Despite the war in Israel, we all still have to work. And my new job happened to require my taking a heroic 12-hour road trip across this great land. For obvious reasons, I asked my family and friends for podcast recommendations.

The only one that came in was, “In The Dark”, by the New Yorker. It is a “True Crime” podcast. In other words, it is very similar to the, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill,” podcast that captured our attention a few years ago. If you’re uninitiated, then just think “long form journalism”. These types of podcasts are probably more easy to listen to at length than audiobooks, but that likely depends on the genre. In a word, they are binge-able.

This particular season, as it turned out, was all about a crime that occurred in Minnesota, the state I have been living and working in for the last four years. I immediately had a visceral reaction. It almost made me sick to my stomach. I felt like I knew exactly what this young, passionate, and indignant female investigator was about to bring to light.

For context, in case you live under a rock, there is a thing called “Minnesota Nice” up there. It’s surely unique and deserving of a unique name, but mostly it is similar to passive-aggressive behavior—nice-to-your-face-but-will-not-hesitate-to-viciously-cut-you-down-behind-your-back. (Naturally this is not limited to political boundaries of Minnesota, but the folks up there have perfected the art.)

The real “Minnesota Nice”, however, is far more annoying. The singular “Minnesota Nice” manifests itself most plainly when the Minnesotans play the part of perfect victim. They portend to not want attention or any ruffled feathers, but they will meticulously lay out all the perfect steps they took and “don’ cha know?” it didn’t stop the tragedy that those steps should’ve stopped. It’s like they’re seeking to be known as simultaneously the smartest and most unfortunate people on the Earth.

Remember, though! They did everything perfectly the way the system is designed to work, but “darn it”, they just couldn’t see the future after all! Who can?!

Like I said, it’s annoying.

(If you need a contemporary example that far outweighs the paltry example of this podcast, just consider the Minnesota Lutherans who specifically invited the Somalis. It’s a nightmare—but “we just were trying to help those who needed it most”.)

Back to the podcast. It clearly passed the time. I was cruising through episode after episode without even noticing the mile markers or the minute hand. So good work Miss Baran.

But my overall critique is that it was unduly unfocused.

In a long form magazine writing class I took several years ago, the professor taught us that when writing and reading long form pieces, we should be able to answer, “What is it about about?” For example, a long form article about the process of making french fries is not just a detailed recipe, but about a community that is dying or some terrible working conditions or climate change.

This doesn’t mean it isn’t about french fries. It just means that it is truly—if written well—about the other thing.

The trick, to be sure, is to just have only one about about.

And that’s the biggest criticism I have of this podcast. It’s about a notable missing child case that went unsolved for twenty plus years. But the about(s) about is a myriad of things to include a. the morality and effectiveness of publicly accessible national sex offender databases, b. revenge, c. punishment, d. role of law enforcement, e. grief, f. illusions of safety in small towns, and easily a few others.

The most pointed line which I believe she would agree summarizes her about about (for my thinking) was, “…and there is no government program responsible for making sure Sheriffs do their job!!” (Paraphrased.) Miss Baran more than once suggests that peer review and/or boards like other professions have are long overdue for law enforcement.

For my thinking, however, the most compelling storyline (and she did spend so much time on this that I thought it was her about about for a while) was how this one case was so pivotal in creating the sex offender database, and that by all accounts and measures, those databases are meaningless and ineffective—not to mention overly mean-spirited.

Then there was a possible about about regarding the fantastic incongruence that the kidnapping in question—which spawned the public databases—wouldn’t have been prevented by the database because the kidnapper wasn’t a known sex offender. That’s a doozy to contemplate.

And there were others.

And that’s my point. There were too many. So many, in fact, that the podcast fails.

Where the podcast fails, where it falls flat on its face and reveals that it is a far cry from real-deal quality reporting, is in its basic, and naive, presumption that the terrifically inept small town law enforcement departments have something to so with deterring criminal behavior.

The boy was murdered within the same night that he was kidnapped. No amount of police work can prevent a crime like that. And the experts on child kidnapping which ends in murder (whom she interviewed) said as much.

The sequence that would’ve had to happen to prevent the boy’s death is as follows:

1. Boy reported kidnapped by friends.

2. The “government” workers who were tasked to help then know to disregard all answers to their questions except the one neighbor who claimed to see a blue car turn around in his driveway.

3. The “government” workers somehow think to call nearby towns in ever expanding concentric circles to see if any weirdos have blue cars.

4. The “government” workers who answer their phone that night in a town 20 miles away happen to recall there is a man in his town that never breaks the law but is weird and drives a blue car.

5. Now that “government” worker tasks others in his town to go to the weirdos home and ask anyone there or nearby where he is.

6. When no one knows, they ask, “Is there anyone who knows where he liked to take boys to molest them?”

7. Then the “government” workers orchestrate a plan to travel to every single location listed—but especially the correct one.

8. As they approach, the “government” workers in their “government” cars keep their sirens and lights off. (The killer confessed that he decided to kill the boy when some cop car spooked him.)

9. Then the “government” worker who happens to pull up to the killer and boy somehow doesn’t themself break the law (can’t just shoot him) but prevents the killer from killing the boy (which he did—so he says—because he got spooked by a nearby “government” vehicle).

10. And all this before cell phones and within a couple hours of step 1.

Ten easy steps. And, had they been followed, Madeleine Baran would have nothing to do.

In case you missed it, this lengthier than normal blog post of mine is supposed to be a mimic of long form journalism. And my about about is the illogical, though trending for most of the Anthropocene, position of suggesting government problems can be fixed by more government.