Writing the Unthinkable - The Idaho Four
Some stories are too heavy to carry, and yet we tell them, anyway. Not to glorify the darkness, but to remember the light that was lost.
Some stories seize your imagination and refuse to release their hold. The murder of the four Idaho students in November 2022 is one of those tales, chilling in its details. Kaylee Goncalves, Ethan Chapin, Xana Kernodle, and Madison Mogen weren’t names on a cold, impersonal case file of a fictional novel - they were young, full of vibrant life, and brimming with plans. The memory of their bright personalities, now dimmed by death, should still shine, but loss sadly defined this story.
It’s no surprise, then, that writers have tried to use words to make sense of this tragedy, a cacophony of despair. Three books, filled with details, now exist on the case: J. Reuben Appelman’s While Idaho Slept (2023), Howard Blum’s When the Night Comes Falling (2024), and, most recently, James Patterson and Vicky Ward’s The Idaho Four: An American Tragedy (2025). Each approaches it from a unique viewpoint, their voices blending to create a harmonic chorus. Appelman wrote with desperate haste, as if trying to translate the cacophony of chaos into something understandable. Blum slowed things down, writing with the stark tension of a documentary, layering suspense like shadows but never losing sight of raw empathy. Patterson and Ward widened the lens, incorporating over 300 interviews to craft a “powerful and haunting investigative account,” as described by The Guardian.
The question that matters: what good can books like this do? They can’t bring Kaylee, Ethan, Xana, or Madison back. They can’t erase the pain for their loved ones. At the same time, stories like these can keep the memory alive. They remind us not of the crime, but also of the lives stolen. They shine a light on how justice is sought, where systems fail, and how communities grieve. At their best, they pull us closer to the victims, not the killer.
There’s no evidence so far that proceeds from these books are being directed to the families or scholarships created in the students’ names, a point some readers have raised on social media platforms. And, maybe that is where the true story lies. The tension between the public interest, the victims, and the profits of the true crime industry must be navigated on a fine line between telling the story and exploitation. As readers, the choice we make is how to balance curiosity with compassion - to read, to learn, and to always honor the victims who had no say in the matter.
So maybe the “good” isn’t in the pages alone. Perhaps it’s in how we carry the story forward. We remember these four individuals for their unique qualities: Kaylee’s laughter, Ethan’s loyalty, Xana’s energy, and Madison’s warmth. How we let these books remind us that true crime is never only crime - it’s human lives, cut short, written down so we don’t forget they held a place among us, as we all do.
My question is this: Do books like these benefit society by preserving memories, provoking insightful questions, and perhaps fostering safer environments through reformed laws and actions inspired by the tragic loss of victims like these four? Or are we just as unfeeling as those who are audaciously profiting from the event?
As someone whose family experienced a sudden death, I know firsthand the emotional and physical toll it takes. There’s no comparison between my brother’s accident, a tragedy ending his life, and the brutal murder, a starkly different horror, in which these four students lost theirs. My brother was almost eighteen, with only three weeks left until that milestone. Since 2003, memories still sting, with pain unexpectedly clouding my days. The loss has been something my family has had years to grapple with. In 2022, those four families were unwillingly thrust into their journey. The pain there is immense, and the future promises more. The air crackles with anger, a deafening rage, and an overwhelming sense of injustice.
Then, we’ve got items like this letter and similar ones, almost instantly bringing up the freshest sensation with a light press of a keyboard. Even after the dust settles, a constant reminder of loss remains with the family.
I know, because years later, the cold void where my brother used to be remains, his self-inflicted accident echoing in my mind. He was driving when, without warning, an accident happened. He took his seat belt off. He let his focus drift from the wheel. And because of his actions, he struck an oncoming school bus, the impact jarring him in his seat. The news of his accident was devastating, like a hammer blow to the heart. It’s a small solace to know that he faced his end alone, untouched by another’s hand. The errors he committed cost him his life, leaving others unharmed. To imagine the icy dread that would grip me if my brother’s life were ended because of a vicious stabbing. I lacked the ability. Then, to see my loved one smiling, a familiar image endlessly replicated on platforms from media to novels. It would defy description.
📌 Sources
Appelman, J. R. (2023). While Idaho Slept: The Hunt for Answers in the Murders of Four College Students. Barnes & Noble
Blum, H. (2024). When the Night Comes Calling: A Requiem for the Idaho Student Murders. Harper Collins
Patterson, J., & Ward, V. (2025). The Idaho Four: An American Tragedy. Barnes & Noble
“The Idaho Four review: James Patterson's powerful new true crime book.” The Guardian. (July 20, 2025). The Guardian