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Jamie’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“He was handsome, like Don.”
Jamie didn’t blink.
Suddenly, I wanted to shock him. “In the middle of the party.”
There. He flinched.
“Jamie,” I said. “I terrify myself.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re allowed to like what you like.” The words sat heavy between us. “As long as it makes you…” He took a deep breath. “Feel good, you should let go of the guilt. I’m not saying anything Don did to you was okay, butyouhave no reason to be ashamed.”
I couldn’t have looked away from him if I’d tried. “I let them demean me, even though I hate them. In my head, I don’t want to. But I keep doing it anyway. I can’t tell if Don brainwashed me, or if I was this way all along, and that’s what made me an easy mark.”
He leaned closer. “They make you feel like a stranger to yourself.”
“Yes.” I adjusted the towel, tugging it higher. When I looked up, Jamie’s eyes were locked carefully on my face.
“Jamie, I want to tell you more about my life.”
He blinked.
“You’re good at stitching people together. All the dead women and their killers in your podcast… You find the clues in their lives. You weave them together until you have a picture of who they were, why they did the things they did. You make it make sense.”
He shifted, pulling his wet jeans from his legs. “You know I’m just guessing, right? When I tell people’s stories, I’m taking an educated stab at a pattern. I could be wrong.”
“That’s the best any of us can do.” The way he was looking at me… I wanted him to touch me again, and I didn’t know if it was for comfort or something else.
“I think I understand now.” His voice lowered. “It’s not just about Laurel. You want to see yourself the way a journalist would. You want perspective. That’s why you’re doing the interviews.”
He must have read the answer in my face. Because after a moment, he said, “Okay, Shay. Show me the pieces.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
TransgressionsEpisode 705, interview transcript: Shay Deroy, Sept. 13, 2022 (unabridged)
SHAY DEROY:The minute I turned twelve, it was like I pressed a button and the machines inside my body started turning. I got my period. My breasts grew—not small like other girls’, but full and round, women’s breasts. Everywhere I went, I kept my arms folded over my chest, trying to hide them.
My body was mine before the change, but after, it belonged to everyone. Everywhere I went, men’s heads turned. I couldn’t go out in public without it—the mall, the grocery store. Even if I was just standing on the sidewalk, they’d roll down their car windows and yell at me as they drove by. One night, I was with my mom, and a man hung out the window of a red truck and yelled, “Damn, honey, let me suck those tits.” My mom went red in the face and ran after him, screaming, “She’s twelve years old, you sick fuck!”
I’m thirty now, and I’m still embarrassed to tell you that. I feel an impulse to laugh it off. “Suck those tits”—how cheesy, right? Like dialogue from a bad movie. That’s what I feel compelled to say, like it’s a joke. Somewhere along the way, I learned to minimize it. Maybe because at some level, I still think it’s my fault, that my body incited them. Or maybe I realized people are rarely interested in another person’s pain, so you have to dress it up accordingly.
But I’ll tell you truth. It felt like constant surveillance, and it reshaped me. Going outside became an event. I developed this hum of apprehension—an extra awareness, like a sixth sense I always carried. Men were watching around every corner. I could run into them at any moment. I’m not being dramatic. Anything could be an invitation, even accidentally meeting a man’s eyes. So I learned to keep my eyes trained on the ground and stay quiet. The more unnoticeable I was, the safer.
JAMIE KNIGHT:What kind of people would make a kid feel that way?
SHAY:You remember Clara Matthews.
JAMIE:Of course. You, me, and Clara, the three amigos. Soccer hooligans.
SHAY:In seventh grade I used to go to her house after school because my mom was still working two jobs. Her dad picked us up every day. He’d wait for us in his white SUV, and as soon as we opened the door, he’d turn around and say “Where to, ladies?” like a chauffeur.
JAMIE:He was pretty goofy. Clara used to get embarrassed.
SHAY:One day, he eyed me in the rearview and said, out of nowhere, “Have you ever thought about competing in pageants, Shay? My sister did them when she was your age and loved it. She coaches now. You have the look.”
I could see Clara stiffen, but I flushed with pleasure. I knew what Mr. Matthews meant: I was pretty. And he was a safe person, so I could take the compliment.
