Murder gets personal

The legal system isn’t always fair and Linda Spalding knows that well.

Her latest book, Who Named The Knife, tells the tale of two women, one struggling with her past and looking for a way to right past wrongs, the other serving a life sentence in California for a crime she may not have committed. Spalding tells her own story and that of Maryann Acker, the woman in jail.

Part true crime, part memoir, Who Named the Knife is excellent. Spalding blends her personal history and the facts of the U.S. criminal justice system flawlessly. Her work transports readers into a hazy, soft world of nostalgia and “what ifs…”

It is a gently unfolding narrative that engages and lulls. Yet the story is simultaneously highly critical and alert, exposing many of the great failures and inequalities of the legal process.

Who Named the Knife is not the telling of a dastardly murderer brought to justice in a dramatic conclusion. The book is a realistic portrait of the often frustratingly slow process of law in the United States. It is the story of how the desires and motivations of countless people can irreversibly affect one person’s life. It is also about the self-interested corruption found within daily legislation and the need to make it right.

It is this need to “make it right” that spurs the events of the story and connects the actors, Spalding and Acker, throughout. In 1982, while still a U.S. citizen and resident of Hawaii, Spalding was called to jury duty on the case of Maryann Acker. Her spot on the jury was precarious to begin with–the prosecution tried and failed to get her eliminated. In the end, however, she was granted a spot as an alternate juror. The trial Spalding describes is strange and biased, even to those with no knowledge of the lawful procedure.

Acker’s husband stands as the primary witness against her. Important questions go unasked and in the end, Acker is sentenced on the basis of the judge’s vague wording, the dubious evidence given in the trial, and Spalding’s absence during deliberation.

In five minutes, Spalding alters the course of another woman’s life irrevocably. Five minutes late, due to her cockapoo’s serious veterinary emergency, Spalding was barred from deliberation and thus barred from casting the dissenting vote against conviction. Acker’s guilt and punishment was reliant on a unanimous vote of guilt by the jury, which Spalding would have prevented, had she arrived on time. Years later, out of guilt for her role in Acker’s imprisonment, Spalding contacts Acker in hopes of both atonement and clarification.

Once the relationship is re-established the story gains momentum. Readers simultaneously follow Spalding’s story of personal change and growth, as well as the story of two women, working together to fight the corruption of the past. Through interviews and meetings with Acker, as well as reflective and insightful revelations such as “I had wanted to be a mirror for her, but it was working in reverse,” the divergent biographies of these two women come together in a dynamic way. Spalding gives the reader intimate access to her own uncertainty regarding the facts, including Acker’s guilt. She also lets the reader see, through her eyes, Acker’s story, and that of the inmates of the women’s prisons, as well as the black and gray areas of the legal system.

The dual quality of the book, being both dreamlike and unflinchingly clear-sighted, is reflective of the author. Spalding portrays herself with honesty, writing her own character with surprising candor. Readers are allowed to see her strengths through her determination and refusal to simply accept the incongruent.

But readers are also given access to her less attractive traits, which at times portray a kind of self-righteous savior of the lowly. However, through the case and her growing relationship with Maryann, Spalding is transformed, growing and learning continuously through the book. Her use of the real-life trial as a catalyst for her personal growth and ability to find peace gives the book relevance and vitality as a memoir.

Likewise, the personal aspect of the book substantiates the true-crime aspect. The book never comes across as dry, nor is it overly theatrical–like true-crime stories can be–because it is given perspective through the personal stories of the people involved.

Spalding causes readers to question notions of guilt and innocence, their personal responsibility to law, and everything else of importance in their lives. Her writing style is lyrical, effective and informative. It reads with the fluidity and pull of a novel, which makes it both a joy and an education to read.

Who Named the Knife is never dull. It is full of characters that are dynamic because they are real–they are the pawns of circumstance and of the past in the way that most people are, but never realize. Spalding and Acker become more real as they grow and change throughout the book. The name of the knife is Justice, and through the story of Spalding and Acker, readers come to understand that in life, things are not always clear-cut.