Let me
begin by saying that writing a novel is a terrific achievement. I know, having
written one ~ and only one. My hat is off to anyone who can complete a novel.
That said,
this review is of a non-fiction work, as compelling as any novel ~ my honest
opinion of Fighting the Devil: A True Story of Consuming Passion, Deadly
Poison, and Murder, by Jeannie Walker, which I finished reading Wednesday.
Characters:
I’m not sure “characters” is the right word, since the people Jeannie details
in this first-person memoir are real people. They include herself, and her
ex-husband, millionaire Jerry Sternadel, fatally poisoned with arsenic by his
bookkeeper Debra Lynn Baker in an alleged plot with Sternadel’s second wife,
Lou Ann, to get the millionaire’s money.
Jeannie
does a good job of showing who everyone is through their actions including
physical description. Here’s ex-husband Jerry, as a kid:
Jerry was a
good-looking, freckle-faced kid with short, curly brown hair. He grew up in
Petrolia, a small town fifteen miles outside of Wichita Falls. He participated
in every sport the school offered and became the star basketball player for
Petrolia. After high school, he enrolled at the local university in Wichita
Falls. He was gregarious and full of ambition. He was also gutsy and
strong-minded.
and later:
Every day,
as if it were a ritual, a guy with curly brown hair and red sideburns would
walk by my office and peck on the window. “Go to lunch with me?” In spite of
the fact that I always ignored him, Jerry Sternadel continued tapping on the
windowpane, asking me to go to lunch.
Jeannie
introduces us to their son Sandy and daughter Becky, now both adults. Jeannie
gives readers an up-close-and-personal encounter with 2nd wife Lou Ann:
“Lou Ann, I
want to know where my kids are. I know you took them from school. Where are my
kids?”
“You’re
crazy! I don’t know where your fucking kids are. You need to talk to Jerry.”
“I will
talk to Jerry,” I quickly responded. “Just tell me where Jerry is.”
“I just
called him. He’s on his way right now. And so are the cops. Good-bye!” She
slammed the door shut.
At that
moment, the curtain on the side window inside the house was pulled aside, and I
saw my daughter Becky, then only nine years old, standing at the window. She
was crying, “Mommy, don’t leave. Please, Mommy, don’t leave. Mommy, please, I
want to go home.”
Jeannie
makes it clear from both her personal experience and documented evidence that
Lou Ann and Debra are not very nice people. Their victim, Jerry, isn’t much
better. Jeannie paints a convincing picture of an increasingly abusive husband,
who grows so cruel that she has to divorce him:
He walked
over to the bedroom dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a long length of
nylon cord. I was becoming very frightened of my husband. I rolled off the bed
and tried to run out of the bedroom.
Jerry raced
over, quickly closing the bedroom door. He grabbed the ropes on my hands,
pushed me backward onto the bed, and tied my hands to the bedpost with the
nylon cord. I started tossing and kicking as he pulled my skirt up past my
waist.
“Kick, you
bitch. That’ll just make it more fun!”
Jeannie
does a nice job as well with the various friends, relatives and law enforcement
people involved in this remarkable account.
Plot: Again, not sure this is the right word.
But Fighting the Devil details author Jeannie’s epic struggle to get
justice for her murdered ex-husband in the face of what seems to be the
amazingly sluggish and disinterested legal and medical systems of Clay County,
Texas.
She
intersperses details of Jerry’s downfall and her subsequent pursuit of the
perpetrators with memories, many unpleasant, of her life with Jerry.
Even
Jeannie asks herself the question — why go to so much trouble for someone who
had been so cruel to her? The answer — Jerry was the father of their two children;
he appeared to become more human toward Jeannie as he grew older; and perhaps
the most compelling reason — no one deserves to die the agonizing death by
arsenic poisoning that Jerry did.
There’s
even a touch of the paranormal in this story. Jeannie recounts several of the
experiences that give the book its title:
I tried
turning the steering wheel but could not move it. The car was completely out of
control and heading straight for the dam. I knew if I didn’t stop the car soon,
I would be crashing over the spillway into the raging, icy water below. I felt
something breathing down my neck from behind the driver’s seat. A cold chill
shot through me. My reaction of looking into the rearview mirror was almost
instantaneous. What I saw made my blood curdle. In my mirror I saw two eyes
that looked like fiery red-hot coals. I knew immediately the Devil was in
control of my car. The Prince of Darkness wanted to kill me and take my soul to
hell if he could.
I glanced
at the speedometer: ninety miles per hour and climbing.
Setting: The events of Fighting the Devil
take place in Wichita Falls and Clay County, Texas. Jeannie doesn’t give much
attention to the setting, and honestly, it’s not integral to recounting of what
happened.
What I thought could’ve been done better: Jeannie’s
narrative, while undeniably compelling, could be tightened up a bit. Wordiness
and passive voice slow things down here and there.
Here’s a
scene from Jerry’s funeral:
People were
meandering around, but some stopped in their tracks to stare at Jerry’s widow
exiting from the chauffeur-driven limousine. They continued watching as Jerry’s
mother and grown children exited from another limo.
Tighter:
People
meandered around. Some stopped and stared at Jerry’s widow exiting the
chauffeur-driven limousine. They watched Jerry’s mother and grown children
leave another limo.
In truth
it’s not a huge difference. But over the course of an 80,000-word book,
tighter, sharper more active prose make for a better reading experience.
Adverbs
also contribute to wordiness and redundancy, as in:
Becky
looked over at her stepmother, Lou Ann, and screamed loudly, “I’ll tell you one
thing. There’s no way Daddy would poison himself.”
“Screamed”
by itself is good enough. Screams, by their nature, are loud. “Screamed softly”
would be an oxymoron. One reason I mention needless adverbs — I struggle with
them in my own writing.
Something I
thought the story never satisfactorily addressed — why did the doctors
attending Jerry never question how arsenic at fatal levels came repeatedly to
be in his body?
What I
thought was good: Lots.
First, unlike too many indie books, Fighting the Devil is free of
annoying typos and grammar errors. It’s a clean read.
I liked the
straight-forward way Jeannie presents the story. Her personal reminiscences are
clear, and her accounts of medical and legal aspects are complete and
well-documented:
Dr.
Ulrich’s report said the following: “Arsenic level dramatically increased.
Patient to be dialyzed today.”
Throughout
the day on Monday, June 11, the nurses continued to frequently suction large
amounts of bloody oral and nasal secretions from Jerry. His weight had gone up
to 257.4 pounds. His breathing was labored, and at times he gasped for breath.
He had facial cyanosis. His abdomen was distended and firm. There were no bowel
sounds present. He had no cough reflex. His urine output was very low and muddy
brown.
Tuesday,
June 12, there was a red rash over Jerry’s entire body. Thick, bloody
secretions oozed from his mouth and nose. He was gasping for air, even though
he was on a ventilator. His blood pressure was very low. His condition was
deteriorating.
Jeannie
introduces us to some interesting people, like Sheriff Jake Bogard:
Jake Bogard
had been sheriff for over sixteen years and had been in law enforcement for
even longer than that. The rugged lawman was born on the RO Ranch near the
Texas Panhandle. His dad worked in the oil field and bought a farm in Beulah.
His grandfather was Dusty Rhodes from Sur, Texas. He had three sisters—Opal
Roberts and Tommie Ann Gaston, both of Junction, Texas, and Barbara Kinnison of
Seagraves, Texas—and a brother, Dusty, a cowboy.
In his
younger days, Jake was a cowboy and worked on ranches in the panhandle. Jake
was a well-built man with slightly graying brown hair, gray sideburns, and
graying eyebrows. He looked like a lawman that a criminal wouldn’t want to
tangle with.
Jeannie
does a wonderful job of gathering all the evidence into the narrative and
combining it with her personal observations. She methodically builds it all
into a damning case against Debra, who the jury convicted, and Lou Ann, who the
police never arrested — but who is, probably in no small part due to Jeannie’s
efforts — still a suspect 20 years later.
Overall: Fighting the Devil is an amazing
true account of one woman’s battle for justice. Competently presented,
well-researched and documented, it’s nevertheless personal and emotional,
including Jeannie’s own struggle against the darkest spiritual influences.
Jeannie has
delivered a fascinating account of crime and her own dogged pursuit of the
perpetrators that I’m sure anyone who reads Fighting the Devil will
remember for a long time. I sure will.
Good job,
Jeannie!
