Time Suck Mini-reviews: True Crime Books and Comics

I'm going through something of a true crime bender. I read Ann Rule's The Stranger Beside Me while I was in Europe and before I knew it I was reading true crime comics, watching documentaries and listening to podcasts. True crime isn't outside of my interests, but I've never really gone this gung-ho before. So rather than make this a true crime blog for the forseeable future (although I think I'm getting too angry and sad to keep this up much longer) I'm going to squeeze them all into a couple of posts (one for the content I've read, one for the content I viewed), both for my sanity and yours.

What I've Been Reading: 

The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule.

This was the book that kicked off this cycle, although in fairness I was probably primed for it by listening to Serial last year. The Stranger Beside Me is the story of Ted Bundy, the man and the murderer. However, as seems to be a bit of a trend for me in the true crime I pick, this book tells the tale of author Ann Rule's relationship with Ted Bundy. Beginning when she was an aspiring writer penning the occasional article for true crime magazines, Ann Rule also worked at a helpline with the young Ted Bundy.  He was (if I recall correctly) about 15 years her junior, but they became close friends almost instantly. As Rule's writing career began to take off and she was hired to write a book about the series of murders that would be tied to Bundy. This connection made it increasingly difficult for Rule once it became clear that Bundy was not only the key suspect but the perpetrator of the 30+ rapes and murders committed across the country. I found Rule's writing to be compelling and her reenactments of the crimes really captured the methodical and sadistic nature of Bundy. However, I actually struggled with the personal element of the book by the end. It seemed to me, based on the accounts in her book, that he was clearly using her because of her connection to the police. While she said they were close, the only personal anecdotes involving interactions outside of work begin after he starts his murders (or around the time of the first murder). So either they weren't as close as she thought and he manipulated her in the same way he manipulated his victims, or she left out some compelling evidence that they were anything more than co-workers who chatted in their downtime on late night shifts. Tne subheading of this book is "the shocking inside story," but Rule is guarded in providing too many personal details, so I don't know that we really get much of an inside story at all. And without any real divulgence of personal details, we also don't get any real introspection about the relationship.  If you're going to make the story personal, make it personal. Otherwise just write a compelling story of Ted Bundy and his crimes - which is already 80% of this book. I also think her personal involvement muddies her perspective somewhat. She struggles to separate the Ted she knew and the Ted who committed the murder and that gives way to a lot of waffling over certain decisions like him breaking out of prison - which to most people is a pretty clear sign of his guilt. She also gets to the end of the book without straight up stating that he is guilty, rather she frames it as he was convicted of the crimes, which to me - coupled with the other way she discusses the case - suggests that she thinks he may be innocent or wrongfully convicted. I think she went through a lot of confusion and mixed emotions about his involvement and subsequent conviction and I think the book would have benefited greatly if she had either fully opened up and made it a personal account of a woman who was friends with a serial killer up until their conviction (she sent him lots of money and letters while he was in jail leading up to the trial) or an objective account of a horrific serial killer.  In the end it flitters a little between the two and is weaker for it.

Green River Killer: A True Detective Story written by Jeff Jensen, illustrated by Jonathan Case. 

Last year I read the graphic novel My Friend Dahmer and really dug the idea of true crime comics. Obviously they aren't going to be as dense with detail and information as a normal true crime novel, but they have the potential to tell a much more personal angle than you typically read in this genre. Green River Killer was a title that came up every time I looked for a follow up to My Friend Dahmer but it wasn't until today that I found a copy. It's written by Jeff Jansen, the son of Tom Jansen - the cop who spent over 20 years on this case. It takes place over several decades, though it is set primarily 2005 when Jansen and several other police officers were stuck in a room interviewing Gary Leon Ridgeway about his murders for a controversial plea deal (he'd get life in prison, no death penalty). Ridgeway had confessed to being the Green River killer, but remained vague and cagey about the details of his crimes. The plea deal meant that he had to give them information about several murders he says he had committed that the police had never uncovered, but when they would take him to the locations he disclosed he'd clam up or only give details that were well known by the public. Was he playing with them or could it be that he wasn't the serial killer he confessed to being? (surprise, he was a killer but he had disassociated from that past 'Gary'). The book flashes back to some of the key murders in Ridgeway's life, such his first attempted murder in 1965 of a young boy, and the murder and bizarre presentation post-mortem of the victim Christine King. But more often than not the book presents the victims of Ridgeway as in flux, hair styles and clothing changing in each sequential frame because to Ridgeway these women held no real importance - there was no real reason for him to remember them. All told, Ridgeway murdered at least 48 women and teenage girls primarily between 1982-1984. Ridgeway picked prostitutes as his victims because they were easy to lure and kill, because he knew society didn't care about them. He would pick up prostitutes and take them either to his house or the woods and if they didn't 'love him right', he would murder them. There is even one occasion depicted in the book where Ridgeway picked up a girl with his son in the car, although it isn't made clear if this was one of the women he killed or one lucky enough to get away. It's also unclear whether Ridgeway continued murdering up until his capture, but if he did he didn't continue at the same rate as his early period in the 1980s. The fact that the book takes place 20 years after that initial period makes for a compelling narrative because we are likely seeing a man who considers his murders the acts of a different version of himself, an earlier Gary. In all of the interviews and encounters he separates himself, while also never denying that he did commit the murders. He talks of it all being so 'long ago' and yet for the police who interview him, the details of his brutality are seared into their memories. This book isn't just about Gary Leon Ridgeway and the Green River murders though. It is also a loving tribute for a son who respects his father and his father's dedication to find answers for the families of the women lost. Aspects of Tom Jensen's own life - his marriage, his police officer re-tests - are juxtaposed against the case investigating the murders and Ridgeway's recollections of the murders. This case, like his marriage, family and the endless renovations on the family home, was his life. And it's surprisingly beautiful to find this tribute entwined among such horror.

Torso written by Brian Michael Bendis, illustrated by Marc Andreyko.

Torso is less the personalised account of a relationship with or connection to a murderer and more a semi-fictionalised retelling of a particularly grisly cold case. It's like a short From Hell in that sense. Taking place in 1930s Cleveland, Torso explores the Torso serial murders amidst the turbulence of Eliot Ness's installment as Safety Director and depression-era America. Ness was a prohibition agent in Chicago, so his arrival in Cleveland is depicted in reflection to the murders, as both shook the police force and public to their core. The murders are horrific, someone decapitated and dismembered at least 12 victims from Cleveland's "shanty town". Much like the Green River Killer, the murderer targeted these people because they were easier to miss, both because of their transient nature and their position in society. The comic follows the popular theory that a Dr. Sweeney (named Mr Sundheim in the comic) but towards the end diverges completely from fact and re-imagines a much more action-packed finale. It's a riveting read but it's also pretty obvious that it isn't based in reality, which conflicts with the earlier portions. One thing the comic did that was really interesting was juxtapose illustration with photos from the time (see above). This makes for an interesting visual. They seem to primarily be photos related cirectly to the case and, in fact, at least one photo used is an actual crime scene photo of one of the victims. It makes it hard to separate from the reality of the situation, that while the comic is interesting and action-packed it is still a retelling of a series of murders which were never solved. Not as consistent as Green River Killer, but an interesting experiment in true crime comics nonetheless. 

(Audio)book review (sorta): Serial the podcast

I happened across an article last week which was titled something Buzzfeed-y like "5 reasons you should be listening to the unbelievable Serial Podcast" and while I usually avoid these sorts of articles on principle (seriously, can people start trying with their headlines again?) something drew me in.

Serial is a new podcast that breaks the traditional podcast mould. Rather than looking at a new subject each week, Serial is taking 12 episodes to investigate a murder case from 1999. From the website:

"On January 13, 1999, a girl named Hae Min Lee, a senior at Woodlawn High School in Baltimore County, Maryland, disappeared. A month later, her body turned up in a city park. She'd been strangled. Her 17-year-old ex-boyfriend, Adnan Syed, was arrested for the crime, and within a year, he was convicted and sentenced to spend the rest of his life in prison. The case against him was largely based on the story of one witness, Adnan’s friend Jay, who testified that he helped Adnan bury Hae's body. But Adnan has always maintained he had nothing to do with Hae’s death. Some people believe he’s telling the truth. Many others don’t."

The podcast is absolutely fascinating. It's like listening to a true crime novel, but unlike a novel it's a living document. As the podcast grows in popularity, more people will come forward with their memories of the event and the people involved. Sarah Koenig is the host of Serial and she (along with her research and production team) has structured the show to make it as enticing as possible. Each episode raises more questions than the last, and just when you think you have a hold of the evidence Koenig introduces something new that completely shakes your previous confidence.

Though the show is looking at a real life case it is easy to fall into the classic "whodunnit" realm as you listen to the evidence Koenig presents both against and in support of Adnan. A lot of the articles and reddit posts on the podcast are of people wondering whether Adnan is telling the truth about his innocence, which understandably leads to a lot of conspiracy theories. But while this is an obvious hook into the series I actually think it's a very small part of what the series is about. Unless the series manages to stumble upon a confession from someone else (or maybe lures Adnan into finally admitting guilt/involvement) it's less about the case, and more about the judicial system that sent Adnan to jail.

I really recommend giving the series a listen for yourself (it's currently at 8 episodes, and a new one is released every Thursday) so I'm going to be a little vague on the details but one of the things that's stood out for me in this case is the inconsistencies. So much of the case is built on a single witness testimony, and it's a testimony that is riddled with problems. Every episode I find myself wondering "is this standard in murder trials?" "is it usual for cops to take a single course of action and ignore other avenues of investigation?" and "why wouldn't a defence attorney bring up the prosecutions cherry picking of the phone records?" Granted, I have very little knowledge on the judicial system outside of crime dramas and believe me, I know how unlikely it is that they're feeding me facts over fiction, but so much of the information in the podcast just seems illogical. If this case is typical, what does that say about the judicial system? If a jury admits to voting guilty largely on the basis that the defendant didn't take the stand, does that mean we need to look closer into whether the jury system is actually the best way to handle these cases? So much of the court case seems to have depended on who could tell the best story, and that worries the hell out of me. Is that really the best way to get justice? How many innocent people end up in jail because the prosecutor is that much better at spinning the evidence in their favour? And how many guilty Richie Riches walk free because they can buy the best people to defend them?

This show is run by many of  the same producers and managers as This American Life, including Ira Glass, so you don't need to take it from me that this show has impeccably high standards, both in terms of production and journalism. It's infinitely more 'readable' than most of the audiobooks that I've tried over the past year, and each episode leads to a huge conversation between me and Tom as try to get on top of the new information presented. And since it's a podcast it's free, so win win right?

Book Review: Murder in Missippissi by John Safran

Murder in Mississippi 

Written by: John Safran

Published: 2013

Synopsis: When filming his TV series Race Relations, John Safran spent an uneasy couple of days with one of Mississippi's most notorious white supremacists. A year later, he heard that the man had been murdered – and what was more, the killer was black.

At first the murder seemed a twist on the old Deep South race crimes. But then more news rolled in. Maybe it was a dispute over money, or most intriguingly, over sex. Could the infamous racist actually have been secretly gay, with a thing for black men? Did Safran have the last footage of him alive? Could this be the story of a lifetime? Seizing his Truman Capote moment, he jumped on a plane to cover the trial.

Over six months, Safran got deeper and deeper into the South, becoming entwined in the lives of those connected with the murder – white separatists, black campaigners, lawyers, investigators, neighbours, even the killer himself. And the more he talked with them, the less simple the crime, and the world, seemed.
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"Harold says the explanation given by true-crime books for why the killer killed reflects the era in which the book was written. An author tells the story of how the world works, and that's why we read true crime books."

John Safran is one of my favourite Australians. I feel like I say that a lot about creative Australians, but in this case it's absolutely the truth. I was first introduced to him through his show John Safran's Music Jamboree, which was part documentary series, part comedy sketch show, part celebration of all things musical. Considering the only music shows I'd really known before that were basically just an hour or two of music clips, it was fascinating to see a man in a mole costume provide insider tidbits about the music industry or pranks like Safran getting 9 ordinary men into a nightclub by dressing them up like Slipknot.

After that I became a devout fan of Safran, who is something like an Australian Louis Theroux (who I also love a whole bunch). Safran has a fascination with race and religion, so a lot of his shows centre around both the mainstream and the fringe aspects of these subjects. And like Theroux, Safran inserts himself into his documentaries so they become as much an investigation of himself and his identity as they are about fringe churches, alien languages or racist organisations. And perhaps it's because there's so much of himself in the shows, but they never come off as judgemental of the (often) absurd, bizarre or hateful people he meets. Which is not to say he isn't critical, but as he points out the flaws, contradictions or alternative points of view he also remains (mostly) impartial. He also has a wicked sense of humour, so if you've been looking for a new show, you should absolutely try and hunt down John Safran Vs God because it's fascinating stuff.



Not surprisingly, John Safran has made a few enemies. As his debut non-fiction novel begins, he's hiding out in his home in Melbourne, avoiding the critics of his latest TV show and surfing conspiracy and white supremacist websites for new material. It's one on of these sites that he finds out about the murder of Richard Barrett, a white supremacist from Mississippi that Safran had met during the filming of one of his shows*.

Murder in Mississippi is not your standard true crime book. It isn't an investigation into a heinous crime or the multiple crimes of a charismatic yet evil murderer, and there is neither a large trial to follow or a neat resolution. The case had received a small amount of national press, but Safran headed down this path because he knew the murder victim, and while Barrett, in the world of white supremacists, is pretty small time he'd had a lasting effect on Safran and his crew.

I've spent a decade with Craig and Germain. We've hung with evangelical hucksters, Holocaust deniers and terrorists. I have never seen these two scrunch up their faces like Richard has made them scrunch up their faces.  

When Safran found out that Barrett was murdered by a young black neighbour his interest was piqued. When rumours surfaced that Barrett was killed because he made unwanted sexual advances on his murderer, Safran packed his bags. But when he arrived in Mississippi his expectations of how the book would come about, and the secrets he expected to turn up are dashed. Rather than simply investigating a crime, Safran finds himself struggling against the conflicts and confusions of the southern state.

Mississippi doesn't waste any time. The Jackson in the airport name is President Andrew Jackson, pro-slavery campaigner and master to three hundred slaves. The Medgar-Evers is Medgar Wiley Evers, a black activist who collapsed and died outside his house in 1963 after a Klansman had shot him in the back. You land straight into a race war.

From the minute Safran touched down nothing went to plan. His reputation preceded him and people who knew Barrett closed ranks, and the family and friends of Barrett's murderer, Vincent McGee, had no desire to help Safran get to the bottom of the story. The people who did talk to him give him little more than conjecture, coloured by their political, racial or cultural allegiances. He's stuck driving between tiny Mississippi towns, clinging to the tiniest of details and offering the world for the slightest bit of information to help him uncover the truth.

The result of all of this is a fascinating mess of a book. It's a memoir of John Safran, it's a how-to (and how-not-to) write a true crime novel, and it's a complex investigation of race, sexuality and cultural politics in Mississippi. And that's why I loved this book. You hear the mini-synopsis, "white supremacist murdered by black man" and you think it'd be an open-shut story. But it's not, there are so many contradictions, so many muddled up misunderstandings. You think this is going to be a story about black versus white, but it's less about a passionate hate on either side and more of an indoctrinated expectation of hatred.  For instance, take the fact that Barrett lived in an almost all black neighbourhood, and no one knew he was a white supremacist. How does someone who champions one race over all others live surrounded by the people he hates and then be remembered as a friendly old man?

Similarly, the friendship that Safran ends up forging with Vincent McGee is equally interesting. While making contact proved impossible at first, the promise of Walmart Green Dot cards encouraged Vincent to come out of his shell and Safran finds himself perplexed by the young man accused of Barrett's murder. Vincent is charming and funny, but it's impossible to work out if he's ever telling the truth. His story differs from the one he told his family, which differs from the one he told the cops. Is he terrified of being labelled gay? Is being gay in Mississippi worse than being black? Would he rather spend 75 years in jail labelled a murderer  than go to trial and being found innocent, guilty of only killing a man in self defense after a sexual relationship turned sour? This book doesn't make sense of any of this, it remains perplexing to the very end. But it is a fascinating glimpse into a very difficult and unique state.

As Safran is a film and TV veteran and this is his debut book, there are a few understandable issues. At times it reads like a script, piecing together the necessary visual components with piece-to-camera narration. But I actually really enjoyed Safran's writing style, it's very visual and very personable, much like his onscreen persona. If you've seen his shows and like his style, you will undoubtedly enjoy this book. If you're a huge true crime fan this might be too much of a departure from the traditional format for you to enjoy, but conversely, if you don't usually like true crime, this might be encompassing enough to draw you in.


*Safran got a secret DNA test of Richard Barrett and told him he had African ancestors during Barrett's white-only Spririt of American awards. Barrett, unsurprisingly, was not happy.