Audiobook: There’s something salacious about true crime stories that always intrigues, yet the author’s reportage of intimate thoughts and conversations always makes me wonder just how accurate they can be. Some of the intimate details and verbatim conversations where only the perp and one other person are present tend to set off my crap detector. The scene where the victim’s mother goes out with Nick and then gives him a BJ had me wondering just who his source was for that little tidbit.
Certainly this was a fun book to listen to while mowing and doing summer chores. You don’t have to listen too carefully as the broad strokes provide more than enough to get the gist and individual conversations aren’t necessary to keep things moving.
Basically, this is the story of a deeply troubled church pastor, Nick Hacheney, in Bainbridge, WA, who began an affair with a parishioner, Sandy, known for her conversations with God and her predictions (from God) about what would happen in the smallest details of people’s lives.
It’s also a cautionary tale of how naive people can be in believing what they want to and attributing their actions (and wishes and desires and lusts) to God’s will. Frankly, any sensible person would have tuned out of this church when people started talking about how God had told them to buy a new car or jewelry even though they couldn’t afford it. Apparently the jump to murder wasn’t very long when you think God ordains it. Hacheney drugged and killed his wife, then set the house on fire to cover his tracks. Then he proceeded to screw (in the literal and figurative sense) what seems like half the women in the church (God’s will you know; he needed comforting and missed the physical touch of his wife.) Gullible and stupid doesn’t begin to describe it.
The original investigation into the fire was very sloppy. (God and his minions always get away with have to meet a lower standard.) I think the first part of the book could have been cut and the last part concerning the investigation expanded.
Hard to put down though. Sort of like watching a train wreck in slow motion.
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