Kevin Weeks was one of two partners of Whitey Bulger, the other being Stevie Flemmi. The Irish mob was not exactly “organized crime,” in the way it is commonly imagined. Instead, it was a small tight group of sociopathic predators, who looked for vulnerability, often among other gangsters, or those on the fringes, and simply took over, often killing those in their way. They also murdered other people on mere impulse. Weeks describes an incredibly violent childhood, and one could easily make a case for “nurture” creating him. Given that his other siblings are high-achieving members of society, one could also make a case for someone who was what he was born to be. In any event, within the “honest” disclosure of his life and crimes, one observes the same pure selfishness and ability of dissociate himself from his violence that we hear from typical psychopaths. He mouths the sentimental platitudes about not harming women and kids and protecting kids from predators, but participated in the murder of the daughter of Flemmi’s “lover,” whom the latter had been molesting. (At what age he started is not clear, so Weeks might claim it was “consensual”). Were Weeks to read this, I would expect that he would demand that I say it to him face-to-face, confident that he could break me like he did so many hundreds of other people in his career as a bouncer and predatory thug. His solution to both misrepresentation or a truth he did not like was to break bones, just as his loyalty to Flemmi and Bulger made him willing to commit any mayhem without any disquiet whatsoever. Interestingly, one of his greatest advantage over others was that he didn’t fear consequences. After a stretch in Federal prison, however, he is trying to lead, per his own account, a clean life, and devote time to his sons. Having something to lose, we citizens are safer. In sum, this is the self-serving biography of a vicious, ultra-violent man who is quite at peace with himself, and yet, as is the type, quite charming and intelligent at the same time. A human leopard who preyed on his own kind – and us, too, who are, fundamentally, not his kind at all. In one sense, this is a useful, instructive book, so why two stars? Essentially, it is slog of moral vacuity.