Dance with the Devil

I’ll be honest: *Dance with the Devil* wrecked me. Not because it’s gratuitous—it’s not—but because Bagby’s writing does something rare in true crime: it forces you to sit with the *aftermath*. This isn’t a whodunit or a courtroom drama. It’s a father’s forensic examination of his son’s murderer, Andrew Bagby (no relation), a man whose intelligence and charm masked a violent narcissism. Bagby’s prose is razor-sharp, oscillating between cold fury and heartbreaking tenderness, like a surgeon stitching up a wound while describing how the knife went in. Allan Edwards’ performance is a revelation. He doesn’t *act*—he *channels*. His delivery is spare, almost austere, but the emotion bleeds through in the pauses, the way his voice tightens on phrases like *“my son’s last breath”* or *“the jury didn’t care.”* The production is flawless, though I’ll admit the pacing in the first hour feels almost *too* methodical—Bagby’s meticulous timeline of events risks losing listeners who expect true crime’s usual adrenaline. But stick with it. The payoff is the rare audiobook that haunts you long after the last chapter, not for its shock value, but for its brutal honesty about grief, complicity, and the lies we tell ourselves about safety. My only real critique? The lack of supplemental material (interviews, updates) feels like a missed opportunity to contextualize the case’s lingering impact. Still, this isn’t entertainment. It’s a warning—and a memorial." "tags": [ "true crime with emotional depth