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A review by moobus73
The Informant by James Grippando
4.0
Not the best mystery I've read, but enjoyable. Unusual plot line - serial murderer enlists journalist to be his confident...or did he? Is the informant someone else? II liked the fact that the female FBI agent and the journalist did not hook up. Chapter 7 FBI agent Victoria answers Karen's question about why the FBI "I'm not one to talk about myself," she said wearily. She glanced across the aisle and caught Karen's eye. She seemed sincere, not nosy. "Well, if you really want to know, I think it has something to do with my...shall we say, family history. I'm what they call a Jewban -- half Jew, half Cuban. Sometimes I think my boss wishes I was handicapped, just to cover another minority, but that's another story.
"My maternal grandfather died in Auschwitz. My uncle -- my father's brother -- spent 26 years in one of Castro's political prisions. Family reunions were a real blast. A bunch of old drunks guzzling down Sangria made with Manichewitz wine, arguing over who was the most persecuted. At least that's how I saw it as a kid. As I got older, though, the stores started to fascinate. It made me want to understand the criminal mind -- especially the minds of men who know the difference between right and wrong, yet who kill and kill again, with no remorse or any sign of conscience."
"So you're one of those cops who likes to think like the killer."
"I wouldn't say that. I try to understand the killer by looking through the eyes of the victim. Which means I may not crawl as far inside the killer's head as some investigators do. But it gives me the passion to keep on looking when others might give up."
Karen nodded slowly. "I figured your were like that."
"Pro-victim, you mean?"
"No. The kind of woman who never gives up."
"My maternal grandfather died in Auschwitz. My uncle -- my father's brother -- spent 26 years in one of Castro's political prisions. Family reunions were a real blast. A bunch of old drunks guzzling down Sangria made with Manichewitz wine, arguing over who was the most persecuted. At least that's how I saw it as a kid. As I got older, though, the stores started to fascinate. It made me want to understand the criminal mind -- especially the minds of men who know the difference between right and wrong, yet who kill and kill again, with no remorse or any sign of conscience."
"So you're one of those cops who likes to think like the killer."
"I wouldn't say that. I try to understand the killer by looking through the eyes of the victim. Which means I may not crawl as far inside the killer's head as some investigators do. But it gives me the passion to keep on looking when others might give up."
Karen nodded slowly. "I figured your were like that."
"Pro-victim, you mean?"
"No. The kind of woman who never gives up."