Don't Tell a Soul is one of the finest examples of true crime investigative journalism I have ever read.
When the body of Cherry Walker, a 39-year old woman with the mental capacity of a nine-year-old, was found burned on the side of a rural road in Tyler, Texas, the crime made the national news. It was an outrageous violation--who could have killed, and then set on fire, a sweet woman like that? The idea was, and is, so horrific that it cannot be reconciled rationally. There is simply nothing such a woman could have done to make someone react to her in such a way. She could not have possibly had a mean bone in her body. And all reports from family, friends and professionals who worked with her testified to that. Cherry had worked very hard to improve her cognition and learn the life skills she needed to move into her own little apartment. She was working with a social worker on a daily basis to practice and remember the regular household tasks we all took for granted--depositing checks, going to the grocery store, taking her daily medications. When she could not manage things, she could get very stressed, which is typical of people with this disorder.
Cherry had one serious stressor in her life. She was doing favors for a woman who lived nearby, by babysitting the woman's five-year-old boy. The problem was, the woman usually left the boy with her for days on end, without clothes or food or word of when she would return. Cherry was not mentally equipped to take care of a child. She didn't possess the skills to anticipate a child's needs, or know when that child was hurt. Or being seriously abused at home, the way this boy was.
When Kim Cargill was first arrested for child abuse and child neglect, she knew that she was caught on far more serious charges. She spent her days in jail trying to put together additional alibis for the weekend Cherry was killed--and being recorded by the police department working to make sure she would never see the outside again. When she was eventually charged, there was an obvious problem with the case in the eyes of the public. Cherry was a big girl, around 250 lbs., whereas Kim Cargill was a petite 5'3", perhaps 130 lbs. soaking wet. How could such a slight woman, who spoke with such a soft Texas drawl, have managed to kill and then lift or drag Cherry's body out of her truck onto the ground to light her on fire?
At her trial, prosecutors brought witnesses who would tell stories about Kim's violent, abusive rages and crazy attacks. Kim had picked up and thrown her children--even when they were teenagers--through walls, body slammed them onto the ground, and, most importantly, had a habit of choking them uncontrollably until she had almost killed them. One time, Kim had choked one of her sons so severely that she had left ugly bruises around his neck, and at school the next day the bruises were immortalized in his school photo.
Phelps delves into the full stories behind this testimony by investigating the entire history of Kim Cargill's life, especially the history of her marriages and abuse of her children. By fulling exploring what happened with the men and children in her life, as well as the others she manipulated into doing her bidding throughout her adulthood, a picture emerges of a woman eventually diagnosed with intermittent explosive disorder, major depressive disorder and borderline personality. She burst into crazy rages, essentially, and when she did she could exhibit strength beyond her size.
Kim felt she had a reason to be angry with Cherry. She was also angry with the police, the prosecutors, her ex-husbands, the friends she had manipulated who refused to be her alibis, and anyone else who came into her orbit who didn't do exactly what she demanded. By the time Phelps takes you through the trial, it's all a foregone conclusion.