How did you create/acquire the cover art for Zenith Man?
That cover photo is a frame of a photo booth strip from Lake Winnepesaukah, an old amusement park that still operates in Catoosa County, Georgia. Alvin and Virginia were soon to be married. My original plan was to use original art from my friend, the late Rev. Howard Finster. My editor tolerated my enthusiasm to a point but explained that while I could control everything between the book covers, the outside of the book was the publisher's call. I get it. They are marketers. I put the Finster art on the inside, and when I saw what they did with the photo from the photo booth, I knew they were right.
Was the storyline in Zenith Man something you envisioned from the beginning, or did you build/change it?
My book is a nonfiction account of my representation of Alvin Ridley, a small-town malcontent accused of holding his wife captive for three decades before killing her. The process of getting to and through a trial with Alvin was an ordeal—an odyssey of sorts—because nobody knew then that Alvin was autistic. Writing in the "vomit draft" style, I found writing like therapy and threw in things about a lifetime with my loving alcoholic father I always hoped to please, who had encouraged me to help Alvin. My editor in New York liked the personal stuff, so it stayed in.
Did writing your nonfiction book shift your perspective on past events or relationships?
In this book, I write about losing a race for the U.S. Congress, going through a divorce, being the adult child of an alcoholic parent, and the bitterness that followed—part of which probably caused me to take up Alvin Ridley's case. Time heals all wounds, but writing a book is truly the best medicine. There were no bad actors in the story or the book. We are all redeemed by what we have learned about autism since.
What made you want to write about this part of your life?
Immediately after the trial, I knew this was a hell of a story. For years, Alvin and I gave it away to TV true-crime shows, newspapers, magazines, and later, podcasts. But I was always frustrated at the end, in that I could not do Alvin justice in presenting him as merely "eccentric" or "odd.” His 2021 autism diagnosis, suggested by one of the jurors from the 1999 trial, finally formed the book in my head. I was compelled to write it, and I am so happy that I wrote it in his lifetime. Alvin became a rockstar of sorts, finally feeling warmth and love from the community that had shunned him. He passed away in July 2024, a happy man. Millions of undiagnosed neurodivergent souls could face the same misunderstanding and misjudgment that Alvin did, so I hope the book is taken as a cautionary tale.
Portions of this Q&A were edited for clarity.