The Idaho Four: An American Tragedy

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again…who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither no victory nor defeat.”

This quote from Theodore Roosevelt hangs on the wall in Chief Fry’s office, offering both characterization and foreshadowing. Fry knows that this case will test his town and his department but has the courage to “[dare] greatly” in the search for justice.

“Dr. Ramsland says there’s a new theory arguing that psychopaths aren’t the product of socioeconomics and environment alone. Biology has a larger role than people previously thought. The brains of psychopaths are structurally and functionally different from other people’s.”

The book’s recursive structure and present-tense narration instill moments like these with a sense of dread and foreknowledge. Bryan is described as fundamentally different from other people. Ramsland’s claim about biology implies an inevitability in Kohberger’s violence.

“No one knows that Bryan copes with loneliness by immersing himself in video games. Like Rodger, he goes for night drives. Like Rodger, he visits the gun range. And like Rodger, he goes to a local bar and tries to pick up women.”

This passage uses repetition of the phrase “like Rodger” to compare Kohberger to another mass murderer, Elliot Rodger. This choice hints at the dangers of living online, where both Rodger and Kohberger were radicalized.

“Hunter and Maizie need to hear one message from her: Whatever happened to Ethan, they are alive, and they are going to be fine. She will make sure of it. It’s what Ethan would want.”

This is an early moment of characterization for Stacy Chapin, whose first instinct is to care for others. In this case, she seeks to mitigate her children’s trauma with reassurance even as she begins building Ethan’s legacy by asserting that this is where he would want their focus to be.

“He’s never had to deal with a crime this violent and of this magnitude—and Thompson has led the county prosecutorial office for three decades. The previous week was his thirty-year anniversary.”

Patterson and Ward establish the credentials of officials like Thompson and Fry in contrast to the media’s stereotyping of small-town law enforcement as incompetent and unprepared. This further establishes him as a member of the Moscow community, someone with a deep investment in the town’s sense of self and safety.

“The two are confused but also beginning to feel an emotion that will become all too familiar in the coming weeks as members of the national media descend on their town and report a barrage of nonsense in the absence of facts. What they feel is disappointment.”

Student journalists react to the media frenzy that will descend on Moscow. In describing the students as feeling “disappointed,” the authors critique the distance between journalistic ideals and the behavior of the national media.

“He doesn’t yet understand that what he will need over the next six weeks is a PhD in communications. And that is something he is not equipped with.”

The authors characterize Fry as a highly competent investigator unprepared for the barrage of media attention the case garners. A PhD in communications should not be required for his job, but the media cares less about the integrity of the investigation than it does about what people say and how they say it.

“He will say later that the pain is like a splinter that’s wedged deep beneath the surface of the skin. It hurts all the more because he feels as if someone should help remove it. But so far there’s no one out there helping him or his family. At least no one official. What option does that leave him other than taking matters into his own hands?”

One theme of the book is the diversity of responses to grief. The simile of the splinter reflects the persistence of Steve Goncalves’s pain. He longs for someone to “remove it,” but there is no way to bring Kaylee back. In an effort to alleviate the pain, Steve determines to act. This further reflects the family’s libertarian ideals and distrust of institutions.

“The fact that everyone in Moscow knows everyone else has morphed overnight from a sense of comfort to something deeply unsettling. Neighbor suddenly mistrusts neighbor. Friend mistrusts friend. Customer mistrusts vendor. People are shutting themselves in. Hiding from one another.”

The murders of the students have a profound impact on the entire town. Their connectivity had previously been a point of pride but transforms to a point of anxiety in the aftermath of the violence. This breakdown of community points to The Importance of Community and the Dangers of Isolation.

“Fry prides himself on having built up great relationships with both the ISP—the Idaho State Police—and the local federal agents. That doesn’t always happen, especially not in big cities like LA and Chicago, where, infamously, pride and testosterone can cause unhelpful friction between the local and federal arms of law enforcement.”

Details like this reinforce the sincerity and professionalism with which Fry and his officers approached the investigation. Some law enforcement officers are resistant to sharing jurisdiction with other agencies, but Moscow PD eagerly welcomes the extra resources, demonstrating their dedication to justice rather than glory.

“Ethan was an amazing human and we’re so lucky to get to call him son and friend. So thank you, all of you. I am not sure what tomorrow looks like in our family. I do know that the four of us will make it. It’s going to change the look of what we’ve had for twenty years, but we’ll do it. Ethan would want that for us.”

Stacy Chapin’s eulogy for her son Ethan focuses on the message of hope and optimism that she develops throughout the book. Her words and actions have a profound impact on many involved in the investigation. Though all the families work to define and protect their children’s legacies, Stacy’s approach is central to the book’s consideration of the importance of community and the dangers of isolation, as Stacy transforms her son’s memory into a cornerstone of community.

“Xana’s length of life was shorter than any of us could have imagined or wanted, but the depth of her life was grand. You can look at Xana’s short life as a success. If you make your life about happiness and the happiness you give others, then she was successful in what truly matters. May you rest in peace, my best friend, Xan.”

Emily’s eulogy contrasts length and depth of life. The parallel phrasing frames her story as meaningful despite its brevity. Emily emphasizes happiness shared with others as success and cites Xana as successful, paying tribute to the depth of her friend’s kindness and joy. The final line is a direct address to Xana, suggesting that Xana is listening or can be present in the memories of the mourners.

“What [Jim Chapin] means is that Kohberger is not likely to survive even if he gets off. This is Idaho, after all. ‘You really think Steve Goncalves,’ Jim asked months later with a wry smile, ‘is going to sit back while he walks around freely?’ The answer is no.”

The quote from Jim Chapin deepens the characterization of both the Chapin and Goncalves families. While Jim is focused on moving forward, Steve acts in service to Kaylee, determined to play his part in delivering justice.

“Based on his experience, he fears that the administration at WSU, his alma mater, will go into communications lockdown. ‘My wife works there and she shows me some of the crap that WSU sends out [internally], which is: “Do not say anything. Do not talk to anybody…This is not happening. You’re not talking.” And of course, they can’t prevent people [from doing], but they’re extremely vindictive up there and everybody is scared.’”

The book’s critique of institutional secrecy is evident here as journalist Evan Ellis quotes an anonymous source. The internal communications suggest that denial and concealment are the university’s standard tactics, and potential whistle-blowers are silenced through fear of retaliation.

“The students immediately reach out to each other, torn between shock and disbelief. What had they missed? And, worse, as advanced students of criminal minds, how had they missed it? ‘I can’t think of a group of people who would be better positioned to see this sort of behavior, the red flags associated with it in their own ranks,’ Ben said, ‘and we just completely didn’t see it.’”

Ben notes the irony that a group of experts in criminal psychology failed to recognize the warning signs in a member of their own cohort: If they couldn’t anticipate what Bryan might do, how could anyone else?

“She can see on TikTok that Kohberger’s former students are talking about all the red flags: his harsh grading of women, his rude remarks to women in class, his aggression, his stalking of someone, his social difficulties. So where is a statement from WSU about the school’s role in this?”

Lexi Pattinson reflects on the university’s responsibility or culpability for Kohberger’s crimes. This touches directly on the book’s themes of blame and institutional secrecy. It emphasizes, too, the tendency of people to fill informational voids with their own conjecture.

“Although she’s heard the news she’s been hoping for, Emily doesn’t feel the emotional release she expected to. Although ‘there was someone arrested, there was no fear that had left my body,’ she said.”

Emily Alandt and Hunter Johnson were particularly close to the violence of that day, and it’s had a lasting impact on them. The book critiques the idea of “closure” through its recursive structure and its sympathetic treatment of Steve Goncalves. That treatment is repeated here, the text highlighting how the trauma had life-altering effects on Emily.

“The people he’s seen locked up, they look like average Joes. They are average Joes, in fact, for most of their lives. But underneath…underneath there’s an itch. And these people spend their lives waiting for the chance to scratch it. They put themselves in places where the opportunity is readily available.”

After news of the arrest breaks, Josh Ferraro and other undergraduate classmates of Kohberger ask themselves the same question as Bryan’s cohort—what did we miss? The repetition of this experience across two criminal justice departments works to emphasize the way appearance can conceal reality.

“When you look at the two lawyers battling, it almost doesn’t seem like a fair fight. Thompson is retirement age and looks it. Taylor is in her late fifties, young-looking, blond. She’s quick on her feet. And she’s aggressive.”

The contrast between Thompson and Taylor is presented cinematically, highlighting differences in age, appearance, and demeanor to suggest an imbalance. This adds to the book’s theme of appearances versus reality, showing how appearance shapes ideas of power.

“Her voice quavering with emotion, Stacy pressed on, explaining that she hadn’t watched the presentation but had a message for the room: In their fascination with crime, they should not forget the victims. ‘These were four of the greatest kids, and all of the great things that you read about them [are] legitimately true…Don’t forget these kids. They were amazing, amazing kids in the prime of their life.’ The moment goes viral on Fox News.”

Stacy Chapin’s plea at the true crime convention puts the focus back on the victims, reminding the public not to lose sight of the humanity of the people at the center of the case. Her repetition of words (“greatest,” “great,” “amazing”) works to humanize the victims, not their killer. That her words went viral underscores the ethical concerns developing about true crime media.

“I want BK to look back and say, ‘If there was one thing that really brought me down, [it] was messing with Kaylee’s family. They wouldn’t let up,’ Steve said. ‘I would never want him to get away with it.’”

Steve Goncalves frames his family’s persistence as a force powerful enough to bring down his daughter’s killer. His use of Bryan Kohberger’s initials depersonalizes the man, creating distance between them. The connection he makes here to Kaylee’s memory provides context for his determination to influence the case.

“The house at 1122 King Road may be demolished, but the people in this room bear scars that will last forever, long after Bryan Kohberger has finally faced justice, whenever and wherever that happens. Exhibit A is Tyson Berrett, who is at the chief’s retirement party.”

The crime scene can be demolished so memory can fade, but those close to the violence will carry their trauma forever. The authors borrow a phrase from the courtroom, labeling Tyson Berrett is “Exhibit A,” turning him into evidence of trauma.

“‘But Bryan was framed,’ Michael says […] ‘Someone planted the knife sheath,’ he tells her. ‘The police didn’t find it when they first went in. There were a lot of drugs in that house, a lot of people around. But they only looked at Bryan.’”

The Kohberger family grasps for hope in conspiracy theories after their son’s arrest. Their grief is compounded by shame and isolation, highlighting the importance of community and the dangers of isolation.