Lisa Henson
I was a kid growing up in Louisiana when the events at the heart of The Scientist and the Serial Killer took place. Houston was barely a blip on my radar, and I never heard of Dean Corll or all the boys who went missing in that part of the work. This book was, in a word, mind-boggling.
Dean Corll was a familiar figure in parts of Houston. He was the “Candy Man,” the owner of a local candy store. But the Candy Man had a darker side. Boys – teens and young adults – went missing. Reports were made, some sooner, some later. But the police didn’t put much effort into looking for the boys, assuming they’d run away. When one of his teen accomplices murdered Corll, then the killings came to light. By that time, bodies had decomposed, and with the technology of the day, identification simply wasn’t possible. Remains were dug up, boxed up, shelved away, and eventually pretty well forgotten. But forensic anthropologist Sharon Derrick brought them back into the light.
The science in this book is fascinating, and Lise Olsen describes it not only in detail but also in a way that’s accessible to those who might not be forensic scientists themselves. Between the times of the murders and Derrick’s dogged effort to identify Houston’s Lost Boys, forensic technology made tremendous advances. I took a Law and Medicine class in law school, and it included a visit to the Southwest Institute of Forensic Sciences in Dallas. Reading this book had me wishing I’d given more consideration to forensic science as a career. It was amazing how Derrick could take what seemed like a tiny clue and use tools to ferret out details from that little piece of information. And I can only imagine the relief for families to get closure on their loved ones after so many years of not really knowing what happened to them. Sharon Derrick’s tireless work on behalf of Corll’s victims was truly a labor of love and the product of a deep desire to see justice finally served.
Olsen doesn’t just look at the hard science of the investigation, but includes details of Derrick’s conversations with the men who helped Corll commit his crimes. The fact that Corll involved other teens in his murder spree and the offhand way these men seem to discuss their participation in the torture and killing of boys roughly their age (and sometimes boys they knew) brings an undercurrent of horror to the scientific details.
The book includes photos and diagrams that enhance the reading experience. It’s one thing to read words on a page about multiple bodies found buried in one place, sometimes more than one in a single grave, but when you see a diagram of where they were found, that really gives the words a lot more punch. The depth of Olsen’s research is further demonstrated in the included bibliography. If you’d like to know even more about the facts and people involved in these cases, look up some of the sources Olsen consulted.
True crime aficionados and Texas history buffs, this one’s for you. Pick up a copy of The Scientist and the Serial Killer.
Originally posted at theplainspokenpen.com.
I was a kid growing up in Louisiana when the events at the heart of The Scientist and the Serial Killer took place. Houston was barely a blip on my radar, and I never heard of Dean Corll or all the boys who went missing in that part of the work. This book was, in a word, mind-boggling.
Dean Corll was a familiar figure in parts of Houston. He was the “Candy Man,” the owner of a local candy store. But the Candy Man had a darker side. Boys – teens and young adults – went missing. Reports were made, some sooner, some later. But the police didn’t put much effort into looking for the boys, assuming they’d run away. When one of his teen accomplices murdered Corll, then the killings came to light. By that time, bodies had decomposed, and with the technology of the day, identification simply wasn’t possible. Remains were dug up, boxed up, shelved away, and eventually pretty well forgotten. But forensic anthropologist Sharon Derrick brought them back into the light.
The science in this book is fascinating, and Lise Olsen describes it not only in detail but also in a way that’s accessible to those who might not be forensic scientists themselves. Between the times of the murders and Derrick’s dogged effort to identify Houston’s Lost Boys, forensic technology made tremendous advances. I took a Law and Medicine class in law school, and it included a visit to the Southwest Institute of Forensic Sciences in Dallas. Reading this book had me wishing I’d given more consideration to forensic science as a career. It was amazing how Derrick could take what seemed like a tiny clue and use tools to ferret out details from that little piece of information. And I can only imagine the relief for families to get closure on their loved ones after so many years of not really knowing what happened to them. Sharon Derrick’s tireless work on behalf of Corll’s victims was truly a labor of love and the product of a deep desire to see justice finally served.
Olsen doesn’t just look at the hard science of the investigation, but includes details of Derrick’s conversations with the men who helped Corll commit his crimes. The fact that Corll involved other teens in his murder spree and the offhand way these men seem to discuss their participation in the torture and killing of boys roughly their age (and sometimes boys they knew) brings an undercurrent of horror to the scientific details.
The book includes photos and diagrams that enhance the reading experience. It’s one thing to read words on a page about multiple bodies found buried in one place, sometimes more than one in a single grave, but when you see a diagram of where they were found, that really gives the words a lot more punch. The depth of Olsen’s research is further demonstrated in the included bibliography. If you’d like to know even more about the facts and people involved in these cases, look up some of the sources Olsen consulted.
True crime aficionados and Texas history buffs, this one’s for you. Pick up a copy of The Scientist and the Serial Killer.
Originally posted at theplainspokenpen.com.