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Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated The Mandalorian in TV
Jan 22, 2021 (Updated Jan 22, 2021)
Being a child of Star Wars, born in ’73, whose first memory of a cinema was A New Hope in ’77, of course the entire franchise is still close to my heart. I am no superfan, however. I do not need to remember every name of every character, or know the obscure names of planets to enjoy it. I remember that deeply competitive nature back in the playground – how important it was to prove Star Wars was yours by knowing more than any other kid! Fortunately I managed to let that go shortly after The Return of the Jedi. Ok, maybe 1995.
The Mandalorian is definitely for all Star Wars fans, but it is mostly for the kids that never grew up and need those details of “the canonical Star Wars” universe in their lives. And there are plenty of them. It is a geek’s wet dream! With chat rooms and fan sites going wild in debate and argument over the smallest of Easter eggs and hints to connections across the medium. As if this is a lost historical document that sheds light on the truth of many characters and events, that until now were shrouded in darkness and speculation only.
I find that phenomenon weird and a little creepy, but I do appreciate where it comes from. For me, I am merely glad it isn’t crap. It is nice to be in the Star Wars universe without holding your face in your hands for shame of lazy storytelling and moments that shit on the spirit of the original trilogy. The first thing that pleased me about The Mandolorian is how close it is in feel to the old school trilogy. In fact it surprised me, because, despite the very modern effects and full budget of Disney behind it, it feels very old fashioned, like a TV show from around 1986, maybe. And I wonder how they have achieved that every time I watch it. It has an intangible magic about it.
In fact, the feel of the show as a whole is often a little cheap, shockingly – the posters and toys and all associated media is as glossy and crisp as all money can afford, creating an image of the show that isn’t actually what the show is. In reality it is a cross between old spaghetti westerns, with The Mandalorian cast as The Man With No Name, and episodes of The A-Team or Knightrider. I kinda like it; very nostalgic, and a smart move by Jon Favreau and the other show-runners. It appeals to middle aged audiences and new alike, because it is a knowing hybrid of all things cool and nerdy!
Design-wise, the look of The Mandalorian himself is perfect fan bait and very cool. The music goes a long way to drawing you in – Ludwig Göransson, known for his work on Black Panther and Tenet, has hit on a career defining theme that blends Clint Eastwood and Star Wars in perfect harmony. I can’t imagine the show working half as well without that theme music! The spaceships and detail of every alien and weapon and costume is meticulous (if at times a little wobbly or cheap looking), and the wider feel of background and tertiary characters is pretty damn good.
But, let’s face it… The Mandalorian is the success it has been predominantly for one reason. I could give him his real name, but if you haven’t finished it yet that would count as a huge spoiler, so I will refer to him as The Child. The temptation to use the phrase Baby Yoda is hard to resist, and has been a cultural phenomenon that only comes along once or twice in a decade, but on this I agree with the fans: it is inaccurate and misleading. The Child is fine. It’ll do until you learn his true moniker.
In season one, where the build up of story, character and mystery is superb, we see very little of The Child at first. But we cannot take our eyes off him for every second he is on screen. The whole concept is so beyond cute and incredibly strong as a hook for a Star Wars story it is almost impossible not to squeal out loud at everything he does. Who is he? Why is he? What is he capable of? How will he fit in to the longterm idea for the story? So exciting, and total genius to keep everyone watching.
It isn’t all about The Child on his own though. It is about the unlikely symbiotic bond, like father and son, that develops between the tiny, vulnerable and childlike focal point, and the increasingly confident and loyal antihero, who will stop at nothing to protect his ward, as he struggles to find his own place in the universe. After a very short time, we care more about this relationship than 90% of all romances in all of TV history.
Through danger, mayhem and a touch of comedy, we grow to adore the two of them together, and can’t bear to think of them being apart. Some trick when you realise The Child is as much a mini-muppet style prosthetic as it is added CGI for expression and detail. Perhaps another callback to our 80s sensibilities, when we accepted ETs and Gremlins and all of the residents of Mos Eisley’s cantina as real without hesitation. It doesn’t have to look real, is the point, as long as it fits the story, is cool and is fun! Which The Child totally is – for entertainment value they have got the tone of the show so right.
What doesn’t hold up that strongly to critical scrutiny though is quite a lot of the scripts, the repetitive nature of the context of many episodes and missions the duo find themselves on, the mismatch quality of the guest directors abilities, and quite a lot of the dodgy acting by supporting characters. It’s as if at some production meeting at one early point they all said, look it’s Star Wars, we make the aliens and the spaceships and the weapons look good and we can’t fail… plus we have The Child and Boba Fett’s (yes, I know) armour, we can’t fail!
The basic storyline is enough to hook it on, just about, it is the detail that sometimes feels weak and lazy. But don’t worry, any minute something cool to look at and a big fight will happen, so we’re all good! I’m sure Pedro Pascal (the actor under the armour) can’t believe his luck! He is one of the biggest stars in TV all of a sudden, for basically doing a fairly monotone voice-over performance of some seriously dodgy dialogue. That is the magic of Star Wars.
So, I came to season one late, having no access at that time to Disney plus. In fact, I watched all of season one in a day the day before the launch of season two, so the switch to a new episode to look forward to suited me well. It gave me something to look forward to on a Friday between Halloween and Christmas. Trouble was that, although still having fun with the exploits of The Kid, I was starting to weary of the plotlines, and put my viewing on hold after S2E4 in favour of the far superior scripting of His Dark Materials on BBC.
I must have needed the hiatus, because when I came back to mop it up and finish season two a few days ago I realised that I had in fact missed it. It also helped that episode 5 onwards is when the season gets really good again. Rosario Dawson as Ashoka Tano (known well by fans of The Clone Wars) was a truly great addition that the show much needed by that point.
I had no trouble after that in bingeing to the end. You could feel a climax and a revelation coming, and although the character of Moff Gideon (Giancarlo Esposito) crumbled disappointly away into nothing much, the last 15 minutes of the final episode had me slack jawed in fan wonderment. I felt 9 years old again, and I loved it! I had been amazingly lucky not to stumble upon spoilers, I guess. Amazing ending, and all faults forgiven for that unforgettable moment and feel. Wonderful stuff!
To say any more, again, is to spoil. So, let’s just talk about it privately, or, you know, in about a year when season 3 is over and it is old news. Hmmm, season 3…? I wonder where they will take that now…? Actually, properly exciting, in a back in the playground kind of way.
The Mandalorian is definitely for all Star Wars fans, but it is mostly for the kids that never grew up and need those details of “the canonical Star Wars” universe in their lives. And there are plenty of them. It is a geek’s wet dream! With chat rooms and fan sites going wild in debate and argument over the smallest of Easter eggs and hints to connections across the medium. As if this is a lost historical document that sheds light on the truth of many characters and events, that until now were shrouded in darkness and speculation only.
I find that phenomenon weird and a little creepy, but I do appreciate where it comes from. For me, I am merely glad it isn’t crap. It is nice to be in the Star Wars universe without holding your face in your hands for shame of lazy storytelling and moments that shit on the spirit of the original trilogy. The first thing that pleased me about The Mandolorian is how close it is in feel to the old school trilogy. In fact it surprised me, because, despite the very modern effects and full budget of Disney behind it, it feels very old fashioned, like a TV show from around 1986, maybe. And I wonder how they have achieved that every time I watch it. It has an intangible magic about it.
In fact, the feel of the show as a whole is often a little cheap, shockingly – the posters and toys and all associated media is as glossy and crisp as all money can afford, creating an image of the show that isn’t actually what the show is. In reality it is a cross between old spaghetti westerns, with The Mandalorian cast as The Man With No Name, and episodes of The A-Team or Knightrider. I kinda like it; very nostalgic, and a smart move by Jon Favreau and the other show-runners. It appeals to middle aged audiences and new alike, because it is a knowing hybrid of all things cool and nerdy!
Design-wise, the look of The Mandalorian himself is perfect fan bait and very cool. The music goes a long way to drawing you in – Ludwig Göransson, known for his work on Black Panther and Tenet, has hit on a career defining theme that blends Clint Eastwood and Star Wars in perfect harmony. I can’t imagine the show working half as well without that theme music! The spaceships and detail of every alien and weapon and costume is meticulous (if at times a little wobbly or cheap looking), and the wider feel of background and tertiary characters is pretty damn good.
But, let’s face it… The Mandalorian is the success it has been predominantly for one reason. I could give him his real name, but if you haven’t finished it yet that would count as a huge spoiler, so I will refer to him as The Child. The temptation to use the phrase Baby Yoda is hard to resist, and has been a cultural phenomenon that only comes along once or twice in a decade, but on this I agree with the fans: it is inaccurate and misleading. The Child is fine. It’ll do until you learn his true moniker.
In season one, where the build up of story, character and mystery is superb, we see very little of The Child at first. But we cannot take our eyes off him for every second he is on screen. The whole concept is so beyond cute and incredibly strong as a hook for a Star Wars story it is almost impossible not to squeal out loud at everything he does. Who is he? Why is he? What is he capable of? How will he fit in to the longterm idea for the story? So exciting, and total genius to keep everyone watching.
It isn’t all about The Child on his own though. It is about the unlikely symbiotic bond, like father and son, that develops between the tiny, vulnerable and childlike focal point, and the increasingly confident and loyal antihero, who will stop at nothing to protect his ward, as he struggles to find his own place in the universe. After a very short time, we care more about this relationship than 90% of all romances in all of TV history.
Through danger, mayhem and a touch of comedy, we grow to adore the two of them together, and can’t bear to think of them being apart. Some trick when you realise The Child is as much a mini-muppet style prosthetic as it is added CGI for expression and detail. Perhaps another callback to our 80s sensibilities, when we accepted ETs and Gremlins and all of the residents of Mos Eisley’s cantina as real without hesitation. It doesn’t have to look real, is the point, as long as it fits the story, is cool and is fun! Which The Child totally is – for entertainment value they have got the tone of the show so right.
What doesn’t hold up that strongly to critical scrutiny though is quite a lot of the scripts, the repetitive nature of the context of many episodes and missions the duo find themselves on, the mismatch quality of the guest directors abilities, and quite a lot of the dodgy acting by supporting characters. It’s as if at some production meeting at one early point they all said, look it’s Star Wars, we make the aliens and the spaceships and the weapons look good and we can’t fail… plus we have The Child and Boba Fett’s (yes, I know) armour, we can’t fail!
The basic storyline is enough to hook it on, just about, it is the detail that sometimes feels weak and lazy. But don’t worry, any minute something cool to look at and a big fight will happen, so we’re all good! I’m sure Pedro Pascal (the actor under the armour) can’t believe his luck! He is one of the biggest stars in TV all of a sudden, for basically doing a fairly monotone voice-over performance of some seriously dodgy dialogue. That is the magic of Star Wars.
So, I came to season one late, having no access at that time to Disney plus. In fact, I watched all of season one in a day the day before the launch of season two, so the switch to a new episode to look forward to suited me well. It gave me something to look forward to on a Friday between Halloween and Christmas. Trouble was that, although still having fun with the exploits of The Kid, I was starting to weary of the plotlines, and put my viewing on hold after S2E4 in favour of the far superior scripting of His Dark Materials on BBC.
I must have needed the hiatus, because when I came back to mop it up and finish season two a few days ago I realised that I had in fact missed it. It also helped that episode 5 onwards is when the season gets really good again. Rosario Dawson as Ashoka Tano (known well by fans of The Clone Wars) was a truly great addition that the show much needed by that point.
I had no trouble after that in bingeing to the end. You could feel a climax and a revelation coming, and although the character of Moff Gideon (Giancarlo Esposito) crumbled disappointly away into nothing much, the last 15 minutes of the final episode had me slack jawed in fan wonderment. I felt 9 years old again, and I loved it! I had been amazingly lucky not to stumble upon spoilers, I guess. Amazing ending, and all faults forgiven for that unforgettable moment and feel. Wonderful stuff!
To say any more, again, is to spoil. So, let’s just talk about it privately, or, you know, in about a year when season 3 is over and it is old news. Hmmm, season 3…? I wonder where they will take that now…? Actually, properly exciting, in a back in the playground kind of way.
Hadley (567 KP) rated Those Bones Are Not My Child in Books
Nov 12, 2019
A different type of True Crime book (1 more)
Things you probably didn't know about the case
Writing transitions are confusing (1 more)
Smash poetry breaks up the flow
Toni Cade Bambara, a writer, documentary filmmaker and screenwriter, gives True Crime readers a unique viewpoint of the real Atlanta Child Murders. Bambara mostly writes from the eyes of Marzala, a mother of three whose oldest son goes missing during one of the worst murder sprees in Atlanta's history. Marzala and her family were not actual people during this time- - - all of them are based off of parents and siblings of the real victims. Not soon after Marzala does everything she can with the police to find her son, she joins a group of African-Americans that are outraged by the lack of progress to catch who is killing Atlanta's black children. This group forms what is called STOP (a citizen-run task force). For the majority of the book, Marzala with most of the black community in the area typed out letters to prominent government officials asking for help to stop the murders, also using Vietnam vets in the area to use their tracking skills to keep an eye on suspects, and investigating buildings that police refused to believe had anything to do with the childrens' disappearances and/or murders, which Bambara did an amazing job putting all the real facts together of the actual community members that were involved with this at the time. This story is upsetting, but enlightening on how politics may have caused so many children to be murdered. This is a story no reader will ever forget.
Bambara writes not in a normal narrative - - - just telling a story from specific viewpoints, but she often breaks off into smash poetry to depict a character's state-of-mind, which, sometimes can be off putting for the reader, breaking the flow of the story. Yet, the use of smash poetry combined with the era and the heart breaking subject at hand, separates Those Bones Are Not My Child from every True Crime book I have ever read. But a note for fans of True Crime, this story is from the view point of the victims' families and the search they went through to try and catch the murderer(s), unlike most TC books, which follow the police through the investigation leading to, usually, the capture of the perpetrator. From living in Atlanta during the time of the murders, Bambara was able to reconstruct the life of a black family in 1980's Georgia, while focusing on the effect these terrible crimes had on the surrounding community. Bambara did an amazing job on what most writers cannot.
The amount of characters, specifically the fictional ones, are very well created. She describes just enough to give readers the ability to tell them apart, showing every now and then from their own viewpoints. Out of all the characters, I came to really like Zala's two other children: Kenti and Kofi. One particular scene shows the strain of Sonny's disappearance on their family: " Zala parked the comb again and sat back. 'Listen, you two.' Kofi dropped down onto his knees. 'The police and the newspapers don't know what the hell is going on, so they feel stupid, because they're supposed to know, they're trained to know, they're paid to know. It's their job. Understand? But it's hard for grown-ups to admit they're stupid, especially if they're professionals like police and reporters. So they blame the children. Or they ignore them and fill up the papers with the hostages in Iran. Understand? And now... Jesus... they've got people calling those kids juvenile delinquents.'
'Don't cry.' Kenti tried to lean into her lap and got pushed away.
'They don't know a damn thing and they act like they don't want to know. So they blame the kids 'cause they can't speak up for themselves. They say the kids had no business being outdoors, getting themselves in trouble.'
'You let us go outdoors.'
'Of course I do, baby. We go lots of places, 'cause a lot of people fought hard for our right to go any damn where we please. But when the children go out like they've a right to and some maniac grabs them, then it's the children's fault or the parents who should've been watching every minute, like we don't have to work like dogs just to put food on the table.'
Kofi walked on his knees towards the bed, but he didn't lean on her like he wanted 'cause she might push him away. So he just put his hand on the mattress next to hers."
During the Atlanta Child Murders, victims were random, except for that they were children from the same neighborhood, and they were African-American. At first, police didn't believe a serial murderer was going around abducting children, but rather that 'poor, broken' families were killing their own. In the Prologue, Bambara shows that the victims' families and private detectives came up with more ideas of the motive than the police did:
" White cops taking license in Black neighborhoods.
The Klan and other Nazi thugs on the rampage.
Diabolical scientists experimenting on Third World people.
Demonic cults engaging in human sacrifices.
A 'Nam vet unable to make the transition.
UFO aliens conducting exploratory surgery.
Whites avenging Dewey Baugus, a white youth beaten to death in spring '79, allegedly by Black youths.
Parents of a raped child running amok with 'justice.'
Porno filmmakers doing snuff flicks for entertainment.
A band of child molesters covering their tracks.
New drug forces killing the young (unwitting?) couriers of the old in a bid for turf.
Unreconstructed peckerwoods trying to topple the Black administration.
Plantation kidnappers of slave labor issuing the pink slip.
White mercenaries using Black targets to train death squadrons for overseas jobs and for domestic wars to come. "
All of these theories are explored with evidence in Those Bones Are Not My Child. One scene in Part III, Zala's cop friend, B.J. shows up to her house to tell her to stop bringing attention to the investigation, " 'That Eubanks woman - - - your husband's friend? - - - she said you were bringing in the TV networks to blow the case open. I thought we had an agreement to keep each other informed. This morning I find out through the grapevine that you parents got a medium stashed in a hotel here in town, some woman who's been making headlines up north with cases that supposedly have the authorities stumped. If you knew how much work has been done on this case - - - no, listen, don't interrupt me. Then I find out - - - and not from you - - - that some of you parents are planning to tour the country cracking on the investigation. That's not too smart. And you should have told me.' " These two may have been fictional characters, but in Bambara's Acknowledgments, she states that all scenarios were true, and that she made B.J. to tell about the actual police officers who were involved with the investigation.
The tension between the police and the public is felt throughout the entire story. Despite all of the work the citizen task force put in, police arrested a man named Wayne Williams for the murder of two adult victims (who, due to their mental age, which was stated to be that of children, were placed on the victims' list of the Atlanta Child Murders): " Wayne Williams, charged with the murder of twenty-seven-year-old Nathaniel Cater and implicated in the murder of the other adults and children on the official list..." Zala, having worked for almost a year at the STOP offices, she, along with most of the community, doubt that Williams was a lone killer or even the killer at all. Williams never stood trial for the childrens' murders, but the police informed the public that he did it, case closed - - - although, after Williams' arrest, children were still being abducted and their bodies were still being found. Even after Williams' trial and the guilty verdict for two adult victims, some people stuck around to continue to investigate and claim Williams a 'scapegoat' of politics: " There were still pockets of interest and people who wouldn't let the case go. James Baldwin had been coming to town off and on; a book was rumored. Sondra O'Neale, the Emory University professor, hadn't abandoned her research, either. From time to time, TV and movie types were in the city poking around for an angle. Camille Bell was moving to Tallahassee to write up the case from the point of view of the STOP committee. The vets had taken over The Call now that Speaker was working full-time with the Central American Committee. The Revolutionary Communist Party kept running pieces on the case in the Revolutionary Worker. Whenever Abby Mann sent down a point man for his proposed TV docudrama, the Atlanta officials and civil rights leaders would go off the deep end. " At the end of it all, the questions still remain: did Williams kill all of those children by himself? Was he part of a pornographic cult that killed the children? Or is Williams completely innocent, and the murderer(s) are still out there? In Those Bones Are Not My Child, I guarantee you will be left questioning if the police were right.
All in all, the writing transitions can become confusing sometimes, especially the interludes of smash poetry, but I highly recommend this book to people who like the True Crime genre, especially of any interest in this specific case.
Bambara writes not in a normal narrative - - - just telling a story from specific viewpoints, but she often breaks off into smash poetry to depict a character's state-of-mind, which, sometimes can be off putting for the reader, breaking the flow of the story. Yet, the use of smash poetry combined with the era and the heart breaking subject at hand, separates Those Bones Are Not My Child from every True Crime book I have ever read. But a note for fans of True Crime, this story is from the view point of the victims' families and the search they went through to try and catch the murderer(s), unlike most TC books, which follow the police through the investigation leading to, usually, the capture of the perpetrator. From living in Atlanta during the time of the murders, Bambara was able to reconstruct the life of a black family in 1980's Georgia, while focusing on the effect these terrible crimes had on the surrounding community. Bambara did an amazing job on what most writers cannot.
The amount of characters, specifically the fictional ones, are very well created. She describes just enough to give readers the ability to tell them apart, showing every now and then from their own viewpoints. Out of all the characters, I came to really like Zala's two other children: Kenti and Kofi. One particular scene shows the strain of Sonny's disappearance on their family: " Zala parked the comb again and sat back. 'Listen, you two.' Kofi dropped down onto his knees. 'The police and the newspapers don't know what the hell is going on, so they feel stupid, because they're supposed to know, they're trained to know, they're paid to know. It's their job. Understand? But it's hard for grown-ups to admit they're stupid, especially if they're professionals like police and reporters. So they blame the children. Or they ignore them and fill up the papers with the hostages in Iran. Understand? And now... Jesus... they've got people calling those kids juvenile delinquents.'
'Don't cry.' Kenti tried to lean into her lap and got pushed away.
'They don't know a damn thing and they act like they don't want to know. So they blame the kids 'cause they can't speak up for themselves. They say the kids had no business being outdoors, getting themselves in trouble.'
'You let us go outdoors.'
'Of course I do, baby. We go lots of places, 'cause a lot of people fought hard for our right to go any damn where we please. But when the children go out like they've a right to and some maniac grabs them, then it's the children's fault or the parents who should've been watching every minute, like we don't have to work like dogs just to put food on the table.'
Kofi walked on his knees towards the bed, but he didn't lean on her like he wanted 'cause she might push him away. So he just put his hand on the mattress next to hers."
During the Atlanta Child Murders, victims were random, except for that they were children from the same neighborhood, and they were African-American. At first, police didn't believe a serial murderer was going around abducting children, but rather that 'poor, broken' families were killing their own. In the Prologue, Bambara shows that the victims' families and private detectives came up with more ideas of the motive than the police did:
" White cops taking license in Black neighborhoods.
The Klan and other Nazi thugs on the rampage.
Diabolical scientists experimenting on Third World people.
Demonic cults engaging in human sacrifices.
A 'Nam vet unable to make the transition.
UFO aliens conducting exploratory surgery.
Whites avenging Dewey Baugus, a white youth beaten to death in spring '79, allegedly by Black youths.
Parents of a raped child running amok with 'justice.'
Porno filmmakers doing snuff flicks for entertainment.
A band of child molesters covering their tracks.
New drug forces killing the young (unwitting?) couriers of the old in a bid for turf.
Unreconstructed peckerwoods trying to topple the Black administration.
Plantation kidnappers of slave labor issuing the pink slip.
White mercenaries using Black targets to train death squadrons for overseas jobs and for domestic wars to come. "
All of these theories are explored with evidence in Those Bones Are Not My Child. One scene in Part III, Zala's cop friend, B.J. shows up to her house to tell her to stop bringing attention to the investigation, " 'That Eubanks woman - - - your husband's friend? - - - she said you were bringing in the TV networks to blow the case open. I thought we had an agreement to keep each other informed. This morning I find out through the grapevine that you parents got a medium stashed in a hotel here in town, some woman who's been making headlines up north with cases that supposedly have the authorities stumped. If you knew how much work has been done on this case - - - no, listen, don't interrupt me. Then I find out - - - and not from you - - - that some of you parents are planning to tour the country cracking on the investigation. That's not too smart. And you should have told me.' " These two may have been fictional characters, but in Bambara's Acknowledgments, she states that all scenarios were true, and that she made B.J. to tell about the actual police officers who were involved with the investigation.
The tension between the police and the public is felt throughout the entire story. Despite all of the work the citizen task force put in, police arrested a man named Wayne Williams for the murder of two adult victims (who, due to their mental age, which was stated to be that of children, were placed on the victims' list of the Atlanta Child Murders): " Wayne Williams, charged with the murder of twenty-seven-year-old Nathaniel Cater and implicated in the murder of the other adults and children on the official list..." Zala, having worked for almost a year at the STOP offices, she, along with most of the community, doubt that Williams was a lone killer or even the killer at all. Williams never stood trial for the childrens' murders, but the police informed the public that he did it, case closed - - - although, after Williams' arrest, children were still being abducted and their bodies were still being found. Even after Williams' trial and the guilty verdict for two adult victims, some people stuck around to continue to investigate and claim Williams a 'scapegoat' of politics: " There were still pockets of interest and people who wouldn't let the case go. James Baldwin had been coming to town off and on; a book was rumored. Sondra O'Neale, the Emory University professor, hadn't abandoned her research, either. From time to time, TV and movie types were in the city poking around for an angle. Camille Bell was moving to Tallahassee to write up the case from the point of view of the STOP committee. The vets had taken over The Call now that Speaker was working full-time with the Central American Committee. The Revolutionary Communist Party kept running pieces on the case in the Revolutionary Worker. Whenever Abby Mann sent down a point man for his proposed TV docudrama, the Atlanta officials and civil rights leaders would go off the deep end. " At the end of it all, the questions still remain: did Williams kill all of those children by himself? Was he part of a pornographic cult that killed the children? Or is Williams completely innocent, and the murderer(s) are still out there? In Those Bones Are Not My Child, I guarantee you will be left questioning if the police were right.
All in all, the writing transitions can become confusing sometimes, especially the interludes of smash poetry, but I highly recommend this book to people who like the True Crime genre, especially of any interest in this specific case.