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A Wilderness of Error: The Trials of Jeffrey MacDonald
Academy Award-winning filmmaker and former private detective Errol Morris examines the nature of evidence and proof in the infamous Jeffrey MacDonald murder case
Early on the morning of February 17, 1970, in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, Jeffrey MacDonald, a Green Beret doctor, called the police for help. When the officers arrived at his home they found the bloody and battered bodies of MacDonald’s pregnant wife and two young daughters. The word “pig” was written in blood on the headboard in the master bedroom. As MacDonald was being loaded into the ambulance, he accused a band of drug-crazed hippies of the crime.
So began one of the most notorious and mysterious murder cases of the twentieth century. Jeffrey MacDonald was finally convicted in 1979 and remains in prison today. Since then a number of bestselling books—including Joe McGinniss’s Fatal Vision and Janet Malcolm’s The Journalist and the Murderer —and a blockbuster television miniseries have told their versions of the MacDonald case and what it all means.
Errol Morris has been investigating the MacDonald case for over twenty years. A Wilderness of Error is the culmination of his efforts. It is a shocking book, because it shows us that almost everything we have been told about the case is deeply unreliable, and crucial elements of the case against MacDonald simply are not true. It is a masterful reinvention of the true-crime thriller, a book that pierces the haze of myth surrounding these murders with the sort of brilliant light that can only be produced by years of dogged and careful investigation and hard, lucid thinking.
By this book’s end, we know several that there are two very different narratives we can create about what happened at 544 Castle Drive, and that the one that led to the conviction and imprisonment for life of this man for butchering his wife and two young daughters is almost certainly wrong. Along the way Morris poses bracing questions about the nature of proof, criminal justice, and the media, showing us how MacDonald has been condemned, not only to prison, but to the stories that have been created around him.
In this profoundly original meditation on truth and justice, Errol Morris reopens one of America’s most famous cases and forces us to confront the unimaginable. Morris has spent his career unsettling our complacent assumptions that we know what we’re looking at, that the stories we tell ourselves are true. This book is his finest and most important achievement to date.
Early on the morning of February 17, 1970, in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, Jeffrey MacDonald, a Green Beret doctor, called the police for help. When the officers arrived at his home they found the bloody and battered bodies of MacDonald’s pregnant wife and two young daughters. The word “pig” was written in blood on the headboard in the master bedroom. As MacDonald was being loaded into the ambulance, he accused a band of drug-crazed hippies of the crime.
So began one of the most notorious and mysterious murder cases of the twentieth century. Jeffrey MacDonald was finally convicted in 1979 and remains in prison today. Since then a number of bestselling books—including Joe McGinniss’s Fatal Vision and Janet Malcolm’s The Journalist and the Murderer —and a blockbuster television miniseries have told their versions of the MacDonald case and what it all means.
Errol Morris has been investigating the MacDonald case for over twenty years. A Wilderness of Error is the culmination of his efforts. It is a shocking book, because it shows us that almost everything we have been told about the case is deeply unreliable, and crucial elements of the case against MacDonald simply are not true. It is a masterful reinvention of the true-crime thriller, a book that pierces the haze of myth surrounding these murders with the sort of brilliant light that can only be produced by years of dogged and careful investigation and hard, lucid thinking.
By this book’s end, we know several that there are two very different narratives we can create about what happened at 544 Castle Drive, and that the one that led to the conviction and imprisonment for life of this man for butchering his wife and two young daughters is almost certainly wrong. Along the way Morris poses bracing questions about the nature of proof, criminal justice, and the media, showing us how MacDonald has been condemned, not only to prison, but to the stories that have been created around him.
In this profoundly original meditation on truth and justice, Errol Morris reopens one of America’s most famous cases and forces us to confront the unimaginable. Morris has spent his career unsettling our complacent assumptions that we know what we’re looking at, that the stories we tell ourselves are true. This book is his finest and most important achievement to date.
544 pages, Hardcover
First published August 28, 2012
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April 26, 2016
In a wonderfully insightful interview in the documentary Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, convicted killer Damien Echols (of West Memphis Three fame) poignantly described his surprise, one day, when a prison doctor informed him he had arthritis. Arthritis, he thought. That’s something that old people get. The point, of course, is that Damien had gotten older. He just hadn’t recognized the progress of time, because his life had stopped the day he was sentenced to death for his part in the murder of three 8 year-old boys.
Echols eventually got out of prison. After a long fight, he was factually exonerated by a slew of overwhelming forensic evidence, including DNA matches that pointed to another perpetrator all together. (Legally, in a face saving maneuver, Arkansas offered Echols an Alford plea that allowed him to maintain innocence while accepting a guilty verdict).
He had spent 17 years in prison, an innocent man.
It is that terrible fear of being locked away for something you didn't do, that nightmare of a life indefinitely stalled, that gives the Innocent Man story its lasting power. Indeed, the Innocent Man is a genre unto itself, with many permutations.
For instance, there is John Grisham’s obviously-titled The Innocent Man, about a man convicted in Ada, Oklahoma, after police coerced him into giving a “dream confession.” That man was on death row until DNA evidence showed that someone else committed the crime. Or take Robert Mayer’s The Dreams of Ada, in which a man was convicted in Ada, Oklahoma, after the police coerced him into giving a “dream confession,” the facts of which do not match with any known details of the crime. Unfortunately for that defendant, he still sits in prison, an innocent man. (The lesson being, don’t go to Ada).
Most of the time, the Innocent Man genre gives us a happy ending, as in the case of Michael Morton, whose motive in the alleged slaying of his wife was her refusal to have sex with him. (Other damning evidence: Morton watched pornography). DNA evidence initially ignored by investigators eventually freed Morton, a story detailed in a must-read Texas Monthly story: http://www.texasmonthly.com/2012-11-0...
Sometimes, though, the truth does not come quickly enough, as in the case of Cameron Todd Willingham, wrongfully convicted of arson and murder in the death of his children. The investigation of his case continues, but he does not. Willingham was executed in 2004. His story is detailed in one of the most important capital punishment stories ever written, David Grann’s Trial by Fire: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/20...
However the Innocent Man story ends, its arc is generally the same. Crime is followed by investigation, investigation is followed by conviction, conviction is followed by outrage, and outrage is followed by reinvestigation. The reader is invited to marvel at the myopia of supposedly-neutral police officers, investigators and prosecutors; to be frustrated by ignored leads, hidden evidence, and improper tactics. And finally, the reader is supposed to be given the catharsis of justice. The moral clarity of unbiased truth.
Errol Morris’s A Wilderness of Error is putatively an Innocent Man book. It is about the trials and conviction of Jeffrey R. MacDonald in the brutal slaying of his wife and children.
You might have heard of MacDonald or his story. It’s quite famous. MacDonald was a Princeton-trained doctor and a Green Beret. The story of his conviction was infamously recounted in Joe McGinniss’s inside-account, Fatal Vision. McGinniss’s “betrayal” of MacDonald (McGinniss pretended to believe in MacDonald’s innocence to get information) was later deconstructed in Janet Malcolm’s The Journalist and the Murderer. (Famous first line: “Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible”).
There is a ton of MacDonald material floating out there in the world, including a made-for-TV miniseries and a 48 Hours primetime investigation. Enough that I was initially hesitant to read yet another take on this case.
But Errol Morris is Errol Morris. He’s the guy who did the documentary The Thin Blue Line that – like the Paradise Lost films – exonerated an innocent man. He also once wrote an exhaustive meditation in the New York Times about the authenticity of a famous Crimean War photograph. He is a smart man, a thoughtful man, and if anyone is going to have the final word on this case, it will probably be him.
I was wrong.
It is hard to describe A Wilderness of Error other than to say it’s a sloppy mess. The only coherence that exists between the covers is found in the timelines interspersed throughout the text. Without those firm dates, an unversed reader won’t know what the hell is going on, because Morris is literally all over the place.
I knew this was a problematic book on the very first page. That is no exaggeration. The first page. Here are the opening lines.
Okay, so we’ve established you have a wife and son and a mother-in-law and an aunt named Elizabeth. Get to the point.
That’s really interesting about the pecans, Errol. And thanks for making me look up Spode china. But what about the m-u-r-d-e-r.
Again, thanks for the aside about your mother-in-law and ol’ Aunt Liz. Really good stuff. Should I be keeping track of them? Do they figure into this story?
Morris eventually makes his point by segueing a rumination of the MacDonald house (his destination on that Christmas excursion) into his larger thoughts on the case. Fine, I get what you were doing, Errol. And normally, I wouldn’t fault an author for extraneous detail (it took me seven paragraphs of this review to get to the book), as long as the extraneous doesn’t outweigh the pertinent.
But the problem with his book is that the extraneous trumps the pertinent. Specifically, Errol Morris is more interested in Errol Morris investigating the MacDonald case than he is in the MacDonald case itself.
Take, for example, the description of the crime itself. There is none. At no point does Morris ever give a simple narrative describing the crime scene, the possible perpetrators, or the line of investigation that led to Dr. MacDonald. Instead, after the prologue I quoted above, he begins the main text with a rambling discursion on The Count of Monte Cristo and Bertrand’s Introduction to Mathematical Philosophy. The next chapter concerns the Manson killings. While the chapter after that is all about Errol Morris as a nine-year old watching Million Dollar Movie. I am not making this up.
When Morris does tackle relevant events, he does so indirectly, in a non-liner manner. In Part One, Chapter 5, for instance, there is a discussion about a coffee table and its placement at the crime scene. This might be interesting, seeing as how it could either fit or disprove MacDonald’s version of events (that hippies killed his family). Unfortunately, since Morris never bothers to lay out a general context for the crime scene, this chapter is just confusing.
The MacDonald case has an incredibly complicated procedural posture. Since MacDonald was a soldier, he was initially investigated by the CID, which resulted in an Article 32 hearing under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (essentially a preliminary or probable cause hearing in civilian court). The judge at the Article 32 hearing actually dismissed MacDonald’s case in 1970. Five years later, at the behest of MacDonald’s father-in-law, MacDonald was indicted in Federal Court, tried and convicted of murder. His case was reversed on appeal and MacDonald went free. And then the United States Supreme Court reversed the lower appellate court and reinstated MacDonald’s conviction and sentence.
There are a lot of twists and turns and competing legal jurisdictions here. Even a trained lawyer would have to pay attention to keep up. It is a story that requires some structure in order to give readers the best chance to understand your point. As I said before, though, structure is the last thing on Morris’s mind.
A Wilderness of Error is the rambling stream-of-conscious reflections of a very smart man. It makes for a poor book. At times I even hesitate to call it a book. It’s more of a scrapbook. Nearly a quarter of the text is trial transcripts (which would’ve been helpful with context) and interview transcriptions done by Morris (patently unhelpful, since any witness recollection taken by this time has been so tainted by time and outside sources that they are worse than useless). Many of the pages are given over to quirky, white-ink-on-black-background sketches that might tickle the bones of a graphic designer but do nothing to bring us any closer to resolution.
Knowing a bit about Errol Morris, I wasn’t expecting a sharp, precise lawyer’s brief laying out his point. I was expecting him to make a point. He does not really do that either. Somewhere in this morass he gets around to saying that he’s not sure whether MacDonald is innocent, but he is certain that he didn't get an unfair trial.
This is a bit of a wishy-washy sentiment, but entirely fair, had he backed up that contention with clearly elucidated facts and cogent legal reasoning. A Wilderness of Error is far too shaggy a dog to do that.
Yet I can’t really fault Morris for not being able to decide with certainty guilt or innocence. I’m not convinced either way, either.
Part of me believes in Occam’s Razor, that the simplest explanation is correct. MacDonald did it: most killer’s know their victims; men have been known to kill their wives (if 48 Hours and Dateline have not me nothing else, they have taught me this); and that MacDonald’s the-hippies-did-it sounds absurd on its face.
Another part of me recoils at this prospect. To be sure, men kill their wives. But for a man to kill his children…That is a different level altogether. If MacDonald was having marital troubles, and was inclined to murder, I can see him killing his wife, but his little ones, too? The mind boggles. (Of course, no one ever lost money doubting humanity). Furthermore, even though the Hippy Defense seems ridiculous today (especially since, in my imagination, hippies are way too high to get off the couch, much less commit a serious felony), it has a basis in fact, i.e., the Tate-LaBianca murders by the Manson family.
So, at the end, like Morris, I don’t know either. Unlike Morris, I'm not even leaning in one direction or the other. The fault in this book isn’t it’s lack of a satisfying conclusion. It’s in the failure to provide a coherent argument.
Echols eventually got out of prison. After a long fight, he was factually exonerated by a slew of overwhelming forensic evidence, including DNA matches that pointed to another perpetrator all together. (Legally, in a face saving maneuver, Arkansas offered Echols an Alford plea that allowed him to maintain innocence while accepting a guilty verdict).
He had spent 17 years in prison, an innocent man.
It is that terrible fear of being locked away for something you didn't do, that nightmare of a life indefinitely stalled, that gives the Innocent Man story its lasting power. Indeed, the Innocent Man is a genre unto itself, with many permutations.
For instance, there is John Grisham’s obviously-titled The Innocent Man, about a man convicted in Ada, Oklahoma, after police coerced him into giving a “dream confession.” That man was on death row until DNA evidence showed that someone else committed the crime. Or take Robert Mayer’s The Dreams of Ada, in which a man was convicted in Ada, Oklahoma, after the police coerced him into giving a “dream confession,” the facts of which do not match with any known details of the crime. Unfortunately for that defendant, he still sits in prison, an innocent man. (The lesson being, don’t go to Ada).
Most of the time, the Innocent Man genre gives us a happy ending, as in the case of Michael Morton, whose motive in the alleged slaying of his wife was her refusal to have sex with him. (Other damning evidence: Morton watched pornography). DNA evidence initially ignored by investigators eventually freed Morton, a story detailed in a must-read Texas Monthly story: http://www.texasmonthly.com/2012-11-0...
Sometimes, though, the truth does not come quickly enough, as in the case of Cameron Todd Willingham, wrongfully convicted of arson and murder in the death of his children. The investigation of his case continues, but he does not. Willingham was executed in 2004. His story is detailed in one of the most important capital punishment stories ever written, David Grann’s Trial by Fire: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/20...
However the Innocent Man story ends, its arc is generally the same. Crime is followed by investigation, investigation is followed by conviction, conviction is followed by outrage, and outrage is followed by reinvestigation. The reader is invited to marvel at the myopia of supposedly-neutral police officers, investigators and prosecutors; to be frustrated by ignored leads, hidden evidence, and improper tactics. And finally, the reader is supposed to be given the catharsis of justice. The moral clarity of unbiased truth.
Errol Morris’s A Wilderness of Error is putatively an Innocent Man book. It is about the trials and conviction of Jeffrey R. MacDonald in the brutal slaying of his wife and children.
You might have heard of MacDonald or his story. It’s quite famous. MacDonald was a Princeton-trained doctor and a Green Beret. The story of his conviction was infamously recounted in Joe McGinniss’s inside-account, Fatal Vision. McGinniss’s “betrayal” of MacDonald (McGinniss pretended to believe in MacDonald’s innocence to get information) was later deconstructed in Janet Malcolm’s The Journalist and the Murderer. (Famous first line: “Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible”).
There is a ton of MacDonald material floating out there in the world, including a made-for-TV miniseries and a 48 Hours primetime investigation. Enough that I was initially hesitant to read yet another take on this case.
But Errol Morris is Errol Morris. He’s the guy who did the documentary The Thin Blue Line that – like the Paradise Lost films – exonerated an innocent man. He also once wrote an exhaustive meditation in the New York Times about the authenticity of a famous Crimean War photograph. He is a smart man, a thoughtful man, and if anyone is going to have the final word on this case, it will probably be him.
I was wrong.
It is hard to describe A Wilderness of Error other than to say it’s a sloppy mess. The only coherence that exists between the covers is found in the timelines interspersed throughout the text. Without those firm dates, an unversed reader won’t know what the hell is going on, because Morris is literally all over the place.
I knew this was a problematic book on the very first page. That is no exaggeration. The first page. Here are the opening lines.
I first saw 544 Castle Drive on a cold Christmas morning in 1991. My wife, my son, and I had flown from Boston to Raleigh-Durham to join my mother-in-law and aunt Elizabeth, her older sister, in St. Pauls, North Carolina, a small town about twenty miles south of Fayetteville. There were hardly any grandchildren…
Okay, so we’ve established you have a wife and son and a mother-in-law and an aunt named Elizabeth. Get to the point.
Often on Christmas we would pick pecans at a nearby farm. You open them by holding two pecans in your hand so you can crack one against the other. It was a wonderful small-town world – the redbrick house with the glassed-in porch and rockers, the breakfast room that looked out on the garden. The green Spode china…
That’s really interesting about the pecans, Errol. And thanks for making me look up Spode china. But what about the m-u-r-d-e-r.
My wife and I decided on a small excursion before Christmas dinner…The destination was more or less my idea. A short drive north on the old U.S. highway past Hope Mills (where my mother-in-law and aunt had been born) to Fayetteville, past a pygmy replica of the Eiffel Tower at the Bordeaux Shopping Center…
Again, thanks for the aside about your mother-in-law and ol’ Aunt Liz. Really good stuff. Should I be keeping track of them? Do they figure into this story?
Morris eventually makes his point by segueing a rumination of the MacDonald house (his destination on that Christmas excursion) into his larger thoughts on the case. Fine, I get what you were doing, Errol. And normally, I wouldn’t fault an author for extraneous detail (it took me seven paragraphs of this review to get to the book), as long as the extraneous doesn’t outweigh the pertinent.
But the problem with his book is that the extraneous trumps the pertinent. Specifically, Errol Morris is more interested in Errol Morris investigating the MacDonald case than he is in the MacDonald case itself.
Take, for example, the description of the crime itself. There is none. At no point does Morris ever give a simple narrative describing the crime scene, the possible perpetrators, or the line of investigation that led to Dr. MacDonald. Instead, after the prologue I quoted above, he begins the main text with a rambling discursion on The Count of Monte Cristo and Bertrand’s Introduction to Mathematical Philosophy. The next chapter concerns the Manson killings. While the chapter after that is all about Errol Morris as a nine-year old watching Million Dollar Movie. I am not making this up.
When Morris does tackle relevant events, he does so indirectly, in a non-liner manner. In Part One, Chapter 5, for instance, there is a discussion about a coffee table and its placement at the crime scene. This might be interesting, seeing as how it could either fit or disprove MacDonald’s version of events (that hippies killed his family). Unfortunately, since Morris never bothers to lay out a general context for the crime scene, this chapter is just confusing.
The MacDonald case has an incredibly complicated procedural posture. Since MacDonald was a soldier, he was initially investigated by the CID, which resulted in an Article 32 hearing under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (essentially a preliminary or probable cause hearing in civilian court). The judge at the Article 32 hearing actually dismissed MacDonald’s case in 1970. Five years later, at the behest of MacDonald’s father-in-law, MacDonald was indicted in Federal Court, tried and convicted of murder. His case was reversed on appeal and MacDonald went free. And then the United States Supreme Court reversed the lower appellate court and reinstated MacDonald’s conviction and sentence.
There are a lot of twists and turns and competing legal jurisdictions here. Even a trained lawyer would have to pay attention to keep up. It is a story that requires some structure in order to give readers the best chance to understand your point. As I said before, though, structure is the last thing on Morris’s mind.
A Wilderness of Error is the rambling stream-of-conscious reflections of a very smart man. It makes for a poor book. At times I even hesitate to call it a book. It’s more of a scrapbook. Nearly a quarter of the text is trial transcripts (which would’ve been helpful with context) and interview transcriptions done by Morris (patently unhelpful, since any witness recollection taken by this time has been so tainted by time and outside sources that they are worse than useless). Many of the pages are given over to quirky, white-ink-on-black-background sketches that might tickle the bones of a graphic designer but do nothing to bring us any closer to resolution.
Knowing a bit about Errol Morris, I wasn’t expecting a sharp, precise lawyer’s brief laying out his point. I was expecting him to make a point. He does not really do that either. Somewhere in this morass he gets around to saying that he’s not sure whether MacDonald is innocent, but he is certain that he didn't get an unfair trial.
This is a bit of a wishy-washy sentiment, but entirely fair, had he backed up that contention with clearly elucidated facts and cogent legal reasoning. A Wilderness of Error is far too shaggy a dog to do that.
Yet I can’t really fault Morris for not being able to decide with certainty guilt or innocence. I’m not convinced either way, either.
Part of me believes in Occam’s Razor, that the simplest explanation is correct. MacDonald did it: most killer’s know their victims; men have been known to kill their wives (if 48 Hours and Dateline have not me nothing else, they have taught me this); and that MacDonald’s the-hippies-did-it sounds absurd on its face.
Another part of me recoils at this prospect. To be sure, men kill their wives. But for a man to kill his children…That is a different level altogether. If MacDonald was having marital troubles, and was inclined to murder, I can see him killing his wife, but his little ones, too? The mind boggles. (Of course, no one ever lost money doubting humanity). Furthermore, even though the Hippy Defense seems ridiculous today (especially since, in my imagination, hippies are way too high to get off the couch, much less commit a serious felony), it has a basis in fact, i.e., the Tate-LaBianca murders by the Manson family.
So, at the end, like Morris, I don’t know either. Unlike Morris, I'm not even leaning in one direction or the other. The fault in this book isn’t it’s lack of a satisfying conclusion. It’s in the failure to provide a coherent argument.
October 4, 2012
Poorly reasoned, lacking in substance, episodic and odd. Yes, that about sums it up. I've read a lot about this case, but more importantly, I am a lawyer who was once a criminal defense attorney. I've gotta say, this is one of the least convincing "exposes" I have ever read. Let's look at a few things- starting with the big reveal on DNA- there were 2 DNA samples that didn't match any known persons. Two out of many tested. One of those was a hair under Mrs. McDonald's fingernail. Ok, but Morris himself emphasizes over and over again that the crime scene was fatally contaminated by the investigators. So, where did the hair come from? A careless cop? Contamination on clothing? leftovers from the many families that lived in military housing before the family? Who knows? What is more important to me is that supposedly 4 adults, crazed on LSD, ranged all over the house and killed 3 people with multiple wounds and hurt another and yet all in all, two tiny DNA samples showed someone else's presence at some time? All the other issues- McDonald's relatively minor wounds, the overall undisturbed living room in which he supposedly fought with several large men, his amphetamine use (amount and effects), etc, Morris simply chooses to minimize based on his own gut feeling and McDonald's story. The witness/killer Helen- whose drug use was severe, who had newspapers and multiple discussion that contaminated everything she said- and who denied everything on the stand in a hearing- Morris takes at face value.
Then there's the book itself, with odd illustrations that have noting to do with the story- army hats, spiders, etc. It fills a lot of space and adds visuals to no purpose, except that apparently Morris is trying to make the book feel like a film.
We'll never know if McDonald did it, but this book adds almost nothing to the discussion. So glad I did not buy it- thank heaven for libraries.
Then there's the book itself, with odd illustrations that have noting to do with the story- army hats, spiders, etc. It fills a lot of space and adds visuals to no purpose, except that apparently Morris is trying to make the book feel like a film.
We'll never know if McDonald did it, but this book adds almost nothing to the discussion. So glad I did not buy it- thank heaven for libraries.
February 1, 2015
I have asked myself: What does this case mean? What is it about?...Is it about how we trick ourselves into believing that we know something? That we have proved something when we have proved nothing? It is about how we muddy the waters rather than seek the truth? About how we fail to examine the evidence (or even look for evidence) that could lead us to the truth? About how we pick one narrative rather than another--for whatever reason--and the rest becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Unfortunately, A Wilderness of Error is less a search for truth than it is Morris' alternative narrative, which sadly lacks any semblance of objectivity or thoughtful and honest reflection.
After reading Fatal Vision, what has become regarded as the definitive recounting of the Fort Bragg murders in which Dr. Jeffrey MacDonald was accused and convicted of brutally murdering his two daughters and pregnant wife, I had high hopes for this book.
Quite frankly, I wanted to hear the other side. I wanted someone to challenge the evidence, to make me question my own gut feeling. Instead what I got was misleading conjecture, poorly formulated ideas, and a blatantly biased, often illogical argument.
After reading both books, here are some thoughts:
Ironically, after 500 pages, I am less inclined to believe Jeffrey MacDonald's innocence than I was prior to reading the book that was supposed to make me question his guilt. Much of what is written comes across as half-truths at best, and some assertions feel downright dishonest. Thus, my one star rating.
I'm not suggesting that McGinnis did not manipulate the narrative in his book. Maybe he did sell out in the name of book sales. But, I honestly had more compassion for MacDonald...more doubt about his guilt after reading Fatal Vision. If Morris is trying to contend that McGinnis' handling of the MacDonald case is a Wilderness of Error, rather than Final vision, maybe McGinnis should have tilted his "response" to Errol's criticisms as A Universe of Error.
April 24, 2019
After a V-E-R-Y slow start, Errol Morris makes a quasi-persuasive case for why Dr. Jeffrey MacDonald didn't receive a fair trial -- how the prosecution withheld potentially exculpatory evidence from the defense or how, if the defense knew about it, the defense was not allowed to present it as evidence.
But a fair trial is NOT the same thing as an acquittal.
As a long-time North Carolinian who followed the MacDonald trial in 1979 -- and who later wrote about the case when I was newspaper reporter in Fayetteville, where Fort Bragg is located -- I found it very interesting that Morris spends about five pages of his 515-page book examining the very damning blood evidence that convicted MacDonald of killing his wife and two daughters. Morris dismisses the blood evidence as not being valid because the defense wasn't given the opportunity to independently examine it -- adding that plus the crime scene was so contaminated that the blood evidence wasn't reliable. But he spends pages discussing one 22-inch hair found in the wife's hairbrush that cannot be attributed to the daughters' dolls or the wife's wig.
In short, because the crime scene was contaminated, Morris maintains that evidence is unreliable - except in those cases when it is potentially exculpatory. Even more simply put, Morris is, essentially, stating that only exculpatory evidence is reliable. And isn't that, fundamentally, the argument of everyone being prosecuted for a crime he or she doesn't want to go to prison for?
At the end of the day, you have one wife and two daughters horribly overkilled -- and exhibiting violent defense wounds -- in a tee-tiny apartment surrounded by neighbors who didn't hear enough worrisome noises to call police. And you have an athletically fit father walk away virtually unscathed by comparison with nary a defense wound. That drug-crazed hippies could conspire to create a criminal "perfect storm" that resulted in the serendipitous and false prosecution of the sole surviving victim seems utterly ridiculous. Occum's razor maintains that the simplest explanation is usually the right one. The simplest solution is that the only person who wanted Colette, Kimberly and Kristen MacDonald dead -- and, for a short time, benefitted from those deaths -- was Jeffrey MacDonald.
But a fair trial is NOT the same thing as an acquittal.
As a long-time North Carolinian who followed the MacDonald trial in 1979 -- and who later wrote about the case when I was newspaper reporter in Fayetteville, where Fort Bragg is located -- I found it very interesting that Morris spends about five pages of his 515-page book examining the very damning blood evidence that convicted MacDonald of killing his wife and two daughters. Morris dismisses the blood evidence as not being valid because the defense wasn't given the opportunity to independently examine it -- adding that plus the crime scene was so contaminated that the blood evidence wasn't reliable. But he spends pages discussing one 22-inch hair found in the wife's hairbrush that cannot be attributed to the daughters' dolls or the wife's wig.
In short, because the crime scene was contaminated, Morris maintains that evidence is unreliable - except in those cases when it is potentially exculpatory. Even more simply put, Morris is, essentially, stating that only exculpatory evidence is reliable. And isn't that, fundamentally, the argument of everyone being prosecuted for a crime he or she doesn't want to go to prison for?
At the end of the day, you have one wife and two daughters horribly overkilled -- and exhibiting violent defense wounds -- in a tee-tiny apartment surrounded by neighbors who didn't hear enough worrisome noises to call police. And you have an athletically fit father walk away virtually unscathed by comparison with nary a defense wound. That drug-crazed hippies could conspire to create a criminal "perfect storm" that resulted in the serendipitous and false prosecution of the sole surviving victim seems utterly ridiculous. Occum's razor maintains that the simplest explanation is usually the right one. The simplest solution is that the only person who wanted Colette, Kimberly and Kristen MacDonald dead -- and, for a short time, benefitted from those deaths -- was Jeffrey MacDonald.
September 11, 2013
This book infuriated me. Smoke and mirrors, that's all it was. The author doesn't seem to expect that he might have people familiar with the legal system reading this book or he wouldn't try to put forth some of his ideas regarding how the trials were conducted. Morris, the author, has turned this case into some kind of grand conspiracy against MacDonald which goes all the way up to the Supreme Court of the United States. When I first started reading this, I started to want to pick out misleading statements or clear speculation, but it happened so often it would have been overwhelming. The author couldn't even spell the name of Kimberly MacDonald correctly, I can't put much faith in his incessant speculation. The snarky tone with which he makes all his points is also grating. Errol Morris writes this with a tone that if anyone sees the case differently from how he sees it, then that person must be mentally challenged in some way. Twelve people found MacDonald guilty and numerous appeals have not changed that fact. MacDonald himself did not show himself as trustworthy in a number of ways, such as statements as to the extent of his wounds on The Dick Cavett show or the fact that he was a serial cheater during his marriage. I still have questions regarding his guilt or innocence, but I do believe beyond a reasonable doubt that he did commit these crimes. And, if he did not, then he must have some really bad karma. Morris, however, did not convince me of MacDonald's innocence. Rather, he convinced me of his intention to be able to make a film of this - which is his ultimate goal - but since there has already been a miniseries on it proclaiming MacDonald's guilt, he simply has to argue the other side. Joe McGuinness who wrote Fatal Vision was THERE for the trial, saw the evidence himself and how the trial was conducted,lived with MacDonald and came to the conclusion that MacDonald was guilty. I find it also interesting that it seems many people were his supporters, but changed sides as he was unable to be truly forthcoming about that night, lied to Freddy Kassab that he had tracked down and killed one of the killers (that's just bizarre), and came to know him as an utter narcissist. I'm still bothered by the issue of motive, however. Although, if he was taking amphetamine, as he was - they could have, in fact, triggered a psychotic episode - in fact his brother, Jay, actually did have a psychotic episode triggered by amphetamine use (which I am unsure if Morris mentioned in his book), so it seems likely they could have had the same effect on MacDonald. Morris's ideas of a conspiracy among the judges (Dupree and Fox) is ludicrous. Helena Stoeckley and her various 'confessions' if that's what you want to call them are inconsistent and sometimes just sound delusional, as in her candle was dripping blood at one point? Also, Morris includes a timeline near the end of the book which includes all the various people who allegedly saw Stoeckly on the night in question and the timeline and the observations noted don't add up to any kind of consistency that makes any sense at all. If MacDonald is, in fact, not guilty of these crimes, than God bless him. However, the evidence (as bungled as it was) and common sense indicate that he is guilty. This book did not convince me otherwise.
September 5, 2012
Since 1985, I have had a long, twisting journey with the Jeffrey MacDonald case. It started with Fatal Vision, the miniseries, and progressed to Fatal Vision, the book about the case penned by Joe McGinniss. I followed those over time with The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcolm, Fatal Justice by Jerry Allen Potter and Fred Bost and Scales of Justice by Christina Masewicz. I visited various websites and read anything I could find about the case. Throughout the years my views on the case changed dramatically. I penned my changing thoughts here (at my book review site). In short, I believed MacDonald was guilty but something was off with the case, then there was a great chance that MacDonald was innocent and wrongly imprisoned and, finally, that MacDonald was guilty of the horrible crimes he was convicted of.
When I heard that filmmaker Errol Morris (he of the documentary The Thin Blue Line, which helped to free Randall Dale Adams, wrongly convicted of the murder of a Dallas police officer) had written a book in which he takes on the government's case against MacDonald, I knew that I had to read it.
I will admit that I went into this book deadset on MacDonald's guilt and mentally telling myself that no matter what Mr. Morris wrote in his book, I simply couldn't believe that MacDonald was anything less than guilty. Perhaps not exactly fair to Mr. Morris but given that the murders happened in 1970, MacDonald was convicted in 1979 and so much has been written about the case, both for and against MacDonald, it's not surprising.
If you are not well read or versed on the MacDonald case, A Wilderness of Error is probably not the place to start. Not because it's not well written - - because it is and Mr. Morris does a fine job of supporting his statements. But the book reads for someone already familiar with the background of the murders and the lengthy process in which MacDonald was brought to justice as the background of the crimes themselves is not nearly in-depth as the follow-up.
Mr. Morris excels at bringing to life Helena Stoeckley, the young hippie girl bearing a remarkable resemblance to one of the intruders MacDonald described to the military police following the murders, and who was to be the smoking gun for the defense during the 1979 trial. As Ms. Stoeckley herself was deceased by the time Mr. Morris began research for his book, he did interview family members, neighbors and people who knew and associated with her. She is presented both as a police informant living in Fayetteville's Haymount neighborhood (and hippie district), who partook in drugs and witchcraft and the sad, depleted woman MacDonald and his attorneys hung their hopes on.
Mr. Morris also shone a bright and unforgiving light on Colette MacDonald's mother and stepfather Mildred and Freddy Kassab. The Kassabs were presented in McGinniss' Fatal Vision as the martyred and heartsick family members who made it their life mission to bring their daughter's and granddaughters' killer to justice. Freddy Kassab, in particular, was the tenacious bulldog who grabbed ahold of Jeffrey MacDonald and wouldn't let go, joining forces with the government's prosecutors to see that his former son-in-law had his freedom taken away. The information that Mr. Morris outlined in his book, and supported by long-time friends of the family, is vastly different than the majority of what I have read and it did give me pause.
Mr. Morris didn't appear to have a lot of communications with MacDonald himself and that, to me, is a shortcoming with the book. What small amount of communication he did have was saved for the conclusion of the book. He is honest in his presentation - - that MacDonald is unlikable, annoying and quite full of himself but a good doctor and some of his off-putting qualities make him a good surgeon.
Perhaps Mr. Morris' strongest argument for MacDonald lies within the weakness of the government's supposed shoe-in evidence. He takes on their pajama top experiment and invalidates their results, as well as their assertion that saran hair fibers found in a hairbrush at the crime scene were not those of one of the MacDonald children's dolls but had come from a wig. Helena Stoeckley owned a wig of the same color as those hairs found and during one of her confessions, claimed to be wearing that wig at the time of the crimes.
Despite my assertions that I would not be moved by Mr. Morris' writing, I was. He made a clear and concise argument that Jeffrey MacDonald did not receive a fair trial - - from Judge Dupree's relationship with the original prosecutor (his son-in-law) to inaccurate government tests that were presented as gospel to threats of prosecution given to Helena Stoeckley should she testify to being present at the crime scene and vouching for MacDonald's innocence - - and there was no shortage of reasonable doubt.
A Wilderness of Error did not change my stance on MacDonald guilt or innocence, however well written it was. And here is why. I can throw out all the evidence - - the blood evidence, the pajama top, the bedsheets, the fibers, Helena Stoeckley's confessions and recanting of same . . . but what gets me is the difference between MacDonald's injuries and those inflicted on his family. If a group of drug addicted hippies wanted to get even with MacDonald for ratting them out or not giving them drugs or whatever their reasoning may have been, wouldn't they have taken the largest threat - - MacDonald - - and eliminated him first? Why attack a pregnant woman and two little girls - - a 5 year old and a 2 year old - - before even addressing MacDonald? Why crush the skulls of a woman and a 5 year old and leave MacDonald with one bruise on his head? A bruise with no broken skin? Why would MacDonald have one clean cut to his chest when his wife and children suffered many? One daughter had over thirty stab wounds. Does it make sense to massacre two children who could never identify one intruder and leave behind the one person who could?
None of that makes sense to me and taking that into consideration, I can't believe MacDonald's story about hippie intruders. What I can believe though is that he didn't get a fair trial and guilty or innocent, everyone deserves a fair trial. So while I think he's guilty, he was wrongfully convicted and that's just not right.
For those of you out there that have a similar obsession with the MacDonald case, I would not hesitate to recommend A Wilderness of Error. If you appreciate true crime and are unfamiliar with the case, I would suggest some background research through one of the handful of sites devoted to the case on the Internet or reading Fatal Vision, Fatal Journey or Scales of Justice. (The Journalist and the Murderer is about Joe McGinniss' role in his relationship with MacDonald and resulting lawsuit and not about the case itself).
Very well done, Mr. Morris. You presented us with a well-written, thought provoking book and one that may expose the many missteps of the government to the public.
©Psychotic State Book Reviews, 2012
When I heard that filmmaker Errol Morris (he of the documentary The Thin Blue Line, which helped to free Randall Dale Adams, wrongly convicted of the murder of a Dallas police officer) had written a book in which he takes on the government's case against MacDonald, I knew that I had to read it.
I will admit that I went into this book deadset on MacDonald's guilt and mentally telling myself that no matter what Mr. Morris wrote in his book, I simply couldn't believe that MacDonald was anything less than guilty. Perhaps not exactly fair to Mr. Morris but given that the murders happened in 1970, MacDonald was convicted in 1979 and so much has been written about the case, both for and against MacDonald, it's not surprising.
If you are not well read or versed on the MacDonald case, A Wilderness of Error is probably not the place to start. Not because it's not well written - - because it is and Mr. Morris does a fine job of supporting his statements. But the book reads for someone already familiar with the background of the murders and the lengthy process in which MacDonald was brought to justice as the background of the crimes themselves is not nearly in-depth as the follow-up.
Mr. Morris excels at bringing to life Helena Stoeckley, the young hippie girl bearing a remarkable resemblance to one of the intruders MacDonald described to the military police following the murders, and who was to be the smoking gun for the defense during the 1979 trial. As Ms. Stoeckley herself was deceased by the time Mr. Morris began research for his book, he did interview family members, neighbors and people who knew and associated with her. She is presented both as a police informant living in Fayetteville's Haymount neighborhood (and hippie district), who partook in drugs and witchcraft and the sad, depleted woman MacDonald and his attorneys hung their hopes on.
Mr. Morris also shone a bright and unforgiving light on Colette MacDonald's mother and stepfather Mildred and Freddy Kassab. The Kassabs were presented in McGinniss' Fatal Vision as the martyred and heartsick family members who made it their life mission to bring their daughter's and granddaughters' killer to justice. Freddy Kassab, in particular, was the tenacious bulldog who grabbed ahold of Jeffrey MacDonald and wouldn't let go, joining forces with the government's prosecutors to see that his former son-in-law had his freedom taken away. The information that Mr. Morris outlined in his book, and supported by long-time friends of the family, is vastly different than the majority of what I have read and it did give me pause.
Mr. Morris didn't appear to have a lot of communications with MacDonald himself and that, to me, is a shortcoming with the book. What small amount of communication he did have was saved for the conclusion of the book. He is honest in his presentation - - that MacDonald is unlikable, annoying and quite full of himself but a good doctor and some of his off-putting qualities make him a good surgeon.
Perhaps Mr. Morris' strongest argument for MacDonald lies within the weakness of the government's supposed shoe-in evidence. He takes on their pajama top experiment and invalidates their results, as well as their assertion that saran hair fibers found in a hairbrush at the crime scene were not those of one of the MacDonald children's dolls but had come from a wig. Helena Stoeckley owned a wig of the same color as those hairs found and during one of her confessions, claimed to be wearing that wig at the time of the crimes.
Despite my assertions that I would not be moved by Mr. Morris' writing, I was. He made a clear and concise argument that Jeffrey MacDonald did not receive a fair trial - - from Judge Dupree's relationship with the original prosecutor (his son-in-law) to inaccurate government tests that were presented as gospel to threats of prosecution given to Helena Stoeckley should she testify to being present at the crime scene and vouching for MacDonald's innocence - - and there was no shortage of reasonable doubt.
A Wilderness of Error did not change my stance on MacDonald guilt or innocence, however well written it was. And here is why. I can throw out all the evidence - - the blood evidence, the pajama top, the bedsheets, the fibers, Helena Stoeckley's confessions and recanting of same . . . but what gets me is the difference between MacDonald's injuries and those inflicted on his family. If a group of drug addicted hippies wanted to get even with MacDonald for ratting them out or not giving them drugs or whatever their reasoning may have been, wouldn't they have taken the largest threat - - MacDonald - - and eliminated him first? Why attack a pregnant woman and two little girls - - a 5 year old and a 2 year old - - before even addressing MacDonald? Why crush the skulls of a woman and a 5 year old and leave MacDonald with one bruise on his head? A bruise with no broken skin? Why would MacDonald have one clean cut to his chest when his wife and children suffered many? One daughter had over thirty stab wounds. Does it make sense to massacre two children who could never identify one intruder and leave behind the one person who could?
None of that makes sense to me and taking that into consideration, I can't believe MacDonald's story about hippie intruders. What I can believe though is that he didn't get a fair trial and guilty or innocent, everyone deserves a fair trial. So while I think he's guilty, he was wrongfully convicted and that's just not right.
For those of you out there that have a similar obsession with the MacDonald case, I would not hesitate to recommend A Wilderness of Error. If you appreciate true crime and are unfamiliar with the case, I would suggest some background research through one of the handful of sites devoted to the case on the Internet or reading Fatal Vision, Fatal Journey or Scales of Justice. (The Journalist and the Murderer is about Joe McGinniss' role in his relationship with MacDonald and resulting lawsuit and not about the case itself).
Very well done, Mr. Morris. You presented us with a well-written, thought provoking book and one that may expose the many missteps of the government to the public.
©Psychotic State Book Reviews, 2012
March 22, 2022
Joe McGinniss tried writing "the Jeffrey Macdonald is innocent" novel first, but the evidence convinced him otherwise. Unlike McGinniss, Errol Morris is blissfully unconcerned with reality. Personally, I have no doubt about Jeff’s guilt, but I was interested in the opposing point of view.
With no bombshell to change my mind, I stopped reading on page 101. WOE is an unorganized mashup of philosophical metaphors, unsurprising quotes from Jeff’s supporters / defense attorneys, and, oddly enough, black and white illustrations. (It’s a true crime picture book, y’all!)
In essence, Morris believes Jeff might be innocent because Jeff claims he's innocent. Jeff is a known liar, of course. But maybe he's telling the truth about this! And around and around we go.
Of people like me, who are certain justice was served, Morris says, “I suppose they have no poetry in them, only belief in tragedy, only in color photographs of blood and bodies lying dead.”
Yes, exactly. I’m a dreamy hippie at heart, but a toddler beaten and stabbed to death knocks the idealism right tf out of me. Morris is right about that.
Mistakes were made, it’s true. The house wasn’t secured quickly enough. Onlookers wandered around the living room, probably moving items around. A paramedic stole Jeff’s wallet from the crime scene. (Seriously, dude? Way to go down in history.) Some evidence was lost. Some evidence wasn’t tested.
None of these unfortunate errors invalidate the mountain of forensic evidence that Jeff murdered his family. And then enjoyed a drink with his Green Beret Buddies in the hospital. And slept with his secretary as often as he could manage during the investigation. While on lockdown by orders of the military, no less. And appeared on the Dick Cavett show, smirking like a cat who ate the canary. And assured his father-in-law that he had found and killed the real murderer.
Jeff cared nothing for his family. I have no sympathy for the devil and no patience for this book.
With no bombshell to change my mind, I stopped reading on page 101. WOE is an unorganized mashup of philosophical metaphors, unsurprising quotes from Jeff’s supporters / defense attorneys, and, oddly enough, black and white illustrations. (It’s a true crime picture book, y’all!)
In essence, Morris believes Jeff might be innocent because Jeff claims he's innocent. Jeff is a known liar, of course. But maybe he's telling the truth about this! And around and around we go.
Of people like me, who are certain justice was served, Morris says, “I suppose they have no poetry in them, only belief in tragedy, only in color photographs of blood and bodies lying dead.”
Yes, exactly. I’m a dreamy hippie at heart, but a toddler beaten and stabbed to death knocks the idealism right tf out of me. Morris is right about that.
Mistakes were made, it’s true. The house wasn’t secured quickly enough. Onlookers wandered around the living room, probably moving items around. A paramedic stole Jeff’s wallet from the crime scene. (Seriously, dude? Way to go down in history.) Some evidence was lost. Some evidence wasn’t tested.
None of these unfortunate errors invalidate the mountain of forensic evidence that Jeff murdered his family. And then enjoyed a drink with his Green Beret Buddies in the hospital. And slept with his secretary as often as he could manage during the investigation. While on lockdown by orders of the military, no less. And appeared on the Dick Cavett show, smirking like a cat who ate the canary. And assured his father-in-law that he had found and killed the real murderer.
Jeff cared nothing for his family. I have no sympathy for the devil and no patience for this book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 16, 2012
I was mildly obsessed with "Fatal Vision" as a teenager. I probably read it three or four times between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. I picked it up for the first time off the community bookshelf at the motel we were staying at in Florida for summer vacation. The first thing that attracted me was that it was a big, thick paperback. I was (and am) a voracious reader. Finding a book long enough, that I could really sink my teeth into, was a treasure! Secondly, I was drawn in by the description on the back cover. An unthinkable crime. Who did it? Mystery and jumbled facts, but strong hints that Jeffrey MacDonald had killed his family in a psychotic drug-fueled rampage. I was hooked. After reading and re-reading it over the years, I was fairly convinced of MacDonald's guilt.
So when I heard about Errol Morris's book, "A Wilderness of Error:The Trials of Jeffrey MacDonald", and that Morris had unearthed evidence that could exonerate MacDonald, I knew I'd have to buy it right away. The book, while over 500 pages, is quickly read, especially if you are familiar with the case. The chapters are short and many are interview-style. After reading it, I'm much less certain of MacDonald's guilt. I'm 100% positive that he did not receive a fair trial. Witness testimony was disallowed or buried, witnesses were threatened and intimidated into changing their testimony, and physical evidence that supported MacDonald's story or that could not be explained was swept under the rug. Joe McGinniss chose what material to include in his account, also dismissing and not using facts that suggested MacDonald was not culpable in the deaths of his family. This book is a fascinating counter-point to "Fatal Vision" and if you have had a fascination or interest in the MacDonald case, I highly recommend it.
October 8, 2012
I knew and worked with Jeffrey MacDonald. He came to my wedding. He was a compassionate and caring physician and a wonderful colleague. The man who I knew was not the man portrayed in Fatal Vision, and my husband and I never were persuaded that Jeff committed these murders. After reading this book, we are even more upset that invesigative ineptitude, insanity (his "folie a deux" suffering in-laws), prosecutorial misconduct and the mendacity of witnesses resulted in the destruction of this admirable man. Jeff would NEVER have been convicted today on circumstances, innuendo and on the basis of a crime scene that was severely compromised from the get go. The contention that he inflicted scores of stab wounds on himself and that he managed to cause a pneumothorax without nicking some other vital organ stretches credulity.
So, here is a man whose life is shattered by the murder of his family, who finds himself the victim of a Kafka-esque nightmare that has gone on for 40 years. And all the best legal help that this country can offer has not been able to right the wrong.
Having gone off on this rant, let me talk about the book. There are people who should write books, because they are compelling writers. There people who should not. Errol Morris should stick to directing films. As much as I am interested in the MacDonald case, this book was a struggle to get through. The prose was wooden and the format lurched from interview to narrative with poor transitioning.
If you are interested in the MacDonald case and in the story of miscarriage of justice, this book is for you. If you are interested in a read that will suck you in and keep the lights on at night, this is not it. Important though it is, it is not great writing.
So, here is a man whose life is shattered by the murder of his family, who finds himself the victim of a Kafka-esque nightmare that has gone on for 40 years. And all the best legal help that this country can offer has not been able to right the wrong.
Having gone off on this rant, let me talk about the book. There are people who should write books, because they are compelling writers. There people who should not. Errol Morris should stick to directing films. As much as I am interested in the MacDonald case, this book was a struggle to get through. The prose was wooden and the format lurched from interview to narrative with poor transitioning.
If you are interested in the MacDonald case and in the story of miscarriage of justice, this book is for you. If you are interested in a read that will suck you in and keep the lights on at night, this is not it. Important though it is, it is not great writing.
September 19, 2013
This book was a big disappointment. Having just read ‘Fatal Vision’, I turned to ‘A Wilderness of Error’ for the other side of the story, expecting a rigorous refutation of McGinniss’ book, a point-by-point takedown of the evidence. Instead, ‘Wilderness’ is lost in a wilderness of its own, a rambling, disjointed tract that disappears down philosophical holes and completely glosses over or ignores the most compelling findings from the MacDonald home. Oddly, the book, time after time, presents evidence that could, if taken alone, suggests exoneration, but immediately thereafter presents further evidence that refutes the exonerating circumstances, which ends up supporting, rather than destroying, the case against MacDonald. A few things that are presented as exculpatory simply aren’t. And the book goes on and on, chapter after chapter, about poor, crazy, sick Helena Stoeckley - chapters after she’s been thoroughly discredited as anything but an emotional, mentally ill, suggestible woman self-medicating with drugs. If this was supposed to be the definitive refutation of the evidence that convicted MacDonald, then his defenders are in big trouble. At the end of this book, I was even more convinced of MacDonald’s guilt than I was after reading ‘Fatal Vision.’ And I found that disappointing; I wanted to see the other side, to truly understand why various people still believe that MacDonald is not guilty.
One thing I did get out of this: it might not be worth me spending money on ‘Final Vision’, the refutation of ‘Wilderness’, as I don’t think it’s necessary.
One thing I did get out of this: it might not be worth me spending money on ‘Final Vision’, the refutation of ‘Wilderness’, as I don’t think it’s necessary.
September 10, 2012
I finished this book in less than a week, even though it's about 500 pages long. I bought it on the first day it came out since I read the other two books about the Jeffrey MacDonald Case (Fatal Vision and The Journalist and the Murderer) earlier in the summer and the case is still fresh in my mind.
This is a super quick read and a MUST if you've read in any detail about the MacDonald case. Everything you think you know about the case will be overturned. If you've read Fatal Vision, prepare to be slowly convinced that MacDonald's guilt is not nearly as certain as that book makes it seem. I started A Wilderness of Error pretty secure in my conviction that MacDonald was guilty, and while I'm still not convinced he's innocent I do think his trial was unfair and the investigation was botched from the beginning.
Wilderness of Error is nowhere near as literary and grippingly well-written as Fatal Vision, nor as eye-rollingly painful as The Journalist and the Murderer. Errol Morris thinks both books are misguided products of opportunism, laziness and sometimes just pure idiocy, and he mostly sticks to the facts. The book goes so quickly because only about half the book is Morris's actual writing; the rest is comprised of interview transcripts and direct quotes from evidentiary materials. He is for the most part presenting the evidence in its purest form and leaving the reader to decide what to think.
I say "for the most part" because Morris does introduce his own opinion. He has to - in order for the reader to understand all the confusing pieces of evidence he's pulled together from all corners of the case, he has to interpret it for us. He makes some claims that I don't find completely credible, like that Ken Mica was lying to himself and everybody else when he said that the woman he saw on the street was not Helena Stoeckley. I also think he gave undue weight to the statements of some witnesses who cast doubt on the characters of anti-MacDonald people, such as the Kassabs, while not giving any space to the people who don't like MacDonald. He says that the main problem with the MacDonald case is that the authorities decided within days that MacDonald had done it because they didn't like him, and after that no amount of evidence to the contrary could sway them. However, he prints a good amount of defamatory statements against the Kassabs and the members of the investigation team and the prosecution, without going the other way.
I understand that this may have been his intention -- he may have decided that enough had been said about MacDonald's guilt and he would look at it solely from the other side. But I still thought he wasn't being completely fair.
It was interesting that Morris avoided going into detail about MacDonald's personality and motivations in life. He only spent a few pages talking about his own conversation with MacDonald, and offered almost no commentary on it - just an excerpt from the transcript. The only discussion of MacDonald's personality revolved around other people's perceptions of it and how those colored the handling of the hard fact and evidence in the case. I thought that was a fresh and important take, but so much of the case centers on MacDonald's personality that I would have at least liked to know what Morris himself thought of him.
I appreciated that Morris hated Janet Malcolm's The Journalist and the Murderer as much as I did, for the exact same reasons (in fact, the exact same PASSAGE - check out my review to see). Malcolm makes a completely incoherent argument to begin with, but when she refused to read the evidence she lost all her credibility in my eyes.
This is an excellent investigation and absolutely worth your time if you already have an interest in the MacDonald case. I have no idea what my experience would have been like had I not already read Fatal Vision and The Journalist and the Murderer. It probably would have been really confusing. The Journalist and the Murderer is not worth reading, but I think Fatal Vision includes a lot of good background on the case, even though it will leave you with a biased (and possibly completely wrong) leaning toward MacDonald's guilt. Maybe at least read the Wikipedia entry on the case before delving into this one.
Finally, I agree with Morris on one point. I think I still believe Jeffrey MacDonald is guilty because the alternative is too horrible to contemplate - a man who has spent his life since February 17, 1970, when he was 26 years old, imprisoned (physically, emotionally, through public opinion) for a crime he did not commit.
This is a super quick read and a MUST if you've read in any detail about the MacDonald case. Everything you think you know about the case will be overturned. If you've read Fatal Vision, prepare to be slowly convinced that MacDonald's guilt is not nearly as certain as that book makes it seem. I started A Wilderness of Error pretty secure in my conviction that MacDonald was guilty, and while I'm still not convinced he's innocent I do think his trial was unfair and the investigation was botched from the beginning.
Wilderness of Error is nowhere near as literary and grippingly well-written as Fatal Vision, nor as eye-rollingly painful as The Journalist and the Murderer. Errol Morris thinks both books are misguided products of opportunism, laziness and sometimes just pure idiocy, and he mostly sticks to the facts. The book goes so quickly because only about half the book is Morris's actual writing; the rest is comprised of interview transcripts and direct quotes from evidentiary materials. He is for the most part presenting the evidence in its purest form and leaving the reader to decide what to think.
I say "for the most part" because Morris does introduce his own opinion. He has to - in order for the reader to understand all the confusing pieces of evidence he's pulled together from all corners of the case, he has to interpret it for us. He makes some claims that I don't find completely credible, like that Ken Mica was lying to himself and everybody else when he said that the woman he saw on the street was not Helena Stoeckley. I also think he gave undue weight to the statements of some witnesses who cast doubt on the characters of anti-MacDonald people, such as the Kassabs, while not giving any space to the people who don't like MacDonald. He says that the main problem with the MacDonald case is that the authorities decided within days that MacDonald had done it because they didn't like him, and after that no amount of evidence to the contrary could sway them. However, he prints a good amount of defamatory statements against the Kassabs and the members of the investigation team and the prosecution, without going the other way.
I understand that this may have been his intention -- he may have decided that enough had been said about MacDonald's guilt and he would look at it solely from the other side. But I still thought he wasn't being completely fair.
It was interesting that Morris avoided going into detail about MacDonald's personality and motivations in life. He only spent a few pages talking about his own conversation with MacDonald, and offered almost no commentary on it - just an excerpt from the transcript. The only discussion of MacDonald's personality revolved around other people's perceptions of it and how those colored the handling of the hard fact and evidence in the case. I thought that was a fresh and important take, but so much of the case centers on MacDonald's personality that I would have at least liked to know what Morris himself thought of him.
I appreciated that Morris hated Janet Malcolm's The Journalist and the Murderer as much as I did, for the exact same reasons (in fact, the exact same PASSAGE - check out my review to see). Malcolm makes a completely incoherent argument to begin with, but when she refused to read the evidence she lost all her credibility in my eyes.
This is an excellent investigation and absolutely worth your time if you already have an interest in the MacDonald case. I have no idea what my experience would have been like had I not already read Fatal Vision and The Journalist and the Murderer. It probably would have been really confusing. The Journalist and the Murderer is not worth reading, but I think Fatal Vision includes a lot of good background on the case, even though it will leave you with a biased (and possibly completely wrong) leaning toward MacDonald's guilt. Maybe at least read the Wikipedia entry on the case before delving into this one.
Finally, I agree with Morris on one point. I think I still believe Jeffrey MacDonald is guilty because the alternative is too horrible to contemplate - a man who has spent his life since February 17, 1970, when he was 26 years old, imprisoned (physically, emotionally, through public opinion) for a crime he did not commit.
January 14, 2016
Errol Morris gets a lifetime pass for freeing a wrongfully convicted man from Death Row in his film The Thin Blue Line, but this book feels like a bunch of potent arguments in search of their proper subject. Morris raises important issues about how, when it comes to investigations, latching onto a particular narrative early can blind us to truth, and indeed, we should be careful of swallowing the "official" version of events when it comes to capital crimes. When you finish this book, you'll be drowning in names and dates and affidavits, all presuming to exonerate Jeffrey MacDonald, almost certainly the most litigious American convict of all time, or at least muddy the waters enough to convince you that his 1979 triple-murder trial was a sham.
MacDonald's problem now, as it was then, is that his basic story -- that a marauding band of spaced-out hippies broke into his house and slaughtered his family, leaving him alive with only superficial wounds -- is preposterous. Not impossible, of course; there's just enough doubt to creep in, where the conspiracists thrive. But anyone who still maintains MacDonald's innocence has a series of gigantic hula hoops to jump through, regardless of whomever poor Helena Stoeckly confessed to, hula hoops Morris never really addresses.
Will probably have more thoughts on the MacDonald murders later.
MacDonald's problem now, as it was then, is that his basic story -- that a marauding band of spaced-out hippies broke into his house and slaughtered his family, leaving him alive with only superficial wounds -- is preposterous. Not impossible, of course; there's just enough doubt to creep in, where the conspiracists thrive. But anyone who still maintains MacDonald's innocence has a series of gigantic hula hoops to jump through, regardless of whomever poor Helena Stoeckly confessed to, hula hoops Morris never really addresses.
Will probably have more thoughts on the MacDonald murders later.
November 18, 2012
Really strangely done book - full of typos, supplemented with random drawing pages. I didn't feel like there was anything new in this and certainly my opinion on the crime/killer was not swayed.
September 7, 2013
The Innocence Project and the West Memphis Three case have taught me that there are an alarming number of people who have been convicted of heinous crimes which they did not commit, and I champion their cause of righting the wrongs that have been done to these innocent people. But… if there’s one thing I’ve been sure of for decades, since reading Fatal Vision (by Joe McGinniss) and watching the miniseries based on that book, it’s that Jeffrey MacDonald is a cold-hearted, psychopathic killer who refuses to admit, once and for all, that he’s guilty. I mean, Karl Malden wouldn’t lie to us, would he? If you can’t trust Karl Malden, who can you trust?
But what if he refused to admit his guilt because he ISN’T guilty? After all, the man could have been paroled several times over if he had admitted his guilt to the parole board, but still he maintains his innocence. Psychopath, or wrongfully convicted?
Enter Errol Morris into the fray - a well-respected documentary filmmaker and one of my favorites since The Thin Blue Line and Fog of War. He’s not an in-your-face type like Michael Moore. He quietly lays out the facts, through interviews and timelines of events while slowly building his case. His writing has the same quality, and you start doubting everything you read about the case all those years ago.
That being said, he did not convince me of MacDonald’s innocence. He talks about how the investigation was botched from the beginning, where the crime scene was not maintained, evidence was lost or corrupted. But I’m pretty sure that was all brought out in Joe McGinniss’ book.
Morris focuses heavily on Helena Stoeckley, a young woman from the Fort Bragg area who could have matched MacDonald’s description of one of the “hippies” who supposedly broke into his home and caused all the death and destruction. I’m willing to bet any number of women around her age around that time would fit a description of “blonde hair, floppy hat, and high boots.” She’s a troubled young woman who is addicted to numerous drugs. She’s brought in for questioning, and so begins the roller coaster ride of confessions and recantings from Stoeckley that will continue for years. It’s hard to take her seriously. But Morris puts a lot of stock into her confession and blames everyone involved in the case basically for not taking her seriously enough – or for taking her seriously and purposely shutting her down in some sort of conspiracy against MacDonald. One example of her credibility he cites is the fact that Stoeckley keeps coming back to the fact that the rocking horse that belonged to one of the girls was broken. How would she know it was broken, he says, unless she was there??? Well… WAS it broken?? I don’t know. That’s never actually brought out. (The fact that there was even a rocking horse in the house could have been known by anyone who read the paper, since it appeared in a photo that was published.)
He also says MacDonald didn’t do himself any favors, by acting like an arrogant prick after he was cleared by the Army of any wrongdoing (sort of) and was living as a free man before being indicted in federal court. When MacDonald appeared on the Dick Cavett Show, he came off as a smug, smooth operator, who showed no remorse over the death of his wife and children, who focused more on the wrongs that had been done to him by prosecutors than the horror that was visited upon his family. Apparently that appearance is what made Freddy Kassab, his father-in-law, see him in a different light and start thinking that he could possibly be guilty.
Also, he informs us, Freddy Kassab (who went after MacDonald with a vengeance once he was convinced of his guilt) was actually a drunken, flaming asshole, not at all like Karl Malden, who portrayed him in the miniseries. And Mildred, his wife, was no Eva Marie Saint, apparently. She couldn’t stand her daughter and thought she was a “lazy bitch.” Oooookaaaaaaaaay. Still, this has nothing to do with the guilt or innocence of MacDonald.
It does sound like the trial was mishandled and the defense not given some evidence they were entitled to and not allowed to bring out certain testimony, and if they had done things differently and just let them bring all this stuff out, there wouldn’t have been any questions left open in people’s minds, and I believe the jury would have come to the same conclusion – guilty.
(And now I have to go reread Fatal Vision, and I’ll have to reread Janet Malcolm’s book too, The Journalist and the Murderer, which discusses the ethics of journalism and the relationship, and ensuing conflict and lawsuit, between MacDonald and McGinniss. Both McGinniss and Malcolm were roundly criticized by Morris in the book. And then I’ll probably want to reread Wilderness again when I’m done with those, and it’ll just be a neverending loop! Ay, ay, ay)
But what if he refused to admit his guilt because he ISN’T guilty? After all, the man could have been paroled several times over if he had admitted his guilt to the parole board, but still he maintains his innocence. Psychopath, or wrongfully convicted?
Enter Errol Morris into the fray - a well-respected documentary filmmaker and one of my favorites since The Thin Blue Line and Fog of War. He’s not an in-your-face type like Michael Moore. He quietly lays out the facts, through interviews and timelines of events while slowly building his case. His writing has the same quality, and you start doubting everything you read about the case all those years ago.
That being said, he did not convince me of MacDonald’s innocence. He talks about how the investigation was botched from the beginning, where the crime scene was not maintained, evidence was lost or corrupted. But I’m pretty sure that was all brought out in Joe McGinniss’ book.
Morris focuses heavily on Helena Stoeckley, a young woman from the Fort Bragg area who could have matched MacDonald’s description of one of the “hippies” who supposedly broke into his home and caused all the death and destruction. I’m willing to bet any number of women around her age around that time would fit a description of “blonde hair, floppy hat, and high boots.” She’s a troubled young woman who is addicted to numerous drugs. She’s brought in for questioning, and so begins the roller coaster ride of confessions and recantings from Stoeckley that will continue for years. It’s hard to take her seriously. But Morris puts a lot of stock into her confession and blames everyone involved in the case basically for not taking her seriously enough – or for taking her seriously and purposely shutting her down in some sort of conspiracy against MacDonald. One example of her credibility he cites is the fact that Stoeckley keeps coming back to the fact that the rocking horse that belonged to one of the girls was broken. How would she know it was broken, he says, unless she was there??? Well… WAS it broken?? I don’t know. That’s never actually brought out. (The fact that there was even a rocking horse in the house could have been known by anyone who read the paper, since it appeared in a photo that was published.)
He also says MacDonald didn’t do himself any favors, by acting like an arrogant prick after he was cleared by the Army of any wrongdoing (sort of) and was living as a free man before being indicted in federal court. When MacDonald appeared on the Dick Cavett Show, he came off as a smug, smooth operator, who showed no remorse over the death of his wife and children, who focused more on the wrongs that had been done to him by prosecutors than the horror that was visited upon his family. Apparently that appearance is what made Freddy Kassab, his father-in-law, see him in a different light and start thinking that he could possibly be guilty.
Also, he informs us, Freddy Kassab (who went after MacDonald with a vengeance once he was convinced of his guilt) was actually a drunken, flaming asshole, not at all like Karl Malden, who portrayed him in the miniseries. And Mildred, his wife, was no Eva Marie Saint, apparently. She couldn’t stand her daughter and thought she was a “lazy bitch.” Oooookaaaaaaaaay. Still, this has nothing to do with the guilt or innocence of MacDonald.
It does sound like the trial was mishandled and the defense not given some evidence they were entitled to and not allowed to bring out certain testimony, and if they had done things differently and just let them bring all this stuff out, there wouldn’t have been any questions left open in people’s minds, and I believe the jury would have come to the same conclusion – guilty.
(And now I have to go reread Fatal Vision, and I’ll have to reread Janet Malcolm’s book too, The Journalist and the Murderer, which discusses the ethics of journalism and the relationship, and ensuing conflict and lawsuit, between MacDonald and McGinniss. Both McGinniss and Malcolm were roundly criticized by Morris in the book. And then I’ll probably want to reread Wilderness again when I’m done with those, and it’ll just be a neverending loop! Ay, ay, ay)
December 6, 2012
Wildly overrated. I'm working on a full review. Morris doesn't come close to refuting the basic account of the killings set out by Joe McGuinness in "Fatal Vision." McGuinness showed questionable journalistic ethics and sloppy scholarship on the side effects of diet pills, but he had incredible access to McDonald and his defense team and a lot of insight into his subject's character.
October 5, 2012
Is it possible to give less than one star??? This is rambly, gossipy, insultingly simplistic, and a really horrible book. The author is arrogant and self-absorbed. Anyway...
September 30, 2012
A Wilderness of Error: The Trials of Jeffery Macdonald by Earl Morris
New York: The Penguin Press
$29.95 - 524 pages
“He offended people that he went to Malibu and was running around in sports cars, that he wasn’t grieving appropriately. And I have seen a lot of people wh were convicted because they are jerks, not because the evidence merited it.”
I always thought he was guilty. Any doubts that I might have felt vanished after I read Joe McGinniss’ Fatal Vision. Jeffery had murdered his wife
and two daughters, stabbing and bludgeoning them to death in their apartment at Fort Bragg. I did not believe his story about the “hippies” who broke into his house at 3:30 in the morning chanting “Acid is groovy” and “Death to the Pigs.” In essence, I guess I agreed with the military police, the FBI and the Fayetteville Police Department that it sounded like an unconviencing, “copycat” version of the Manson murders some six months before. My convictions were further validated by the movie in which lovable, decent Karl Maulden pursued Jeff Macdonald like an avenging angel. (You can watch the entire movie on Youtube now!) When Macdonald was eliminated as a suspect in 1970 and moved to California where he quickly adapted a playboy life style, I, like his father-in-law was indignant. Ah, but then, 1979, the playboy doctor was arrested and returned to North Carolina where he was tried and convicted. “Good!” I said, and I have been pleased to note that he is still in prison where he undoubtedly belongs.
Well, Errol Morris says I am wrong, and he is not a man to be dismissed lightly. His documentary film, “The Thin Blue Line,” saved Randall Adams, a death-row inmate in Texas, by proving that Adams was the victim of a corrupt judicial system (1988). Morris is not a crusader, but an extremely talented film-maker with a penchant for exhaustive research. Now, almost
25 years after “The Thin Blue Line,” Morris has announced that several decades of research strongly suggest that Jeffery Macdonald is not guilty.
This is not snap judgment either. A Wilderness of Error contains patiently developed research and conclusions based on the reevaluation of hundreds of details - details that reveal an investigation and a series of trials that are riddled with incompetence, prejudice and a wilful withholding of evidence.
Throughout A Wilderness of Error, Morris frequently comments on the resemblace of the “Green Beret Murders” to the classic Japanese film, “Rashomon” in which four people gave evidence about a brutal crime, but each account bears no resemblance to the other three. In addition, this reviewer was reminded of Albert Camus’ classic novel, The Stranger, in
which Maursault, the narrator of the novel is tried for murder, found guilty
and condemned to die - not because of compelling evidence, but because
neither the jury or the legal system approved of the defendant’s lifestyle. At one point in his trial, MacDonald noted that his guilt was determined by three mistakes that he commited after his release in 1970: “I tried to be a doctor. I tried t rebuild my life. I moved away.”
Indeed, MacDonald’s “mistakes,” are the reason that his father-in-law,
Freddy Kassab launched a campaign to prove Macdonald guilty. Freddy’s pursuit of Jeffery became obsessive, and at times bordered on criminal conduct. Morris quickly discovered that Freddy Kassab bore little resemblance to the character created by Carl Mauldin in the film, “Fatal Vision.” His tireless campaign (enthusiastically supported by his wife), becomes a mission for revenge and became famous for repeatedly saying,
“If the legal system does not punish this man, then I will do it myself.” Following Macdonald’s release in 1970, Kassab wet on countless talk shows and wrote hundreds of letters to anyone and everyone who might help him put MacDonald back in prison, included senators, radio and TV personalities, and extensive network of military officers. It finally paid off.
Perhaps the greatest blow to MacDonald’s defense was Fatal Vision, the book written by Joe McGinniss. Initially designed to prove MacDonald’s innocence, the book gradually became an accusation. At first, the author was Jeffery’s staunch defender as McGinnis built a staggering file of interviews, letters and tapes - all purportedly demonstrating his “friend’s”
innocence. Morris uncovers extensive proof that McGinniss - in order to
assure the fact that not only would Fatal Vision prove to be a blockbuster
book, but would also produce a highly lucrative film contract - decided to change sides. Morris believes this McGinnis decided that a book about a murderer would be more successful than
a book about a man who had been “rail-rounded.” It was, said Jeffery, “an
act of betrayal,” and Errol Morris agrees. Fatal Vision engendered a series of law suits and counter suits regarding royalties from the book and the movie.
However, the history of legal misconduct in Jeffery MacDonald’s trials goes much deeper than I have indicated so far. Morris literally lists hundreds of instances that suggests Macdonald did not get a fair trial.
Consider the following:
The crime scene’s “integrity” was destroyed during the first few hours of investigation by the military police that moved objects and destroyed evidence such as fingerprints and footprints. MacDonald’s billfold was stolen by an ambulance driver.
The highly publicized “witness,” Helena Stoechley, the “hippie in the floppy hat” was not allowed to testify for months. Although mentally unstable and a drug addict, Helena was intimidated by the prosecution and threatened repeatedly as a murder suspect.
The presiding Judge Dupree, a well-known racist, demonstrated an obvious dislike for MacDonald and his lawyers. He repeatedly denied requests to admit testimony that would have suggested that MacDonald was innocent. He was also instrumental in refusing to admit evidence in what could be called "a whimsical manner."
Since the prosecution controlled access to “stored evidence” and repeatedly denied access to this material, the defense was never able to use the evidence effectively. A confession of murder by Helena Stoechley’s boyfriend was never admitted as evidence.
MacDonald’s apartment, which was kept sealed by the military from 1970 until 1984, destroyed all furnishings and personal effects in 1984.
A phone call, which was made to MacDonald’s apartment during the time that the murders were committed (Helena answered the phone, laughed hysterically and hung up) was later verified by caller who was trying to locate “a doctor MacDonald.” The caller, who made a series of calls in an attempt to locate a Dr. MacDonald (not Jeffery) later told of the phone being answered by a woman who laughed and then hung up. This incident proves MacDonald’s innocence.
This list goes on. Lost records. DNA evidence ignored. Witnesses who saw and heard crucial evidence (and now dead)......even a strange message painted on a wall in a drug treatment center by Randy Phillips, Helena’s boyfriend. The message read “I KILLED MACDONALD’S WIFE AND CHILDREN.” A week after the event, someone painted over the wall.
Jeffery MacDonald is now 68 years old. He has been in prison since for 33 years. DNA testing, which is currently pending could prove his innocence. The testing period is usually two to four months. The DNA samples were submitted four years ago.
New York: The Penguin Press
$29.95 - 524 pages
“He offended people that he went to Malibu and was running around in sports cars, that he wasn’t grieving appropriately. And I have seen a lot of people wh were convicted because they are jerks, not because the evidence merited it.”
I always thought he was guilty. Any doubts that I might have felt vanished after I read Joe McGinniss’ Fatal Vision. Jeffery had murdered his wife
and two daughters, stabbing and bludgeoning them to death in their apartment at Fort Bragg. I did not believe his story about the “hippies” who broke into his house at 3:30 in the morning chanting “Acid is groovy” and “Death to the Pigs.” In essence, I guess I agreed with the military police, the FBI and the Fayetteville Police Department that it sounded like an unconviencing, “copycat” version of the Manson murders some six months before. My convictions were further validated by the movie in which lovable, decent Karl Maulden pursued Jeff Macdonald like an avenging angel. (You can watch the entire movie on Youtube now!) When Macdonald was eliminated as a suspect in 1970 and moved to California where he quickly adapted a playboy life style, I, like his father-in-law was indignant. Ah, but then, 1979, the playboy doctor was arrested and returned to North Carolina where he was tried and convicted. “Good!” I said, and I have been pleased to note that he is still in prison where he undoubtedly belongs.
Well, Errol Morris says I am wrong, and he is not a man to be dismissed lightly. His documentary film, “The Thin Blue Line,” saved Randall Adams, a death-row inmate in Texas, by proving that Adams was the victim of a corrupt judicial system (1988). Morris is not a crusader, but an extremely talented film-maker with a penchant for exhaustive research. Now, almost
25 years after “The Thin Blue Line,” Morris has announced that several decades of research strongly suggest that Jeffery Macdonald is not guilty.
This is not snap judgment either. A Wilderness of Error contains patiently developed research and conclusions based on the reevaluation of hundreds of details - details that reveal an investigation and a series of trials that are riddled with incompetence, prejudice and a wilful withholding of evidence.
Throughout A Wilderness of Error, Morris frequently comments on the resemblace of the “Green Beret Murders” to the classic Japanese film, “Rashomon” in which four people gave evidence about a brutal crime, but each account bears no resemblance to the other three. In addition, this reviewer was reminded of Albert Camus’ classic novel, The Stranger, in
which Maursault, the narrator of the novel is tried for murder, found guilty
and condemned to die - not because of compelling evidence, but because
neither the jury or the legal system approved of the defendant’s lifestyle. At one point in his trial, MacDonald noted that his guilt was determined by three mistakes that he commited after his release in 1970: “I tried to be a doctor. I tried t rebuild my life. I moved away.”
Indeed, MacDonald’s “mistakes,” are the reason that his father-in-law,
Freddy Kassab launched a campaign to prove Macdonald guilty. Freddy’s pursuit of Jeffery became obsessive, and at times bordered on criminal conduct. Morris quickly discovered that Freddy Kassab bore little resemblance to the character created by Carl Mauldin in the film, “Fatal Vision.” His tireless campaign (enthusiastically supported by his wife), becomes a mission for revenge and became famous for repeatedly saying,
“If the legal system does not punish this man, then I will do it myself.” Following Macdonald’s release in 1970, Kassab wet on countless talk shows and wrote hundreds of letters to anyone and everyone who might help him put MacDonald back in prison, included senators, radio and TV personalities, and extensive network of military officers. It finally paid off.
Perhaps the greatest blow to MacDonald’s defense was Fatal Vision, the book written by Joe McGinniss. Initially designed to prove MacDonald’s innocence, the book gradually became an accusation. At first, the author was Jeffery’s staunch defender as McGinnis built a staggering file of interviews, letters and tapes - all purportedly demonstrating his “friend’s”
innocence. Morris uncovers extensive proof that McGinniss - in order to
assure the fact that not only would Fatal Vision prove to be a blockbuster
book, but would also produce a highly lucrative film contract - decided to change sides. Morris believes this McGinnis decided that a book about a murderer would be more successful than
a book about a man who had been “rail-rounded.” It was, said Jeffery, “an
act of betrayal,” and Errol Morris agrees. Fatal Vision engendered a series of law suits and counter suits regarding royalties from the book and the movie.
However, the history of legal misconduct in Jeffery MacDonald’s trials goes much deeper than I have indicated so far. Morris literally lists hundreds of instances that suggests Macdonald did not get a fair trial.
Consider the following:
The crime scene’s “integrity” was destroyed during the first few hours of investigation by the military police that moved objects and destroyed evidence such as fingerprints and footprints. MacDonald’s billfold was stolen by an ambulance driver.
The highly publicized “witness,” Helena Stoechley, the “hippie in the floppy hat” was not allowed to testify for months. Although mentally unstable and a drug addict, Helena was intimidated by the prosecution and threatened repeatedly as a murder suspect.
The presiding Judge Dupree, a well-known racist, demonstrated an obvious dislike for MacDonald and his lawyers. He repeatedly denied requests to admit testimony that would have suggested that MacDonald was innocent. He was also instrumental in refusing to admit evidence in what could be called "a whimsical manner."
Since the prosecution controlled access to “stored evidence” and repeatedly denied access to this material, the defense was never able to use the evidence effectively. A confession of murder by Helena Stoechley’s boyfriend was never admitted as evidence.
MacDonald’s apartment, which was kept sealed by the military from 1970 until 1984, destroyed all furnishings and personal effects in 1984.
A phone call, which was made to MacDonald’s apartment during the time that the murders were committed (Helena answered the phone, laughed hysterically and hung up) was later verified by caller who was trying to locate “a doctor MacDonald.” The caller, who made a series of calls in an attempt to locate a Dr. MacDonald (not Jeffery) later told of the phone being answered by a woman who laughed and then hung up. This incident proves MacDonald’s innocence.
This list goes on. Lost records. DNA evidence ignored. Witnesses who saw and heard crucial evidence (and now dead)......even a strange message painted on a wall in a drug treatment center by Randy Phillips, Helena’s boyfriend. The message read “I KILLED MACDONALD’S WIFE AND CHILDREN.” A week after the event, someone painted over the wall.
Jeffery MacDonald is now 68 years old. He has been in prison since for 33 years. DNA testing, which is currently pending could prove his innocence. The testing period is usually two to four months. The DNA samples were submitted four years ago.
February 4, 2020
Mr. Morris has indicated elsewhere that he may next work on a book about the Kennedy assassination, which would seem to align nicely with his trajectory here. A Wilderness of Error proceeds at a steady pace towards inevitable disintegration along conspiratorial lines - there is even a "grassy knoll" somewhere in Fayetteville upon which some potentially "murderous hippies" were once seen by an eyewitness never interviewed by the authorities. This case has plenty of loose ends, and fibers, for Mr. Morris to tie together. Indeed, one of the most compelling pieces in support of MacDonald's version of events is the unexplained saran fibers found at the scene, which could have come from a wig. Nonetheless, those looking for a repeat of Morris's command performance in The Thin Blue Line will be sorely disappointed. In essence, Mr. Morris presents a sterling brief for the defense, but in fact largely ignores the biggest hole in his case - Jeffrey MacDonald himself. The disparity in the injuries between MacDonald and his family, not to mention the implausibility of MacDonald's version of events, is what ultimately condemned him. A pajama top used as a shield to fend off an ice pick attack is no more plausible today than it was in 1970. If you are looking for a balanced and thoughtful weighing of all the evidence in this case, I would not recommend this book. If you are interested in a picking apart of inconsistencies in the evidence or initial trial, including a thorough trashing of the author Joe McGinniss, and also the MacDonald in-laws, Freddy and Mildred Kassab, then you might enjoy this book. Also, if you are interested in why we have trials in the first place, especially with juries as opposed to just the single mind of someone like Mr. Morris deciding cases, than you might also consider this as backhanded primer in civics. As noted, the disintegration of narrative here is plain to see, at least to everyone aside from Mr. Morris, who says during one lighthearted exchange on page 285: "There is something wrong with me. You have no idea." A joke of course, but I find it telling nonetheless. Perhaps what's wrong with Mr. Morris is his single-minded obsession with his own favorite narrative of choice - institutional failure - such that he ignores the plain truth, which is that most of the time institutions work, and it's a good thing we have them.
September 26, 2012
I saw this referred to as "an epistomological crime story", which is a pretty accurate description. Film maker Errol Morris investigated the trial and conviction of Jeffrey MacDonald, a Greeen Beret accused of murdering his wife and children, and attempting to cover it up with a cockamamie story about crazed hippies. What Morris discovered was that the crime scene was ruined by incompetent investigators, evidence was ignored or destroyed, and a woman who repeatedly confessed to being part of the crime was never considered a suspect.
Can we ever know what happened? Morris waded through reams of court documents , and interviewed dozens of participants in the case to find answers. Whether or not you believe in MacDonald's innocence, it 's certain that he didn't get a fair trial. Morris holds particular scorn for Joe McGinnis, the author of "Fatal Vision", who gained MacDonalds' confidence then betrayed him by writing a factually bereft book imlpicating MacDonald's guilt.
How do we know what we know? How do we arrive at conclusions? Great book.
It's also a graphically interesting book. Every 4-5 pages is a black page with a clean white drawing of a piece of evidence from the case (hat, typewriter, rocking horse). It almost felt like watching an Errol Morris film.
Can we ever know what happened? Morris waded through reams of court documents , and interviewed dozens of participants in the case to find answers. Whether or not you believe in MacDonald's innocence, it 's certain that he didn't get a fair trial. Morris holds particular scorn for Joe McGinnis, the author of "Fatal Vision", who gained MacDonalds' confidence then betrayed him by writing a factually bereft book imlpicating MacDonald's guilt.
How do we know what we know? How do we arrive at conclusions? Great book.
It's also a graphically interesting book. Every 4-5 pages is a black page with a clean white drawing of a piece of evidence from the case (hat, typewriter, rocking horse). It almost felt like watching an Errol Morris film.
March 2, 2013
Errol Morris second major literary endeavor does more than build a case for the reversal of Dr. McDonald's conviction for his family's murder: It is a rumination on the misuse of evidence and the obsessive nature of finding the truth within a virtually limitless mountain of data. More impressively, it offers close to an entire history of the case, including its long life as a media obsession, to which, of course, this volume contributes. While McDonald's lack of culpability isn't completely established, IMHO, he does, around page 300, lay out a damaging case of prosecutorial misconduct in the suppression of exculpatory evidence. His take on Joe McGuiness is quite damning, even if his opinion of that author's major nemesis, Janet Malcolm, is also less than flattering. The book' design is amazing, laying out diagrams, raw evidence, and large interview fragments juxtaposed against the author's commentary and analysis. In the end, it reveals more about the mindset of the author, and those who have followed the case, to a somewhat discomforting degree, but that is Morris' art.
February 2, 2015
Jeffery McDonald was convicting of killing his wife and family back in 1970. Whether he is guilty or innocent, one thing is clear after reading this book. The government covered up critical evidence that might have affected the outcome of the trial. The author points out, step-by-step, how the government were so convinced McDonald was guilty, they did not want any evidence presented that would have made it more difficult for the jurors to convict him. What a bad way to influence our justice system. Very eye-opening.
January 18, 2013
Errol Morris’s A WILDERNESS OF ERROR is an exhaustive look at the Jeffrey MacDonald murder case, which remains steeped in controversy after over 40 years. In August of 1979, doctor and Green Beret Captain Jeffrey MacDonald was convicted of murdering his pregnant wife and two young daughters (the murders happened in 1970). I’ve been interested in MacDonald since I first heard about the murders. The case is fascinating . . . and infuriating. MacDonald claims a group of drugged-out hippies murdered his family, Manson-style – he described one of the intruders as a woman with long blond hair wearing a floppy hat and boots. No evidence of intruders was found at the scene. Oddly, a woman very much like the one MacDonald described DID confess to being involved in the crime (multiple times and to multiple people), but the prosecutors refused to take her seriously (she was a drug addict, after all, and thus “untrustworthy”). But where does the truth lie? Is MacDonald guilty of this horrible crime, or has he been unfairly imprisoned for thirty-three years for a crime he did not commit?
I’ve read many, many books and articles about the MacDonald case, including Joe McGinnis’s FATAL VISION (which finds him guilty) and Jerry Allen Potter’s FATAL JUSTICE (which argues for his innocence). Both books are flawed; neither presents an overwhelmingly convincing case, and both McGinnis and Potter manipulate evidence in support of their theses. Errol Morris’s A WILDERNESS OF ERROR may be the best overall examination of the MacDonald case ever written. Morris argues neither that MacDonald is guilty nor innocent, but rather presents a devastating portrait of a corrupt justice system that unfairly convicted a man who might – and the word “might” is important – be innocent.
Morris’s thesis is that MacDonald was convicted because of a story, a story that worked to define him as a cold-blooded psychopath (in spite of multiple psychiatrists coming to the opposite conclusion) who “snapped” one night (for no apparent reason) and brutally slaughtered his family (without any prior history of violence or anti-social behavior of any kind). Once the military police, and later the prosecutors, bought into that story, nothing else mattered. MacDonald was guilty, and anyone suggesting the opposite was either lying or “unreliable.”
As Morris makes clear in this book, the original crime scene was appallingly botched, with evidence lost, damaged, or destroyed. Evidence that could have helped MacDonald’s defense team was kept from them for years, some until long after the guilty verdict. Witnesses were precluded from testifying. And too many people were acting out of a thirst for vengeance rather than a real determination to find the truth in what happened to MacDonald’s family. MacDonald had pissed off his in-laws and angered both the military (who presided over the first hearing back in 1970) and the prosecutors (who brought the case before a Grand Jury five years later). They didn’t like MacDonald. He was arrogant. He didn’t behave the way they all thought a grieving husband should. He had cheated on his wife. He bought a yacht. He was a jerk. He must be guilty.
I found Morris’s book to be a fascinating read. It’s full of detailed interviews with people involved in the case, snippets of trial transcripts, letters, journals, and other information, some of which I had never heard before. I didn’t come away from it believing MacDonald was innocent, but I did come away believing absolutely that he did not get a fair trial. Guilty or innocent, everyone in this country deserves a fair trial. Even if you believe MacDonald is indeed guilty, this book will shed light on the real flaws in a justice system that is more concerned with winning a case than it is with finding the truth.
This isn’t a perfect book. I was particularly bothered by the fact that Morris completely ignores MacDonald’s testimony during his trial in 1979, testimony that certainly hurt his chances with the jury (he was both angry and argumentative on the stand). He also spends a bit too much time on Helena Stoeckley, the drugged-out hippie who confessed to having been in MacDonald’s apartment the night of the murders. Stoeckley may or may not have had anything to do with this case (she died in 1983, so it’s doubtful we’ll ever know for sure), but her role in the case isn’t as compelling as the overall miscarriage of justice perpetrated by the prosecution. I grew weary of interviews about Stoeckley. It felt like overkill.
Additionally, there is only one very brief interview with Jeffrey MacDonald himself. I wonder why Morris didn’t spend more time with the one person who certainly knows what happened that night – whether he did the deeds himself or witnessed others doing them, he knows. It was frustrating not getting more from MacDonald himself.
Finally, there are way too many weird full-page graphics (a black page with a white telephone, another black page with a sandwich, another with two ants). I would guess that there are 30-40 such pages (maybe more). The pages are odd and unnecessary, and they significantly add to the size of the book.
Whatever its flaws, A WILDERNESS OF ERROR is an excellent examination of what remains a confounding mystery. I finished it in two sittings. I recommend it highly to anyone interested in this case. Be forewarned – this is a dense and fact-laden book, with little of the plot and melodrama found in “true crime” works like FATAL VISION. Morris assumes his readers have a basic knowledge of the case. And he is focused far more on detail than on story. That said, this is a compelling and revealing book. It will definitely make you think.
I’ve read many, many books and articles about the MacDonald case, including Joe McGinnis’s FATAL VISION (which finds him guilty) and Jerry Allen Potter’s FATAL JUSTICE (which argues for his innocence). Both books are flawed; neither presents an overwhelmingly convincing case, and both McGinnis and Potter manipulate evidence in support of their theses. Errol Morris’s A WILDERNESS OF ERROR may be the best overall examination of the MacDonald case ever written. Morris argues neither that MacDonald is guilty nor innocent, but rather presents a devastating portrait of a corrupt justice system that unfairly convicted a man who might – and the word “might” is important – be innocent.
Morris’s thesis is that MacDonald was convicted because of a story, a story that worked to define him as a cold-blooded psychopath (in spite of multiple psychiatrists coming to the opposite conclusion) who “snapped” one night (for no apparent reason) and brutally slaughtered his family (without any prior history of violence or anti-social behavior of any kind). Once the military police, and later the prosecutors, bought into that story, nothing else mattered. MacDonald was guilty, and anyone suggesting the opposite was either lying or “unreliable.”
As Morris makes clear in this book, the original crime scene was appallingly botched, with evidence lost, damaged, or destroyed. Evidence that could have helped MacDonald’s defense team was kept from them for years, some until long after the guilty verdict. Witnesses were precluded from testifying. And too many people were acting out of a thirst for vengeance rather than a real determination to find the truth in what happened to MacDonald’s family. MacDonald had pissed off his in-laws and angered both the military (who presided over the first hearing back in 1970) and the prosecutors (who brought the case before a Grand Jury five years later). They didn’t like MacDonald. He was arrogant. He didn’t behave the way they all thought a grieving husband should. He had cheated on his wife. He bought a yacht. He was a jerk. He must be guilty.
I found Morris’s book to be a fascinating read. It’s full of detailed interviews with people involved in the case, snippets of trial transcripts, letters, journals, and other information, some of which I had never heard before. I didn’t come away from it believing MacDonald was innocent, but I did come away believing absolutely that he did not get a fair trial. Guilty or innocent, everyone in this country deserves a fair trial. Even if you believe MacDonald is indeed guilty, this book will shed light on the real flaws in a justice system that is more concerned with winning a case than it is with finding the truth.
This isn’t a perfect book. I was particularly bothered by the fact that Morris completely ignores MacDonald’s testimony during his trial in 1979, testimony that certainly hurt his chances with the jury (he was both angry and argumentative on the stand). He also spends a bit too much time on Helena Stoeckley, the drugged-out hippie who confessed to having been in MacDonald’s apartment the night of the murders. Stoeckley may or may not have had anything to do with this case (she died in 1983, so it’s doubtful we’ll ever know for sure), but her role in the case isn’t as compelling as the overall miscarriage of justice perpetrated by the prosecution. I grew weary of interviews about Stoeckley. It felt like overkill.
Additionally, there is only one very brief interview with Jeffrey MacDonald himself. I wonder why Morris didn’t spend more time with the one person who certainly knows what happened that night – whether he did the deeds himself or witnessed others doing them, he knows. It was frustrating not getting more from MacDonald himself.
Finally, there are way too many weird full-page graphics (a black page with a white telephone, another black page with a sandwich, another with two ants). I would guess that there are 30-40 such pages (maybe more). The pages are odd and unnecessary, and they significantly add to the size of the book.
Whatever its flaws, A WILDERNESS OF ERROR is an excellent examination of what remains a confounding mystery. I finished it in two sittings. I recommend it highly to anyone interested in this case. Be forewarned – this is a dense and fact-laden book, with little of the plot and melodrama found in “true crime” works like FATAL VISION. Morris assumes his readers have a basic knowledge of the case. And he is focused far more on detail than on story. That said, this is a compelling and revealing book. It will definitely make you think.
December 21, 2012
From the time I heard this book was about to be published, I could hardly wait to get my hands on it and see what this supposed, shocking new evidence was that would clear the good Dr. MacDonald. Dr. MacDonald is in prison for the shocking crimes of murdering his pregnant wife and their two young daughters. Though it took most of a decade for Dr. MacDonald to be brought to justice, he still continues to assert that he is an innocent man from behind prison walls. Mr. Morris' book is a thorough, though one would argue biased, examination of some of the facts of the MacDonald murders and covers certain aspects in excruciating detail. For example, he goes on for three chapters (!!) about the coffee table, at which point a reader becomes weary of the back and forth nature of the discussion and surrenders the table. Point made. If you're unfamiliar with the case, I would encourage you to research it on your own first before reading this book, as Mr. Morris' book is heavy on opinion and a featherweight on actual proven facts. Certain parts of the book convey a sort of desperation on Mr. Morris' part to convince readers of Dr. MacDonald's innocence, as he goes on and on at length about one aspect of the case that has not been adequately resolved. He spends less time talking about the forensics of the case and completely disregards certain well-known facts that have pointed the finger of guilt towards Dr. MacDonald. By the end of the book, I felt more certain that Dr. MacDonald is in fact the guilty party and not some questionable third-party, though your opinion may vary. Overall an interesting read and a refresher on the MacDonald case, though as I have mentioned, Mr. Morris does seem biased.
November 18, 2018
This was a hard read for me. Mostly because, most of the "facts" that Mr. Morris promises to bring to light, are pure conjecture and reworded/repetitive declarations from previous chapters to fit into the scope of the current chapter.
EX: Mr. Morris puts entirely too much time and effort into trying to present HS as a credible, reliable witness. She was neither of those things.
I am in the "guilty" camp and whole heartedly dove into this book looking for any proof or even a hint of proof that may sway me to the "innocent" camp. This book did not do that.
To put my opinions into perspective, I have studied this case since 1984. My degree was awarded for the thesis I wrote about this case. I know the details, the legalities, the ongoing claims of the defense, etc.
For those that are "fans" of the case, I guess it is a good read for your curiosity...but I promise you there is little fact or "breaking news" in it.
EX: Mr. Morris puts entirely too much time and effort into trying to present HS as a credible, reliable witness. She was neither of those things.
I am in the "guilty" camp and whole heartedly dove into this book looking for any proof or even a hint of proof that may sway me to the "innocent" camp. This book did not do that.
To put my opinions into perspective, I have studied this case since 1984. My degree was awarded for the thesis I wrote about this case. I know the details, the legalities, the ongoing claims of the defense, etc.
For those that are "fans" of the case, I guess it is a good read for your curiosity...but I promise you there is little fact or "breaking news" in it.
September 8, 2012
Errol Morris rules. The end.
I didn't reach exactly the same conclusion about this clusterfuck of a case as he did, but his approach to perception/conviction/truth was exactly what the story needed.
Now completely hooked, I will have to follow MacDonald's never-ending appeals, including his Sept. 17 hearing at the Fourth Circuit.
This review nails it: "Like criminal investigation more generally, the book serves as a high-stakes testing ground for the ability to keep absorbing facts and holding off the onrush of opinion, the ability to fend off the psychological weaknesses and creeping biases that beset us all."
http://www.theawl.com/2012/09/the-mur...
I didn't reach exactly the same conclusion about this clusterfuck of a case as he did, but his approach to perception/conviction/truth was exactly what the story needed.
Now completely hooked, I will have to follow MacDonald's never-ending appeals, including his Sept. 17 hearing at the Fourth Circuit.
This review nails it: "Like criminal investigation more generally, the book serves as a high-stakes testing ground for the ability to keep absorbing facts and holding off the onrush of opinion, the ability to fend off the psychological weaknesses and creeping biases that beset us all."
http://www.theawl.com/2012/09/the-mur...
December 26, 2014
Captivating.
June 22, 2024
I have followed this case now for more years than I ought to mention and I've always thought Jeffrey MacDonald was guilty. I recently watched the Netflix version of this book then went online and purchased it. Always happy to be open to the "other side" of things, I came away thinking that it doesn't seem as though Errol Morris is himself convinced MacDonald is innocent, just that it wasn't proved....well, I have to point out here that it was clearly proved sufficiently for him to be convicted !! And, to be honest, why would anyone else kill his family ? I imagine he was tired of family life and fancied himself a bit of a playboy and they were holding him back. Before he was arrested and tried, he'd been living it large after all. I recall the Dick Cavett show interview, too, where he was laughing and jovial with not a care in the world.....that did it for me. He came across as a smug shithead, I'm afraid.
Something that was always so fascinating to me, too, was the blood groupings being different on all four members of the family, which, even in 1970, pre-DNA, told a story in itself. I read Fatal Vision (and watched it) way back in the 80s and I don't think McGinniss had it very wrong. OK, he skated on thin ice regarding his relationship with MacDonald but them's the breaks, I guess. But in reality, as records stand, the 'essential integrity' for me held firm. History will always tell us Jeffrey MacDonald is a killer. So did McGinniss. Simples.
Here and there I felt certain things related herein sided with MacDonald-the candle wax drippings for starters, plus I always believed the coffee table wouldn't go right over if kicked. I'll give him that but it's extremely flimsy. Helena Stoeckley was a perfect scapegoat...I reckon MacDonald knew OF her and her druggie buddies, and let's face it, she was a total, attention-seeking flake. I think she thrived on the notoriety myself. I didn't really grasp why Rouder's evidence about her was allowed in but no other witnesses' versions. Seemed a strange decision to me. It wasn't ever referred to or explained properly to my satisfaction. The tale of the red-painted confession really didn't need a mention, either-sounded absolute cobblers to me !! I WOULD have liked an explanation as to why Christina Masewicz changed her opinion on MacDonald's guilt, though. It was only skated over in passing, which was a pity.
I was more than a little shocked that even in the printed word (as opposed to digital versions of books always replete with errors) that there were mistakes here. Ambulance isn't spelt ambulence, even in the good old US of A and at one point he referred to an affidavit made by Stoeckley in August 1970 when it was August 1979.
Morris tells us, (perfectly disingenuously) in conclusion, "...it may be impossible to prove Jeffrey MacDonald's guilt." Well, Mr Morris, by dint of the fact he still resides in a Federal Correction Institution, I would beg to differ.
Something that was always so fascinating to me, too, was the blood groupings being different on all four members of the family, which, even in 1970, pre-DNA, told a story in itself. I read Fatal Vision (and watched it) way back in the 80s and I don't think McGinniss had it very wrong. OK, he skated on thin ice regarding his relationship with MacDonald but them's the breaks, I guess. But in reality, as records stand, the 'essential integrity' for me held firm. History will always tell us Jeffrey MacDonald is a killer. So did McGinniss. Simples.
Here and there I felt certain things related herein sided with MacDonald-the candle wax drippings for starters, plus I always believed the coffee table wouldn't go right over if kicked. I'll give him that but it's extremely flimsy. Helena Stoeckley was a perfect scapegoat...I reckon MacDonald knew OF her and her druggie buddies, and let's face it, she was a total, attention-seeking flake. I think she thrived on the notoriety myself. I didn't really grasp why Rouder's evidence about her was allowed in but no other witnesses' versions. Seemed a strange decision to me. It wasn't ever referred to or explained properly to my satisfaction. The tale of the red-painted confession really didn't need a mention, either-sounded absolute cobblers to me !! I WOULD have liked an explanation as to why Christina Masewicz changed her opinion on MacDonald's guilt, though. It was only skated over in passing, which was a pity.
I was more than a little shocked that even in the printed word (as opposed to digital versions of books always replete with errors) that there were mistakes here. Ambulance isn't spelt ambulence, even in the good old US of A and at one point he referred to an affidavit made by Stoeckley in August 1970 when it was August 1979.
Morris tells us, (perfectly disingenuously) in conclusion, "...it may be impossible to prove Jeffrey MacDonald's guilt." Well, Mr Morris, by dint of the fact he still resides in a Federal Correction Institution, I would beg to differ.
October 27, 2020
Interesting but confusing and hard to follow, where fascination and genuine interest to see what new evidence let me listening.
October 9, 2020
I still have no idea if MacDonald did it.
July 3, 2017
Unlike Fatal Vision, this book was not gloriously well-written. It reads as staccato, almost indignant. Maybe that's the goal, since the author obviously does feel angered by the MacDonald case and its outcome in particular. What it lacks in literary quality it makes up for in quality of research. Where Fatal Vision was a blockbuster movie "based on a true story," A Wilderness of Error is a PBS documentary. It's never going to have as much emphasis on cinematography, but you can learn a lot more from it. And the two must be compared, because Morris is setting out to provide a counterargument to the ideas McGinness provided.
Morris writes much later than McGinness. He is not shy about talking about the lawsuit MacDonald brought against McGinness - which MacDonald won - nor the fact that Colette's parents went after him for that money. Morris also interviews people that were only contacted by the defense years later, and weren't called. Some people were not available to interview because they had died by the first decade of the 21st century. Again, we're now talking about a case that was over thirty years old by the time of the writing. Some actually passed on during the course of the research.
One thing's for sure: Even the lightest of true crime fans is going to be outraged by the forensics in this case, as well as the dismissal of the Innocence Project's appeal. Over and over, it becomes apparent that the primary reason MacDonald is still in prison is that the people involved in the appeals have their minds closed.
There is a lot more examination of the forensics. There is a lot of frustration on Morris's part, and the parts of others who really just want to be left alone. And Morris has the same problem I had with McGinniss's speed rage murder theory, which is both nice to have the validation and infuriating that it's become the operating theory of the case.
Not as well-written, but definitely thorough and validating. Four of five stars, and I would give it an extra half if I could!
Morris writes much later than McGinness. He is not shy about talking about the lawsuit MacDonald brought against McGinness - which MacDonald won - nor the fact that Colette's parents went after him for that money. Morris also interviews people that were only contacted by the defense years later, and weren't called. Some people were not available to interview because they had died by the first decade of the 21st century. Again, we're now talking about a case that was over thirty years old by the time of the writing. Some actually passed on during the course of the research.
One thing's for sure: Even the lightest of true crime fans is going to be outraged by the forensics in this case, as well as the dismissal of the Innocence Project's appeal. Over and over, it becomes apparent that the primary reason MacDonald is still in prison is that the people involved in the appeals have their minds closed.
There is a lot more examination of the forensics. There is a lot of frustration on Morris's part, and the parts of others who really just want to be left alone. And Morris has the same problem I had with McGinniss's speed rage murder theory, which is both nice to have the validation and infuriating that it's become the operating theory of the case.
Not as well-written, but definitely thorough and validating. Four of five stars, and I would give it an extra half if I could!
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