually need to slow down, and was able to obstruct the mobility of the police.
Veerappan shot and killed Harikrishna as well as five other policemen in the ambush, raising
his kill count by six total.
He was then able to sneak away across the border into the state of Tamil Nadu and evade
capture.
Since the dense jungle that the poacher gang called home stretched across the borders of
both states, Veerappan was always able to use his mastery of the wilderness to keep
himself hidden.
Realizing that they were outmaneuvered on their own, the Karnataka state reached out
to the government of Tamil Nadu in order to join forces.
Due to a long upheld language barrier, the cooperation between the two states was strained.
Veerappan was able to use this to his advantage when he clashed with Karnataka border patrol
throughout 1993, killing roughly 20 more trained personnel.
Since he was a Tamil speaker himself, Tamil Nadu had been the best states for Veerappan
to hide out from the authorities for many years.
But this all was about to change as Veerappan would face his most challenging opponent yet.
A Tamil Nadu officer by the name Gopalkrishnan - also known by the nickname “Rambo” after
the Sylvester Stallone character.
Rambo couldn’t have been farther from Srinivas in terms of his approach and demeanor.
He was a man of action, who had a reputation for police violence, and his draconian methods
only became more extreme during his time in pursuit of Veerappan.
Rambo Gopalkrishnan knew that the only way to catch Veerappan was to become one with
the jungle itself.
He had his men spend days and nights training deep in the wilderness and he did the same.
If his team could navigate the jungle half as well as Veerappan - to make it like second
nature - Gopalkrishnan thought that for sure they would have an opportunity to bring home
the criminal’s head.
And thus, the Jungle Patrol was born - a fighting unit devised for the sole purpose of tracking
down a single elusive man.
Veerappan was well aware that Rambo’s unit was itching to capture him, so he goaded the
Tamil Nadu police forth with a giant banner that read, “‘Face me if you have the guts.”
Gopalkrishnan was more than willing to rise to the challenge, and very nearly captured
Veerappan and his gang in an encounter on January 25, 1993.
The police had greater numbers and superior weapons, so rather than turn the situation
into a full-blown shootout, Veerappan ran for the hills.
The firing from the police side claimed the life of Antony Raj - a high-ranking member
of the Veerappan gang.
As always, Veerappan plotted revenge against the men who were out to kill him.
While he was braggadocious, the killer was anything but reckless or foolhardy.
If his enemies couldn’t be overcome through his typical brand of guerilla warfare, he
would have to up the ante.
On April 8th, 1993, another ambush was set for the Tamil Nadu police, including Rambo
Gopalkrishnan, but this time, the weapon that Veerappan used was not a firearm but a bevy
of explosives.
Veerappan planted landmines in the path of a bus that was carrying officials from both
Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, as well as several civilians from both states.
The blast would prove to be the single most destructive act of terror in Veerappan’s
career as a criminal, and resulted in 22 deaths as well as the grievous injury of Gopalkrishnan.
Among the casualties were several civilians, who Veerappan showed no regard for as his
gang continued to fire on the wreckage in order to kill more of the police members.
This attack became known as the Palar Blast, and it was the deadliest bombing in Karnataka
during the 20th century.
The murderous Veerappan had bested another of his rivals, as Rambo was off the force
for 18 months, recovering from the nine surgeries that needed to be performed in order to save
his life.
The law, of course, came for him and many of his associates, arresting them en masse.
Among those accused of collaborating in the Palar Blast were Muthulakshmi - who, despite
all of the murders committed by her husband, had been a loyal partner to him since the
day they were married.
When the case went to court, she was acquitted of all charges and went back to living with
Veerappan.
Apparently, Muthalaskmi found the way he held his gun over his shoulder as well as his mustache
very attractive.
Veerappan once told her that if she didn’t love him, he would not seek out other women
in this life and that he would “turn his heart to stone.”
He also made use of that same evocative phrase in a dramatic justification for his personal
death toll.
"Why are people trying to brand me as a trigger-happy murderer?
Is it wrong if I kill people who are out to kill me?
They may even send the army to kill me.
But they cannot harm even a single hair on my head.
There's no doubt they are only going to bite the dust.
People should know I don't want any money.
My heart has become stone, my feelings are frozen.”
Following the Palar Blast, Veerappan continued to murder members of the STF and the police.
His sandalwood smuggling and elephant poaching also continued, though stricter regulations
made these ventures less lucrative than before.
But Veerappan was nothing if not adaptable, and he soon found another avenue to make his
ill-gotten money.
He and his gang became kidnappers, holding police officials and politicians hostage in
exchange for ransom money.
By now, the authorities knew not to take any of Veerappan’s threats lightly, but Veerappan
being Veerappan, many more of the members of the police he abducted were killed as a
display of power.
There was seemingly no choice for the government but to pay out if the hostages were ever to
be seen alive again.
From 1994 onward, Veerappan’s main criminal enterprise became this pattern of kidnapping
and extortion.
He would go out of his way to apprehend officers that had never been placed on his case, as
if to say that all the police in two states were no acceptable targets for his vengeance.
Aside from his killings of law enforcement, Veerappan also put down a member of his gang
in 1997 - an upstart who went by the nickname “Baby Veerappan” and had designs to replace
the real McCoy.
The incident would prove Veerappan wasn’t above killing Veerappan, though the jury is
still out on whether he would kill a baby.
The STF was losing hope, and some even began to believe that Veerappan must have had the
blessing of some fearsome god of the jungle in order to evade his fate.
The frustration reached a peak when Veerappan kidnapped his most high-profile target yet:
the beloved Indian actor and singer Dr. Rajkumar.
With one of the nation’s most treasured cultural icons now in the hands of a villain
like Veerappan, panic spread throughout Karnataka, and much of it was unfortunately directed
at the Tamil people.
If this hostage situation were to lead to the death of Dr. Rajkumar, there would no
doubt be a rise of ethnic conflict throughout the region.
Overnight, Veerappan became seen as a revolutionary figure to many living in Tamil Nadu - and
given that translated texts of Che Guevera were found in one of his gang’s camps, it’s
likely that the brigand was willing to lean into this newfound angle of notoriety.
The search for Dr. Rajkumar was one of the most delicate operations that the STF had
ever undertaken, as a single wrong move could increase the possibility of a civil war.
After one hundred and eight days of chaos and apprehension, Dr. Rajkumar was secured
and was returned to freedom with no harm done to him on November 15, 2000.
Veerappan was not found, and although the true facts of the matter are shrouded in mystery
- it’s widely believed that the ransom demanded for Dr. Rajkumar’s return was paid in full.
Veerappan’s next abduction target was not as lucky.
Two years later, the criminal snatched the former minister of Karnataka, Nagappa, and
in doing so, drew the full wrath of the Tamil Nadu and Karnataka Special Task Forces.
When Nagappa was found, his lifeless body was in the forest of Karnataka with a Tamil
Nadu police rifle round in his body.
The bounty on Veerappan's head was raised following the incident, but the authorities
were no closer to catching the man.
With so much blood and death in the wake of this criminal, it must have been easy to imagine
that relief from Veerappan would never come.
The joint special task force was not deterred, and in 2004, Operation Cocoon was launched
as a decisive push to capture the sandalwood smuggler.
Learning from past mistakes, the STF made sure the encounter could not take place on
Veerappan’s terms - if he took the fight to the forest or had a chance to set an ambush,
their efforts would not go to waste.
They opted instead for total control of information from within Veerappan’s support network,
with the ultimate goal of luring him out of the wilderness for a fight he couldn’t escape.
Over the course of ten months, officers infiltrated villages within the criminal’s active territory,
posing as workers and civilians.
It was a large-scale operation that required total secrecy, but through their efforts,
the STF discovered that Veerappan only had four remaining members of his gang.
Armed with working knowledge of where Veerappan was next headed, a few of the undercover Special
Task Force members lured him into an ambulance that would supposedly take him to a hospital
where he could receive treatment for an eye condition.
Ironically, the ambulance itself would become his place of death as the vehicle was soon
surrounded by armed STF personnel.
The ambusher had become the ambushee, and soon, a deadly firefight rang out through
the night.
Veerappan and his loyal gangsters met their fate inside of that bullet-riddled ambulance,
going down in a blaze of glory.
Or so the story goes.
The actions of the police during the resolution of Operation Cocoon have been called into
question by human rights groups who rightly wonder whether Veerappan was actually given
a chance to surrender to the law or was executed in an extra-judicial manner.
By the letter of the law, even a man with 184 murders is still entitled to a fair trial,
but perhaps the police’s story of Veerappan being the one to open fire first is the truth.
The amount of bullet holes in the ambulance and the injuries sustained by several of the
officers seem to point towards the latter.
Regardless of how it happened, Veerappan was dead, and the Tamil Nadu police celebrated
the incredible success of Operation Cocoon.
In Gopinatham, fireworks were set off the same night that the news reported the death
of their local criminal leader.
It was as if a great battle had ended, and the states of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu could
heal from the damage that this one man caused to the land, the animals, and the people.
Veerappan was a villain in every conventional sense, and he lived nearly all 52 years of
his life in hiding, committing one act of carnage the next.
For more serial killer mysteries watch “How They Caught Ted Bundy (Day by Day)” Or watch
this video instead!