It's Valentine's Day 1929.

Seven men stand shoulder to shoulder facing a brick wall inside a garage in Chicago.

They don't run, they don't resist, they believe they're being arrested.

Two men dressed as police officers have just ordered them into position, and this

isn't unusual. Raids are common in this day and age, and questioning is routine. For men

involved in their line of work, this is part of daily life. But while the men are stood facing

the wall, the sound behind them changes.

Instead of handcuffs, the clattering of sub-machine guns being raised can be heard.

This is Red Rum. Stories about the true victims of crime.

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Today's case is a Valentine special. It is the St Valentine's Massacre of 1929.

Our case begins in January 1920 and in America, the 18th Amendment had just made it illegal to make,

sell or transport alcohol.

In theory, the law was just that.

It's a legal thing and there's no way around it, but in practice, it was almost laughable.

People still want to drink at this point.

Parties still want champagne and whiskey and gin. Cities still crave that nightlife

and in Chicago, that want for alcohol for booze is met by the people who live there. Chicago in 1920s

was very different to how it is now, of course. There were skyscrapers, sure, but there were also

horse-drawn wagons. Jobs are scarce at this time. Wages are low and the law is uneven to say

the least. It's easily bent by the right bribe. Factories and warehouses hide forbidden alcohol-making operations.

Basements echo with the clatter of crates being loaded onto waiting trucks.

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