Direct quotations from the social worker who visited my grandmother’s house, as well as the psychologist I saw in Portland immediately after the murder, are pulled from a Maine State Police detective’s field notes from that time. Tom Perry’s quotations in the sections about his meeting Mom and their time in California, and in the short scene where he and his friend see Mom crossing the road in Bridgton, are from my 2012 interview with him. Tom’s words during the party scene at my uncle Ray’s, and when Mom confronts him at the Sulky Lounge, are reconstructed, based on detailed accounts of other people who were present. Dennis’s quotations are all verbatim, from several long conversations we had in 2011, where he repeated much of what he’d told me during our reunion at the trial. The accounts of him and Mom kissing at the drugstore and directly after his divorce are based on his memory. The words of the many men who reported being attracted to Crystal Perry appear as quoted by police officers in their reports.
All of my aunt Gwen’s and aunt Glenice’s words are verbatim from transcription; most other family members’ dialogue is from memory—either mine or a trusted source’s. Linda’s words during our long-awaited reunion are verbatim, as are those of Kate Leonard and my former teacher Ms. Shane. For personal and logistical reasons, I was unable to interview either Peggy or Tootsie. I did my best to corroborate my experiences with both women with the memories of others. Diary entries I wrote at the time were also useful in this regard.
Family history is tricky for a researcher, perhaps even trickier for one who is part of the family in question. Memory is both created and distorted by emotion and personality, and I have worked to identify and omit those distortions, especially in scenes that re-create my family’s past. I collected as many perspectives as possible on Grace, Howard, Ray, and the experience of being their children, but there will undoubtedly be disagreements about what I have written here. I confirmed Howard’s rape conviction and his sentence at the Maine State Archives office in Augusta, and calculated his release date using my mother’s date of birth and the memories of family members. His victim was not available for an interview, and I hope she will forgive my inclusion of this sad tale. This book would not be complete without Howard’s crime, Grace’s tacit acceptance of it, and the messages both sent to my young mother and others in their family.
Some people gave me their secrets, and I hope that where I have included them, I have done them justice. Other people’s secrets were revealed to me indirectly, via their interviews with police years ago. I have included only those that I have deemed absolutely necessary, and have done my best to independently verify each story that appears, or make it clear to the reader that what’s presented is a rumor or in doubt. In certain instances where embarrassing or incriminating information appears, I have employed pseudonyms. This is especially true of people whom, for various reasons, I did not have the opportunity to interview. However, each pseudonym represents a real person, either living or deceased—there are no composite or made-up characters in this book.
The line between personal quest and journalistic project can sometimes be difficult to draw. There was a lot of research I did for due diligence, to make sure I thoroughly canvassed all the available information, but some that I did not. Michael Hutchinson is not a pseudonym, and for several years I considered approaching him for an interview. Ultimately, I decided that hearing whatever he might tell me wasn’t worth the psychological danger of being near him. To be in conversation with someone, you must cooperate with them, however briefly, and I have no wish to cooperate with him. I also decided not to interview Hutchinson’s friends, associates, or family members. This book isn’t about him. It’s about Mom.
Acknowledgments
This book is a sad one, with a great loss at its center. But writing it has brought me more love and support than I ever could have imagined. It is impossible to list everyone who contributed, and as I write this, I am thinking of many others not named here.
Thanks to my mentors, who encouraged me artistically, professionally, and personally. Alan Michael Parker: this would not exist without you. You caught me just in time. Margo Jefferson, your gentle yet incisive guidance was invaluable in those very early days. Lis Harris, Richard Locke, Amy Benson, Michelle Orange, Benjamin Taylor: your feedback and advice made this much better. Most especially, thanks and love to Patricia O’Toole, whose kindness and wisdom have helped make this and uncountable other books possible. So proud to be part of your crew.
Thanks to Jin Auh for your patience, from the very start, and for strengthening my resolve in challenging moments. Jessica Friedman, your sweetness and attentiveness have been so reassuring. Huge thanks to Andrea Schulz, who took a chance on a first-timer, and even bigger thanks to Naomi Gibbs, the most intelligent, tactful, caring editor I could have asked for. I do not know how I could have pulled this off without you.
Endless gratitude to Will Palmer, the best copyeditor on earth, and a dear friend.
To Hannah Harlow, Lori Glazer, Alexandra Primiani, Savannah Jones, and Rachel Fershleiser, whose enthusiasm for and dedication to this book continue to move me: thank you for helping this story find readers.
I wrote this book in many places of refuge. Thanks to the Eastern Frontier Educational Foundation, the Edward F. Albee Foundation, PLAYA, Joan Leitzer and Kenneth Spirer, Cerese Vaden, Val and Mark Jacobs, and Bridget Potter for solitude and space in which to work. Thanks to Andriana Iudice and Jesse Crowder for digitizing many, many hours of tapes and videos so I could work on the road.
Marina Blitshteyn, words fail me. Logistically and personally, you’ve contributed so much to this book, and you’ve picked me up more times than you know.
Thanks and undying respect to just some of the badass ladies of the Columbia MFA, circa ’10–’13: Tara FitzGerald, Raina Lipsitz, Rebecca Worby, Ashley Patrick, Melissa Rhodes, Dale Megan Healey, Elizabeth Greenwood, Austen Rosenfeld, Athena Thiessen, and Meghan Maguire. Honored to count myself among you. Special thanks to Valerie Seiling Jacobs for her legal expertise and for her help cutting through bullshit. Love to Karen “Dred” Williams for patiently listening and helping me get back to sanity, so many times. Thanks to Jyll Hubbard-Salk for the space you’ve made for all of us.
Derby love to my friends and teammates from Red Stick Roller Derby, Gotham Rec. League, and Suburbia Roller Derby for keeping me sane and getting me away from my desk occasionally, and to Maine Roller Derby, for being so welcoming that I actually felt at home again, against all odds.
Thanks to Ashley Wilson for lying and saying she had time off school the week of the trial, thereby making an incredibly hard week much more manageable.
Evangeline White: you weren’t the first person I told this story to, but you were the first who really listened, and I thank you for listening still. I can never be too cynical about a world that has brought me your friendship. Marin Sardy: your love and editorial guidance alone were enough to make Columbia worth it.
To all the people featured in this book who not only provided thoughtful answers to my questions, but who made a point of giving me permission to portray them as truthfully as I could, character flaws and all: thank you. May all memoirists be blessed with such generous subjects.