In Cold Blood

One of my big interests that I don't think I've mentioned in either blog [certainly not this one and it didn't really fit in the previous one] is my longstanding interest/love/passion for true crime. It's pretty difficult to say something like that and not have people think you're a weirdo. And yet, I find it distinctly more weird when people have a keen interest in fake crime shows like CSI and Law & Order. There are so many compelling crime stories out there that it seems to me that it's kinda sick to make up new ones - especially as graphic as they are these days. Those people are the true sickies - not people like me...who have been into true crime on TV and in books since I was 10 years old. Obviously I turned out perfectly normal. Anyway, these days I don't read true crime novels [because they are so trashy and while I might enjoy reading it as a guilty pleasure, I just can't justify buying them and I would be humiliated @ the bookstore], so my main source of true crime comes from the endless repeats of American Justice and Cold Case Files and from The First 48 and then from online communities, like Websleuths [for current crimes generally]. I will watch American Justice and Cold Case Files over and over and over again - hoping to spot something new or to provide some new insight.

Today's episode was the Clutter Family murders - perhaps better known as the In Cold Blood murders, made famous by the infamous Truman Capote. I had delayed reading that novel for a long time because I thought it would really be up my alley - I had very high expectations. While I thoroughly enjoyed Capote's style of writing and his ability to really put you somewhere, I was disappointed. Capote is *the* pioneer of the true crime genre, a forerunner of the New Journalism movement and an orginator of the non-fiction novel...that's a lot to live up to. And I'm nothing if not a harsh critic. I admire that everyone in the novel is a full person - the victims are not just people whose lives are tragically cut short, the murderers are not just cold and psychotic and inhuman - even the police force is fully fleshed out. And yet, he made stuff up. He fully admits that. Here you have an excessively compelling tale and the author feels the need to fictionalize. Completely unnecessary and, in my opinion, kinda invalidates his work of NON-fiction.

Truth is generally stranger than fiction. If not stranger, than infinitely more interesting and human - because, the characters are, by definition - real. I think this is why initially reality TV was so hot [and it's stuck around because networks like how it's cheap and disposable] - because viewers were drawn in by the fact that the characters were real people and therefore anything could happen [writers weren't constricted by traditional tropes]. Of course, we all know now that reality TV is totally scripted...but I digress...but on the American Justice version of the story they interview the detectives @ length and they were obviously still very much affected, even over 40 years later. Grown men tearing up gets me every time. But they weren't just crying over their victims, they were upset about their role in putting these men to death. They knew that if they did their jobs properly, the two perps would die for their crimes...obviously they were not good people...but it shows that decent people are disturbed when they are even vaguely responsible for another person's death. When I watch The First 48 and the get the bad guy [always a murderer] - that moment when the guy or gal realizes that this is *it* - maybe they confess or are confronted with solid evidence or maybe they say nothing @ all...but their lives are essentially over. There's something heartbreaking about it - even after a horrific crime...most people are still human. And that's kinda shocking.