Everyone living in Shaker Heights, Ohio in 1990 — and many others residing in the Cleveland area at that time— will never forget the name “Lisa Pruett.” Lisa was a 16 year old student who was brutally murdered en route to a midnight rendezvous with her boyfriend, Dan Dreifort. This still unsolved crime was shocking because murders in Shaker are as rare as solar eclipses and because both the victim and her accused killer, Kevin Young, were children of prominent Shaker families. True crime author, James Renner, became interested in the case when he wrote a look-back article for “Cleveland Scene” in 2007, later became obsessed with the case, and launched a website to capture his findings as he continued to investigate. The book collects and organizes the information he has gathered over the years, reveals newly discovered evidence, and identifies the person Renner believes was the real killer (which I will NOT disclose in this review). While not great literature, the book is meticulously researched and provides a gripping account of this infamous crime and its aftermath.
The book is remarkable not only because of what it discloses about the crime, but also because of what it says about Shaker — where this reviewer has lived for 40 years. Renner pierces the stately veneer of this tony east side suburb to reveal its seamy underside. Virtually all the high achieving families portrayed in this drama seem dysfunctional. Lisa’s classmates — who arrogantly call themselves “the AP [Advanced Placement] Posse” — come across as smug and insensitive, engage in vile discourse with one another and with the adults in their milieu, and have no respect for authority. Without any meaningful supervision, these kids gather at each others’ homes late at night, where they drink and smoke, take drugs, and engage in promiscuous sex. When the police investigate Lisa’s murder, the kids — without prompting — are quick to air their friends’ dirty laundry and pass on wholly unsubstantiated gossip having no relevance to the crime. In a sense, “Little, Crazy Children” does to the suburbs what “Hillbilly Elegy” did to the country — i.e., it dispels the notion that bad stuff does not happen here.
No one comes across worse in Renner’s book than Shaker’s political establishment and police force. Early in the investigation, the police decided that the killer was a recent Shaker graduate named Kevin Young. Why? Because the kids interviewed by the police consistently identified this socially awkward and unpopular young man — who had some mental health issues, reportedly had a crush on Lisa, and was jealous of her boyfriend — as someone they deemed capable of murder. Stated otherwise, the kids were driving the investigation. It was this realization that inspired the book’s title, which Renner borrowed from Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”:
“We are what we always were in Salem, but now the little, crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom, and common vengeance writes the law!”
Without any physical evidence linking Kevin to the murder and despite the fact that his parents claimed that he was with them at the time of the crime, the police became laser-focused on him and made no effort to investigate other suspects — in particular, Lisa’s boyfriend, himself a troubled young man whose account of his conduct on the night of the murder seems wildly implausible.
The lack of evidence against Kevin was not for lack of effort. For months after the murder, it seemed as though the entire Shaker police department had been assigned to the case. Shaker dispatched no fewer than six officers to Columbus, where Kevin had just enrolled at Ohio State, to extract a confession. While this contingent was in Columbus, other officers obtained a search warrant for Kevin’s home in Shaker, which they executed in the middle of the night. The police even enlisted the assistance of the FBI’s Behavioral Assessment Unit and a self-described “psycholinguist” to help them extract a confession from Kevin. But despite several grueling interrogations, Kevin consistently maintained his innocence.
Although the case against Kevin was so thin that the county prosecutor adamantly declined to seek an indictment, a local investigative reporter learned and revealed that Kevin was the prime suspect. In response to the furor that followed, Shaker officials hired a public relations consultant and convened a press conference to announce that they were convinced that they had the right man; while Kevin was not identified by name, everyone knew who they meant. In one of the book’s most chilling passages, Renner reveals that the city dispatched employees to meet with community leaders to assure them that they knew who killed Lisa and that it was only a matter of time before they would bring him to trial. As someone who has been involved in dozens of jury selections himself, I am convinced that this campaign had the purpose and effect of polluting the jury pool. In essence, it was trial by media.
Everything changed about a year and a half after the crime when two people at a psychiatric facility to which Kevin had been committed claimed that Kevin had confessed to them that he murdered Lisa. “Jailhouse” snitches are notoriously unreliable. That is particularly true when one of the snitches is an inmate at a mental health facility. But that didn’t stop the authorities from bringing Kevin to trial in the summer of 1993 — nearly three years after the murder.
Renner’s lengthy and detailed account of the trial consists largely of extensive excerpts from the trial transcript, with a handful of explanatory comments. What I found most remarkable about Renner’s reporting was the shockingly weak prosecution case. Absent forensic evidence linking Kevin to the crime, the prosecution rested heavily on the testimony of the “little, crazy children” from Shaker High School. In essence, they told the jury that Kevin was a weird kid who made disparaging and arguably threatening comments about Lisa and Dan. But under rigorous cross-examination, their stories quickly unraveled. Their testimony was inconsistent with earlier statements they had made, at odds with the testimony of other witnesses, contradicted by known facts, and/or inherently unbelievable. If, however, you had been reading the Cleveland Plain Dealer’s account of the trial, you would have concluded that the case against Kevin was a slam dunk. As I have found in many of my own cases, the media frequently develop their own slant on a high profile trial, and what they report sometimes bears little resemblance to what actually occurs in the courtroom.
The collapse of testimony from Kevin’s classmates left the prosecution’s case in the hands of two witnesses from the psychiatric hospital — another patient and an intern — who testified that Kevin had confessed to the murder. Cross-examination of the patient — who took her claim to a local TV station before contacting the police — showed that she likely fabricated the confession to get attention and later created a phony diary entry to corroborate her story. The intern’s testimony was undermined by her failure to record in Kevin’s chart any mention of his alleged confession.
Particularly noteworthy was the desultory and disorganized closing argument delivered by the lead prosecutor, Carmen Marino. It seemed as though Marino — later driven from office for a host of alleged ethical lapses — was gathering his thoughts for the first time as he addressed the jury and that he did not really believe what he was telling them. In sharp contrast, the defense closing effectively established that the prosecution was based largely on character assassination and that the physical evidence — such as it was — pointed more toward Lisa’s boyfriend, Dan Dreifort, than to Kevin. For example, while nothing indicated that Lisa had been sexually assaulted, there was evidence that she had engaged in or was on the verge of engaging in consensual sex in the yard where her body was found.
When the jury returned a defense verdict after only a few hours of deliberations, the Plain Dealer’s subscribers were stunned and outraged. They had been led to believe that the case against Kevin was open and shut. In fact, the verdict was clear cut, but not in the way the PD’s readers imagined. There was only one holdout for conviction, and he was soon persuaded that there was “reasonably doubt” about Kevin’s guilt. The newspaper’s readers had been misled about how the trial was progressing. The verdict unleashed vehement criticism of the judge, defense counsel, and of course Kevin.
So, if Renner is right and Kevin was not Lisa’s killer, justice was served and all is well. No harm, no foul. Right? Well, not quite. The prevailing view in Shaker was that clever lawyering had allowed Kevin literally to get away with murder. Despite the acquittal, Kevin remained a pariah in the community. He never finished college, working instead as a painter and handyman. Kevin died in 2017 at the age of 44 — apparently as a result of years of substance abuse — garnering one last story in the Plain Dealer. The prosecution had taken its toll.
The book, then, is a cautionary tale of what happens when an insular community looks for a scapegoat after things go badly and when law enforcement rushes to judgment. It also illustrates what happens in a one-newspaper town when a reporter’s biases stand in the way of objective reporting. Most of all, it shows how vicious “little, crazy children” can be — particularly toward someone who is not part of their clique.
While Renner’s account of the crime, investigation, and trial is fast-paced, the last quarter of the book slows to a crawl. Mostly, Renner discusses what he learned from the principal players during interviews conducted long after the trial. Those interviews led Renner to conclude that the leading suspect is someone other than either Kevin or Dan. To be sure, Renner has uncovered evidence linking the new guy to the murder. But as with Kevin and Dan, the evidence is entirely circumstantial. So, you should read the book because the story is fascinating even decades later. But be prepared to leave the book frustrated that we still don’t really know who killed Lisa.