True Crime Story(3)

As I requested and then read this new opening, as I greedily started to work my way through Evelyn’s original chapters, I began to see what she had. That even those closest to Zoe Nolan hadn’t known her empirical truth or, perhaps, that they had each known only their own part of it. I began to understand how Zoe had been forced to keep secrets from those she loved and, perhaps, how she could ultimately even disappear into thin air. Some of the interviewees tended old grudges like garden plots, some of them saw events in a harsh new light. Evelyn argued that the full story, the real truth about Zoe Nolan, could only be assembled from these disparate threads. That in all the ink spilled during the coverage of the case, so much of that truth had been written between the lines, so much of it had been lost entirely. Evelyn argued for a book that would lay everything bare using the unvarnished words of those involved, contradictions and all, the full story unfolding for readers as it had unfolded for her, one revelation on top of another. She believed in a better world, one where a missing girl might actually mean something, but as I read on, I realized that I didn’t.

I saw that in spite of the corkscrew twists and revelations in Evelyn’s story, there was still no conclusion in sight, and it fell to me to tell her the truth. That all the inconsistencies, all the affairs, all the sex tapes, secrets and lies would mean nothing without an ending. As long as Zoe Nolan was unaccounted for, there was no book. In publishing, as in the world, we’re drowning in dead girls, and I’m afraid that missing ones just don’t cut it. Evelyn had been right that first time we met. Our interests revolve around killers, not victims. “What are you going to do,” I asked her. “Change human nature?” It was my opinion that with a mere missing person, without a dead body, without even a verifiable crime, there was no story. I didn’t want to see Evelyn waste what might be precious years of her life researching a doomed, unresolvable narrative, so I said as much. As a result, by mid-February of 2019, our exchanges had grown terse, with Evelyn’s in particular becoming paranoid, cynical, and at times even disturbing.

So sadly, I didn’t believe her when she told me she was getting close to something, and I didn’t believe her when her own shadow man came knocking at the door. When Evelyn finally found her proof, when she finally went to confront the person she believed to be responsible for Zoe’s disappearance—when she told me that she no longer felt physically well—I was preoccupied, slow to act. Cynically, I’d warned her that this story needed a dead body at the end if it was ever to be told. By the close of March 25, 2019, there were two of them.

My thanks to the Mitchell family, who forwarded the notes, tapes and documents that Evelyn had collected, and who kindly trusted me with their editing and publication. Some chapters were already in finished form, just as she would have liked them to be read. Others I had to pore through and assemble myself from her rough outlines. I sought out additional testimony where necessary, in some cases from experts, in some cases from people who Evelyn had never gotten around to interviewing, adding them to the established flow of her story.

As I worked, I saw that what had at first seemed like a digressive route through the secret lives of others was actually a menacing road map leading directly to the destruction of something good, a destruction that neither Evelyn nor I saw coming. Perhaps you can read these interviews differently, though. Perhaps you’ll see the danger sooner than we did. Perhaps you’re the person who could have done what I didn’t and prevented another useless death.

This book is dedicated to Evelyn Mitchell, to Zoe Nolan, and to everyone else who never came home.





From: [email protected]

Sent: 2019-01-10 18:04

To: you

Hey stinker

So here’s what I’m NOW proposing to open the book with. Don’t read what I sent before until you’ve read this prologue.

What follows actually happened BEFORE Zoe went missing and is more to do with her twin sister, Kim (no, I don’t think they fucking swapped places). It’s one of many unbelievable stories that takes place within this larger one—and in some ways it feels like the key to a lot of things that come later. I’ve tried to set it up as some kind of introduction to who all these people are and to hint at the relationships/grievances that shape a lot of the story.

And oh boy are there grievances. I’ve only had a handful of people from Zoe’s life who were unable or unavailable to speak, only one or two who’ve resisted my charms and refused to go on the record. Most of them feel like they HAVE to say something because they’re scared of what the others might say about them.

Early on, I saw there was so much cross-talk and contention that I’d have to share statements between interviewees. In most cases that provided what illumination I was looking for, but in others it led to these spirited responses, withering put-downs, rebuttals, etc. I think it gives the text a nice back-and-forth conversational style, but each interview was conducted in STRICT isolation. Mainly because most of them aren’t speaking to each other anymore…

Funny how that happens to people (eh Knoxy?)

I’m going old school with this one—no digital recordings: everything’s going down on tape. If you fancy hearing voices, I’m afraid you’ll have to come round. XXXXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXX XXXXX XXXX*

Anyway, let me know what you think. If you’re intrigued then by all means carry on and read through the chapters I sent you SIX MONTHS AGO.