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By Andrea Peyser
October 9, 2014

Someone lock up Gigi Jordan once and for all!

She can’t be that nuts. Can she?

On Wednesday afternoon, Gigi Jordan seemed to do her best to demonstrate that she’s a filicidal momster who should be locked up — in the loony bin.

Testifying in her Manhattan Supreme Court murder trial, Jordan, as serious as an infectious disease, said that she witnessed a miracle! Her then-6-year-old autistic son, Jude Mirra, who could barely speak, miraculously got on a computer — and typed out to his mom a hideous message: he said that his biological dad had forced him to eat feces.


The boy started typing on a laptop, she said, in March 2008 — when he was 6 — and continued later on using his mom’s BlackBerry, saying that every adult in his life was sexually abusing him. His biological father. His stepfather. His stepfather’s wife and two babysitters.

Why did the judge let her go on?

The purported maniac doubted some of the abuse tales
. But she knew there was only one thing to do: She had to kill the child.

God rest Jude Mirra’s poor tortured soul. Gone forever. He was 8 years old.

It’s time to stop this insane trial and lock up Jordan in prison, where she belongs! The rest is just whining.

Gigi Jordan is crazy — like a fox.

Before the world learned that Jordan is presenting a categorically cuckoo front, we saw a career-obsessed socialite, a millionairess and a three-times divorced mom saddled with a developmentally disabled son who could barely talk, was prone to screaming fits and never wanted to go outside — except for once in the pouring rain.

She spoke in a soft, cool voice that must have made her a lioness in business and a hit with the long string of men that she attracted.

Jordan testified wearing somber tones — a brown dress paired with a black sweater — that made her look as if she were ready to crash a funeral.

Waving her hands in the air when she got excited, Jordan, 53, admitted right off the bat that she killed her only child in a $2,300-night room in The Peninsula New York, one of the poshest hotels known to man.

Prosecutors have alleged that Jordan crushed up a deadly cocktail of prescription painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs, poured them into a syringe with a mixture of orange juice and vodka, and rammed the deadly potion down the throat of her boy.

He died a slow miserable death, Assistant District Attorney Matthew Bogdanos said in his opening statement. When cops pried open the locked door of Peninsula’s Room 1603, he said, the child was foaming at the mouth. He’d been dead for hours. And as he lay dying, Jordan got busy on her computer, transferring $125,000 from the kid’s trust fund that he’d never get to use, prosecutor Bogdanos said.

She’d already transferred $8 million from her savings account to her checking account, he said, and paid the hotel bill in cash. Ordinary people don’t do that. People plotting something evil do.

She planned this killing like a business transaction.

She also insisted that she tried to kill herself, too, which sounds like a kind of sick joke since she certainly knows her drugs. Jordan made her living, first as a nurse administering them, then as a pharmaceutical company executive selling them. To suggest that she didn’t know how many Xanax or hydrocodone pills — tons of which were found in Jude’s stomach — it would take to kill a woman who looks as if she weighs 100 pounds soaking wet, is absurd.

Gigi Jordan is the mother from hell. Correction — the former mother from hell. She should not get away with acting like a lunatic.

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