“The more I write, the more I am struck by the veracity of the statement, truth is stranger than fiction.”
We have a deeply human desire to make sense out of chaotic, senseless acts of violence, whether fictional or real. As a crime writer, I obviously find myself drawn to real life crime cases – old or cold– as fodder for my stories.
The old ones carry a melancholy of a by-gone era when the world seemed like a more trusting place, but actually wasn’t.
The cold ones carry a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, justice can be served and the chaos can be ordered.
True Crime That Inspired My Fiction
I grew up living within a true crime story. As the daughter of a medical examiner, I was raised around autopsy reports, body bags, detectives, and case discussions over roast beef and carrots at the dinner table. The stories stuck with me.
In my newest novel (on the shelves October 28!), What Darkness Does, I drew heavily from one real-life case from my hometown that chilled me to the bone: the 1996 murder of Rachel Timmerman in Newaygo County, Michigan.
Rachel was 19. A young mother. Full of life. She was supposed to testify against a man named Marvin Gabrion for sexual assault. Before she could take the stand, she disappeared with her infant daughter, Shannon. Rachel’s body was later found weighted down in a lake. Her baby was never found, presumed drowned in the same lake.
Gabrion didn’t stop there. He killed several others, allegedly to silence them. His upbringing was deeply abusive and violent. His crimes were disturbing not just in what he did, but how he did it, with precision, calculation, and total disregard for human life. A true psychopath.
That case became the plot basis of What Darkness Does. But I didn’t write a memoir of it, of course. I fictionalized the characters, setting, and plot. I kept the emotional DNA, the grief, the horror, and the unresolved questions.
I’m often asked how I find subject matter and what draws me to a story? The honest answer is: the killer.
I’m fascinated by how a person has become capable of such darkness. What and who shaped them? What from their past broke them? What drove their choices and decisions? I don’t ask those questions to excuse their behavior; I ask to understand it. Because if I don’t understand it, I can’t write it.
In the Gabrion case, it was clear this man had been dealt a terrible hand from childhood. Abuse, neglect, and head injuries. A lack of empathy that only worsened over time. That background doesn’t justify his choices, but it explains them, and as a writer, that distinction matters.
I also study the victim’s side. How and why they became vulnerable. What decisions or relationships raised their risk levels? Not to blame, but to illuminate. Victimology is a powerful lens for both storytelling and real-world safety. (For a deeper dive, I highly recommend Predators by Greg Cooper and Mike King.
Here’s another example. This one came from a cold case and prompted me on a five year journey to write a true crime thriller, Hole in the Woods.
While writing Hole in the Woods, I followed the real-life case of Shannon Siders, a Michigan cold case. Shannon was a teenager who disappeared in the summer of 1989. Her remains were found three months later. But her case went cold for over two decades until new witness testimony finally brought her killers to justice.
My father had worked on the case as a medical examiner, and I knew that I wanted to write about it… someday… When the suspects, two brothers, were arrested in 2014, I jumped on the chance to attend their murder trial in April, 2015. It was an emotional whiplash of seeing real closure, after so much time. It was a stark reminder that cold cases aren’t just puzzles that need solving. They’re people. Families. Grief. Hope. Pain. Closure.
The Research Process: How I Build Fictional Crime Cases
My process is part investigation, part obsession. I start by diving into true case reports, court documents, newspaper archives, podcasts, books, and forensic journals… and talking to people who were there (if possible). I follow the research trail wherever it leads, sometimes through rabbit holes, sometimes straight to a new plotline.
One of my favorite tricks? Scanning the resource sections of nonfiction books. They’re goldmines for lesser-known sources and expert names to follow up with.
If I can, I’ll interview law enforcement, forensic scientists, or people connected to the case. I once sat through a three-week murder trial just to understand how it felt from the inside. (Pro tip: bring snacks. And a notebook.)
I avoid Wikipedia as a main source, though I’ll sometimes use it to find external links. My goal isn’t to summarize facts; it’s to understand emotional undercurrents, timing, mistakes, and forensic blind spots.
The Fictional Tightrope: Staying True Without Going Too Far
Every crime case – old or cold- is layered with tension and mystery. Any crime investigation out there will not hand you evidence on a silver platter. It’s fractured. Foggy. Disjointed. And most often, just plain gut wrenching.
Here’s the thing about true cases: there are times when the truth is too awful to print.
There have been many times when I had to tone things down in my fictional rendering, not because I lacked the details, but because those details were just too raw, too brutal, too much for readers to stomach.
Our job as storytellers isn’t to recreate every grotesque detail; it’s to create an emotional reality that feels truthful and respectful.
That means:
- Changing key names, places, and identifying details.
- Inventing new characters with new arcs.
- Using real forensics as a base, not a blueprint.
For example, I may take several forensic threads, say, a single drop of DNA on an old sweatshirt, and build an entire plot from it. Other times, I might borrow the psychology of a killer and build a fictional crime around the antagonist’s arc.
Writing Crime Cases Ethically
If you’re a writer thinking about using a true crime case in your work, here’s my advice:
- Don’t sensationalize the victim. The victim is not a plot device. Treat this character with dignity. You owe it to everyone involved to tell the story with respect.
- Change the important details. Swap out the killer, victim, and key people’s names. Even if it’s fiction, anonymize real-life elements unless you’ve secured consent.
- Avoid glamorizing violence. True crime isn’t entertainment for everyone. Respect your reader, and your subject.
- Do your homework. The deeper you research, the more empathy you bring to the page – for both victim and killer. This will also help you tamp down the temptation to sensationalize.
Above all, ask yourself: Why am I attracted to this story? If your answer is “because it’s juicy and salacious,” stop. If your answer is “because it moved me,” you’re probably on the right track.
Want to Dive Deeper? My Favorite Resources for Crime Writers
There are a multitude of ways to find true crime cases. Some great resources to start with:
- Books: Predators by Greg Cooper and Mike King; The Killer Across the Table by John E. Douglas
- Podcasts: Small Town Murder, Crime Junkie
- Journals: Forensic Magazine
- Online: FBI ViCAP (Violent Criminal Apprehension Program), NamUs.gov (missing persons database)
You’ll also find gold in local newspaper archives, true crime newsletters, and yes, your own inbox. (People send me really interesting crime cases from time to time!)
As a forensic storyteller, I don’t pretend to solve real-world crimes. But I do believe fiction can bring dignity, attention, and healing. It can help us make sense out of an often senseless world.
