I’ve lost more nights than I’d like to admit on Netflix, binging on Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy documentaries, and my bookshelf is a graveyard of true crime titles. It’s a little embarrassing how easily I get sucked into these stories about the worst of humanity. But let’s face it—most of the time, these narratives are more about glorifying the monsters than remembering the people they destroyed.
Enter Sarah Gerard’s Carrie Carolyn Coco: My Friend, Her Murder, and an Obsession with the Unthinkable. This isn’t just another addition to your macabre collection—it’s a much-needed gut punch to anyone who’s ever been too caught up in the gory details to care about the real people involved.
Gerard turns her razor-sharp wit and unflinching honesty toward a deeply personal tragedy. Carolyn Bush, her friend, was a poet with a wicked sense of humor who was murdered by her roommate, Render Stetson-Shanahan, in 2016. It’s a story that could have easily become just another grim headline, but Gerard isn’t here for cheap thrills.
Instead, she takes us deep into Carolyn’s life, showing us who she was before the horror-struck. Gerard isn’t interested in the shock factor—she’s more concerned with the why and the how, digging into the messy, complicated reality of mental health struggles, broken systems, and societal pressures that all played a part in this tragedy.
One of the things I love (and kind of hate, because it’s too real) is how Gerard doesn’t let us off the hook. She forces us to face the uncomfortable truth that true crime often glosses over: these are real people, not just characters in a twisted narrative. Carolyn isn’t just another victim; she’s a person with a full, vibrant life that Gerard brings into sharp focus. It’s a haunting reminder that our obsession with the dark side of humanity often comes at the expense of those who deserve to be remembered for more than their tragic end.
And, of course, Gerard doesn’t shy away from critiquing the justice system, because why not add another layer of discomfort? She peels back the curtain on how cases like Carolyn’s are mishandled, exposing the cracks in a system that’s supposed to protect people but often does the opposite.
Carrie Carolyn Coco isn’t just another true crime book—it’s a challenge. A challenge to stop and think about what we’re really consuming when we dive into these stories. It’s a bit like holding up a mirror to our own morbid curiosity, and trust me, the reflection isn’t pretty.
So, if you’re looking for a read that’s equal parts heart-wrenching and thought-provoking, this is it. But fair warning: it’s not going to let you walk away feeling satisfied in that “I just solved a mystery” kind of way. Gerard’s writing is too sharp, too real for that. Instead, you’ll be left questioning why you ever got sucked into true crime in the first place—and maybe that’s exactly what we all need.
You can grab a copy of Carrie Carolyn Coco on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Bookshop.org. And hey, if you’re anything like me, you’ll probably end up reading it in one sitting, fueled by dark intrigue and a questionable amount of coffee.