True crime is quickly becoming one of my favorite genres. There is, however, a lot of crappy true crime books out there. Most of these read like police reports, without trying to delve deeper into the broader picture or offering insights into the human condition. Many of them are prurient and sensationalistic.
I like true crime that tells a story about what it means to be a human being and how to live a life beset on all sides by temptation and evil. I like true crime that transcends its own genre into works of important literature.
Certain authors in this genre stand out: Truman Capote, Ann Rule, James Renner, Michelle McNamara, David Grann. All of them have taken the true crime genre to elevated places in their work, attempting to find some meaning in meaningless acts.
Published in 2010, David Grann’s “The Devil and Sherlock Holmes” is a compilation of articles he has written over the years, originally published in a plethora of magazines, including The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, The New Republic, and The New York Times Magazine. All of them could be classified under “true crime”.
More than one of the twelve stories in this book has already been made into a film or TV show. All of them would make for a fascinating documentary film or series on Netflix.
They cover a wide swath of subjects and a wide range of themes, but all of them have, at their heart, a horrible crime. It’s not always what one expects, either.
For example, in the story “Trial By Fire”, a horrible house fire in which a man loses his three children is determined to be an act of arson by fire investigators. Later, the science is questioned, and another team of investigators overrules the findings of the original arson “experts”, who used faulty science in their investigation. The man, sentenced to Death Row, turns out to be that rarest of all criminals: one who is innocent of his crimes. Despite numerous petitions and attempts to have him released, however, the state justice system (including the governor) puts the man to death anyway. One crime (determined to be not a crime after all) leads to an even bigger crime committed by the government.
In another example, the story “Which Way Did he Run?” begins in New York City on September 11, 2001: one of the worst crimes perpetrated on American soil. An entire company of firefighters is killed in the World Trade Center, except for one lone survivor. Miraculously, he walks away from the tragedy, only to discover a new tragedy: he has amnesia. He can’t recall anything that led up to the moment that he arrived at the WTC. Even worse: he is haunted by the horrible thought that the only reason he survived is because while his fellow firefighters were running towards the danger, he may have been running away from it. Cowardice? Or merely a human fight-or-flight reaction?
All of these stories describe a true crime, but they also provoke numerous thoughts: What would you do in this situation? What would you decide, as a juror, if given the facts? Are the people in these stories criminals or victims?
Of course, there are no easy answers, and Grann does not often—if ever—-provide the closure that one might find in a murder mystery or a crime novel.