Wow, this was a tough one to read. The Columbine case has always fascinated me, and I think it's because in 1999 I was still very young, not much older than Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, and wondered how anyone my age could do such terrible things. Dylan's mother, Sue, has spent the last nearly 20 years wondering the same thing. I can't even begin to imagine the pain and horror and heartbreak she's been through. She makes no excuses for what her son did, she blames herself for failing him, even though, honestly, Dylan didn't show any outward signs of depression or suicidal or homicidal tendencies. She came across as very likeable, very believable, and most of all, very brave. It's a terrible tragedy all the way around, for everyone.
I needed something a bit lighter after Sue's book, so I read Michael Farquhar's humorous look at the bad things that have happened on each day of the year. Some were obviously not funny, but most were darkly humorous. It was quick and easy to read.
I was so disappointed in "Falling for Prince Charles" by Lauren Baratz-Logsted. It was one of those ones I happened across while ordering books, and thought it sounded cute and funny and charming, but it was none of these things. It was dull and there was no romance whatsoever. A Jewish cleaning girl named Daisy wins the lottery and uses the money to take a trip to London, where she happens to meet Prince Charles (the book takes place in 1999). They fall for each other (although she doesn't show us that, I guess we're supposed to use our imagination) and consider marrying before the Queen discovers she's Jewish and a former maid. It was an utter waste of time.
I remember hearing about Robert Durst on the news last year, about how he confessed to murder during a documentary he willingly participated in, but I didn't watch it, so I didn't know the story. I picked up Jeanine Pirro's book to find out. At first I was worried her arrogant style was going to turn me off: she talks about "putting her Manolo Blahniks" up on her desk and slipping into Seven jeans on casual days, her Chanel jackets, etc., etc. After a few pages of that I was rolling my eyes. I get it: you have money and good taste. Bully for you. But in spite of it, I found myself enjoying the book and her passion for justice immensely, so much so that this morning I watched the first three episodes of the six part documentary "The Jinx", which aired on HBO last year.
In case you don't know the story: Robert Durst's wife Kathie went missing back in 1982. The police didn't do anything, despite all of Kathie's friends begging them to look at Robert, as Kathie had warned them if anything happened to her it would be Robert's fault. Durst is heir to one of the biggest real estate fortunes in the country, his father basically owned most of Times Square. Seventeen years later, Pirro, the DA for Westchester County, began investigating what happened to Kathie, since Robert's story of her disappearance didn't make any sense. Then in 2000, Robert's best friend Susan Berman was murdered. Then in 2001 in Galveston, Texas, an older man named Morris Black is found dismembered and Robert Durst was arrested for the murder. He posted bail and skipped town ($250,000 is nothing to him, after all). He was caught in Pennsylvania when he shoplifted a $6 sandwich from a grocery store. What an arrogant SOB. Unfortunately the trial was a joke and he was acquitted. He's awaiting trial for Berman's death now, based on evidence found during the filming of "The Jinx". Oh, and his recorded confession. What a slimeball. "The Jinx" is absolutely chilling.
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