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Alyssa Lee Clear

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Sharon Kinne

January 27, 2017
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Sharron Kinne is such an interesting character because she truly is a modern outlaw. If we were watching this play out on film, she would be our heroine. We would sympathize with her, admire her badassery, and find reasons to justify her actions. Of course, this isn't film, so depictions of her are often unfavorable, but the thing that gets to me is when they're just flat out wrong.

I had to rely on Wikipedia so much in researching Sharon Kinne, because unfortunately most of the articles I found were so riddled with speculation and opinion that it felt wrong to even use them as source material.

A lot of these websites state as fact that Sharon killed Patricia Jones, and it's not unlikely, as the gun used to kill Jones was later found in Sharon's possession. Nevertheless, she was acquitted of that murder, so to credit her with it is simply not factual. One of my personal favorite sensationalizations is this little gem:

"She carried out her plot by luring Patricia Jones to the remote area and then shot her to death as Patricia cried, screamed, and begged for her life."

By all accounts, there were no witnesses to Patricia's murder, so I'm not sure if the writer intends to imply that he was actually present at the scene of the crime or is somehow omniscient. 

Then, in another article, we have this statement about the death of Sharon's husband, James Kinne:

"Sharon Kinne did the only sensible thing, for her: She shot James in the head while he was napping and said her 2-year-old daughter Danna did it while playing with daddy's gun."

Sharon's conviction in the death of her husband was overturned, and because she remains a fugitive, and her first three trials yielded no resolution, the charges against her remain pending. So, legally, she is not responsible for the death of James Kinne.

Now, clearly I'm not opposed to embellishment for the sake of a compelling story, but the characters I create, while based on real women and as well researched as possible, are still characters of my own design. I in no way intend for my words to be taken as their statements. It's important, I believe, to be as transparent as possible in distinguishing facts from fiction. 

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In an attempt to be fair, I always check whether the woman I'm portraying has admitted to committing the crime or maintains her innocence. I may have my own ideas as to whether or not they're telling the truth, but I want to at least attempt giving them the benefit of doubt, and if nothing else, put myself outside of my own head while enacting them. So, if they admit to it, I will tell the story from that angle, and if they do not, I'll find whatever statements or news reports from them that can help me craft a story from their perspective of events. 

Some are easier than others. Larissa Schuster and Ana Trujillo both had numerous interviews and direct quotes that I could draw from. Sharon Kinne, on the other hand -- and I'm sure her fugitive status plays no small part in this -- has not really spoken too much about her alleged crimes. 

She has however, always maintained the same stories for each crime she was accused of. James was an accident, she simply found Patricia's body, and has no idea who might have killed her, and the incident in Mexico was self defense. If nothing else, the woman is consistent with her statements. Its unlikely she'll ever be found, as she could be anywhere in South America at this point, and no one really seems to be looking for her anymore. Some speculation even suggests that she has died. She'd be a fugitive in her 70's, so that's entirely possible. 

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I chose to work the comics into this story because the Criminal series explores crime in a very interesting, nuanced way. In the world of Criminal, we abandon the good/evil dynamic, even more so than you'll often see on film and television. Because these aren't your "likable antihero" characters, they're people stuck in shitty life situations finding a way to survive, and they aren't always doing what they think is right. There isn't always some altruistic or compassionate side to them, and yet, there doesn't need to be. Brubaker and Phillips still make you feel for them. The way each arc can be read independently but still ties together really pulls together the idea that you can unwittingly be the "villain" in someone else's story, and that the lines between what is right and wrong are often murky and bloody.

And this isn't just praise because its my favorite comic. I bring this up because its so pertinent in life. We may be the protagonist in our own stories, but each of us is a villain or an adversar in somebody else's, and we'd be wise to remind ourselves of that every once in awhile.

xo,

Miss Arsenous Apple Pie

Further reading: 
I'd highly recommend checking out Criminal by Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips
&
If you come across any material on Sharron Kinne that isn't shit, please let me know!

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It was our entire life, going up in flames. Cork, silently suffering while I frantically searched for help, help that would never come, help that was never there. That never existed. I’d been watching him burn alive for years now, screaming at
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I realized — this was the physical manifestation of the pain I’d been watching him suffer through all these years.
I realized — this was the physical manifestation of the pain I’d been watching him suffer through all these years.
I never did admit this back then, but ... there was a moment ... as I became transfixed on that car, engulfed in flames, wrapped in the the still of night and surrounded by lemon groves — those waxy leaves catching the light of the fire and ref
I never did admit this back then, but ... there was a moment ... as I became transfixed on that car, engulfed in flames, wrapped in the the still of night and surrounded by lemon groves — those waxy leaves catching the light of the fire and reflecting it back into the darkness. A futile attempt at illuminating something so much more vast and encompassing then they could ever be. After the shattering of glass, the frantic scrambling through the bushes, the screams into the nothingness surrounding me, there was only silence. I was the only one making noise. That stagnant night air had wrapped itself around the car like a blanket, like the blanket wrapped around Cork, who, the entire time, had been silently burning alive, too sedated to move, too sedated to feel, too sedated to scream.
Cork was beautiful. He was brilliant. He was kind and sweet and loving. He sent me a dozen and a half roses before we even had our first date — ‘I hope you’ll find these pretty, even if you won’t join me for dinner this weeken
Cork was beautiful. He was brilliant. He was kind and sweet and loving. He sent me a dozen and a half roses before we even had our first date — ‘I hope you’ll find these pretty, even if you won’t join me for dinner this weekend, but I do hope you will.’* I couldn’t have loved the man more. But he never could see it — not the love and admiration I harbored for him or all the wonderful qualities in himself that made me love and admire him. He saw all his faults and shortcomings. He saw my overspending and blamed himself for not making enough money. I loved Cork so much, but none of that love could ever make him love himself. Do you know how difficult that is? To see someone you love and cherish just ... falling apart ... right in front of you. *Fabricated: Lucille’s father recalled the note Cork sent to Lucille & it’s general sentiments, but the exact wording isn’t documented.
Maybe I wanted too much. I wanted the life that society says means “I made it,” whatever “it” is. The beautiful husband, the beautiful children, the beautiful house and beautiful things to fill it with. I drove us into debt, I
Maybe I wanted too much. I wanted the life that society says means “I made it,” whatever “it” is. The beautiful husband, the beautiful children, the beautiful house and beautiful things to fill it with. I drove us into debt, I can’t deny that. There was just ... always something more. A dress that made me feel beautiful, a home that felt special, another man that looked at me like I meant something. That’s always been my downfall, I guess. Nothing is ever enough. I want it so desperately until I have it. Then I don’t know what to do with it. I convince myself that this time it’ll be different, this time it’ll satisfy me, this time I can stop looking. Just this once. But then I have it, and I’m still empty, and something else comes along and catches my eye and I start the longing process all over again.
I can’t say I was ever really a good mother. To be honest, I’m not even sure I can say I’m a good person, but that’s so hard to define, isn’t it? Who decides what makes a person fit into the parameters of “good&rdq
I can’t say I was ever really a good mother. To be honest, I’m not even sure I can say I’m a good person, but that’s so hard to define, isn’t it? Who decides what makes a person fit into the parameters of “good” or “bad?” A court decided I was bad, as did a prosecutor, a couple detectives. But you take the fragments of a terrible accident, and the fragments of an imperfect life, an imperfect marriage, an imperfect person, you toss them into a binder and you read the worst parts of it all. Anyone can seem terrible when you only look at their flaws, can’t they?
Here’s a hastily-made hyper dramatic “trailer”/bts for my upcoming story, based on the life & trial of Lucille Miller. Look out for it after the weekend! 😘 In the meantime, a little background on the premise of Lucille’s story & Arsenous Apple Pie in general: Now’s as good a time as any to address this. These stories, while rooted in true crimes, are told from a perspective I couldn’t possibly understand. I pull from films, from interviews and articles, from observations and life experiences, and I try to create stories that do more than describe a crime. The crimes become a lens through which we view human experiences, taking the most severe actions & emotions present in humanity, exploring the deepest and darkest aspects of our minds, and ruminating on the things that push us to that place. That being said, I don’t always believe in the guilt of the convicted women I portray — something I try to make clear when appropriate. Nonetheless, they’ve been pushed to an extreme place, and are facing tragedy, demons, or a cruel court of public opinion. I believe there is always a great deal to learn from researching these cases, especially when you attempt to mentally put yourself in that position. In the past, I’ve told stories from the point of view of someone suffering with depression or some form of mental illness, as it’s a perspective I’m acutely familiar with. With Lucille, I decided to flip it, & show a person deeply in love with and hopelessly trying to save a husband suffering from depression. Much has been written about Lucille Miller, including “Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream,” a highly-regarded essay by the great Joan Didion & “A Mother’s Crime,” a touching piece for the Los Angeles Times by Lucille’s own daughter, Debra Miller. Many people harbor opinions on Lucille’s crime, her character, and her life. This was true when it all went down in the 60’s, and remains true to this day. For better or worse, this is not one you’ll have read before. 💋, Miss Arsenous Apple Pie
Epilogue: And that, my loves, is how I came to be remembered as the first woman hung by the state of Louisiana. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this too was inaccurate. I was the first white woman to be hanged by the state, but certainly not the first woma
Epilogue: And that, my loves, is how I came to be remembered as the first woman hung by the state of Louisiana. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this too was inaccurate. I was the first white woman to be hanged by the state, but certainly not the first woman. But again, facts be damned, right? History wants what it wants, and all it really wants is a good story. So many lives, reduced to nothing but grocery store gossip and dinner party conversation starters. In a rare instance where someone seemed to realize the gruesome nature of a trial becoming mere entertainment for the bored masses, Arthur Brisbane of the San Francisco Examiner asked, "Does a great State deserve to have on its records the first hanging of a white woman, or a black woman, either?" It all depends on who you ask, Arthur, it all depends on who you ask.
Of course this left me as the central figure in all this nonsense. The adulterous, vain, manipulative "siren," who lured all of these men to their doom. Knowing full well they were cementing my death sentence, reporters made themselves feel
Of course this left me as the central figure in all this nonsense. The adulterous, vain, manipulative "siren," who lured all of these men to their doom. Knowing full well they were cementing my death sentence, reporters made themselves feel better by insisting I loved their attention. Stoic, uninterested, and defiant in court, I "giggled" for the press and "entertained" in my jail cell. They truly seemed to have convinced themselves that not only did I enjoy the attention, but that they were somehow doing me a favor by making me into a celebrity. Or perhaps they just saw this as the pinnacle of their careers and weren't concerned with mere fatal casualties. Facts be damned, they wanted a good story, and a good story needs a good ending. A good ending, it seems, never does include a living antagonist.

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