Reading Dead Ends is a sobering experience, largely because the book refuses to comfort the reader. These are unsolved cases, and the author makes no attempt to manufacture certainty where none exists. Instead, each chapter documents what is known, what was missed, and where the trail went cold—often for reasons that feel depressingly systemic rather than mysterious.
I appreciated the restraint throughout. There’s no sensational language, no overemphasis on violence, and no armchair theorizing. The focus stays on the investigations themselves and the consequences of stalled or failed resolution. Over time, the accumulation of cases creates a broader picture of how fragile justice can be, especially when cases span jurisdictions or fade from public attention.
This is thoughtful, serious true crime—more reflective than thrilling. Readers looking for closure may find it frustrating, but those willing to sit with uncertainty will find Dead Ends both compelling and quietly disturbing in the way real life often is.