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A review by maedo
Black Dahlia, Red Rose by Piu Marie Eatwell
3.0
I've finally been able to get through all of American Horror Story: Murder House after trying and failing so many times because the show felt too over the top for me in the past. In the proper frame of mind, I really enjoyed it. One aspect of the show that I did not like, however, was Mena Suvari showing up as the Black Dahlia for a bit of alternate history in the murder house. It felt a little exploitative to me until I realized that although I had seen the crime scene photos and knew how she was discovered and that her case went unsolved, I didn't know enough about it to say with certainty that she didn't die at the hands of an illegal abortionist in a SoCal mansion.
So, I decided to educate myself on the real story of what may have happened to Elizabeth Short. Indeed, the doctor in the mansion does show up; however, the real life case against him is pretty weak.
At the heart of Black Dahlia, Red Rose instead is a very convincing argument that the case should have been solved, but the accused killers had connections to and knowledge of ill-doings in the LAPD. As a result, evidence that would have supported the strong circumstantial case was "lost," records were suppressed, and the likely involved parties were set free. The circumstantial case presented here is less an Arthur Leigh Allen/Zodiac series of coincidences, and more like the main suspect knows details of the murder that were withheld from the press, taunts the police about it, alters records within sight of the police, and despite threatening to sue the LAPD for unlawful detention, has the gall to name his daughter Elizabeth.
This is as much a book about the Black Dahlia murder as it is a book about the shadiness of the Los Angeles police in the mid-century. Working in the court system, it was interesting to me to learn that interrogation methods like, say, holding a suspect upside down over a bridge to force a confession weren't explicitly illegal in 1940's California. Extortion of gangsters was a second form of income for the police. We've come a long way in the last 70 years.
Although I appreciated Eatwell's extensive research for this book, I also found it repetitive and at times outright pedantic. The book is 270 pages not counting the index and notes, yet she has a habit of footnoting incidents that she mentioned in prior chapters as if we might have forgotten what she is talking about. She footnotes the "Babes of Inglewood" child murder case at least FIVE TIMES, and on one occasion, mentions a Hollywood screenwriter, lists his credits, then FOOTNOTES THOSE SAME CREDITS ON THE SAME PAGE. It's funny in a way, but having constant footnotes to check that give no new information really slows the momentum of the reading. Trust in the power of your index, gurl. (Also, there's always Google.)
So, I decided to educate myself on the real story of what may have happened to Elizabeth Short. Indeed, the doctor in the mansion does show up; however, the real life case against him is pretty weak.
At the heart of Black Dahlia, Red Rose instead is a very convincing argument that the case should have been solved, but the accused killers had connections to and knowledge of ill-doings in the LAPD. As a result, evidence that would have supported the strong circumstantial case was "lost," records were suppressed, and the likely involved parties were set free. The circumstantial case presented here is less an Arthur Leigh Allen/Zodiac series of coincidences, and more like the main suspect knows details of the murder that were withheld from the press, taunts the police about it, alters records within sight of the police, and despite threatening to sue the LAPD for unlawful detention, has the gall to name his daughter Elizabeth.
This is as much a book about the Black Dahlia murder as it is a book about the shadiness of the Los Angeles police in the mid-century. Working in the court system, it was interesting to me to learn that interrogation methods like, say, holding a suspect upside down over a bridge to force a confession weren't explicitly illegal in 1940's California. Extortion of gangsters was a second form of income for the police. We've come a long way in the last 70 years.
Although I appreciated Eatwell's extensive research for this book, I also found it repetitive and at times outright pedantic. The book is 270 pages not counting the index and notes, yet she has a habit of footnoting incidents that she mentioned in prior chapters as if we might have forgotten what she is talking about. She footnotes the "Babes of Inglewood" child murder case at least FIVE TIMES, and on one occasion, mentions a Hollywood screenwriter, lists his credits, then FOOTNOTES THOSE SAME CREDITS ON THE SAME PAGE. It's funny in a way, but having constant footnotes to check that give no new information really slows the momentum of the reading. Trust in the power of your index, gurl. (Also, there's always Google.)