By Ron Franscell
A 12-year-old boy cowers in his closet whereas a lunatic killer slaughters his relatives . . . a nursing pupil unwittingly opens her domestic to the serial killer on her entrance porch . . . an 11-year-old woman drifts on my own at sea on a flimsy cork raft for nearly 4 days after a mass assassin kills her traveling relations aboard a chartered yacht . . . a courageous firefighter without warning unearths himself within the crosshairs of a racist sniper nearly 9 tales above the floor . . .
And, astonishingly, all of them survived.
From Howard Unruh’s 1949 capturing rampage via a quiet New Jersey local to Louisiana serial killer Derrick Todd Lee’s reign of terror in 2002, the corpses piled up and few lived to inform the horror. Now, award-winning journalist Ron Franscell explores the wounded hearts and minds of the normal humans those monsters couldn’t kill. His enthralling money owed crackle with gritty info that positioned the reader in the course of the carnage—and supply a front-row seat at the complicated, painful technique of surviving the remainder of their haunted lives. In intimate, gripping prose, Franscell takes the reader on a pulse-pounding sprint throughout the murky intersection of natural evil and the efficiency of the human spirit. This trip into the darkest corners of the yank crime-scape is a penetrating paintings of literary journalism through a author hailed as the most robust new voices in precise crime.