Kerrie Droban's Blog, page 9

DOING TIME FOR THE CRIME: INTERVIEW WITH KERRIE DROBAN

How do you find the time to write true crime and practice law?

 

Writing true crime and practicing law share a lot of similarities; both require honing a craft, taking a set of fixed facts and characters and giving them shape and context in a way that's compelling and persuasive. One career informs the other although someday soon I'd like to join the ranks of those writers who consider themselves former lawyers! I've been very blessed to have two amazing careers. While criminal law has opened many doors for me as a true crime writer it has also shut opportunities. It's hard to straddle both worlds. I'm not an investigative reporter and so I have no journalist's "shield" around me; I have to be mindful of the dos and don'ts of fact-gathering and interviewing witnesses from an attorney's point of view. I have to worry about potential conflicts of interest. Everyday I'm given fascinating cases to litigate but I can't write about them! I can't interview people on death row, for instance, who are represented by counsel and who are not my clients.

I practice law still because I need to pay my bills, finance my research and investigation for my true crime, pay for the transcripts and the court watching time. There's a myth that 'true writers' should be writing for hours on end in noisy cafes. The reality is I steal time in between cases to work on my books. Some days I write a sentence, others I write a page. I don't disappear into cafes. I don't have long stretches of time where I'm left alone to compose in silence. I write surrounded by white noise. I write at 4:00 o'clock in the morning and when I'm dead tired. I write because it's who I am. No one is going to make it easy for me. There are no "overnight sensations". I've been writing since I was 7 years old. It's taken over twenty years to hone my craft, to find my "Voice." 

 

 

You've said, "everyone has a story, not everyone has a voice." Explain.

 

In order to nurture your dream of writing you need to keep writing, no matter what the venue. I parlayed my law career into writing by researching and writing appellate briefs and post-conviction cases. I found a way to remain inspired by the art of communication. It's not just the "Story" that compels but the way the story is told, it's the author's voice.

My roots are in poetry, dark narrative pieces that captured imagery and mood. Rythmn was as important as the words. I discovered my "language of butchers" and it had staccato and percussion and a heartbeat. That sound became my voice. I saw a lot of violence growing up and I found a way to write about it that made it real. I wanted readers to feel it not just read it. The trick with true crime is to be thorough and accurate but not so graphic as to repel readers. I've been told "true crime is an unpopular genre" because people, especially now, don't want to read about death and mayhem "for fun." But I reject that; I believe in my books, in the messages they have to convey.

 

 How do you decide which stories make great books?

 

Publishing is a marketplace-driven industry. Publishers scrutinize the commercial value of a story. Even if you have a remarkable "voice" you have to prepare for rejection.  I'm reminded of that wonderful line in Robin Hood, "rise and rise again until lambs become lions." You have to ask yourself if you're tough enough to withstand public opinion, ridicule, humiliation and triumph, a tough pill to swallow but the rewards are tremendous. All validate you as a "real writer". Tenacity transforms you into a "professional." It's easy to give up, to blame others for your failures; it takes real courage to rise above the fray and believe in the message you're communicating.

 

Your writing is so graphic you've actually been accused of making things up, or, to quote an earlier poem of yours, "On Borrowing Details."

 

I attended The Johns Hopkins University Writing Seminars and wrote a collection of poems called "The Language of Butchers." Included in that collection was a poem entitled "On Borrowing Details." I had a colleague once in a critique class challenge my work, crumple up my submission and accuse me in front of the class of being inauthentic. He told me to write about my own life, to stop "borrowing details" about Africa (a continent I had lived in for 17 years). Following that class, I had an epiphany and realized for the first time how powerful words could be; that "graphic and visceral" was my "Voice".  If I had evoked such anger and disbelief in my colleague I wondered whether I could also inspire something else? Writing invites reaction and criticism. Writing about the truth hopefully invites action too.

 

How did you choose to write about motorcycle gangs?

 

I didn't.  The books chose me and I actually don't only write about motorcycle gangs, although I find the subculture compelling.  I've been extremely fortunate in my true crime writing career to be approached by individuals whose stories fascinate and inspire me. I'm motivated by certain themes, redemption (Prodigal Father Pagan Son), ordinary people who do extraordinary things (Running with the Devil, Prodigal Father Pagan Son), and the truly macabre (A Socialite Scorned: The Murder of a Tucson High-Roller). The pathology of the criminal mind is a subject that fascinates me. As a lawyer I handle death penalty cases, convicts' whose crimes strain the imagination and I struggle to understand the Why behind their horrific crimes. Understanding eradicates fear; without fear there are no roadblocks to change.

 

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

 

Don't give up on your dream and be prepared to make sacrifices and to compromise. Dare to make a living as a writer. There are going to be lean times and hard times but in the end, great times. Most people don't know this about me, but I spent the first ten years of my "writing career" extremely poor. I lived in a trailer in a crime-infested part of town and heard bullet spray at night. I had no money for food and lived on bags of popcorn from a vendor whose kindness I will never forget. Later, I survived on bagels and potatoes.  But I always believed in myself.  I considered my situation temporary—I was blessed with smarts and good looks and talent and I knew the only constant was change. I took any job I could that involved writing and some that didn't (I once washed dishes in a cafeteria). There was no nobility in poverty. I never identified myself with the "job" I had; I considered myself a writer. Sometimes I was lucky enough to copyedit other people's writing, teach writing and even freelance. I became a lawyer because I couldn't stand poverty any longer. But the experience of being poor and worrying about starving gave me compassion, helped me identify with others who struggled, gave me a platform, gave me a venue to effect change.  As a lawyer I chose appellate work (more writing) and post-conviction litigation (more research and writing) and the two careers married each other.

To "make it" as a writer, you need to write and keep writing. Don't give up your day job until you can support yourself as a writer. Most of all be humble. No writer gets where she is without help, whether through an agent, an editor, a network of friends, a parent who offers shelter and food. Remember you're only as good as your last book. You need to eat while you're looking for that next story, or writing and re-writing.

 

One of the greatest moments as a writer was walking into Barnes & Noble and seeing my book featured prominently on the new Non-fiction releases! Sometimes just for fun I go to the bookstore and stare at the shelf that contains my book. Recently, my book sat next to Ann Rule's in the True Crime section. That was a thrill! So, is it worth the poverty, sacrifice and hard hard work? Damn right it is!

PRICELESS INTEGRITY

Last week I stood in line to purchase my obligatory Starbucks coffee only to discover when I went to order and pay that some nice gentleman had already bought me my breakfast.  The cashier smiled and handed me his business card: www.thegivingprinciple.com.  Startled by the gesture, I turned to thank the man but he only waved, smiled and shut his car door. His act was so unexpected, so uncharacteristic of the attitudes I've encountered during this treacherous spiraling economy, that naturally I suspected an ulterior motive. But when I went to the website, it simply said "We don't want or need your funds. Give elsewhere."  Wow, what a concept. Give without entitlement or expectation. Raw, simple, kindness.

The next morning I tested the principle and returned the favor to another unsuspecting, suspicious soul. The woman whose coffee I purchased looked perplexed and hesitant. She even sniffed the coffee cup to make certain its contents had not been compromised. This is the world we live in. Selflessness is a rare commodity. Integrity is priceless.

Lord of the Flies revisited

William Golding's classic tale about a group of English schoolboys who are plane-wrecked on a deserted island is just as chilling and relevant today as when it was first published in 1954. At first, the stranded boys cooperate, attempting to gather food, make shelters, and maintain signal fires. Overseeing their efforts are Ralph, "the boy with fair hair," and Piggy, Ralph's chubby, wisdom-dispensing sidekick whose thick spectacles come in handy for lighting fires. Although Ralph tries to impose order and delegate responsibility, there are many in their number who would rather swim, play, or hunt the island's wild pig population. Soon Ralph's rules are being ignored or challenged outright. His fiercest antagonist is Jack, the redheaded leader of the pig hunters, who manages to lure away many of the boys to join his band of painted savages. The situation deteriorates as the trappings of civilization continue to fall away, until Ralph discovers that instead of being hunters, he and Piggy have become the hunted: "He forgot his words, his hunger and thirst, and became fear; hopeless fear on flying feet." Golding's gripping novel explores the boundary between human reason and animal instinct, all on the brutal playing field of adolescent competition.

What does school really teach our children? I struggle with this issue daily as I send my boys off to school only to retrieve them hours later and listen to their tales of grief, bullying, and abuse. Not exactly the value system I envisioned for my children. But it was clearly Golding's vision in Lord of the Flies. My son, like Piggy, has "become fear"; he endures a special kind of hell in his classroom and on the playground. He is told he has a "voice" but when he speaks no one listens. The pig hunters operate in full force as they lure away the popular boys to join their "band of painted savages." When my son is brutalized no one rescues him. No one sees him. No one cares. Recently, when he reported some punk in his class slammed his head into a wall, the principal did nothing. Meanwhile, my son convulsed into seizures. When my son advised a week later that this same creep tried to choke him with a string, no one took action. The bully was not suspended, reprimanded or even expelled. The school did not even summon the police.

Lord of the Flies is another term for the Devil. The island depicted in Golding's book is my child's classroom and sadly he is not alone. Unfortunately, we only hear about the tragedies, the children like Asher Brown who commit suicide because they have no advocates on that island. Brown was bullied to death. His school staff destroyed videos and other evidence of brutality. Brown's father who, like me, spoke with staff about his concerns, whose son, like mine, made written and oral complaints, received no relief. Brown's father followed protocol. He believed, like I did, that there was a "system", that responsible adults would be horrified at the news that a bully roamed among them. But what we both learned is that there is no "system", no "rules of engagement". No one made Brown safe. No one has made my child safe. Brown's perpetrator was "punished" by being forced to miss one football game! My son's bully continues to harass, threaten and assault my son in plain view with no repercussions.

Visit www.maskmatters.org to learn more.

Do you have a personal story?

THE DEADLY TRUTH

At times we all wish the truth was fiction. It might be more palatable. After all, imagination is a kind of frontier without borders or restrictions; with true evil, at least we hope there is definition, limit and some moral barometer. And if there isn't . . . we search for explanation, excuse, and even justification.  And if we don't find any . . . then we look for motivation, for clues in a person's childhood, for that toxic cocktail that transformed them into a monster, for brutal figures who influenced them, used them, abused them and ultimately erased what made them human.  And if we don't find those factors . . . then we're left with the untenable hypothesis that there really are natural born killers.

Why else would a Phoenix woman who had been "happily" married for eight years to a devoted and wealthy arts dealer decide one day to throw his body into a freezer, defrost him, dice him up and put his remains into a large garbage bag? Or, a father conclude that it was okay to keep his daughter hostage in a makeshift cellar for twenty-four years so that she could gratify his sexual urges and bear his children? Or, a woman slice up her boyfriend to drink his blood in a perverse vampire love ritual?

Everyday as I stand in the court room and defend against this kind of pathology I search for a way to mitigate my clients' horrific choices.  The challenge is to find a kernel of good, to convey to the judge and the jury that something about them is worth salvaging because our knee-jerk reaction is to warehouse them in cells or exterminate them like rats.  My real life experiences have fueled my desire to write true crime because I don't want refuge or respite from the real stories or the real macabre.  I want to understand.  Writing is a kind of catharsis for me, a way to process savage behavior with a goal toward inspiring change in the social institutions—schools, families, prisons—who house and guide these sad individuals.

My goal, in many ways is to do what the operatives did in my first book, Running with the Devil, to journey through the darkness in order to understand the criminal mind, its violence, rage and purpose. The undercover operatives lived for eighteen months as outlaw motorcyclists in order to infiltrate another vicious gang, The Hells Angels. They lived a triple life as outlaw bikers, ATF agents and family men. And the stress nearly destroyed them.

Their goal was to cripple the Hells Angels, chill the club's criminal exploits and enlighten the public about the gang's activities. In the end few of the criminal charges against the bikers held and the ATF operatives were rewarded with fear of reprisal from the Hells Angels without government protection or, sadly at times, even government interest.  But, the operatives' efforts were not entirely in vain, the Hells' Angels public persona was tarnished and the club's reign as "Lord of the Flies" diminished.  But what may have died as a news story lives on in Running with the Devil.  With both of their secret lives exposed—the operatives' sacrifice and bravery and the gang's savagery and pathology—the public cannot forget what happened or why it happened.  That's the real goal for me in writing true crime, to preserve a moment in time and to hopefully learn from the experience so that we can effect change through information and knowledge.

www.kerriedroban.net

Running with the Devil, The True Story of the ATF's Infiltration of the Arizona Hells Angels. ISBN:978-1-59228-976-9

WHAT INSPIRES YOU?

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

The movie never defines the meaning of the title, Invictus. In fact, everyone I asked who saw the film had no idea what "Invictus" meant. They only knew how the words of the poem made them feel. Inspired, empowered and propelled to action. The title means "unconquered." In the movie, Invictus, Nelson Mandela, in his first term as the South African President, initiated a unique venture to unite the apartheid-torn land: enlist the losing national rugby team on a mission to win the 1995 Rugby World Cup. Mandela was held for nearly 26 years on Robben Island as a political prisoner. His release marked the end of apartheid in South Africa. Mandela's amazing tenacity is the stuff of heroes and legends, the stuff of ordinary people who survive extraordinary challenges with grace and dignity. He had inspiration, the poem "Invictus" which kept his spirits up in his place of "wrath and tears" in the "horror of the shade."

Francois Pienaar, the captain of the losing South African Springboks rugby team, understood that kind of inspiration for he too recited a special song before each match. "How do you inspire a nation…" Mandela implored him. "How do you make them believe against all odds? The final match, between the undefeated New Zealand team and the Springboks, resulted in a South African win of 15-12. How do you inspire a nation? How do you make them believe? You recite over and over again as Nelson Mandela did, "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." Deliver.

RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS

Today one of my clients, who is currently serving time in Florence prison, sent me an extraordinary gift. He spent sixteen hours crafting an inspiring black and white drawing he titled "Zebra Warrior." It was meant to be a portrait of me. He wrote from prison: "we live in a black and white world, (hence the zebra/female body). You work with snakes, whether it be the prosecutor or criminals and they try to bite you at every chance (hence the black snake rising up to try to strike you). You seem like a strong woman that stands on what you believe and will fight your ass off as an attorney (hence: the warrior lady and weapon on the zebra). The moon is for the bright and joyable things in your life, the black clouds are for the darkness in your life…long trial, paperwork etc… I hope you appreciate it. It's an original." -Darrell

In the seventeen years I've been practicing law, fighting for the down-trodden and hoping to save a few lives along the way, I have never received, nor have I ever expected, this kind of gratitude. Random acts of kindness do exist, they do matter and they can come from the strangest of places even a dark prison cell. It's sobering to know that even the smallest act—drafting an appeal, arguing before the Supreme Court, making a black and write drawing–can have a ripple effect on a person's life.