From the detective who found The Golden State Killer, a memoir of investigating America’s toughest cold cases and the rewards--and toll--of a life solving crime。
I order another bourbon, neat。 This is the drink that will flip the switch。 I don’t even know how I got here, to this place, to this point。 Something is happening to me lately。 I’m drinking too much。 My sheets are soaking wet when I wake up from nightmares of decaying corpses。 I order another drink and swig it, trying to forget about the latest case I can’t shake。
Crime-solving for me is more complex than the challenge of the hunt, or the process of piecing together a scientific puzzle。 The thought of good people suffering drives me, for better or worse, to the point of obsession。
People always ask how I am able to detach from the horrors of my work。 Part of it is an innate capacity to compartmentalize; the rest is experience and exposure, and I’ve had plenty of both。 But I had always taken pride in the fact that I can keep my feelings locked up to get the job done。 It’s only been recently that it feels like all that suppressed darkness is beginning to seep out。
When I look back at my long career, there is a lot I am proud of。 I have caught some of the most notorious killers of the twenty-first century and brought justice and closure for their victims and families。 I want to tell you about a lifetime solving these cold cases, from Laci Peterson to Jaycee Dugard to the Pittsburg homicides to, yes, my twenty-year-long hunt for the Golden State Killer。
But a deeper question eats at me as I ask myself, at what cost? I have sacrificed relationships, joy—even fatherhood—because the pursuit of evil always came first。 Did I make the right choice? It’s something I grapple with every day。 Yet as I stand in the spot where a young girl took her last breath, as I look into the eyes of her family, I know that, for me, there has never been a choice。 “I don’t know if I can solve your case,” I whisper。 “But I promise I will do my best。”
It is a promise I know I can keep。