Warning! This article contains spoilers about Hazbin Hotel Season 2, Episode 2.
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The return of Hazbin Hotel on Prime Video has been a long time coming for fans of the hit animated musical, and Season 2 has wasted no time in diving deep into the backstories of our favorite damned souls. Episode 2, “Storyteller,” delivers a powerful, emotional punch that completely recontextualizes the redemption arc of the dearly departed Sir Pentious. While the episode itself is a masterpiece of character development, one detail in his earthly recollections is sure to stun eagle-eyed history buffs and true crime enthusiasts alike: Hazbin Hotel seems to have finally offered a definitive (and delightfully cheeky) solution to one of the world’s most famous cold cases, the identity of Jack the Ripper.
We’ve seen Pentious try to better himself and fail throughout Season 1, only to achieve redemption and a place in Heaven in his second death—a twist no one saw coming or even knew was possible. Now, we are given a window into the failure that earned Pentious his place in Hell—a sin of omission that ties the Victorian inventor to a centuries-old terror. His guilt over a missed opportunity to save lives due to his own fear was the foundation for his self-loathing that defined his time in Hell. Hazbin Hotel is taking this dark, historical horror and weaving it seamlessly into the personal tragedy of a character who suffered as much on Earth over his guilt as he did in Hell, giving a fictional answer to a horrifying real-world riddle.
Sir Pentious’s Confession Reveals the Identity of a Historical Monster

The pivotal moment in Season 2, Episode 2—”Storyteller”—occurs when Sir Pentious has to recounts his human life in front of the jury of angels and the Speaker of God. Back then, he was an eccentric inventor named Pendleton in London, 1888. As a terrified, socially anxious shut-in, he witnesses a horrific event from the window where he watches the world go by: a woman being brutally murdered in an alleyway. Most importantly, he recognizes the killer as a “client” with a lot of “influence in the community.” Paralyzed by fear and the sheer power disparity, Pentious says nothing, only to watch in horror as the man continues his killing spree, claiming the lives of five more women.
This is a crystal-clear reference to the infamous Jack the Ripper case. The Ripper’s reign of terror began in London in 1888 and is officially associated with the murders of five women—known as “The Canonical Five.” However, the true number of victims is still unknown to this day.
The choice to make a minor redeemed sinner the sole witness to the Ripper’s first crime is an ingenious piece of historical fiction and deep storytelling that makes Pentious’ guilt all the more understandable. The reveal not only establishes the failure that sent Pentious to Hell—his cowardice in the face of injustice that he “carried to [his] grave”—but also plays into decades of real-world speculation about the killer’s identity. The detail that the murderer was an “influential client” aligns perfectly with long-held theories that the Ripper was not a common loiterer or commoner, but a man of high social standing—most likely a professional who could move through the upper and lower echelons of London’s Whitechapel society undetected. By creating this single, guilt-ridden, fictional witness, Hazbin Hotel has given fans a thrillingly definitive answer to the ultimate cold case.
The Show Points Directly to a Real-Life Victorian Suspect

The clues Pentious gives narrow the field of real-life suspects considerably, pointing toward one of the most compelling and frequently cited real-life suspects: Montague John Druitt. Druitt was a wealthy barrister (attorney)—a highly respected professional who certainly would have wielded “a lot of influence” in the Victorian community and could have feasibly been Sir Pentious’ client in some capacity. Druitt’s social position aligns with Pentious’ description, immediately discounting theories that focus on royalty or low-class laborers.
Furthermore, Druitt’s life timeline aligns eerily with the end of the Ripper murders. The official killings ceased after the fifth canonical victim in November 1888. Druitt’s family had him committed to a mental asylum around this time, but he was found dead in the Thames River in December 1888—a death widely ruled a suicide. For decades, many have speculated that his death was the reason the murders abruptly stopped.
The final piece of the puzzle is the specific detail of the killer being a client. Pentious was an inventor—a professional he carried into the afterlife. A wealthy and highly connected barrister like Druitt would have been precisely the type of figure who might have been a client of a talked-about engineer or inventor, whether for legal matters, investment, or to simply be at the forefront of new technology.
Hazbin Hotel manages to take a tragic, unsolved historical event—a terrifying reflection of human suffering—and transform it into the personal cross for one of its most sympathetic characters to bear. By choosing Druitt’s profile—a privileged man who escaped justice by taking his own life—Hazbin Hotel offers a commentary on the ability of the powerful to evade accountability; a theme that resonates deeply within the landscape of Hell and its sinners.
Pentious’s failure to speak up is not just a personal shortcoming but a mirror of a society that allowed a wealthy murderer to act with such boldness. Hazbin Hotel delivers a fictional solution that feels incredibly satisfying, not just as a piece of history-meets-fiction, but as a crucial moment in the long, dark journey to redemption for Sir Pentious, who can finally unburden himself from a lifetime (and afterlife time) of guilt.
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