On the night of October 6, 1998, twenty-one-year-old Matthew Shepard left a bar with two alleged “strangers,” Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson. Eighteen hours later, Matthew was found tied to a log fence on the outskirts of town, unconscious and barely alive. Overnight, a politically expedient myth took the place of important facts. By the time Matthew died a few days later, his name was synonymous with anti-gay hate.
The Book of Matt, first published in 2013, demonstrated that the truth was in fact far more complicated – and daunting. Stephen Jimenez’s account revealed primary documents that had been under seal, and gave voice to many with firsthand knowledge of the case who had not been heard from, including members of law enforcement.
In his Introduction to this updated edition, journalist Andrew Sullivan “No one wanted Steve Jimenez to report this story, let alone go back and back to Laramie, Wyoming, asking awkward questions, puzzling over strange discrepancies, re-interviewing sources, seeking a deeper, more complex truth about the ghastly killing than America, it turned out, was prepared to hear. It was worse than that, actually. Not only did no one want to hear more about it, but many were incensed that the case was being re-examined at all.” As a gay man Jimenez felt an added moral imperative to tell the story of Matthew’s murder honestly, and his reporting has been thoroughly corroborated. “I urge you to read [The Book of Matt] carefully and skeptically,” Sullivan writes, “and to see better how life rarely fits into the neat boxes we want it to inhabit. That Matthew Shepard was a meth dealer and meth user says nothing that bad about him, and in no way mitigates the hideous brutality of the crime that killed him; instead it shows how vulnerable so many are to the drug’s escapist lure and its astonishing capacity to heighten sexual pleasure so that it’s the only thing you want to live for. Shepard was a victim twice of meth and of a fellow meth user.”
Stephen Jimenez’s book, “Book of Matt”, never argues that Matthew Shepard’s murder in October 1998 was not gruesome, or that his killers were not brought to justice, or that justice was not served. Rather, Mr. Jimenez shines a light on two stories no one wanted told for their selfish reasons: (i) that Matt Shepard’s gruesome murder was not because he was a gay man, and (ii) it was the result of the horrific meth trade that was crushing Laramie, Wyoming—killing college kids, professors, cowboys, housewives, cops, doctors, and anyone else unfortunate enough to try this cheap alternative to cocain. The beauty of Mr. Jimenez’s investigative reporting and story telling is we meet the primary and secondary characters in brief introductions and learn more about them throughout the book in repeat interviews. This layered approach or like a weaving of perspectives from eye witnesses gives an account of Matt Shepard that he cannot give for himself. Matt Shepard may have been physically and emotionally vulnerable, but as his drug dealing showed, he was willing to engage in reckless and unlawful behavior to both fund his own habit and to achieve financial independence. Likewise, almost everyone described Matt as “kind, friendly, some one you wasted to be around,” he had a number of people in his life who thought they were his best friend and at least 2 maybe 3 men who thought each was Matt’s boyfriend (and planning to leave Laramie to start a life in other parts of the country). The point here is that it does not appear that Matt was honest, truly honest, with anyone—not himself as a drug addict, not his friends, and not his lovers. This dishonesty goes to the heart of the narratives that those who want to paint Matt Shepard as the poster child of gay right fail to see. By making Matt a martyr to gay hate crimes, the blind spot for drug addiction and death rampaging the gay community goes ignored. How many Matt Shepard’s have needlessly dies in the years since October 1998 because no one wants to shake the image of Matt Shepard as a hate crime? How many lives of young gay men and women could have been saved if people were honest rather than concerned with agendas? It’s no different on the flip side of the coin though. There is definitely a strong contingency of people in the establishment who likely knew the bigger players in the Laramie drug trade and did not want any of it coming to light, who were just happy to divert attention by calling Matt’s murder a gay hat crime, anything than what it really was—a murder instigated by a meth robbery. The rebel yell of “gay hate crime” has been a magician’s slight of hand for over 20 years. In the case of Matt Shepard, his assailants each received 2 consecutive life sentences. They were approx ages 20 & 21 at the time of their sentencing. Sadly, the assailants of “regular” murder victims (poor women & teenage girls) usually receive a fraction of the sentence. I recommend you read this book for the compassion it stirs for our fellow American citizens who, regardless of race, religion, creed, sex, is trying to get by the best way he or she know how and whether it’s at a party—try’s meth or sees dealing it as the only way to pay the rent. God help us all. I would read for the anger it boils in your soul when you know the same type of willful ignorance, if not corruption, is in your town/city/state. I would read this book for the applause I wanted to give to the first few persons who stood up and were willing to give personal statements on the record even though they were afraid for their safety, but did so because they knew the truth had to be told. Finally, I would read it for Russell Henderson. He was paid for his crime against Matt Shepard. It is time to set him free.
I think the most important take away from this book is that there is no such thing as a perfect victim, but that doesn’t mean justice can’t happen; it just takes a lot more work than most police departments, prosecutors, and journalists are willing to do. Im not sure about justice in this case….im just not sure if it was achieved or if it could have been achieved.
I think it’s near impossible to write about true crime, especially famous cases like Matthew Shepard’s, without it getting into sensational/salacious, “ooo look at all the nasty details” territory, but I think Jiminez does a good job with it. I think he sums up his intentions with the statement, “these complex truths make Matthew’s murder more tragic, not less”.
The book itself was well written but probably about 200pages too long. I found myself getting a bit glassy-eyed in the middle, just trying to keep pushing forward through the story. I got the whole gist of it pretty quickly, but some of the “characters” were a little more interesting than others. I personally have no problem with the amount of confidential sources that Jiminez uses; I agree with his point that this is a dangerous story to dig into. There’s a lot at stake on both sides of the aisle with regard to the prevalent media story of Matthew’s murder at the hands of crazed homophobes Aaron Mckinney and Russell Henderson. Also, reporters use confidential informants all the time, that’s very common.
At the end of the day, drugs and violence plague the LGBTQ community with infinitely more regularity than one-off hate crimes, and to sweep that fact under the rug is the biggest disservice to Matthew’s memory that I can think of. I see his life and death as one of hundreds of thousands that didn’t make the news, of sad, outcast, lost addicts who die or kill in the throes of addiction; those stories resonate way more with me and they deserve to be told. Maybe with books like this, Matthew’s story can change from a sanitized version to a more enriched version that speaks to the ugly truth of meth and the LGBTQ community. I think there could have been a more critical view of the reporters and media sources that spread the discourse around the murder. There could have been a more thoughtful discussion about the fact that Matthew Shepard was this cute little white blond guy who was a very non-threatening victim - he is much more easily digestible to the gay community and the general public rather than other members of the LGBTQ community. But I also understand the personal attachment that Jiminez seems to have to the story; he writes very earnestly about the town of Laramie and Wyoming and the people he gets close to in his investigation. His closeness probably makes it hard to get critical about identity, and so I’d rather use this book as an entry point to talking about drug addiction, race/class/gender, and violence at large in the LGBTQ community. The problem spans decades and won’t get better until we actually talk about harm reduction and public health. And also, integrity in journalism. RIP to everyone who was hurt and killed as a result of this case.
Great book that dispels the myth making nature of the media and special interest groups. Mr Jimenez should be lauded for his fearless reporting in the face of danger from both sides of the law as well as the mainstream media and LGB activists.
“The Book of Matt” written by a journalist, who devoted more than a decade to interview more than a hundred people, so as to uncover the hard truth and reconstruct the events that led to the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard. Many people prefer to conveniently go with the “official” truth that the murder was simply a hate-crime, which was further sensationalized by the media, because this truth probably takes away the halo that people put on Matthew since his murder. This truth does not paint a very angelic picture of Matthew, because his murder really involved sex and drugs. This truth exposes the dark and rampant drug use and drug trade in Wyoming, that Matthew was unfortunately sucked into. This truth probably contradicts the whole objective of Matthew Shepard Foundation established by Matthew’s parents to battle hate-crimes and educate people the importance of love and tolerance. Totally admire the tremendous amount of effort and time the writer poured in to gather such wealth of new information and insights into the murder of Matthew Shepard, but this book is not very well written, in my opinion. I cannot tell whether the writer meant for the book to be his investigative journal or a factual report of the events from before the murder of Matthew Shepard to the aftermath or a novelization of the events. The writer went on and on about how he gained trust from his interviewees, how they played mind games, how his own life was endangered, etc. He quoted interview verbatims, statements of witnesses, police reports, court documents, etc. He also tried to reconstruct events and dialogues, seemingly an attempt to dramatize the events a little. When something is true, I do not understand why he needed to constantly tell us A said “this”, B also said “this” and C confirmed “this”, so “this” is true. If this book is his own investigative journal, perhaps I shall just have to accept this. However, as a reader, I really want to know the events put together in order, all ups and downs of his rocky and meandering investigative journey can be placed under footnotes or annexes, or even the afterward. I am glad I still managed to plough through the entire book and more or less understand the truth behind the unfortunate demise of Matthew Shepard. He was not an angel, but he could have received assistance and lived an enriching life today.
Set in Laramie, Wyoming, this book delivers the most exhaustive and unsettling account of Matthew Shepard’s murder ever written—and makes the case, with painstaking documentation, that the crime was never a hate crime at all. Stephen Jimenez, himself a gay man, spent well over a decade investigating Matthew’s life, his relationships, his drug involvement, and the criminal underworld that surrounded the people who ultimately killed him. What emerges is a portrait far more complex, far more disturbing, and far more human than the sanitized public narrative that solidified in 1998 and has barely been challenged since.
Matthew Shepard was 21 when he was murdered by Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson, both 22. The two men famously claimed they had never met Matthew before the night of the assault—but Jimenez documents, repeatedly, that Aaron and Matthew knew each other well. They had been sexually involved multiple times, often in front of witnesses. Aaron McKinney, far from being the homophobic stereotype he has been painted as, had a long history of gay sex, both recreational and transactional. He was Doc O’Connor’s prostitute—pimped out to other men and used by Doc himself—and he moved between Denver’s gay bars and escort circuit with ease. His bisexuality wasn’t speculative; it was an established pattern.
What complicates the story further is Matthew's own world. After attending a Swiss boarding school, he returned to the U.S. carrying deep trauma—he had been raped repeatedly in Morocco at age 18—and he arrived in Laramie with depression, paranoia, money struggles, and a growing dependency on drugs. The book traces how Matthew fell in with various drug “Families,” including the Denver group led by Mark “Mark K” Rohrbacher, who taught him how to deal. Matthew’s small, boyish stature—5’2”, 105 pounds—belied the degree to which he moved product quickly and effectively, which put him in dangerous proximity to rival dealers, including Aaron’s circle.
Jimenez’s investigation reveals a parallel universe of corruption, criminality, and organized drug networks linking Laramie, Denver, and Fort Collins. Doc O’Connor—a limousine driver, escort service owner, adult bookstore owner, and one of the shadiest operators in the entire narrative—sits at the center of many of these networks. Multiple sources confirm that he whored McKinney out frequently, and that his allyship after the murder was self-serving at best and manipulative at worst.
The book meticulously breaks down how the “hate crime” narrative formed: two of Matthew’s friends speculated openly to reporters that the attack must have been because Matthew was gay. In the political atmosphere of 1998—one day before impeachment inquiries were announced against President Bill Clinton—the story spread like wildfire. National media embraced it instantly. Activist organizations doubled down. And over time, challenging the myth became socially and politically untenable. Jimenez’s work has earned him significant backlash from LGBT organizations, including attempts to discredit him publicly. Yet the interviews he collected—from police, friends, lovers, ex-boyfriends, dealers, family acquaintances, and even inmates—tell a story irreconcilable with the folklore version.
The brutality of Matthew’s death is not softened here, and it remains sickening no matter how many details one reads. Aaron McKinney had a long history of unprovoked violence, including previous attacks and beatings, and he arrived that night wired on meth—a drug he used and sold in massive quantities. Kristen Price, his girlfriend, supplied lie after lie to police, shaping the later “gay panic” defense with statements that were contradictory, self-serving, or fabricated entirely. Even more striking: law enforcement never examined Matthew’s cell phone or the various landlines he used in the days leading up to the murder, leaving major gaps in what should have been a standard investigation.
One of the most startling threads Jimenez uncovers is the deep personal connection between Matthew and Aaron. They belonged to opposing drug groups and had a history of sexual encounters that were known to others. Aaron had already threatened Matthew publicly with “Watch your back” before the murder. The supposed randomness of the attack was never random at all.
The book also excavates Matthew Shepard’s personal struggles in painful detail: early growth issues, lingering trauma, drug dependency, and financial desperation. His HIV-positive status, never publicly acknowledged during the original investigation, adds another layer to the tragedy. Even his own patterns—persistent advances toward straight men, impulsive decisions, risky behavior—are presented without malice but with clear-eyed honesty. As if that weren’t enough, the final chapter delivers a devastating revelation about Matthew’s childhood and teenage years:
Jimenez’s research is so thorough that at one point he himself was nearly killed by an associate of Aaron’s, a sign of how volatile and dangerous the truth around this case remains. Yet for all its depth, the book also reads as a testament to how far gay rights have come. In 1998, Will & Grace was so controversial it was blocked from airing in Wyoming. Today, the cultural landscape is markedly different, even as Wyoming still—astonishingly—has no hate crime laws.
The Book of Matt is long, occasionally meandering, and absolutely worth the effort. It dismantles a myth not out of cruelty, but out of a commitment to truth. It refuses to treat Matthew Shepard as a saint or a symbol—but as a complicated young man whose life intersected with drugs, violence, sexuality, trauma, and corruption in ways the country was not prepared to confront. The book is disturbing, exhaustive, brave, and emotionally brutal. You leave it with a sense of sorrow—not because the hate crime narrative has been challenged, but because the real story is somehow even harder to look at.
Being from Wyoming originally, this murder really shocked me. This book gives you more insight into what "really" happened. Kind of sad the whole circumstances in Laramie even now. From Cheyenne originally, which is just down the road. Part of the book is in Fort Collins Colorado which I remember going to as a teenager.
I’m old enough to have come from a time and place (I was a college student 100 miles away) that the reason for Matthew Shepard’s murder was ETCHED IN STONE! We all knew that reason. Hell, it became the basis for countless news articles, TV segments, documentaries, books, plays, even movies… for years to come.
It’s hard, then, to overstate the bombshell that was 2013’s “The Book of Matt: Hidden Truths About the Murder of Matthew Shepard” by Stephen Jimenez. Many people, including myself, simply didn’t believe it. We searched for confirmation that the book was a fraud. Some outlets seemed almost ready to provide that confirmation… but stopped just short of committing. Now we know the reason for that, too: Jimenez’s book is true. In the 10+ years since publication, he’s been vindicated, as the formerly shocked have slowly accepted that, yes, a staggering number of sources—knowingly or unknowingly—lied to us for years about what really happened.
And a note: be sure to get this edition of the book, which includes an excellent forward by Andrew Sullivan, and ample postscripts by the author, touching upon what happened to him since the book’s publication.
It’s a bit long, but I have to quote this passage from the “Conclusion,” not only because it’s well-written, but because it provides invaluable guidance on how to navigate an increasingly narrative-driven media landscape, no matter what your beliefs or politics:
“After being smeared repeatedly for daring to question how the media and self-interested parties constructed a false narrative of the murder, I’ve been called everything from a tool of the far right to a conspiracy theorist and self-hating gay man. I’m no longer surprised that some Americans prefer a tidy, sanitized fable of Matt Shepard as a gay martyr and human rights hero, than to grapple with the more genuinely tragic circumstances surrounding his killing. More alarming are the growing number of corporate media organizations, academic institutions and special interest groups that have become intensely focused on opinion-making, self-serving social and political agendas, and so-called identity politics, while pushing fact-based research and knowledge to the margins … We must be willing to accept inconvenient truths, to think critically and to deliberate honestly and civilly. Only then can we apply the lessons of the past to improving the present, and safeguarding the future.”
5/5, because it’s one of the most daring acts of journalism I’ve ever seen.
I decided to read this book because like everyone else, I had heard about the murder of Matthew Shepard through media. Of course, the issue of homosexuality and hate crime was featured prominately.
I appreciated that the author took the time to do a complete investigation, keeping an open mind to other factors that may have had an impact upon the people involved and actions that they undertook. It was no surprise that drugs are heavily involved.
I believe that the story is a complete and accurate accounting, presenting multiple issues and factors that influenced this crime. However, it was too long. The author could have presented his information in about half of the space. At times, I had difficulty attending... thinking "I know this already. Move on".
Overall, it is a good book and I would recommend it.... but be prepared for it to drag in places with lots of repetition.
A heroic work of true crime reporting. Jimenez does a brilliant job of weaving together a multitude of testimonies to form a coherent narrative that challenges the more commonly accepted myth around Matthew Shepard’s killing. It also raises the probability of high level corruption and the ongoing injustice around the sentencing of Russell Henderson.
a little tough to follow sometimes, but was a very interesting and informative book. this book kept me hooked the whole time-- i could not stop reading. the book is a narrative of the author's investigation into Matthew's murder, so it feels like you're making discoveries with the author. i have a feeling this story is going to stay with me for a long time.
It was a book that was hard to get into for me. But once I got going it was ok. I think the topic had me fooled from the media and the book was an awakening!