I don’t know why so many of us are fascinated by true crime. I know I’ve speculated in the past but I’ve come to think that there are just too many reasons that draw people to stories about murder and violence and the hope of justice. Rebecca Makkai’s masterful new novel, I Have Some Questions for You, doesn’t answer this question either. Instead, it wrestles with our cultural obsession by reminding us that all of these stories that we consume through podcasts and articles and books and documentaries are about real people. This book also reminds us how the reality behind these stories is a lot more complicated to investigate and prosecute than we realize from the hour or less encapsulations we usually receive. What makes this book so amazing is that Makkai can do all of this at the same time that she gives us well-rounded, human characters and an amazing plot.
As I Have Some Questions for You opens, we see alum Bodie Kane returning to Granby School to reach two short courses, one on podcasting and one on film, in 2018. She’s the co-host of a popular podcast about crime in historic Hollywood, a surprising success after being an odd duck during her time at the private school in the mid-1990s. But almost as soon as Bodie sets foot on campus, she is drawn back into wondering about the great tragedy that happened at the school in 1995: the murder of Thalia Keith. The black gym employee, Omar Evans, was convicted of the murder and has been in prison ever since. Although someone was tried and convicted for Thalia’s death, people (especially armchair detectives and true crime fans) have been asking a lot of questions. Why didn’t the police investigate any other suspects? How much of the evidence is tainted given that the scene wasn’t secured? Why were all of the witness interviews so shoddily done? Why the rush to judgment as soon as a suspect was named? How much does racism play into that rush to judgment? It doesn’t take much to push Bodie into becoming an amateur investigator.
But unlike so many other books in which an amateur starts asking questions, Bodie resists our expectations. She asks questions and seeks out evidence, sure, but she’s also willfully manipulative with other people who are investigating Thalia and Omar’s case. She knows more than she told the police back in 1995 (she was briefly Thalia’s roommate). No one asked her about Thalia’s troubling relationship with the music teacher or about the code Thalia used in her planner or if she has anything other than rumor as evidence that Thalia might have been going to Omar for drugs. Bodie follows her suspicions (whether or not she has firm evidence) to steer other amateur investigators toward who she thinks might have been involved. It’s troubling to watch Bodie dole out her information and have it eagerly snatched up by her students and her fellow podcasters.
I would argue that this is supposed to trouble us. When we read or listen to or watch true crime, we’re used to seeing cases built on provable, documented facts: the presence of DNA, financial transactions, fingerprints, video, etc. We usually don’t see the time investigators spend chasing down rumors and sorting credible witnesses from not-so-credible ones. We rarely see all the dead ends. We might see some of the pressure placed on suspects before they’re exonerated. My point is that true crime is simplified for us so that it can be captured in a story for an audience. Makkai dives deeply into the murk we don’t see to show us just how flimsy evidence and rumor can send an innocent person behind bars for the rest of their life. Makkai holds up a mirror for us so that we can see how much we rely on our perceptions rather than reality. Over and over in this book, I wanted to reach in and ask Bodie to slow down, to wait until she has objective evidence to back up her suspicions, to stop before she drops her little bombshells for others to run with.
I realize that I’ve made Bodie sound like a villain here. She does a lot of questionable things over the course of this book. Bodie has an ax to grind but like many complicated characters, she believes that she’s doing the right thing. Perhaps that’s what’s most troubling of all about I Have Some Questions for You: watching Bodie and other characters ignore the serious consequences of their actions in the firm conviction that they know the truth. Law enforcement isn’t blameless in this book; they didn’t do a good job investigating Thalia’s murder or in prosecuting Omar mostly on unprovable statements from students and teachers at Granby. That said, law enforcement does have to answer to evidentiary standards that are (generally, hopefully) a lot higher than what Bodie et al. are content to use.
I Have Some Questions for You is one of the best books I’ve read that wrestles with our cultural fascination with true crime and injustice. I was fascinated by the fallibility of Makkai’s characters and relished the complications Makkai introduced to the plot. This one is going to stick with me for a long time. I definitely plan on recommending it to other readers, especially those who enjoy true crime and mysteries.