1.5 This read left me feeling deeply annoyed—not because of the tragic story it tells, but because of how it was handled. The book recounts the devastating murder of Carolyn Bush at the hands of her roommate, but instead of feeling like a thoughtful tribute or an investigative dive into true crime, it reads like an attempt to capitalize on someone else’s tragedy.

One thing I can’t stand is when people profit off of tragic events, and this book feels like exactly that. The author’s connection to Carolyn is flimsy at best—they were acquaintances, not close friends as the promotional material might lead readers to believe. This lack of genuine connection is glaring throughout the book. The writing feels detached, almost like the author is trying to fill the gaps of their relationship with intensive research and interviews.

Even with all this effort, the result is poorly executed. The pacing drags, with many sections feeling unnecessary or drawn out. The book could’ve been half its length and still wouldn’t have achieved its purpose—whatever that was supposed to be. Rather than honoring Carolyn’s life or providing meaningful insight into the circumstances of her death, it comes across as an exploitative, disjointed narrative.

This isn’t an investigative journalism piece or a respectful exploration of grief, justice, or the human condition. It feels like someone’s desperate attempt to profit from someone else’s pain, and I can’t imagine a worse legacy for Carolyn Bush than to have her story mishandled in this way.

If you’re considering picking this up, I’d encourage you to think about whether it’s worth your time—or Carolyn’s memory.