Russell Edwards is an oversharer.
This is not a particularly damning character trait, but it did grate on me as I worked my way through this book. He delves into his childhood, his ancestry, his babies' deaths. No point in his journey is free from his emotional reminiscences. He's so eager for us, the readers, to take him seriously, and to know that he's not some quack. He's deadly earnest that you listen to his story, and that desperation just pours off the page. If this book had a smell, it'd be the perspiration of an unpopular middle-school kid. If it had a voice, it would whine, "Please, be my friend."
And that's a shame, because he's got a hell of a story to tell you. He's identified Jack the Ripper, by physical evidence obtained from the scene of one of his crimes. He links a shawl, long purported to be from the Catherine Eddowes' crime scene, to one of the prime suspects, an Aaron Kosminksi. The chain of custody is not perfect, but the provenance is convincingly laid out. The case is well made- forensic examination, mitochondrial dna testing of the shawl's blood and semen stains, compared with the dna of both victim and suspect via their living maternal line relatives.
The story of how he got hold of this shawl, and his research into its history, is a bit of fascinating detective story. Unfortunately, his explanation of the science behind the tests he has done, leaves me wanting more information- I'm looking forward to the papers Jari Louhelainen will undoubtedly be publishing on the subject.
Edwards would have been better served to allow his partner in crime to write those sections of the book. While he tries very hard to make his explanations user-friendly for the layman, he somehow manages to wring much of the excitement out of these descriptions. The crux of the case is the arterial blood spatter, the semen stains, the epithelial cells... and he somehow makes these bits of the tale much less interesting than they rightfully ought to be.
But they are, in the end, quite convincing. He addresses the likelihood of contamination, he answers all questions about statistical relevance of the results, he even proves the unlikely circumstance that this shawl managed to traverse the decades without ever seeing a washing machine. He can place it chronologically in the existing story, and makes a strong case for the fabric's place of origin, how it came to the scene of the crime, and where it's been in the intervening years. He lays out a case that would certainly get Kosminski an indictment, and perhaps even a conviction.
That alone makes the book well worth the cover price, and he's convinced me he's got the right man. I just wish he'd had a better editor to help him clean up his presentation a bit.