By Ron Franscell
A 12-year-old boy cowers in his closet whereas a lunatic killer slaughters his family members . . . a nursing scholar unwittingly opens her domestic to the serial killer on her entrance porch . . . an 11-year-old woman drifts by myself at sea on a flimsy cork raft for nearly 4 days after a mass assassin kills her touring relatives aboard a chartered yacht . . . a courageous firefighter by surprise reveals himself within the crosshairs of a racist sniper virtually 9 tales above the floor . . .
And, astonishingly, all of them survived.
From Howard Unruh’s 1949 taking pictures 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 standard humans those monsters couldn’t kill. His enchanting money owed crackle with gritty info that positioned the reader in the course of the carnage—and provide 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 during 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 via a author hailed as some of the most strong new voices in precise crime.