The Devil at His Elbow

I went into *The Devil at His Elbow* expecting yet another tell-all about the Murdaughs, but Bauerlein’s book is something rarer: a true crime narrative that reads like a slow-burn thriller and a cultural autopsy in one. Reed and Bauerlein’s narration sells it—Reed’s voice has this uncanny ability to sound both weary and razor-sharp, like a judge delivering a verdict after decades of deliberation, while Bauerlein’s direct, journalistic delivery grounds the story in facts without sacrificing momentum. The pacing is masterful; Bauerlein structures the book like a mystery, doling out revelations just when you think you’ve pieced it together, only to yank the rug out again. My only quibble? Some of the legal jargon drags in the middle third, but even that feels intentional—a reflection of how entrenched the system was in protecting its own. The real kicker? The book doesn’t just explain *how* the Murdaughs fell; it shows how a culture of entitlement and silence could let a man like Alex Murdaugh exist at all. For anyone who’s obsessed with the case, this is the definitive account. For everyone else, it’s a chilling reminder that the devil doesn’t always wear horns—sometimes he wears a seersucker suit and carries a shotgun.