David Fine's terrific book, Homicide a Year on the Killing Streets (New York: Ivy Books, 1991) starts out like this:
TUESDAY, JANUARY 19.Red and white are American colors. The detailed description of the bullet hole. The idea of the hand going from the warmth into the cold to touch somebody. Then some gallows humor to relieve the horror inherent in the work homicide detectives have to do.
Pulling one hand from the warmth of a pocket, Jay Landsman squats down to grab the dead man's chin, pushing the head to one side until the wound becomes visible as a small, ovate hole, oozing red and white.
The cover says this book is "engrossing." Engrossing it is. I couldn't put it down. I was also a fan of the TV series made from this book. But as a piece of creative non-fiction it's a masterpiece. So much exposition yet the horrendous details of homicide investigation and the awful toll it takes on the people who do it just gripped me and couldn't let me go. It flips back and fourth between third and second person and is in the present tense, all things I normally don't like, but here it works.
I recommend this soon to be classic true crime book.
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