My Verdict is Death: The Chilling Revenge of Olga Hepnarová
In 1973, 22-year-old Olga Hepnarová drove a truck into a crowd in Prague, killing 8 people. Proclaiming her act was revenge against a society that hated her, she became the last woman executed in Czechoslovakia. Her case is a chilling study of alienation and violence.

On a seemingly ordinary summer day, July 10, 1973, tragedy struck Prague. At a busy tram stop, a crowd of about 25 people waited patiently. Suddenly, a Praga RN truck veered off the road and plowed directly into them. The act was not an accident; it was a deliberate, calculated massacre. The driver, 22-year-old Olga Hepnarová, stepped out of the vehicle, calm and ready to face the consequences. Her horrific act would claim 8 lives, injure 12, and seal her fate as the last woman to be executed in Czechoslovakia.
A Life of Alienation
Olga Hepnarová's story is not one of a sudden snap, but a long, slow descent into isolation and rage. Born in Prague in 1951, she was described as an intelligent child but struggled socially. She became a target for intense bullying at school, which she later cited as a core part of her trauma. At age 13, she attempted suicide by overdose and subsequently spent time in a psychiatric hospital. This experience did little to help, and she left feeling more disconnected than ever. Throughout her youth and into her early adulthood, she drifted between jobs, unable to form meaningful connections. She felt ostracized by her family and the world at large, viewing society as a collective enemy that had destroyed her from the inside out.
The "Prügelknabe" and a Declaration of War
Hepnarová began to see herself as a "Prügelknabe"—a German term for a whipping boy or scapegoat. She believed she was a victim, perpetually tormented by the cruelty and indifference of others. This profound sense of victimhood curdled into a cold, burning hatred. Before carrying out her attack, she penned letters to two newspapers, laying out her twisted manifesto. These letters were not the ramblings of a confused mind, but a chillingly lucid declaration of intent.
I am a loner. A destroyed person. A person destroyed by people... I have a choice – to kill myself or to kill others. I choose – TO REPAY MY HATERS. It would be too easy to leave this world as an unknown suicide. Society is too indifferent, rightly so. My verdict is: I, Olga Hepnarová, the victim of your bestiality, sentence you to death.
In her own words, she framed the impending massacre not as a crime, but as a sentence she was passing on a guilty society. She wanted her revenge to be public, undeniable, and painful.
Trial and Execution
Following her immediate arrest at the scene, Hepnarová confessed fully and showed no remorse. She confirmed that her intention was to kill as many people as possible. The central question of her trial became her sanity. While psychiatric experts diagnosed her with a personality disorder, they ultimately concluded that she was fully aware of her actions and their consequences. She was not deemed legally insane. Found guilty of mass murder, Olga Hepnarová was sentenced to death. She refused to appeal the verdict, though her mother filed one on her behalf, which was ultimately denied. On March 12, 1975, she was executed by short-drop hanging at Pankrác Prison in Prague. Reports from the time state that she physically resisted and expressed great fear in her final moments, a stark contrast to the cold composure she displayed after her crime.
A Disturbing Legacy
The case of Olga Hepnarová remains a dark and perplexing chapter in Czech history. Was she a cold-blooded monster, or the tragic, inevitable product of a society that failed a deeply troubled individual? Her motivations—a profound sense of social alienation, revenge against perceived tormentors, and a desire for infamy over anonymity—echo in the manifestos of many modern mass attackers. The story was brought to wider attention in the 2016 film, "I, Olga Hepnarová," exploring the grim trajectory of her life. Her case serves as a disturbing reminder that the quiet suffering of one person can, in the most horrific circumstances, explode into a public catastrophe.