I'm a sick puppy

For years (like just under 10), I have managed to ignore that freakish looking gremlin on tabloids. I've managed to not be curious about "another child murder" and all the media cicus crap that ensued. I thought the whole thing was just another example of people being super creepy over a super creepy kid.

I wasn't wrong; the kid and the media attention is creepy, but hot damn, this confessor business has got me interested.

It's actually quite strange that I have not been interested in the case prior to... oh, a week ago. It's got all the elements of something Bill Kurtis would tell me about while I kill time at my parents' place. You've got a botched investigation, a dead kid and no solid suspects (other than the creepy kid's family). I've now spent my Sunday morning going over the case files and I have got to say, it's quite the stumper. (You can skip to the next paragraph if you know all this crap, but this is all fascinating news to me). First, there are all the elements about the murder that family members would be privvy to (or someone who had lived there before, spent extensive time there or had access to floor plans): the dollar figure of the father's xmas bonus, the location of the rooms (including the most obscure back closet in a basement), who/how she was found (the whole bit where the police sent the father in to search, rather than themselves), the ability to write a 3 page letter inside the house, no real signs of forced entry (a broken window that only some wirey dude could get through; and left that way, too?), the location of the kid in the first place. It kind of adds up against one or more of the parents (the police even went for the 9 year old brother; really! I said: this is all news to me). But then you have the DNA under her nails not tied to family members, and the sheer gruesome exit she took doesn't look like something that a parent would actually do (but, what do I know? My expertise comes from American over-dramatised television crimes shows).

Anyway, I know this is pure tabloid fodder and that my mind would be better served with more valuable information, but it's bizzare--like a car accident and the cliché that follows.