Rasputin, by Edvard Radzinsky

5 stars

Just a little over a year ago, I asked Santa to bring me some books on historical bastards. This was one of the treats that Santa (or rather, NikNak) responded with.

Rasputin - looks like a creepy bastard, right?

Prior to reading this, the only thing I really knew about Rasputin was that he was apparently Russia’s greatest love machine (thanks, Boney M). I now know that he was actually just Russia’s most persistent lech, but I also learnt a lot more (including the surprising revelation that this all happened so recently. Thanks to the ready acceptance of mystical bullshit on the part of the Royals, I’d thought this all took place in like, olden times.) 

Born a peasant in a Russia that very much gave a shit about that sort of thing, Rasputin spent most of his youth apparently being drunk and violent, before a sudden change of heart led him to travel the country visiting holy places and like, finding himself, man. Instead of just getting a bit religious, he’d go the whole hog and soon make a name for himself through his ‘prophetic visions’ and performing of ‘miracles’. Which would bring him to the attention of a Royal Family already prone to religious gullibility and worried for the health of their young son and haemophiliac heir.

Having already been hypnotised by another chancer into thinking she was pregnant (who explained, come her humiliation come her time of confinement and realisation that she was as pregnant as I am, that the pregnancy had disappeared due to her lack of faith), the tsarina was soon eating out of Rasputin’s hand (not literally), claiming his enemies as her own and alienating everyone else around her. As the Royal Family became increasingly isolated by the rest of their own family, the court, the church and the government, Rasputin would be dogged by controversy. Especially once he reverted back to drinking.

Rasputin during an early rehearsal for John Lennon's Bed-In
(not really, he's recovering from an unsuccessful assassination attempt)

Already prone to groping anyone he could get his hands on and visiting, sometimes in just one day, many, many prostitutes (apparently he could totally cleanse you of sin by having sex with you), he was also believed to be controlling the tsarina (although the tutor to the royal children had it right when they said, 'His prophetic words most often merely confirmed the hidden wishes of the empress herself. She herself did not suspect that she had induced them, that she was their 'inspirer'. Her personal wishes, passing through Rasputin, acquired in her eyes the force and authenticity of revelation.') But the belief of his influence, alongside his penchant for bragging about his connections and power whilst slaughtered, would apparently wind up the wrong people and he would eventually be murdered by two members of the Royal Family and a leading politician – a murder that would help build his legend, no doubt thanks to Prince Felix’s dramatic description of the murder which read like something out of a zombie novel (“…With an abrupt, furious movement, Rasputin sprang to his feet. He was foaming at the mouth. He was horrifying. The room resounded with a savage roar, and I saw the flash of his convulsively clenched fingers. Then, like red-hot iron, they sank into my shoulder and reached for my neck…”).

A big, thick book that I ripped through in a matter of days, I couldn’t put this down thanks to the incredible details of Rasputin’s life. Making a legend much more human (even if he was a very, um, complicated man), this was packed with astonishing, sometimes awful and sometimes hilarious facts (I don’t know why I find this so funny, but on being challenged on why he kept taking young ladies to bathhouses, he replied, 'The society misses were so puffed up with pride, and in order to deflate it, it was necessary to humiliate them by forcing them to go to the bathhouse with a dirty peasant.').

I could have filled this review with a million of my favourite excerpts, but you really ought to read them for yourself. Go on.

A Stolen Life, by Jaycee Dugard

4 stars

I’m more than a little tardy with this review having finished it over a week ago, partly due to being ridiculously busy but also because…how do you review a book like this? A Stolen Life isn’t going to be winning any Nobel prizes for literature, but it’s such a powerful book it seems churlish to down-rate it for any lack of literary flourishes.

When she was just 11 years old, Jaycee Dugard was abducted while walking to school. For the next 18 years, she was held captive in the ‘secret backyard’ of Phillip Garrido for his sexual gratification, birthing two daughters by the time she was 17 years old. Aided and abetted by his equally sick and twisted wife, Nancy (who not only knew that her husband was raping a child in their back yard but who also scouted girls for him), Garrido would somehow manage to avoid the scrutiny of the parole officers and other members of authority (he had previously been convicted of sexually assaulting a 14 year old) who not only managed to never take more than a quick peek around his property but also never thought to question the word of a convicted sex offender about who the fuck the little girls living at his house were (it seems I still haven't calmed down a week after reading this). It would eventually take him actually taking Jaycee and her two children into a parole office with him for the authorities to realise the identities of the girls and reunite Jaycee with her family.

Told in Jaycee’s own words, her story is not only harrowing and heartbreaking but also astonishing for the quiet strength that enabled her to not only survive her 18 year ordeal but to emerge still hopeful for her future and that of her children. Having had to educate herself in the years of her captivity, Jaycee has a very simple writing style which really places you in the shoes of her 11 year old self, with the jumbled timeline and interjections recreating her own childish confusion at what was and did happen to her and enabling the reader to understand how her dependency on Garrido for everything could make her afraid of his control being taken away.

While not an easy book to read, A Stolen Life is a very powerful one, and one I don't think I’ll ever forget.

Midnight in Sicily, by Peter Robb

3 stars

A look at the post-war rise of Cosa Nostra and its intertwining with Italian politics (what with most of the Government’s ministers apparently being either a part of or closely tied with the group), this was an interesting although sometimes confusing book.

A complex subject at the best of times, the vast array of names (whether they be the many organisations like the Demochristians, the Red Brigades and the Cosa Nostra, the criminals and the politicians - who are often one and the same, the prosecutors or the people met by the author either during his past or along this journey) along with a habit of jumping around chronologically and wandering geographically sometimes left me a little befuddled as to who, when and where I was reading about.

I’m not entirely sure that the book’s byline (On Art, Food, History, Travel and the Cosa Nostra) really fit, as the parts that weren’t about the Cosa Nostra mostly took on the form of brief tangents or reporting of what Robb ate when he met such and such a person, and didn’t really bring anything particularly illuminating to the subject. The book may have even been more successful at getting across the huge amount of information delivered on the Cosa Nostra had these little distractions not been included.

Mostly I was left with a vague sense of how corrupt it seems Italian politics are, that ex-Prime Minister Andreotti was extremely dodgy (to say the least – Berlusconi seems a choirboy in comparison) and that I need to look elsewhere if I want to read about Sicilian food.

This is all probably starting to sound as if I didn’t enjoy this book. I did – it’s just more of an buffet than a fulfilling meal.

Helter Skelter, by Vincent Bugliosi & Curt Gentry

5 stars

Helter Skelter is a truly astonishing book, and one that deservedly ranks amongst the best True Crime books I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a fair few). Co-written by prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, it laid to rest more than a few misconceptions I’d held about Charles Manson (I was labouring under the belief that the five murders committed at 10050 Cielo Drive were the only deaths that he and his followers stood accused of, when actually these were just the horrific tip of the iceberg) and, through the incredible amount of investigative work on the part of the prosecution team, built a clear picture of events from the discovery of the first crime scene, through the (inept) police investigation, and into the sometimes bizarre trial of Manson and his murderous Family.

The book held many revelations for me – and not just in upwardly adjusting the number of Manson Family victims. Although I’d been aware that the Tate crime scene was particularly horrifying, I had no idea to what extent. Set upon with an inhuman savagery that was hard to even read about, it’s incredibly difficult to understand what could possibly lead someone to commit such a crime – let alone be ready to do it again the very next night, when the LaBianca’s suffered the same ordeal. Bugliosi does a fair job of helping us to try understand that, tracing the origins of the Family and, through detailed witness testimony, showing how the hold that Manson had over his followers had come about while making it clear that their victims were far more numerous than those they were convicted of killing – even Family members were not immune from Manson’s murderous designs.

But the crimes themselves were not the only awful shocks in store – I was astonished at the interviews and testimonies of Family members, particularly Susan Atkins, who not only showed no remorse but were actually proud of and talked about their crimes with undisguised glee. Even worse, it seems that if it hadn’t been for Atkins big mouth and pride in her savagery, the Family may not have even been caught. The incompetence shown by the police – whether it be obliterating prints at the Tate crime scene, disregarding important information from witnesses, not bothering to collect important evidence they’d been informed of (it was left to a TV crew to collect the bloody clothes worn by the murderers), losing evidence and, at one point, angrily denying that investigating crimes and gathering evidence was even their job! – won them the palpable disgust of Bugliosi, and before long it was a disgust I wholeheartedly shared.

It’s a testament to the hard work and skill of the prosecution that they were able to successfully convict those involved in such a complex case, even while the Family members that remained free made attempts to take the lives of witnesses and lawyers, and it’s a testament to Bugliosi and his co-author Curt Gentry that they were able to take such a complex case and turn it into this compelling, informative book.

If you're at all interested in True Crime this is a book I would definitely recommend - but be prepared to have your faith in humanity and law enforcement well and truly shaken, if not completely demolished, by the time you've finished.
 

Killer Clown, by Terry Sullivan

3 stars

Proof that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, inside the shrieking, tabloid style cover of Killer Clown lies a sober account of the investigation into and prosecution of John Wayne Gacy for the murders of at least 33 young men and boys. Co-written by Terry Sullivan, a State Attorney who was involved in the case from the very beginning when the case simply appeared to be the disappearance of 15 year old Robert Piest, he then lead the investigation which eventually saw the recovery of the bodies of Gacy’s victims (26 of which were discovered in the crawl space beneath his home), before serving as a member of the prosecution team at his trial.

Clear and precise (no doubt thanks to Sullivan’s experience in front of juries), we get lots of information on legalities such as what to specify in search warrants to ensure that any evidence recovered is admissible in court, the painful process of retrieving records pre-computers, how to make someone think they can’t leave a police station without ever actually detaining them, the effects of constant, overt surveillance on both the surveillance teams and the suspect, the bizarre behaviour exhibited by a manipulator who thinks he’s far cleverer than he actually is, and the legal chess games played by both sides (Gacy would first try (and fail) to exhibit signs of multiple personality disorder, and then his legal team attempt to have him found not guilty by reason of insanity - he’d apparently been temporarily insane on 33 different occasions, slipping back out of insanity once the murders were committed and the bodies buried, alternatively they would also claim that the deaths were 33 cases of accidental auto-erotic asphyxiation. Thankfully, the jury decided this was all bullshit.)

Mr Sullivan thankfully isn’t interested in trying to put you into the victims’ shoes or into the mind of the killer, thereby saving the material from becoming too harrowing and upsetting (if that’s what you’re after, trying listening to Sufjan Stevens’ John Wayne Gacy Jr instead) and instead presents a clear and detailed illustration of the work that goes into trying to catch and put away terrifying people. 

The Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson

Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America - 4 stars

View from the Liberal Arts building (from Brooklyn Museum's Flickr set)

Taking two of my favourite genres, history and true crime, Larson has created a riveting read looking at the light and dark sides of Chicago and what man is capable of by looking at the work of two men: Daniel Burnham, an architect and the man responsible for overseeing the creation of the 1893 World's Fair, and H.H. Holmes, a fraudster and serial killer who turned the hustle and bustle of the fair to his own advantage and used it to lure vulnerable young women, out of home for the first time, to a building of his own design where they'd soon meet their ends.

Larson does a fantastic job of building a picture of what Chicago was like at the end of the 19th century - a world where people died young and often in a city of dark, filthy streets that stunk of sewage, the slaughteryards and the corpses of animals that lay where they fell. A city where a killer could design and build his own murder-house, and numerous people who worked or lived in his building could simply disappear, virtually unnoticed and unlooked for, their stripped skeletons sold on to medical schools who would ask no questions.

At the same time, in Jackson Park, an astonishing city is being built - one composed of colossal buildings and hundreds of concessions and exhibits from all over the world, including entire villages from far-flung places and offering wonders the likes of which the world has not yet seen. Illuminated by the first electric lights, used here on a grand scale, with buildings whitewashed by the world's first spray paint, and offering purified water and now famous household brands for refreshments, as well as the world's first Ferris Wheel - 264 feet high and boasting 36 cars, each capable of holding 60 passengers and equipped with its own bar - it's small wonder than in the six months the fair operated it received over 27 million visitors and raked in money that, at today's standards, would make even Bill Gates feel faint.

The Ferris Wheel (from Brooklyn Museum's Flickr set)

This was by far and away my favourite element of the book and I found reading of the terrifying task of building such a spectacle, in virtually no time at all and with the accidents and deaths which dogged it and the wrangles of the many committees and personalities who wished to control it, endlessly fascinating. I've since gone and found some photographs of the fair on Brooklyn Museum's Flickr stream (which you can view here) that I find astonishing even today and which really brought home what a spectacular sight it must have been to 19th century eyes.

The sections on Holmes, while fascinating, couldn't possibly compete - a surprise to a true crime junkie, and possibly due to the comparative lack of documentation which led to a few instances where I wanted to call shenanigans; moments included to build the atmosphere or the story, but which Larson couldn't have possibly known and that are therefore responsible for the dropping of a star in rating.

That said, this really is a fantastic read, especially for those not usually keen on true crime, and one I recommend highly.

Blood Lust: Portrait of a Serial Sex Killer

by Gary C King - 2.5 stars

Dayton Leroy Rogers was one of the most prolific serial killers that Oregon had ever known. Eventually sentenced for 7 murders (and only after being caught in the act of killing his last victim, Jenny Smith) it seems highly unlikely that the bodies of Jenny and the others accidentally discovered by a hunter in the Molalla Forest were the only ones he had any involvement with.

Raised in a large family with zealously religious parents and a violently abusive father, Rogers had already developed a fetish for feet by adolescence, after peeping at his sisters and masturbating over their shoes. His favourite victims were prostitutes, and after picking them up and plying them with cartons of vodka and orange would drive them to the forest where he would tie them up and commence torturing them, focusing largely on their feet. Getting off on their pain and fear, this would last for hours before being horribly mutilated and killed, and left in the forest stripped of any trophies Rogers had taken a shine to.

Changing his MO slightly for his last victim, Rogers killed Jenny Smith in a parking lot opposite a busy Denny's restaurant. While the many witnesses weren't able to save Jenny, they were able to chase him down and provide important eyewitness evidence that would see him arrested - at which point dozens more women came forward to tell of their own experiences at his hands over the years, which they'd managed to survive.

As with many of these books, what was most clear to me was that Rogers would likely never have been caught if it hadn't been for his last, very public killing. Due to the fact that his victims were prostitutes and largely living transient lifestyles, they weren't often reported as missing until months after their disappearances, which then didn't rank highly on anyone's agenda due to their choice of employment. In fact, Detective Turner (who led on investigating the crimes) is actually portrayed within as someone unusual for actually giving a shit about what might have happened to them.

The book did a decent job of giving the facts of the case but felt a little tabloidy, and I'd have liked for the author to have thought about his choice of words at times. Describing Rogers' victims variously as whores, streetwalkers and trollops, and always noting whether they were attractive or pointing out a 'well-developed' corpse, I felt this was yet another dehumanising indignity served up to these poor women. In fact, considering that many of the surviving victims also hadn't come forward previously for fear of getting into trouble, more than anything this book really highlighted for me the need to think reasonably about women who sell their bodies for whatever reason. Their continued criminalisation doesn't seem to really protect anyone, other than the johns who abuse them without fear of reprisal, knowing they will never be reported.

The Night Stalker

4 stars

I can't think of anything or anyone who terrifies me quite as much as Richard Ramirez, The Night Stalker. Responsible for a wave of brutal murders that left LA panicked and paralysed in the mid '80s, the Stalker was a home invader. Breaking into houses in the early hours, he would usually kill any men found on the premises before turning his horrifying attentions to the women, and any children left. Even though Ramirez is now thankfully in prison, and even though I live in an entirely different country, I'll now be stepping up my home security.

This excellent book, well researched and also based on a hundred hours of interviews with Ramirez himself, drops us straight into the Night Stalker's reign of terror and we travel around LA with him in stolen cars, casing houses and listening to heavy metal, before following him inside, where we come face to face with some of the most pants-wettingly awful crimes you could read about. Testimony from surviving victims gives us an idea of what it might have been like to be woken up by the Night Stalker: 

"He put the lights on and charged her bed. She woke up with him running at her from the doorway." 

Fuuuck. Heart-stopping, right?

A very accomplished burglar who always wore gloves, thankfully Ramirez did leave behind a few clues for the detectives struggling to apprehend him - size 11 1/2 prints from an Avia Aerobic shoe (the only shoe of that size and description sold in LA), an AC/DC cap left at the scene of one of his crimes, bullet casings from victims and the descriptions from those who survived - a tall, thin man with bad teeth and a bad smell, dressed in black with shaggy hair. Frustratingly, as usual with this sort of book we also get to see how bad the police initially are at sharing information between departments and working together, much to the dismay of our lead detectives.

The second part of the book takes us back to young Richard, his family and upbringing in El Paso. The youngest of five children born to hardworking parents, his father was prone to hugely self-destructive rages (one anecdote tells of him beating himself in the face with a hammer when unable to fix the kitchen sink while his horrorstruck children looked on) and frequently crossed the line from correction to abuse when disciplining the children. More importantly though, Richard looked up to his older cousin Mike. Having served with Special Forces in Vietnam, Mike had a huge collection of stories and photographs of the rapes and murders he perpetrated during that war and regaled a young and aroused Richard with them constantly. Training him how to hunt, kill and move stealthily, Mike went even further in his making of a young serial killer by shooting his wife in the face while a 12 year old Richard looked on. Later, sister Ruth would go on to marry a Peeping Tom who took Richard out with him on his nightly forays. And here I was thinking my family was dysfunctional...

Leaving El Paso at 18, Richard moves to LA finding it sordid and exciting, and much more suited to his interests which by now already number burglary, attempted rape and Satanism. His behaviour soon escalates.

Parts Three and Four take us through Richard's extraordinary capture, in which he was apprehended and almost beaten to death by citizens who'd recognised him from the mugshots by now circulating in the media, and the events leading up to and including his eventual trial, in which his lawyers will try to cause a mistrial by dragging their feet and not bothering to show up for court (amongst other astoundingly shitty tricks). By this point all number of satanists have flocked to his cause, and thousands of completely fucking mental women have 'fallen in love' and start sending fan mail, turning up at court and making googly eyes at him while he snarls and laughs at the evidence and deeply upsetting testimonies of surviving victims. Even certain members of the jury will send him Valentine's and start a relationship with him. Meanwhile, he has crime scene photographs of his victims taped to his cell walls and constantly excites himself with them - as noted by Sean Penn who had the misfortune of being briefly jailed next to him while serving his sentence for punching a pap.

A completely shocking and horrifying portrayal of complete evil, as well as just how fucked up it would seem 'normal' people are too, I certainly won't be forgetting this one when I'm locking up the house tonight.

For the True Crime junkie...

My name is TheShitWizard, and I am a true-crime-aholic.

Ever since I was a kid I've been fascinated with true crime, and serial killers in particular. It's not that I like them - I'm certainly not about to sign up for any jailhouse pen-pals any time soon - and I don't get off on people being hurt in any way so you don't need to start backing away just yet, but when it comes to books and TV, I simply can't get enough. And it seems I'm not the only one - there's now such demand that a rash of dedicated TV stations show us 'Snapped - Women Who Kill' and 'Born To Kill' and 'Other Variations On Killing' on a daily basis, and there's always people hovering in the well-stocked True Crime section of my local bookstore. 

There's so much to choose from, and I've read a lot of the many books out there on the subject. Some of them have been lurid, some have been incredibly poorly written, and some have been pants-wettingly terrifying. Here's my selection of the best true crime reads for my fellow crime-freaks.


In Cold Blood - Truman Capote

In a small Kansas town in 1959 the Clutter family were brutally murdered in their home, with no apparent motive, by two drifters. Capote takes us through events, leading up to and following the murders as well as on Death Row, painting so vivid a picture that you feel as though you know both the Clutter family and their killers intimately. An incredible book that didn't feel the need to lapse into hysteria or sensationalism, there's not much to say about this book that hasn't already been said - it's very easy to see why this is feted as a masterpiece. 


The Ice-Man: Confessions of a Mafia Contract Killer - Philip Carlo

I got chills, they're multiplying...Nope, nothing to do with Danny Zuko but Richard Kuklinski (aka The Iceman) greased a hell of a lot of people and this is a riveting, chilling account of his life and crimes.

Having had a truly horrific childhood that did away with whatever humanity he had to start with, Richard was already a killer by the age of 13. Discovering a fearsome talent for murder he was already killing for sport by the time he was tapped to carry out contracts for various Mob families, and continued indulging in his hobby alongside his mob work leading to a truly terrifying trail of dead people behind him. The likes of Gacy and Bundy seriously have nothing on this guy.

While he did have some form of a code - women and children were off-limits (though that didn't stop him from being violently abusive to his own wife) - anyone else was fair fame and you could terrifyingly find yourself killed for such misdemeanours as being a bad driver, flipping him off or even just for walking your dog down the street when he's got a new weapon he wants to try out. Even worse were the various tortures Kuklinski thought up for those who 'had to suffer'. When even hardened gangsters are sickened, you know you're in a different world altogether.

Compiled from hundreds of hours of interviews, while its contents are sensational this never felt sensationalised and was instead written in a matter-of-fact, unhistrionic way with the author's voice never becoming intrusive, quietly putting you firmly in Kuklinski's shoe and giving you a picture of all sides of the man, not just the killer.

Also looking at how he was caught, I have to admire the size of the balls on the detectives that went after Kuklinski, and particularly on Polifrone who got to chum up to him undercover, continuing to meet with him even knowing from the phone taps that the Ice Man was planning on killing him. That must have been some high-octane nightmare fuel...

Highly recommended, but this one's definitely not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. Also currently being adapted into a film starring Michael Shannon (who always gives good psycho).



The Only Living Witness: The True Story of Serial Sex Killer Ted Bundy - Stephen G. Michaud & Hugh Aynesworth

Warning - do not read this book during an unexpectedly warm period of weather as you will end up sweating and gasping in bed all night due to your insistence at making sure the house is completely sealed up, and what will turn out to be the sound of your cat in the kitchen will have your heart nearly stopping every five minutes in fear that it's actually someone breaking into your house.

A well written, compelling and completely terrifying look at the life and crimes of Ted Bundy, one of the world's most notorious serial killers, the authors could have been forgiven had they gone down the tabloid route - after all, a case where the killer represents himself in court and gets to interrogate his own surviving victims is pretty sensational in itself, before you add in the jailbreaks and the horror of his crimes, but instead they chose the far more interesting path and focus on the personality and 'psychopathology' of the killer - sometimes in his own words (which had a lot to do with my not being able to sleep afterwards).

Bundy managed to escape from jail twice in the course of his murderous career - leading to the infamous Chi Omega killings - and one of the things this book really brought home to me was how each time he was caught it was largely due to his own blundering (seeming like he almost wanted to get caught) rather than due to any brilliant deductions on the part of the police. In fact, Ted's name had come up many times in the early course of the investigations and was never followed up. This, and Bundy's assertion (amongst others) that "there are a lot of people who are not in prison, a lot of people who are not in prison, who were far more successful than I" went a long way towards giving me a serious case of the wiggins.

Make sure you have someone to stay with you for a while after reading this one...


The guys above were, thankfully, finally caught and felt the full weight of the justice system. Time now for a different kind of crime, and the dark side of justice...


Devil's Knot: The True Story of the West Memphis Three - Mara Leavitt

"I didn't think there was no possible way they could find us guilty when we didn't do it. Not in America. It's not what I was raised to believe would happen in America." - Jason Baldwin.

You might hold the same beliefs as Jason - I know I had always held to the notion that 'the truth will out' and believed that the justice system would ensure that people accused of crimes would be considered 'innocent until proven guilty', with evidence being a major consideration when investigating crimes. I couldn't have been more wrong. 

In 1993, three eight-year old boys were brutally murdered. Lacking any evidence other than the boys' bodies, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the next step would be for the police to start looking for and documenting evidence, interviewing anyone with a possible connection, and using logic, reason and years of proven procedures to build their case. Bless you. Instead what would occur is a flagrant and appalling abuse of the justice system in which prejudice and hearsay, along with defendants' music tastes, style of dress and choice of reading material is 'evidence', and where actual, physical evidence that links other suspects to the crime will be discounted as it doesn't fit with the theory the detectives have chosen to work with.

The theory the detectives chose to work on would build a sprawling, chaotic and nearly completely incoherent case centred around the idea of satanic cults operating in the area - the obsession of one Jerry Driver. The Chief Juvenile Officer for the county (whose job title should have more accurately read Chief Fucking Fantasist), Driver had an unhealthy fixation with a teenager named Damien Echols and had already been harassing him for the best part of a year, based on his belief that Damien was a Satanist. His reason for these beliefs? Damien was weird, wore black, wrote poetry, had read some books on witchcraft as well as enjoying Stephen King, and identified himself as Wiccan. (Well shit, you'd better arrest a lot of the people I know too). As for Jason? Well, he was a friend of Damien's, wasn't he? So, obviously also a satanic killer. Instead of looking into Driver's 'theories' impartially and with an eye for evidence, the police would take Driver's accusations and run with them, choosing to ignore (and if necessary, 'lose') any evidence that didn't agree with them and taking things such as Jason's owning 15 black t-shirts as proof of them being child-murderers, backing up this 'proof' with extremely suspect 'confessions' and witness statements. Jessie Miskelly Jr, whose 'confession' would be the basis of the state's case against the boys, was a vulnerable and intellectually challenged boy and the 'confession' itself is astounding - riddled with contradictions and errors, with detectives clearly suggesting what he ought to be saying next, and with Jessie clearly eager to please. The next most important statements came from an 8 year old boy, whose 'eyewitness' accounts were wildly conflicting and became increasingly lurid as time went on. Surely not the basis for a solid conviction, right? Surely when the case gets to court it'll be thrown out? Surely the fact that real, physical evidence exists that points to other suspects will see the boys cleared? Sorry, wrong again.

Instead, the boys will go to trial under one Judge Burnett, who has clearly already decided the boys are guilty and will not only do whatever he can to help the prosecution but also actively hinder the defence and ultimately lead to life sentences being given to Jessie and Jason, with Damien due to receive the death penalty.

After 18 years in prison, in 2011 Damien, Jason and Jessie were finally released after years of appeals and a huge campaign following the Paradise Lost documentaries, which I'd watched and which had piqued my interest in the case. However, the fact they're now free doesn't change the fact that not only were three little boys brutally murdered, but three other children had their lives stolen from them while a vicious child-killer has gotten away with murder.

It's my belief that the behaviour of the police, the prosecutors and the Judge in this case were nothing short of criminal - a malicious and wilful obstruction of justice. I spent most of my time reading about the case nearly howling with fury, and think that not only the people involved but the entire state of Arkansas should be ashamed of themselves for letting such a blatant miscarriage of justice occur.

As for me, I own a ton of black clothing (way more than Jason's 15 t-shirts), read lots of Stephen King, am a true crime junkie, and prefer Guns N Roses to pop music. I'm never visiting Arkansas as I'll probably be the next person accused of the murders, regardless of the fact that I've never visited America. The cops would doubtless find an impressionable child to say otherwise and I'd be done for.

As for this book, it's compelling, well-researched and documented and was clearly based on more investigative work than the detectives involved ever put in, and is a must-read for anyone even remotely interested in the justice system. Just don't expect to have the same faith in that system by the time you've finished.



And for the truly dedicated....

The Executioner's Song - Norman Mailer

Previous to picking this up all I knew of Gary Gilmore had been gleaned from The Adverts' track, Gary Gilmore's Eyes. I now know everything I could possibly want to know (and more) about Gilmore's life, crimes, trial and death and while I may not have looked through Gilmore's eyes, I've seen through those of virtually everyone associated with him and his case.

Based on what must be an absolutely breathtaking amount of research and interviews, this is a painstaking recreation of the nine months following Gilmore's release from prison in 1976 (after spending much of his life incarcerated) and leading up to his execution following the murders of two strangers.

Presented in two parts, the first deals with Gary's release and adjustment to normal life. Due to the level of detail it soon starts to feel as though you're living alongside him, which isn't exactly a pleasant experience. Aswell as being clearly intelligent, Gary is a real piece of work and his behaviour soon starts to alienate those around him, including Nicole - the young woman with whom he's become involved. Their initial break-up is especially significant as Gary will later claim that he committed the murders for which he was tried so that he wouldn't kill Nicole, a claim I'm not entirely convinced by as he seemed to be something of a timebomb even prior to their break-up, with his temper and law-breaking rapidly escalating.

Gilmore's crimes are not extraordinary, sadly, but what happens next is - sentenced to death for the murders and refusing to appeal, the media goes wild and lawyers are sent scrambling as they move to try and stay the execution or fight for it to go ahead. This second part of the book did a great job of piecing together the events and this very murky moral issue is seen from all sides. I'm still not entirely clear as to what my own position is - whilst strongly opposing the death penalty I also support an individual's right to die, and it did seem as though the ensuing legal fight added a layer of cruelty to the sentence.

In addition to this, we also get a very intimate look at the relationship between Gary and Nicole which resumed following his arrest, and his influence over her is very clear from his letters as he seeks to manipulate her into suicide so that no other man can have her following his death. Perhaps even more manipulative though are the movers and shakers in the field of the media, and the tactics of fighting for exclusives and the amount of money that was changing hands for the story (which would have been far less valuable if Gilmore had not been executed) left me feeling very uneasy.

While at times this did start to drag a little (perhaps a little too much detail was included in places, and with so many players I got a little waylaid with keeping track of everybody), I don't believe I'll be lucky enough to read as comprehensive a book on such a subject again. I certainly won't read one as big!

That's it for my rambling. Good luck with your reading - my next True Crime read promises to be The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo, but I keep putting it off thanks to a) needing a looong time to get over the serious case of the wiggins that the Bundy book gave me, and b) seeing Ramirez on 'Born To Kill'. I don't believe in angels and demons, but he looked like the fucking devil. Yeesh...