This is a memoir driven by obsession: the author's obsession with her parents' silence about her and her sister's childhood sexual abuse by a close family member, as well as her intense fixation on a 1992 criminal case in which a twenty-six-year-old pedophile murdered a six-year-old boy. Marzano-Lesnevich’s personal story—the memoir part—I could accept. It’s the murder part of the book that I had trouble with. The author appears to want the reader to consider the perpetrator sympathetically; the child victim of the crime essentially disappears under the weight of detail about the murderer--much of it apparently imagined and presented in a "novelistic” manner.
This book is grim and oppressive reading; I also thought it was far too long, unnecessarily repetitive, and, at times, a bit too forcedly poetic. I initially rated the book a three, but that rating did not sit well with me. On thinking it over, I really had to rate it lower.
The author states that in her mind people remain “persons” no matter what they do. I am less certain. Canadians are well acquainted with the case of 1990s school-girl killers, Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo, who committed heinous sexual crimes against 3 young teens (one of them Karla's sister) that they recorded on video. Bernardo has dangerous offender status and remains incarcerated for life. In spite of her active role in the crimes, Bernardo’s ex-wife served only 12 years in a federal penitentiary-- because of a plea bargain. Since her release from prison, Homolka has married and had children. Some say she is a changed person. I’m doubtful.
A more recent case in Ontario, Canada involved a third-grade child, Victoria Stafford, who was lured from her school at lunch by a young woman and her boyfriend. They sexually assaulted her, murdered her, and then dumped her body in a wooded area miles from where she was abducted.
When animals turn violent, they are “humanely euthanized”. However, it is considered inhumane and barbaric to euthanize psychopathic, compulsive, sexually violent humans. Humans are, it is thought, above animals. But are they?
According to Marzano-Lesnevich’s book, before Ricky Langley was born, doctors wanted to abort the fetus. His mother had been in a body cast for months after a car accident that killed two of her children. She was impregnated while in this cast. Ricky had been exposed in utero to innumerable x-rays and a multitude of likely neurotoxic drugs. His mother had also abused alcohol. I cannot help but think how much better it would have been for all if this child had never been born.
In light of the Canadian criminal cases I’ve cited above, I was not well-disposed to going over and over the details of a crime the author of this book was plainly obsessed with. The Fact of a Body is competently written. It is also sensational. The author's decision to meld the story of her own abuse by a pedophilic relative with a criminal case that she took certain liberties with—embroidering and fictionalizing aspects of it for psychological and dramatic effect--is questionable. Strangely, although she concludes her book by describing her arrival at Angola--the prison where Ricky Langley is incarcerated--only her greeting of him is described. She tells nothing about how her meeting with him went. A cop out. She also sheds little light on how her understanding of the death penalty may have evolved as a result of her personal investigation into his crime. (In childhood, she says, she was vehemently opposed to capital punishment, yet when she first learned of Ricky Langley’s crime, she did not want him to live.) All we know at the end is that she finds his being sentenced to life imprisonment for second-degree murder an “elegant” solution that somehow addresses the complexity of the situation.
Marzano-Lesnevich, who trained as a lawyer but decided against going into practice (it would have been interesting to know why), says she "fell in love with law" years before because it allowed the making of a story, “a neat narrative of events,” that “finds a beginning, and therefore cause.” “But,” she says, “I didn't understand then that the law doesn't find the beginning any more than it finds the truth. It creates a story. That story has a beginning. That story simplifies, and we call it truth.” I would say this is a fair bit of fancy intellectualizing. Many of us are under no illusion that the law is linked with or leads to the truth. It's an intellectual game in which attorneys have been known to quibble over the meaning of the word “is”.
What is clear is that Jeremy Guillory, a six-year-old child, died because he was strangled--asphyxiated. Ricky Langley could lead the police to the child’s body and explain exactly how the child died. Ricky’s semen was found on the boy’s shirt. That is the truth. What to do with the humans who do these things, many of them remorseless, simply unable to be rehabilitated, statistically certain to re-offend, is the bigger question. Is warehousing them for life the answer?