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Losing Matt Shepard
The infamous murder in October 1998 of a twenty-one-year-old gay University of Wyoming student ignited a media frenzy. The crime resonated deeply with America's bitter history of violence against minorities, and something about Matt Shepard himself struck a chord with people across the nation. Although the details of the tragedy are familiar to most people, the complex and ever-shifting context of the killing is not. Losing Matt Shepard explores why the murder still haunts us―and why it should.
Beth Loffreda is uniquely qualified to write this account. As a professor new to the state and a straight faculty advisor to the campus Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Association, she is both an insider and outsider to the events. She draws upon her own penetrating observations as well as dozens of interviews with students, townspeople, police officers, journalists, state politicians, activists, and gay and lesbian residents to make visible the knot of forces tied together by the fate of this young man.
This book shows how the politics of sexuality―perhaps now the most divisive issue in America's culture wars―unfolds in a remote and sparsely populated area of the country. Loffreda brilliantly captures daily life since October 1998 in Laramie, Wyoming―a community in a rural, poor, conservative, and breathtakingly beautiful state without a single gay bar or bookstore. Rather than focus only on Matt Shepard, she presents a full range of characters, including a panoply of locals (both gay and straight), the national gay activists who quickly descended on Laramie, the indefatigable homicide investigators, the often unreflective journalists of the national media, and even a cameo appearance by Peter, Paul, and Mary.
Loffreda courses through a wide ambit of from the attempts by students and townspeople to rise above the anti-gay theatrics of defrocked minister Fred Phelps to the spontaneous, grassroots support for Matt at the university's homecoming parade, from the emotionally charged town council discussions about bias crimes legislation to the tireless efforts of the investigators to trace that grim night's trail of evidence. Charting these and many other events, Losing Matt Shepard not only recounts the typical responses to Matt's death but also the surprising stories of those whose lives were transformed but ignored in the media frenzy.
Beth Loffreda is uniquely qualified to write this account. As a professor new to the state and a straight faculty advisor to the campus Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Association, she is both an insider and outsider to the events. She draws upon her own penetrating observations as well as dozens of interviews with students, townspeople, police officers, journalists, state politicians, activists, and gay and lesbian residents to make visible the knot of forces tied together by the fate of this young man.
This book shows how the politics of sexuality―perhaps now the most divisive issue in America's culture wars―unfolds in a remote and sparsely populated area of the country. Loffreda brilliantly captures daily life since October 1998 in Laramie, Wyoming―a community in a rural, poor, conservative, and breathtakingly beautiful state without a single gay bar or bookstore. Rather than focus only on Matt Shepard, she presents a full range of characters, including a panoply of locals (both gay and straight), the national gay activists who quickly descended on Laramie, the indefatigable homicide investigators, the often unreflective journalists of the national media, and even a cameo appearance by Peter, Paul, and Mary.
Loffreda courses through a wide ambit of from the attempts by students and townspeople to rise above the anti-gay theatrics of defrocked minister Fred Phelps to the spontaneous, grassroots support for Matt at the university's homecoming parade, from the emotionally charged town council discussions about bias crimes legislation to the tireless efforts of the investigators to trace that grim night's trail of evidence. Charting these and many other events, Losing Matt Shepard not only recounts the typical responses to Matt's death but also the surprising stories of those whose lives were transformed but ignored in the media frenzy.
160 pages, Paperback
First published September 26, 2000
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
December 2, 2008
Beth Loffreda has nothing to say about Matt Shepard ... and she takes 200 pages to say it.
Nearly three years after Matt Shepard's murder, only two questions have any enduring relevance: What went on the night he was killed, and what were the true motives for the crime? In Losing Matt Shepard, Beth Loffreda demonstrates that she has absolutely no idea, and neither do the dozens of people she interviewed. Their words now appear in her book as if they had some insight to share--about Matt's life, about his death, about homophobia, about violence against queer people, about capital punishment. They do not. In fact, one almost wonders whether Loffreda deliberately sought out the least articulate and least thoughtful people in Laramie and across the country and chose to quote them precisely for the numbing, repetitive effect of their words.
Loffreda's appetite for the minutiae of political processes or of the history of long-dead legislation is similarly all but endless, and, in the end, the "aftermath" of Shepard's murder-at least as Loffreda describes it--is precisely nothing. Though she waxes grumpy, in a Quaker sort of way, about (what she considers) the inaccurate spins other journalists have put on what they found in Laramie, her lack of a political grounding (or, indeed, of any personal convictions at all) is maddening. She's no media or cultural critic; she doesn't "get" homophobia (except in the "can't we all just get along" way); and the only thing that really ticks her off is Fred Phelps, who is the easiest target in the world.
There's no analysis here, the prose is plodding and tedious, Loffreda nearly gives herself a hernia trying to stay in the middle of the road, and you won't learn a single thing you didn't already know.
The great book on Matthew Shepard has yet to be written. Until we get it, Tony Kushner is, as usual, brilliant: Matthew's Passion.
Nearly three years after Matt Shepard's murder, only two questions have any enduring relevance: What went on the night he was killed, and what were the true motives for the crime? In Losing Matt Shepard, Beth Loffreda demonstrates that she has absolutely no idea, and neither do the dozens of people she interviewed. Their words now appear in her book as if they had some insight to share--about Matt's life, about his death, about homophobia, about violence against queer people, about capital punishment. They do not. In fact, one almost wonders whether Loffreda deliberately sought out the least articulate and least thoughtful people in Laramie and across the country and chose to quote them precisely for the numbing, repetitive effect of their words.
Loffreda's appetite for the minutiae of political processes or of the history of long-dead legislation is similarly all but endless, and, in the end, the "aftermath" of Shepard's murder-at least as Loffreda describes it--is precisely nothing. Though she waxes grumpy, in a Quaker sort of way, about (what she considers) the inaccurate spins other journalists have put on what they found in Laramie, her lack of a political grounding (or, indeed, of any personal convictions at all) is maddening. She's no media or cultural critic; she doesn't "get" homophobia (except in the "can't we all just get along" way); and the only thing that really ticks her off is Fred Phelps, who is the easiest target in the world.
There's no analysis here, the prose is plodding and tedious, Loffreda nearly gives herself a hernia trying to stay in the middle of the road, and you won't learn a single thing you didn't already know.
The great book on Matthew Shepard has yet to be written. Until we get it, Tony Kushner is, as usual, brilliant: Matthew's Passion.
January 7, 2009
This book has special resonance for me on a variety of levels. As an advocate for gay rights and a personally open-oriented individual, I am struck by the very real danger of publicizing one's sexual identity in conservative locations, and deeply saddened by the wide rifts that still exist in so many of the world's corners... and broad plains. I also recently visited Laramie, Wyoming, where Matt Shepard was killed, so the book's setting is fresh in my memory, and recognize many of the street names, bars, and campus names.
Beth Loffreda (author) is the director of the Creative Writing program at U. W., and when we met for coffee she was a phenomenally warm and compassionate, quick-witted, and cut-to-the-truth conversationalist. Her writing carries the same tone. If you'd like to learn more about gay politics, the western frontier, or to witness a cunning critique of the media, this book is a good place to start.
Beth Loffreda (author) is the director of the Creative Writing program at U. W., and when we met for coffee she was a phenomenally warm and compassionate, quick-witted, and cut-to-the-truth conversationalist. Her writing carries the same tone. If you'd like to learn more about gay politics, the western frontier, or to witness a cunning critique of the media, this book is a good place to start.
March 29, 2017
Again, this book was... fine? It didn't do what I wanted it to do, which is not a hit against the author, but I would say it's a terrible title honestly, very misleading as to what it's about. I think the experiences and stories were interesting and maybe had it been organized as like an oral history of the aftermath of Matt Shepard's death, I would have found it more intriguing, but honestly any "analysis" was lost amid Loffreda's attempts to do the entire story "justice." I would say it wasn't a bad book, just not intellectually stimulating (but also not super relaxing.)
December 31, 2023
Frustratingly unfocused. The writing is competent on a sentence-by-sentence basis but Loffreda seems to have stuffed the book with anything and everything she ever thought or heard someone else say in the aftermath of Shepard’s murder — it’s like no editorial supervision was given whatsoever, and the people she interviews seems almost custom-designed to offer the most bland, waffling views possible.
On a more personal level; Loffreda is so concerned with defending Laramie that everything else falls by the wayside. As someone who grew up in a homophobic rural area, I’ve heard that same defensiveness all my life — and it’s even more irritating when it comes from a so-called ally in the immediate aftermath of a nationally-grieved hate crime. Loffreda easily and sometimes inappropriately rips into Outsiders over their views of Laramie, but gladly indulges the weakest opinions of Laramie’s hometown heroes. Her analytical prowess disappears when confronted with a closeted gay who can’t come out at work but swears Laramie is a great town, or a straight local who refuses to take any responsibility for the homophobia in Laramie. The longer the book wears on, the more frustrating this apologism and hostility toward outsiders becomes.
On a more personal level; Loffreda is so concerned with defending Laramie that everything else falls by the wayside. As someone who grew up in a homophobic rural area, I’ve heard that same defensiveness all my life — and it’s even more irritating when it comes from a so-called ally in the immediate aftermath of a nationally-grieved hate crime. Loffreda easily and sometimes inappropriately rips into Outsiders over their views of Laramie, but gladly indulges the weakest opinions of Laramie’s hometown heroes. Her analytical prowess disappears when confronted with a closeted gay who can’t come out at work but swears Laramie is a great town, or a straight local who refuses to take any responsibility for the homophobia in Laramie. The longer the book wears on, the more frustrating this apologism and hostility toward outsiders becomes.
April 19, 2012
Those looking for a journalistic treatment of this subject, exposing sensational details and vivid personalities, will be disappointed in this book. It is an even-handed, somewhat reserved reflection on the events that swept the people of Laramie, Wyoming, into the national spotlight when Matt Shepard was murdered in October 1998. While there are several themes in the book, the chief one is the hysteria of the national media, which transformed the story of a young man's beating and death into a horrific hate crime, with all the over-simplification, instant analysis, and easy generalizations of highly competitive news organizations. Understanding the vast complexity of the social context that the murder emerged from and its meaning in terms of the people who make up the fabric of that community have been left for more thoughtful observers, writers and thinkers like the author, who can with greater knowledge, sensitivity, and analytical abilities address the central question, what REALLY happened?
Given the polarizing issue of sexual orientation, it's easy for readers to fault Loffreda for her refusal to reduce the subject to a black-and-white matter of homophobia. She makes an interesting argument about hate crimes, using Matt's murder as a way to show that the notion of a crime motivated purely by hate is an abstraction, and what really motivated this murder was a whole tapestry of motives having to do with social class, intent to rob, upbringing, a macho culture, and a depressed social and economic environment. If you boil it down to anything, what seems to be at the root of the crime is a simple wish to bully, intimidate, and victimize someone perceived as weaker. Where is the hate and where is the bias in all this, she wonders. It's there, yes, but so is much else that can't be addressed by labeling it as a bias crime.
Much of the book is also an attempt to represent the distinctive "lifestyle" of gay men and women living in a rural, thinly populated state, where being "out" is not an option, and there is a generally held belief that homosexuality does not exist there. Involved as she is with the gay community in Laramie, the author is familiar with many gay men and women who appear in the pages of her book, each expressing varying responses to the murder of one of their own. What's instructive is that "gay community" is a misnomer here, where there essentially is none. There is little organization and few resources to make a difference either socially or politically. Instead, national organizations and their celebrity representatives swoop in to capitalize on Matt's murder in the interest of their own agendas, both pro- and anti-gay. Matt gets "lost" in many ways, and this is only one of them.
Loffreda does not set out to win back Matt Shepard, but she does a lot to recover Laramie itself. She reclaims a town in its own terms, not those of the media. While she struggles with residents' resistance to change and the inappropriateness of their responses (emphasizing emotion rather than action), she acknowledges a wide-spread decency, a feeling of remorse, and a genuine wish to overcome complacency. For the gay men and women of Laramie, not a lot changes. There is still fear and anger, to go along with invisibility. But there is also love of this place on the wind-swept prairie, and a belief that for all its drawbacks, this is home.
I recommend this book for its attempt to undo the damage done by the occupying army of the national media. In that respect, it makes an interesting companion to the film "Bowling for Columbine."
Given the polarizing issue of sexual orientation, it's easy for readers to fault Loffreda for her refusal to reduce the subject to a black-and-white matter of homophobia. She makes an interesting argument about hate crimes, using Matt's murder as a way to show that the notion of a crime motivated purely by hate is an abstraction, and what really motivated this murder was a whole tapestry of motives having to do with social class, intent to rob, upbringing, a macho culture, and a depressed social and economic environment. If you boil it down to anything, what seems to be at the root of the crime is a simple wish to bully, intimidate, and victimize someone perceived as weaker. Where is the hate and where is the bias in all this, she wonders. It's there, yes, but so is much else that can't be addressed by labeling it as a bias crime.
Much of the book is also an attempt to represent the distinctive "lifestyle" of gay men and women living in a rural, thinly populated state, where being "out" is not an option, and there is a generally held belief that homosexuality does not exist there. Involved as she is with the gay community in Laramie, the author is familiar with many gay men and women who appear in the pages of her book, each expressing varying responses to the murder of one of their own. What's instructive is that "gay community" is a misnomer here, where there essentially is none. There is little organization and few resources to make a difference either socially or politically. Instead, national organizations and their celebrity representatives swoop in to capitalize on Matt's murder in the interest of their own agendas, both pro- and anti-gay. Matt gets "lost" in many ways, and this is only one of them.
Loffreda does not set out to win back Matt Shepard, but she does a lot to recover Laramie itself. She reclaims a town in its own terms, not those of the media. While she struggles with residents' resistance to change and the inappropriateness of their responses (emphasizing emotion rather than action), she acknowledges a wide-spread decency, a feeling of remorse, and a genuine wish to overcome complacency. For the gay men and women of Laramie, not a lot changes. There is still fear and anger, to go along with invisibility. But there is also love of this place on the wind-swept prairie, and a belief that for all its drawbacks, this is home.
I recommend this book for its attempt to undo the damage done by the occupying army of the national media. In that respect, it makes an interesting companion to the film "Bowling for Columbine."
March 17, 2015
I'm not entirely sure that this book has stood the test of time all that well, or that it could (or even should?) be written today. Don't get me wrong, Loffreda is an excellent writer and in terms of being readable and thoughtful Losing Matt Shepard is excellent. And so far as it goes, the reflections on Wyoming culture and the town of Laramie both before and in the immediate aftermath of Matt Shepard's murder are alone worth the investment in this book. So as a book and as a sort-of history, this is certainly worth reading.
And yet, as far as the prescriptive aspects of this book, where suggestions are made for directions the gay community would like the culture to go, the kinds of changes Laramie, Wyoming, and America should undertake in its laws and mores, etc; well, those really are no longer relevant in a post-Lawrence v. Texas, (nearly) post gay marriage debate world. When we are no longer discussing whether homosexuality is moral and instead as a culture are thinking through whether major corporations and their employees should be punished for having opposing gay marriage, the tone of Losing Matt Shepard loses a lot of its punch.
Which is NOT NOT NOT to say that the tables have completely turned or any thing like the ridiculous claims that some make today. (I doubt, for example, we're likely to see two homosexuals murder a redneck out of hatred for his lifestyle.) But it IS to say that the public discourse has changed enough that the Laramie and Wyoming described in the book almost certainly no longer exist.
And I'm not sure that's all bad, even if it's likewise not all good.
So I would say go ahead and read this book, but read it for what it is. A picture of a complex town in a time that we no longer live in, may never get back to, and probably shouldn't want to.
For the record: though I was attending the University of Wyoming when this book was published, I never did take a class with Beth Loffreda, and to the best of my memory never even met her. I did, however, know some of the people interviewed in the book. I don't think that affected my review, but just in case I thought I'd get it out there.
And yet, as far as the prescriptive aspects of this book, where suggestions are made for directions the gay community would like the culture to go, the kinds of changes Laramie, Wyoming, and America should undertake in its laws and mores, etc; well, those really are no longer relevant in a post-Lawrence v. Texas, (nearly) post gay marriage debate world. When we are no longer discussing whether homosexuality is moral and instead as a culture are thinking through whether major corporations and their employees should be punished for having opposing gay marriage, the tone of Losing Matt Shepard loses a lot of its punch.
Which is NOT NOT NOT to say that the tables have completely turned or any thing like the ridiculous claims that some make today. (I doubt, for example, we're likely to see two homosexuals murder a redneck out of hatred for his lifestyle.) But it IS to say that the public discourse has changed enough that the Laramie and Wyoming described in the book almost certainly no longer exist.
And I'm not sure that's all bad, even if it's likewise not all good.
So I would say go ahead and read this book, but read it for what it is. A picture of a complex town in a time that we no longer live in, may never get back to, and probably shouldn't want to.
For the record: though I was attending the University of Wyoming when this book was published, I never did take a class with Beth Loffreda, and to the best of my memory never even met her. I did, however, know some of the people interviewed in the book. I don't think that affected my review, but just in case I thought I'd get it out there.
May 2, 2009
Much more about Laramie and Wyoming than about Matt, a good thing in my opinion. Doesn't answer the questions about what it means to be gay in a rural, isolated state but did give me much better context.
June 20, 2018
Not quite sure how to rate this one. I was a sophomore when Shepard was brutally murdered and I remember being so angry about this obvious hate-crime. The book though, doesn't do what you expect. It's not about Shepard really, but about Laramie. I feel like this book could have been written about any victim of a hate crime, in any town that crime occurred in. We did not get to know Shepard, as one might expect. I thought because of the subtitle including "life" in the aftermath, that we would hear from friends and family, those who knew Shepard well, to shape the portrait of a young man who did absolutely nothing to deserve such a horrific fate. I didn't want details of the crime - I recall those with unfortunate clarity when the story first broke and I never want to hear or see the details again. But I did want to know Matt, though perhaps that would make his death even more devastating? I don't know really, but the book was not what I expected.
March 24, 2025
I too was left thoroughly disappointed with this book. It is anecdotal evidence from the author's perspective, "one man shared his experience..." For example. It did not come across as well-researched and did not share Matthew's story. It felt like a short summary of politics after the murder from her biased perspective. At times it felt like the town was on trial or Christianity or rural culture but via the vehicle of opinion. I did not feel better informed by the end. She does mention some important points that never get addressed. For example, the number of crimes and murders against the LGBTQ community in many other cities was typically much higher, so what is the lesson we learn by studying this one crime in Laramie? I don't know because the author doesn't really compile evidence that points to any explanation.
August 4, 2025
I want to like this book. It's an interesting enough account of life in Wyoming for minorities, and it's intelligently written. But as a queer person who is not from the States, I'm not interested in so much about the state of Wyoming; I was hoping there was more about Matthew Shepard and his specific case. I just feel like Matthew Shepard got a bit lost in this book, and that's why I picked it up.
August 25, 2023
I read this after reading Judy Shepard's book about her son. It was interesting to read it after because it deals with the details and the aftermath of the politics entangled in this young man's brutal killing.
April 5, 2013
What an incredible story. As a Christian female straight,married, children and over 40. I stopped and considered what a struggle Matt dealt with daily. Aren't we here to love one another? Why can't we accept a person for their differences as we each want to be accepted. Is it so hard to just walk in love, peace, grace and forgiveness. Great story interesting read. Be prepared to think beyond the media sensation that is not what this book personifies. It's not just about the crime but the people and the town and the rebuilding of lives. However, for those living "alternative lifestyles" are still not accepted.
June 16, 2016
an interesting read...at an interesting time....read this before, during and after the Orlando massacre at the Pulse nightclub....Beth's perspective is a unique one....having been an advisor to the LGBT students at U Wyoming....true that many of the techniques that may have helped us to synthesize the loss of Matt simply cannot...and should not...work in the face of the loss of 50+ lives in 2016.....imagine that books of this ilk are being written even now in the aftermath of the Florida massacre...look forward to reading them....
January 17, 2016
The horrific details of Matt Shepard's murder are swallowed up in the hailstorm of William-Phelps-style he-had-it-coming thinking and LGBT outrage that followed, sort of an unlikely tornado out on the lone prairie of Laramie. Ultimately the effect is one of self-important collegiate navel-gazing, which is not much of a tribute to the murdered man. The author says she is trying to protect Matt's privacy and focus on the hailstorm, but the ultimate effect is that Matt himself gets lost, which was the whole problem in the first place, wasn't it? That we lost him?
July 25, 2011
This is a sensitive, well-researched examination of the rural politics and culture surrounding Matthew Shepard's 1998 murder in Laramie, WY. As someone who grew up in Laramie and went to college at UW, I felt the author perfectly captured the contradictions and nuances of life there. The author presents no stereotypes or easy solutions, just thought-provoking questions and insightful interviews with many Laramie residents. This should be required reading for anyone interested in the subject.
March 15, 2015
A bit meandering at times it still offers insight into the effects of Matthew Shephard's death on Laramie Wyoming, the state and the nation. With the opinions and perspectives of many different people it offers an important viewpoint but is occasionally hard to follow as far as the timing of events or who specific people are and how they are connected.
July 27, 2016
Beth Loffreda, a University of Wyoming professor, examines the aftermath of the Matthew Shepard murder on Laramie, Wyo. Its a great view of the real Laramie and explains the issues around Shepard's murder.
January 24, 2012
A well done exploration of the aftermath of murder and the lifestyle of a rural setting.
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June 22, 2012Checked out from the Franklin College library.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews