Fall: The Rape and Murder Of Innocence in a Small Town [Hardcover]

I am not normally one who is very keen on true crime stories. There is certainly nothing wrong with this genre, it just doesn't happen to be my cup of tea. In spite of that, `Fall' by Ron Franscell is a compelling account of a horrible incident.

The story interested me in part because it occurred in my hometown of Casper, Wyoming. I was also acquainted with one of the victims (years later) and know some of the others mentioned in this account. Even if I didn't have a personal connection, I would have to say that this book is very good. It is not good just for the story, but also for lessons that can be learned from these events.

It deals with the abduction of two sisters from a convenience store in small town America in 1973. One of them was thrown from a bridge into a canyon and killed instantly. The other one was raped and then thrown into the same canyon. She survived in part because she was driven to let her mother know what had occurred. Ironically, she ended up dying at the same spot 19 years later.

This book is important in telling the story of the potential dangers even in a relatively safe town, raising awareness so hopefully others may be safer in the future. It also brings to light problems with the criminal justice system that can cause more unintended suffering for victims. I recommend this book.

Below is a column that I wrote about this situation that was published in the Casper Star-Tribune on August 22, 1992 entitled, `The Possibility of Parole Can Kill'.

The death of Becky Thomson Brown is an agonizing loss for her family and friends.

Society always loses when it is robbed of a person of outstanding character and stature. Such a loss is greatly magnified when it is caused directly by a villainous act or indirectly when such a deed sets in motion a chain of events, culminating in calamity.

As many in Wyoming are well aware, Becky and her sister Amy were the victims of what was undoubtedly one of the most brutal crimes ever committed in the state. The two young sisters, 11 and 18, were abducted from a Casper convenience store in September 1973. Undeniably, the older girl was raped; both were thrown from the Fremont Canyon Bridge into the depths of the gorge below.

Young Amy did not live through the terrible fall. Amazingly, with injuries that could easily have been considered fatal, possessing an inner strength seldom demonstrated by the rest of us, Becky defied death and crawled from the murky depths of that canyon, summoned assistance, and eventually recovered to point the finger of guilt at the diabolical culprits who perpetrated this heinous crime.

In contradiction to her apparent near-miraculous recovery, the experience bound Becky in her own private hell for 19 years, until she died in a fall at the same fateful spot on the last day of July. This unfathomable irony led Natrona County Sheriff Dave Dovala to comment after her death: `She was raped and murdered 20 years ago, but she died last night.'

Although this remarkable young woman battled back from that terrible nightmare, her victimization did not end. A part of the system worked in this case. The police, prosecutor, trial judge, and the jury all did their jobs. They investigated, tried, and convicted the culprits of this impalpable crime.

Unfortunately, other elements of the system did not perform so well.

Several doddering octogenarians compromising a majority of the U.S. Supreme Court whimsically struck down the death penalty in the mid-1970s. This resulted in a sentence reduction to life imprisonment for the two child rapists/murderers. It is hard to conceive of a more fitting punishment than death for the type of vermin who could commit such unspeakable outrage.

As Wyoming lacks a statute providing for life imprisonment without the possibility of parole, even that option was unavailable for the new sentencing in this case. For more than a decade the terrible nightmare has recurred every time these deviate child killers have appeared before the parole board. On these occasions, Becky was forced to relive the horror, and experience the resurgence of her personal hell.

If society has any responsibility to its members, it is first to seek retribution against those who choose to violate every principle of human decency, and secondly, to avoid being itself guilty of compounding the trauma of a crime committed against a person. It is difficult to see how either duty was fulfilled here.

The chance that either of those guilty of this outrage will ever be released before they are themselves doddering octogenarians is rather slim. However, the system continued to subject Becky to the spectre of that possibility with annual parole board hearings.

Certainly the eventuality of their release becomes a matter of ever greater concern as the prison becomes increasingly overpopulated with those incarcerated for much lesser offenses, many of whom could be easily dealt with by some other means. (A large percentage of the inmate population is of a much higher caliber and may not appreciate even being housed with their ilk.)

A teenage girl was savagely traumatized and brutalized. Her younger sister was murdered outright. Every facet of her person was violated.

There is no way that such an atrocity could have been prevented from permeating her entire being. But society must face the fact that the effects of this ruthlessness may have actually been exacerbated by the very system entrusted with the eradication of this kind of social blight.

Few will ever have to experience such viciousness. Becky not only experienced, she survived, and lived for almost two decades afterward. Her contributions to the lives of those who knew her is difficult to overstate.

We must not allow her death to be in vain. We must demand that such abhorrent evil be punished swiftly and appropriately. If the perpetrators of such infamy must be allowed to live, let it be not only without the possibility of freedom, but without further emotional and spiritual assault on their victims and the victims' families.

Becky, your life was far too short! You gave much to many while you were here. May you now finally be at peace.

Many of you may recall a groundbreaking book titled "In Cold Blood" by famed author Truman Capote.
Written in the early 1960s, Mr. Capote claimed to introduce a new and compelling way of writing nonfiction, a technique he dubbed as the "nonfiction novel."
Actually, the term was misleading because it seemed to imply that the writer is embellishing the truth with fabrications from his or her imagination. That wasn't true - every fact reported in the book was accurate.
Instead, a better way to define the "nonfiction novel" is that is a factual account told in a way that uses the novelist's skills for constructing a story and adding vivid details.
The term most definitely fits "Fall", Ron Franscell's haunting book about the small-town abduction of two sisters in 1973 (Mr. Franscell's neighbors and friends). The abduction culminated in a rape and murder at a bridge that spanned over a 110-foot gorge. Both girls were thrown from the bridge. One survived. The other was traumatized for the rest of her life.
The effect of a crime this horrendous does not begin with the heinous deed, and end with a jury verdict. The sheer immensity is a mental infection that lasts for generations - in unspeakable torment for the victims and their families, in shock for a community, in macabre fascination and disgust for those who learn about the crime through the media.
In a style similar to "In Cold Blood", Mr. Franscell captures, from start to finish (if there is ever a finish), this terrible saga. He went to enormous lengths to provide vivid and unforgettable narrative, from extensive interviews with one of the murderers, to spending a night under the bridge on the 30th anniversary of the crime.
There's one important difference with Mr. Capote's book; in "Fall's" case, the author knew the victims. That heart-rending relationship to the story is evident throughout the book.
The end will floor you. If it was fiction, no one would believe it could happen.

FALL reaches out to everyone who cherishes the unique attributes of life in a close community, and to those who understand and accept that relationships which develop over generations--don't simply end, regardless of the circumstances. And FALL speaks just as powerfully to those who practice law anywhere in the criminal justice system in America, as well as the legislators who enact our statutes at both the State and Federal level.

FALL provides a hard-hitting yet poignant chronical of a senseless event perpetrated by two sociopaths who outdistanced an overburdened and often too lenient system. Ron Franscell avoids aggrandizing either the victims or the criminals, but focuses on the impact of this tragedy on the community where he grew up, and the people, like he, who--three decades later--are still conflicted by the terrible act.

The manner in which FALL is written is a tribute to the author's integrity, and the reader reaps all of the benefits. FALL goes beyond a must read. It should be placed in our homes in a prominent location to remind us of everything that is right with our system of justice--and everything that isn't.

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