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322 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
Many of those [adolescents] interviewed had no sense of time. What one said happened a week ago had really happened a month ago. They'd pass on rumor as if it were fact. And a few claimed to know more than they did (sometimes they knew nothing), while all they wanted was attention, to know that someone, in this case Reeves, depended on them. Reeves because so frustrated at one point that he considered bringing in a psychic. (p.209)Despite the years of investigative work that Kotlowitz put into this mystery, his hands were pretty tied by limited and/or conflicting evidence, and a subpar autopsy. Nevertheless, I kept hoping--despite all contrary evidence along the way--that something more would come out of the how-did-Eric-die angle. Sigh.
"Race relations in the last days of this century, I came to realize, was a tale short of victors." (p.149)
He gently asked whether I'd ever observed an autopsy before. I told him no. "You want a piece of advice?" he asked. "Don't stare. Just glance." He didn't have to do much convincing. . . . I was still just glancing, so the procedure took on the jerkiness of a 1920s motion picture. I missed some frames. (pp.238-9)
For these two towns, Eric has come to mark the divide, a reference point. To those in St. Joseph, Eric's death is proof that race blinds their neighbors to the obvious. To those in Benton Harbor, it is proof that because of race even the obvious is never what it seems. (p.307)