TRUE CRIME VS . FICTION

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

John Douglas

There’s no doubt more than a few true crime stories are out there masquerading as fiction. For those of us who abhor the knowledge some people have little regard for life, why are we still tempted by the daily doses of true crime facts littering the newspapers, news programs and tabloids? I have never seen “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” movie. From what I understand, there are only two reactions to the film: it’s either love or hate, not a single indication of someone lurking in the gray area being undecided. Mystery stories are so much easier on the conscience. We can enjoy them and step away. Somehow, true crime stories often wound themselves into our dreams, creating convoluted twists that wake us with heart palpitations and wanting to keep the lights on a bit.

Or maybe that’s just me.

I think I enjoy reading Mind Hunter by former FBI criminal profiler John Douglas. I say “think” because I have to steel myself into reading his work. Mind Hunter is one of those stories that creeps under your skin and becomes a part of you, as difficult to shake off as clingy wet jeans after being caught in a sudden rain storm. I think it disturbs me because I know Douglas is sharing in his stories part of his experience. I bought his book Anyone You Want Me to Be: A True Story About Sex and Death on the Internet about con artists finding vulnerable people wanting desperately to believe whatever a stranger online says. There really are people out there who do sick things to other people. It horrifies me and at the same time, tantalizes that portion of my brain where I don’t usually like to go. I’m glad other people write these stories because I really do like to read them, but only during the day.

As writers—and especially mystery or thriller writers—we often allow our minds to travel that untaken path where we know we’d never really travel.

I once asked a technician taking my mom’s blood what she’d do if someone with a gun bolted into the room with a filled syringe and told her to inject it into one of us. She paled. My mom gasped and with disgust said, “Don’t pay attention to her. She’s a writer. She doesn’t mean anything by what she said.”

Some thoughts I’ve had that I’ve learned to keep to myself:

• how to rob a store where I shop regularly
• how easy it would be to do someone harm in a darkened theatre before the leading lady’s screams ended on screen
• how damaging it would be to sneak into someone else’s computer and download questionable sites

Is this twisted or just a mark of a creative thinker?

Does the FBI care what we’re looking at online? I doubt we’ve crossed their minds, although they would jump on that information if we were suspected of a crime.

Why are we so enthralled with psychological thrillers? My opinion is we all feel a kinship with Dr. Jekyll becoming Mr. Hyde. Do we secretly wish for a taste of the dark side and is it really that bad? Are we more like Buddy Love in “The Nutty Professor” and just want to be cool, respected and loved? Could we handle it if we turned into a monster that does horrific things?

Why do we love Hannibal Lector or Dexter? There’s something about the insidious genius living inside a person who could do such despicable deeds that appeals to that darkness in our souls.

Do the people who find themselves turning up in four-inch headlines and actions debated on talk shows and likenesses splashed across tabloid covers plan this outcome, or could they not help themselves from the deplorable actions that propelled them into media magnets? Premeditated or crimes of passion, true crime is relevant in the book world. True crime or fiction, the mystery connecting the who, what, where, and why engages our attention throughout the story and makes us consider the differences between right and wrong. It’s a good thing.