The Soap Maker of Correggio – Leonarda Cianciulli’s Deadly Alchemy

She was born unwanted in the shadows of Montella, Italy. Raised in resentment, shaped by superstition, and fueled by a desperation only a mother could understand—Leonarda Cianciulli didn’t just believe in sacrifice. She embraced it. In this episode of GBRLIFE Of Crimes, unravel the twisted legacy of the woman history would call The Soap Maker of Correggio. From a childhood steeped in trauma to a murderous obsession with protecting her children, Leonarda turned her victims into soap and tea cakes—and believed she had to. Explore the folklore, the fear, the delusions, and the deadly convictions of a woman who believed blood was a fair price for fate.

✨ Join me as I explore not just what happened, but why it happened.

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Chapters

• 0:00 Introduction to Darkness
• 3:48 The Spiral into Magical Thinking
• 4:39 The Shift to Sacrifice
• 6:18 The Art of the Craft
• 7:22 The Trial of a Mother
• 9:00 Legacy of a Dark Love

Transcript

0:00

Italy, 1939. While most of the world was preparing for war, one Italian woman was preparing something else. Something darker. Something boiling. Something that smelled a sweetness that clung to your throat and made you gag. In a small home in the quiet town of Correggio, a woman stood over a cauldron, stirring, watching, whispering words that didn't belong in a kitchen. She believed that deaths could be exchanged, that life could be preserved, if the offering was right. Welcome to GBRLIFE Transmissions. I'm your host, Kaitlyn, and you're listening to GBRLIFE of Crimes, where we explore not just what happened in crimes committed by women, but why they happened, and the psychology behind them. Today, we unravel the horrifying story of Leonarda Gianciulli, a woman who made us all think twice before using soap. Leonarda was born in 1894 in Montella, a poor village in Southern Italy. Her story didn't begin with death, it did begin with rejection. According to her own account, she was the child of SA. Her mother forced her to marry the man who SA'd her and never let Leonarda forget. She grew up surrounded by bitterness. Her childhood was not marked by love, but by resentment, humiliation, and an overwhelming sense that she did not belong in the world she was born into. From a young age, she displayed signs of emotional instability. She attempted unaliving herself, not just once, but twice. Not for attention, but because she truly felt cursed, not metaphorically, literally. She was obsessed with fate, with omens, with signs from the universe. And in that, we begin to see the cracks of delusion forming early. She eventually married a man of her own choosing. Rafael Pansardi, a registry clerk. But that choice wasn't approved by her mother. And this is where Leonarda's spiral into magical thinking begins. She claimed her mother cursed her marriage. And when her life began unraveling, she blamed that curse. She moved with her husband across various towns in Italy, trying to escape poverty. Trying to escape the past, trying to escape whatever force she believed had been set against her. And it seemed like no matter where they went, darkness followed. She became pregnant again and again. Seventeen times, three miscarriages, ten children died in infancy or early child. Only four survived. This is where her story shifts from heartbreak to pathology. Psychologists often refer to something called reactive psychosis. It's what happens when trauma, unresolved grief, and superstition, are left to rot in the psyche. For Leonarda, every loss was a personal confirmation that the world was conspiring against her, that unseen forces were pushing her and punishing her. And she became consumed with the belief that fate needed to be managed, controlled, appeased. She moved to Correggio and opened a small shop. And she sold soaps, working as a fortune teller and began practicing folk magic for others. She became respected, beloved even. To the townspeople, she was a kind woman, wise, maternal. Some said she was protective, like a lioness. Others said she was just odd, intense, always talking about spirits and dreams. But when her eldest son, Giuseppe, was drafted into the Italian army in 1939. That lioness turned into something else entirely. To her, the war wasn't a matter of politics or pride. It was death coming for her son, just as it had come for the rest. And this time, she wouldn't let it win. So she did what she believed was necessary. She turned to sacrifice. Leonarda believed that to save her son, a life must be given. A life must be taken. Not in malice, but in offering. That belief wasn't just folklore to her. it was strategy. Psychology would later suggest that she suffered from obsessive delusional disorder rooted in extreme trauma, a mind fractured so deeply by repeated loss that she built a belief system where the only way to preserve love was through death. She selected women in the town who trusted her, lonely, aging, forgotten women. She offered them jobs, Husbands, new beginnings in far-off cities, then convinced them to write letters home ahead of time, assuring loved ones that they were fine, and then she unalived them. The first was Faustina Seti, whom she lured with the promise of marriage. Leonarda gave her wine, and when she was disoriented, she struck her with an axe. She dismembered her body in a large pot, boiled the remains in caustic soda, and used the fat to make soap. She drained her blood into a basin, dried it, mixed it with flour, sugar, chocolate, and eggs. And then she baked it into tea cakes and served them to friends, neighbors, and even her children. When asked later why she chose to bake with, well, blood, she replied, I liked them. They tasted better. Two more victims followed. Francesca and Virginia. The same method, the same lies, the same culture. But the difference with Virginia, she was a soprano, a woman of refinement, and Leonarda would describe her body as particularly sweet. She even added perfume to the soap she made from her. This wasn't a woman covering her tracks, this was a woman proud of her craft. She wasn't hiding. She was perfecting. When Virginia's sister reported her missing, the police investigated. All signs pointed to Leon. And when they confronted her, she didn't run. She didn't deny. She confessed in detail with pride. She described her rituals like someone describing a baking recipe. Calm, confident, clinical. She even corrected the police on the order in which she dismembered the bodies because she wanted it to be accurate. This is where we confront a dark layer of her mind, the ego. Leonora didn't see herself as a criminal. She saw herself as a mother, a protector, a woman who was brave enough to do what others wouldn't to save the person she loved the most. And this isn't uncommon in certain criminal profiles. It's a combination of delusional thinking with a moral inversion, where the criminals see their actions as noble, justified, even sacred. Leonarda believed she had transcended morality, and in 1946, she was put on trial. The courtroom became a spectacle, Not because the evidence was shocking, but because she was. People came just to see her, hear her speak. She was theatrical, charming. She laughed. She told stories, interrupted the prosecution to clarify the details of her process. Not because she was confused, because she wanted the world to know how. Psychologists watching the trial noted her high intelligence, her emotional detachment, and what's now believed to be a severe form of narcissistic psychosis, rooted in maternal obsession. When the verdict came, 30 years in prison, and three in a criminal asylum. Leonarda didn't flinch. She nodded, and said it had been predicted in her dreams. She passed away in 1970, inside the asylum, but her legacy never died. Her cauldron was cleaver, her ladle, they're all on display today at Rome's criminology museum. And her story continues to haunt because unlike many serial criminals, Leonarda didn't harm for money, she didn't harm for rage. She unalived out of love, or at least the version of love her trauma taught her to believe in. She believed sacrifice was holy, that blood could buy safety, and that baking a body was no different than boiling a prayer. She didn't see herself as a criminal. She saw herself as a mother, one who had already lost 10 children and was willing to lose her soul to keep the last four alive. This has been GBRLIFE of Crimes, part of GBRLIFE Transmissions, And I'm Kaitlyn, reminding you that understanding the darkness helps us appreciate the light. Join me next time as we uncover another case that challenges everything we thought we knew about the criminal mind.