Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood and the Richard Brooks film adaptation of Capote’s “non-fiction novel” are watershed moments in crime storytelling. With guests Howard Rodman and Ted Braun, Professors at USC School of Cinematic Arts.

Guests: USC Professors Howard Rodman and Ted Braun

Kary Antholis: 

This is The Crime Story Podcast with Kary Antholis where we have conversations about how narratives of crime and justice are told. 

Today’s podcast is a conversation with Howard Rodman and Ted Braun about the book and the film In Cold Blood.

This discussion was the introductory class for a course that I taught at The University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic Arts. The course focused on criminal justice storytelling in film and television drama, documentary and podcast.

The premise of the entire course was that the book and the film In Cold Blood represent a watershed moment in the telling of crime stories, allowing storytellers to use realism and empathy to create a much more complex depiction of the moral landscape in which the criminality takes place.

Each week after this introductory session I would have creators, writers, reporters, producers and directors join me and a class of between 65 and 100 students for a discussion that would help us better understand their values and aims as storytellers. Subsequent podcasts will feature many of these conversations.

But this week, we present the class that started it all…

Howard Rodman is a screenwriter, novelist, the former President of the Writers Guild of America, West; and a professor in the writing division at the USC School of Cinematic Arts.

Ted Braun is a film director and screenwriter and holds the Joseph Campbell Endowed Chair in Cinematic Ethics at USC’s School of Cinematic Arts.

[Commercial for crimestory.com]

Kary:
Welcome to CTWR 431. The first class will begin with a discussion of the Capote concept of the nonfiction crime novel and the Richard Brooks’ interpretation of that in his film of In Cold Blood. 

Kary:

That’s me introducing my first class on Crime storytelling.  I then hand it over to Howard Rodman who establishes the literary context and moment in which Truman Capote began In Cold Blood.


Howard Rodman:
I think for the longest time there was a kind of dotted line separating journalism, which was presumed to be objective and about truth, and fiction, which was presumed to be just stuff you made up. Even though there were often novels that were based on true stories, there was a separation in how people thought about it. Novels were subjective. You could get inside people’s heads. You could play games with narrative. And journalism was the five Ws. Who, what, where, why, when. And was written … your writing was supposed to be tight and bright and the facts, the most important facts first, the second most important facts second, so if you were laying out a newspaper you could just cut from the bottom


Howard Rodman:
Those barriers began to seem more and more permeable. Writers, were toying with the idea of using real life material and not sort of wildly fictionalizing it. But writing what came to be called the nonfiction novel.

Howard Rodman:
I think journalists in late ’50s, early 60s, were beginning to feel straight jacketed by the form. And asking themselves questions which journalism typically had not asked before, like if journalism is supposed to be objective and true, what do you do when there’s wild conflicts between objectivity and truth? How do you handle that? 

Howard Rodman:
I think the era of nonfiction journalism, many different people have different points of departure for it. Mine would be the work of Joseph Mitchell, who kind of invented the genre which is The New Yorker profile, wrote a piece called “Joe Gould’s Secret,” in which he did all these profiles of all these characters. It was a much longer and more intimate piece that he’d ever written, and he himself was in it.

Howard Rodman:
He discovered that Joe Gould had been deceiving him. That this great oral history of our times really didn’t exist. And he had to deal with is your responsibility toward objective truth, which is, of course, you immediately publish a correction and tell your audience that you had, however inadvertently, deceived them? Or do you have some responsibility toward the human being whom you chronicled for your profit and your career? And maybe the more humane thing, and the more human thing, might be to let him go to his grave without ever having been exposed.

Howard Rodman:
And Joseph Mitchell wrote about that dilemma. And it was really the beginning of, I think, the journalist putting himself or herself in the story. The subjectivity of the journalist being as much a part of the story as the story itself. And with that, an acknowledgement that most of what we accepted as objective journalism wasn’t anything like that. It was not quite the Marxist critique of that kind of thing, but it was a kind of prose critique of that.

Howard Rodman:
And the questions he was dealing with really were journalism is supposed to be objective and truthful. What do you do when those two things are at odds with each other? What do you do when you have to choose as a journalist? It was the last thing he published for The New Yorker. It was both the kind of swansong of the old journalism in a funny way and the very seeds of the new journalism.

Howard Rodman:
Gay Talese was hired by Esquire to do a profile of Frank Sinatra, and instead of doing the standard profile he wrote a piece called Frank Sinatra Has a Cold.

Howard Rodman: (23:08)
Hunter Thompson who instead of writing a kind of distance reportorial, objective book about the Hells Angels, rode with them for a year-and-a-half.

Howard Rodman:
And so those walls were crumbling from the journalism side, and from the fiction side, I think, the new energy in the air prompted a lot of fiction writers to wanna do something from their end too. 

Howard Rodman:
Novelists were beginning to wonder, “How much truth can I put in a book too?” So you had Norman Mailer’s Armies of the Night, which was his 1968 account of the 1967 March on the Pentagon.

Howard Rodman:
You had a whole bunch of Joan Didion essays, which weren’t quite fiction and weren’t quite journalism, but were very personal. 

Howard Rodman:
But at the center, I think, of all of this was Truman Capote’s nonfiction novel, the piece of work that made the phrase nonfiction novel, whether you subscribe to it or not, at the center of American writing culture. And it was In Cold Blood.

[Musical Interlude]

Howard Rodman:
What is, from the perspective of 2019, difficult to imagine is that the idea of Capote writing, bringing all of his novelist skills and all of his novelist bag of tools, to writing about a nonfiction event, was not a commonplace but was something which was deeply convention shattering and deeply, deeply influential.

Howard Rodman:
There are a couple of different origin stories of In Cold Blood. One of them is Capote woke up one morning and read this in the New York Times, November 15th, 1959. “Holcomb, Kansas, a wealthy wheat farmer, his wife and their two young children were found shot to death today in their home. They had been killed by shotgun blasts at close range after being bound and gagged. There were so signs of a struggle and nothing had been stolen. The telephone lines had been cut.” And there was something in him that he says responded to that and really wanted to go to Kansas and find out what had happened both on a practical level and then later on a human level.

Howard Rodman:
The other version, of course, is that there was an editor at The New Yorker who offered him a choice of two stories, one of which was following a homeworker, a maid, around for a week and writing about what her life was like, and the other one was this. He said, “Oh, I want that.” 

Howard Rodman:
He went to Kansas with two, I think, extraordinary talents. One was the world’s most refined sense of social hierarchy. Which was honed in the salons and restaurants of the Upper East Side of New York. And the other one was an ability to listen and then have no fear whatsoever about betraying anybody’s confidences. 

Howard Rodman:
But really what he wanted to do was to not do parachute in, medevac out journalism. Not do driveby journalism. But to embed himself into Holcomb, Kansas until he understood its morays, its social hierarchies, its values, its languages, as well as a native. And that was his chameleon-like superpower.

Kary Antholis:

At this point Ted Braun and I come back into the conversation to weigh in on the distinctive nature of the New Journalism.


Kary Antholis:
This quote from an interview that George Plimpton did with Capote: “Above all, the reporter must be able to empathize with personalities outside of his usual imaginative range, mentalities unlike his own, kinds of people he would never have written about had he not forced to by encountering them inside the journalistic situation. This last is what first attracted me to the notion of narrative reportage.”


Ted Braun:
I think I’d add two other qualities-

Howard Rodman:
Please.

Ted Braun:
… to what you noted being his capacity to listen and his sense of social hierarchies. I think he brought a genuine understanding of small-town life, which not everyone carries around in them. And having grown up in that small corner of Alabama, I think he had an instinctive sense, alien though he was, of what small town Kansas was like. And what it was like to be part of a tiny community that could be profoundly disrupted by a murder as shocking as the one that happened to the Clutters.

Ted Braun:
And the other thing that I think he brought to bear, and this will tie into some of the things that we’ll talk about soon enough, he brought an extraordinary capacity of empathy for an outsider. Which was something that was in his bones, had to have been in his bones growing up the way he did in a world that had no patience for his eccentricity, and for being gay, that led him to New York. And that capacity for empathy, I think, helped him get inside the skin of Perry and Dick, and particularly Perry, in a way that lifted what they were going through into something that we could all inhabit.

Kary Antholis:
Capote wrote the book. He spent five years researching the book and then writing it. And why don’t you talk about that moment of its publication?

Howard Rodman:
His job, as he saw it was, I think, kind of fay anthropological, which was to integrate himself into the life of the community, to talk to everybody, and then to set down, as accurately as possible, and he would maintain really, really accurately, what he had heard, what he had seen. Interestingly enough … and his ambition for the book was large. He wanted to not only tell the story of a sensational murder, but he also wanted to change the way people felt about writing. 

Howard Rodman:
There were people who were proclaiming that the path of the novel was forever changed because Capote, the genius, had brought the insight of a novelist to telling a true story in a way that seemed at the time both a bit unprecedented and profound. There were other people who called bullshit. 

Howard Rodman:
Tom Wolfe looked at In Cold Blood, a book that I think he was more than a little envious of, and said, “It’s not a whodunit cause we know who done it.”

Howard Rodman:
He said, “Capote’s only real literary strategy was keeping you interesting by withholding the gore until the end,” which is some ways is a harsh, harsh judgment on a beautifully written piece of literature, and in other ways is also true. 

Howard Rodman:
The questions that the book asks are not the questions posed by: “A wealthy wheat farmer, his wife and their two young children were found shot to death. No signs of a struggle. The phone lines had been cut.” You read that, and you think, “Oh my God, who could have done this and why?” Almost immediately after the first chapter, we’re introduced to the killers, so we know who did it. You see their lives leading up and to the event, and then you see the lives of the people in the town after the event. And those two are intercut very masterfully.

Howard Rodman:
It’s not a whodunit, it’s not a will they catch it. It’s not even a why done it because there’s really no attention paid to why did they do it, and then sort about somewhere between a third and halfway through the book, you learn very, very casually, oh, they were in jail, and this guy said, “He keeps a lot of money there.” Then you know why they did it. As a detective story, it’s not about how brilliant detective work solved the crime of the century. Really it’s about some very, very dedicated work by the KBI, Kansas Bureau of Investigation, when a case cracked open when somebody who was in jail decided to rat them out.

Howard Rodman:
What I think Capote did and brilliantly in setting the scene for a lot of what was to come was to focus the interest on the procedural, on what do you do if you are the Kansas Bureau of Investigation and there’s been a seemingly impossible, motiveless and completely anomalous crime committed, and the whole community can’t rest until it’s solved, and you have no clues.

Howard Rodman:
The absorption in the detail of what a police bureau of investigation does and what a small town does as the focus on everyone’s mind when they wake up in the morning is, “Am I going to be killed next, or who are the monsters among us who could have done such a motiveless, malignant and heinous thing?” I think Capote taught a whole generation of people how to absorb us in the minutiae of the dynamics of what the police were doing as a way of substituting for the fact that he didn’t have traditional engines of suspense to drive his story.

[Commercial for crimestory.com]

Kary:
In 1973 Tom Wolfe published a book called The New Journalism, which tried to use a series of writings to define this new area of nonfiction storytelling. The first four chapters of that book were four articles that Wolfe wrote, and then there was the fifth chapter, was a section of In Cold Blood. In the introduction to the book Wolfe writes about In Cold Blood, to Howard’s point, “For all of his attention to novelistic technique, Capote does not use point of view in as sophisticated a way as he uses in his fiction. One seldom feels he is really inside of the minds of the characters. One gets a curious blend of third person point of view and omniscient narration.”

Kary:
Capote’s values, as I’ve come to define them for the purposes of this class, seem to have been twofold. Number one, he wanted to be great. He wanted the novel to be perceived as great. Number two, he wanted to be commercially successful. 

Kary:
It’s this watershed moment of understanding the titillation of crime, and how it engages an audience. And trying to take an aesthetic code into that storytelling. And simultaneously serving a mass audience, so that he could become recognized as artistically great, as a great novelist. Those two values, as I’ll call them, are what drives Capote in writing the book.

Howard Rodman:
Reminds me of a quote from Leonard Cohen. “We all wanted to be saints, Bodhisattvas, gliding down the slope of life like an escaped ski, but also getting laid a lot.” And that was Capote. And so he had that duel ambition, as Kary pointed out. And he fished his wish. He both placed himself at the very center of discourse about modern fiction writing, and it was successful beyond even his own imagination of how successful it could be.

Kary:

The conversation now turns to the making of the film based upon Capote’s book with Ted Braun and I weighing in on Richard Brooks and his cinematic approach to directing the film.

Kary:
Given the book’s success, there was a huge desire to make a film out of it. Many directors sought the job, and Capote had a big part in choosing who the director was. He came to choose Richard Brooks. And he chose Brooks for several reasons. He and Capote shared an agent, a guy named Swifty Lazar. They both also were very good friends with Humphrey Bogart and John Houston. They’d both worked with Houston and Bogart on films. Capote was taken with Brooks’ commitment to making the story feel like a documentary. 

Kary:
And Brooks demonstrated and convinced Capote that he was committed to getting the facts right in a movie. His past work also demonstrated that. Brooks wanted things to be realistic. Once he got the job, he became committed to doing his own investigation into the murders and the killers separate from Capote’s book. But the one thing that really defined Brooks’ approach to the movie was that he wanted total control. He was becoming the author. He was usurping Capote, and he was telling his version of the story of the Clutters. He never showed Capote the screenplay and only showed Capote the film when he was locked and fully finished with it.

Kary:

Ted, why don’t you talk a bit about the documentary elements that you see in Brooks’ work.

Ted Braun:
Well the overt elements are, I’d start with three. One is a commitment to location. They went to great, and at that time somewhat unusual, lengths to go the places where the crimes happened and to go to the places where the criminals were on the run.

Howard Rodman:
He went to great lengths to shoot on practical locations whenever possible. He did not want it to look like a studio film. He did not want Holcomb to look like a back lot. He shot in the actual penitentiary itself for those last scenes, and so he wanted really to go to the other extreme of: I’m watching a movie with really good production values to I actually am in that place with real faces, with real streets.

Kary:
The film is actually shot inside the Clutter’s real home. Brooks, essentially, bought out the house for $15,000. It’s also shot in the courtroom where Perry and Scott were actually tried. And the jurors depicted in the film, seven of the 12 jurors, are the actual jurors that served on the jury.

Ted Braun:
That was the second thing that I was going to say… his use of extras was, again, unusual for the time. They cast people from Holcomb and from Kansas and used extras in similar ways throughout the run while the guys were on the lam.

[Musical interlude]

Kary:
Let’s spend a minute talking about the casting. I love the story of Brooks… You know Brooks was under a lot of pressure to cast stars in it. And he particularly was under pressure to cast the two biggest stars of the day, Paul Newman and Steve McQueen in the lead roles. And he said this to Capote, which made complete sense to Capote, which is, “What happens if you’re at home at midnight, and there’s a knock on your door, and it’s Paul Newman? Will you let him in? Of course you’ll let him in. It’s Paul Newman.”  Brooks didn’t want that reaction from his audience. When you see the actors come in that house, especially in that moment in time, cinematically, it was terrifying for an audience.

Ted Braun:
Even before you see them in the house, when the light falls on Robert Blake’s face after you see the cat’s paw boot, oh God. But you’re fascinated. And you’re riveted. And that, I think, is one of the … it’s a quality you look for in documentary subjects. You want the audience to, “I’ve never seen this person before but I’m not going anyplace.” And without knowing really much about Perry other than boots that he wears and the fact that he plays the guitar and scares little girls, you’re just like that from the moment your eyes land on him.

Kary:
And Robert Blake-

Ted Braun:
We’re laughing. I don’t know why.

Kary:
How many of you know anything about Robert Blake, the actor that plays Perry?

Ted Braun:
One, two.

Kary:
Okay, two people.

Ted Braun:
What do you know?

Kary:
This is a real generational moment. Robert Blake was a child star. He was in several kind of well known movies in the ’40s and ’50s. He, in the ’70s, after this film, became the star of a TV show called Baretta. Which was a top ten hit throughout its course on TV.

Kary:
In the mid 2000s he was tried, and acquitted, of killing his wife. He was subsequently found guilty in civil court of the murder. And so was bankrupted by the judgment against him. He is, to this day, alive and walking the streets of Beverly Hills. As he later revealed in interviews, he claims to have been beaten and sexually abused as a kid by his parents. He is a deeply, deeply troubled soul. And clearly Brooks saw that in him at the moment he was casting In Cold Blood.

Ted Braun:
The third element in addition to casting is the cinematography, which is of an exceptionally beautiful and high order. But which makes use of techniques that in general, at the time, were associated with documentary filmmaking. By the time this was shot, and at that stage in the 1960s black and white was completely out of fashion for theatrical feature films, it was just the domain of documentary because that was the least expensive film stock you could use.

Howard Rodman:
Brooks, I think for the sake of cinematic clarity and cinematic narrative, chose a much more conventional flashback structure, da capo al fine, start here, go back to the beginning, and then work your way to the end again. 

Kary:
One other big difference is the visual motif of Perry’s memories and his hallucinations. The intention of that on a narrative level seems pretty clearly to be to create empathy with the killer, and this was all part of an effort to make the viewer at least ambivalent about the state killing the killer at the end of the film. It also had the benefit of serving the verite intentions and style of the film. 

Howard Rodman:
He wanted a look that was very chiaroscuro, black blacks, bright whites. There are scenes toward the end where when the flashlight swings, you’re really kind of going like that. He uses cinematographer Conrad Hall, who started out in the journalism school at USC and found he had no aptitude to it and as a kind of fallback, went to the cinema school. He came out and is generally regarded as probably one of the 10 best all-time cinematographers. You might know him from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. You might know him from American Beauty.

Howard Rodman:
He had a very, very long career and was able to work in a variety of styles from kind of very conventional studio color to much more stylized stuff as he did with Sam Mendes, to a very naturalistic black and white, which is what he did here.

Ted Braun:
And a lot of Conrad Hall’s very free work with zooms and it’s not handheld, the film’s on sticks most of the time, but it’s a very liberal, very mobile camera, was again the domain principally of documentary filmmaking at that point. And so those aspects, the people that you see in front of the camera, the place the camera is, and the way in which the camera’s operating, the stock that it’s using, all really immerse the audience in a feeling of verisimilitude that is and retains, to this day, a kind of documentary like quality.

Kary:
One other influence on Hall and on Brooks was the documentary filmmakers, the cinema verite documentary filmmakers of that era, particularly David and Albert Maysles, who made a film called Salesman. I think until Gimme Shelter, the Maysles only worked in black and white. One other interesting fact about David and Albert Maysles, they actually made a short film about Truman Capote going back to Kansas called, With Love from Truman.

Kary:
I think the moment in the film where Brooks brings the Capote sensibility of a nonfiction piece of dramatic cinema is the moment where Perry is standing by the window with the rain coming down, and you see the rain coming down the window panes, rolling… the shadows and reflection of the rain streams coming down his face. It looks like they’re tears, the tears that he can’t cry. That’s a moment of metaphorical power and realism or even magical realism that can be seen as akin to the kind of literary techniques that Capote was using in trying to bring a deeper truth to the telling of the story of the Clutter murders.

Howard Rodman:
Brooks started as a writer, was a writer-director, emphasis on the W rather than the D, I think there are writer-directors who are really good writers and then serviceable in terms of just blocking, photographing, editing, whereas I think Brooks, not uniquely, but was one of those writers like John Huston, like Billy Wilder, who made the transition from writer to director by understanding one of the truths of directing, which is: The camera’s job is to show you what the character doesn’t want you to know about him or herself. That particular shot, I think exemplifies that beautifully, which is there’s no way on earth that Perry is going to tell Dick or anybody else in the world how broken he is inside, but by the way it’s photographed, we see it precisely because he doesn’t want us to.

[Music interlude]

Kary:
You know, Brooks was really committed to social justice. Where Capote was driven by the dual goals of commercial success and artistic success, Brooks was driven by the dual goals of artistic excellence and moral righteousness. Delivering a message so that the balcony of the theater could hear it.  I think these things with the hindsight of 60 years really jump out. And I don’t think Richard Brooks cared that he was gonna get demerits from film critics and film professors. But he really wanted to reach the audience with his message of anti-capital punishment and psychological understanding of perpetrators of such crimes.

Ted Braun:
One of the things that I think is really remarkable about both the book and the film is its capacity to invite you into really deep empathetic connections with people you would not ordinarily share a great deal of empathy. But I also think that he is able to accomplish that empathetic connection without losing moral perspective on the characters, and in particular the two criminals.

Ted Braun:
And seeing the film again, I’m really struck by how, with a screenwriter’s precision and a director’s really gifted touch, he right away brings you into alignment with the two killers. With Perry and Hickock. And he does so in the simplest of ways. You start dreaming what they dream of. And in the case of Perry, in a very subjective way by sort of going into his dream state and wishing you were in Las Vegas in front of a crowd. And with Hickock by wanting to change the life that his Dad, who’s puking coming out of the outhouse, is living. And those very simple dreams allow you to connect with, and hope for, a future for those two guys that transcends, in a certain way, the criminal activity they’re about to engage in.

[Musical interlude]

Howard Rodman:
If In Cold Blood is the story of the murders, the movies Capote and Infamous, it’s the meta story. It’s the story of the guy who writes about the murders. 

Howard Rodman:
It sort of deepens the chroma towards the end.  You get some of the poignance of Capote’s relationship with Harper Lee and Capote’s relationship with Dick and Perry as well. It poses a kind of moral question, which interestingly enough, Infamous also poses, which is not that Capote had wished for their execution but had that not happened, there was no end to the story. He could not have started writing the book. And in some ways, their tragedy was his avenue literary and financial success.

Howard Rodman:
At one point, they wonder if Capote could have put a stop to the executions, and Harper Lee turns to him and says, “The fact is you didn’t want to.” That’s a kind of real insight between the writer and the people that the writer is writing about. As Joan Didion famously said, “Writers are always selling someone out,” and I think there’s an interesting moral debate as to what extent Capote in writing about this had an agenda that was at least as self-serving as it was empathetic toward the people he was writing about.

Howard Rodman:
Brooks is much more interested in telling an anti-capital punishment story, and Hollywood has always flirted with the message movie. The movies that got the big awards in the late-1960s were those on the nose, sometimes ponderous “message” films, like Judgment at Nuremberg, all those Stanley Kramer films. At the same time, there’s that famous remark of Samuel Goldwyn, “If you want to send a message, go to Western Union.” I think Hollywood has veered back and forth between these sort of wanting to find a way of putting a certain kind of bedrock American decency and a sense of moral values up on the screen, the role that poor Tom Hanks is compelled to play again and again and again.

Howard Rodman:
Then there is, I think, what Capote was doing, which was in some ways more amoral, in some ways less concerned with promulgating a point of view than with telling a story and in some ways, telling a story as a vehicle to his own fiercely competitive ascension until he became a fixed star in the literary firmament and the kind of brotherly-sisterly relationship between him and Harper Lee and the kind of ways in which Capote interestingly enough, In Cold Blood was the book that made him. He was certainly known before then and had good repute before then, but it put him solidly up there.

Howard Rodman:
This was a book that will have its place in capital L literature, and it was also the book that ruined him because afterwards, out of both fear of topping it, out of the social entrée that it got him, which meant he spent more and more time gossiping on the telephones with “ladies who lunch,” and more and more time drinking and less and less time writing. In a funny way, he achieved his ambition and the expense of that ambition was his writerly life.

[Musical interlude]

Howard Rodman:
And I think some of the psychologizing in In Cold Blood, which I think Brooks does far, far more than Capote did in his book, which is there were two of them, but when they were together, they became a third person, is kind of designed to let them off the hook a little bit. “They behaved really badly, but they’re human too.” And I find it the most morally questionable part of what I think is a highly moral mission that Brooks is on, which is to create empathy for everybody. Going back to the tradition of cinema that, I think, starts with Jean Renoir, who famously said, “Everybody has his reasons.”

Kary Antholis:
A few more words about In Cold Blood. It was perceived as a substantial, if not overwhelming commercial success as a film. It was nominated for four Oscars. The budget was about $3.5 million, and the box office gross was about $16 million, which in today’s money is about a $25 million budget and $120 million in box office, very respectable performance.

Ted Braun:

And read that book.  In Cold Blood is a phenomenal, phenomenal piece of work. You will not be the same after reading it. As good as this book is, that book is of an entirely different order.

This has been the Crime Story Podcast with Kary Antholis.  We were joined in conversation by Howard Rodman and Ted Braun.  The podcast was produced and edited by Jason Pugatch. For more Crime and Justice storytelling, news and narrative analysis, head over to crimestory.com. Thank you for joining us, and we hope you will come back again for the next Crime Story Podcast.

This has been the Crime Story Podcast with Kary Antholis.  We were joined in conversation by Howard Rodman and Ted Braun.  The podcast was produced and edited by Jason Pugatch. For more Crime and Justice storytelling, news and narrative analysis, head over to crimestory.com. Thank you for joining us, and we hope you will come back again for the next Crime Story Podcast.