Thirty-five years ago this week, an overzealous true-crime writer tried to strong-arm me into signing an onerous contract involving a book and movie deal. One of several bloodsucking ghouls trying to capitalize on the tragic deaths of my father and mother.
I resisted, but he had me over the proverbial barrel. Previously unbeknownst to me, my brother had signed a contract and my sisters had subsequently been shanghaied into the deal. It didn’t leave me with many options.
Three decades later, another unrepentant true-crime writer, Ann Rule, published an inaccurate account of my parents’ deaths. Another ghoul capitalizing on their violent demise.
I will blog about that a few days hence.
The book is scheduled for release on July 9.