The time was the early 1960's, when the Boston area was traumatized
by a series of rape-murders believed to be perpetrated by a single
predator who came to be known as the Boston Strangler. What makes
Junger's account so riveting is that the man who eventually confessed
to being the Boston Strangler worked on a construction job in the
Junger home. Indeed, he was working there on the day of the Goldberg
murder. There is even a chilling photograph, included in the book, of
a smiling Albert DeSalvo standing over the baby Sebastian and his
doting mother. Although DeSalvo did not confess to the Goldberg
murder, Junger explores the likelihood that the man in the photograph
killed Bessie Goldberg on the day he was working in Junger's home.

What more could a writer wish for, especially one who has written so
successfully about the confluence of elements? He is at the center of
a near-perfect storm of evidence pointing to his family's workman as
the real murderer.

To raise the stakes even further, Junger tells us, in his mother's
words, about the day, before the Goldberg murder, when DeSalvo was
alone with his mother in the Junger home:

"I heard him come in, and two or three minutes later I heard him call
me. So I opened the door to the cellar, and I saw him down there at
the foot of the stairs and he was looking at me. And he was looking in
a way that is almost indescribable. He had this intense look in his
eyes, a strange kind of burning in his eyes, as if he was almost
trying to hypnotize me. As if by sheer force of will he could draw me
down into that basement."

Junger then adds his own words:

"Clearly he wanted to get her down into the basement, and clearly if
she did that things could go very wrong. My mother told him that she
was busy, and then she closed the basement door and shot the bolt."

These descriptions were, of course, made with the benefit of
hindsight, years after DeSalvo confessed to being the Boston
Strangler. At the time of her encounter with the workman, Junger's
mother, though concerned, told no one — neither her husband nor the
construction boss — about DeSalvo. "Did she really want to get a man
fired for the look in his eyes?" Junger asks rhetorically.

"A Death in Belmont," though nonfiction, reads like a novel. Its
narrative line is crisp. Junger takes us through the trial and
conviction of Roy Smith, the series of stranglings in and around
Boston, and the arrest and confession of Albert DeSalvo. But there are
threads left untied by the imperfect system of Massachusetts justice
that Junger describes so well. For the book to work, there must be a
payoff. If the man in the photograph turned out not to be the murderer
of Junger's neighbor, or not to be the Boston Strangler at all, where
would the payoff be? It is not enough that the Junger family had a
story that was perfect. It is important that the story be true, or at
least highly likely. And it is here that Junger's methodology raises
concerns. Although he acknowledges that "often the truth simply isn't
knowable" — and that this story is "far messier" than the perfect one
he has grown up with — he still tries too hard to fit the messy facts
into his payoff narrative.

Junger coaxes his readers into believing that Smith was probably
innocent (though he was never vindicated by the legal system), that
DeSalvo was probably the Boston Strangler (though this is still
disputed) and that with Smith out of the picture, the man who killed
Goldberg becomes exactly the man DeSalvo claimed he was (though there
is little evidence to support this surmise). A first-rate reporter,
Junger provides his readers with all the appropriate caveats: "I would
never know for sure how close I had come to losing my mother." But in
the end, the reader — at least this reader — finds himself wanting to
believe in the payoff, as the author wants to believe in the truth of
his family's perfect story.



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