Welcome to a blog (and now a book in stores and online) devoted to true-crime entertainment — starting with my favorite TV series, Forensic Files.
Since it began in 1996, Forensic Files has rendered me helpless to hit the off button, even during four-hour marathons of episodes I’ve already seen three times.
But why? I have only a marginal interest in the likes of mitochondrial DNA and medium-velocity blood splatter — the scientific content that is the show’s reason for existence.
The first reason I like Forensic Files is structure. The writers and editors tell the story in a compact way in 30 minutes, without the pre-commercial teasers and other repetition that network true-crime shows use to pad themselves into an hour or two.
Next, it fascinates me that people who look and act like PTA moms and dads — the kind of folks who would feel guilty about grabbing the last cupcake in the office break-room — can dial down their consciences enough to murder their spouses and make their own children half-orphans.
I guess the series’ No. 1 attraction is the biographical element of the stories. The late narrator Peter Thomas told the show’s tales compassionately without exploiting the victims or manipulating viewers’ emotions.
But what about what happens after the closing music? The sentence-long epilogues that the producers have started adding to the closing credits are great, but I want more. I need more.
What happened to Pearl Cruz, the 15-year-old whose father used her as an accomplice to murder a beloved teacher (Transaction Failed)?
How did Ron Gillette, who murdered his wife by pressing her face into a plastic bag (Strong Impressions), get out of jail after only 15 years?
Before he made headlines by faking his own death, why did Clay Daniels receive a sentence of only 30 days for molesting his 7-year-old cousin (Grave Danger)?
With this blog, I hope to answer those types of questions and invite queries and perspective from other fans of Forensic Files and explore true-crime movies and books as well. Please come along with me for our own investigation. — Rebecca Reisner
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