When the Night Comes Falling

The previous August, Michael insisted on driving Bryan from Pennsylvania to Pullman, Washington, so the latter could begin his graduate work and TA duties at WSU. Then, as now, he was worried about his son’s emotional health so far from his family; in fact, the day after arriving in Pullman, he asked Bryan’s new next-door neighbor, Christian Martinez, to look out for him, adding that his son has a hard time making friends. This has always been true. An obese teenager, Bryan was frequently bullied in middle and high school. He also suffered from a psychological condition known as “visual snow,” a hallucination of seeing static, which led to paralyzing feelings of depression and worthlessness. Like many young people in his neighborhood, he sought solace in a heroin habit. After his theft of his sister’s cellphone to sell for drug money, his father, finally having enough, had him arrested. Resolving to turn his life around, Bryan took up boxing lessons and a rigorous fitness regimen, kicking his dependency on drugs and losing over a hundred pounds. He also went under the knife to trim the pendulous loose skin on his torso, using his medical insurance to pay for a tummy tuck and panniculectomy. Now trim, muscular, and sporting chiseled good looks, Bryan dropped his old group of acquaintances, whom he had “always detested,” sometimes bullying them to let them know that he had “moved on.” However, even with his new looks, Bryan still had trouble making friends. Girls, particularly, were repelled by his pushy, “creepy” new arrogance. But now, in August of 2022 at WSU, he was riding high on a sterling academic record and on hopes of making a “fresh start.”

Christian Martinez, Bryan’s next-door neighbor whom Michael asked to “look after” his son, takes pity on the lonely grad student and invites him to a pool party in nearby Moscow, Idaho, about 10 miles from Pullman across the state line. Moscow, nestled amidst pristine mountains and resplendent foliage, retains a “frontier wildness,” despite its burgeoning population of 25,000. It is also home to the University of Idaho, which has a mixed reputation, attracting many with its notoriety as a “party college.” Drugs and crime are a perennial problem in Moscow, but the Christian community is also very strong here, especially the “Kirkers,” the 2,000 followers of Christ Church, helmed by Pastor Doug Wilson. Wilson, adept as both politician and fire-and-brimstone preacher, dreams of turning Moscow into a straitlaced Christian theocracy, a pious keystone of “the Redoubt”: the new, deeply conservative, proudly Christian American heartland. However, there are serpents in his garden: A former Christ Church deacon is in prison for child pornography, and other church members have been convicted of sex offenses against children and young girls. Just a year earlier, in 2021, a scandal rocked the town when over a dozen women came forward to accuse numerous Kirkers of subjecting them to sexual abuse.

On a hot August afternoon, Bryan Kohberger drives the 10 or so miles to the pool party, his first visit to Moscow. The party’s host and DJ is Martinez’s friend Zach Cartwright, a PhD food scientist, yoga instructor, and bon vivant. Bryan tries to be sociable with some of the other partiers, including Zach, but all are unnerved by his odd intensity and his way of talking directly into their faces. However, he does score a triumph of sorts, asking for (and receiving) the phone numbers of two attractive young women, a coup that impresses some onlookers. That Bryan never called the women in the months that followed—aside, possibly, from a few “annoying” hangup calls—suggests that his getting their numbers may have been mere peacocking, a former nerd’s showoff stunt.

On Bryan and Michael’s long drive back to Pennsylvania in mid-December, Bryan suddenly announces that he has a “problem.” Michael, who has been primed for bad news by his son’s haunted demeanor, is (mostly) relieved to hear that it is just a work issue: The college administrators, Bryan says, are siding with some “spoiled brats” who complained about his teaching style, owing to their failure to value his “intellectual honesty.” Michael puzzles over that pretentious phrase and wonders anew why his son chose to pursue a doctorate in “criminology,” which he sees as a waste of time, money, and Bryan’s considerable brainpower; having grown up among criminals in Brooklyn, he doesn’t think anyone needs a PhD (or much intelligence) to understand their thinking. His son’s intense focus on this field of study has been a constant source of tension between them. One of Bryan’s personal heroes and role models is Dr. Katherine Ramsland, his former professor at DeSales University, whose dogged probing of the criminal mind, notably in her book Inside the Minds of Serial Killers: Why They Kill, first attracted him to the field. Like her, Bryan wants to explore dark new frontiers as a clinical psychologist, venturing into the “belly of the beast” (the minds of actual murderers) to decode their urge to kill (35). In his graduate studies, he once impressed a teacher with a series of thoughtful questions he formulated for criminals to answer, about the motives, planning, and emotions connected with their crimes. However, with recent developments, that teacher now feels haunted by Bryan’s intense curiosity about the predatory mind. Howard Blum pointedly quotes one of Dr. Ramsland’s works: “Fantasy […] also builds to an appetite to experience the real thing” (37).

As a doctoral student in criminology, Bryan showed ambition and brilliance, gathering expertise in (among many other things) tracking individuals, such as by surveillance video, license plates, or “pings” on a cellphone tower. Arriving at WSU for his doctoral program, he launched a “charm offensive,” systematically tracking down all 13 of his fellow candidates and deluging them with small talk. He was also a formidable arguer in class, cogently and aggressively defending his positions while attacking those of his classmates. Many noticed that he seemed to take a special, cruel delight in savaging the opinions of young women; in fact, to some, this bordered on mean-spiritedness and misogyny. As a TA, his bullying was, if anything, worse, and after many complaints from students and several warnings from the administration, Bryan was given an ultimatum to clean up his act or else. Bryan, who needed the TA stipend to pay for his studies, agreed. Then, just a few days before the end of the semester, Bryan exploded at Professor John Snyder, who employed him as a TA, over an offhand remark. This outburst, along with reports from female students about his “creepy” behavior, ended his TA career. However, by the time the administrators had sent him the email firing him, Bryan was already on his way back to Pennsylvania with his father.

An inner monologue picks up the motif from the opening of Chapter 1, imagining the thoughts of a lonely male (presumably Bryan) scrolling through social media, voyeuristically savoring the “tasty” smiles of attractive women. They can’t tell him to “get lost,” he smirks to himself, because they can’t see him or read his predatory thoughts.

Toward the beginning of Bryan and Michael’s long drive to Pennsylvania, an Idaho police officer pulls them over, catching their faces on his bodycam. Later that day, investigators will compare these images to another bodycam video taken on September 1, less than two weeks after Bryan attended the pool party in Moscow, Idaho. This second video was captured by two policemen responding to complaints about a noisy party at a six-bedroom, off-campus house on King Road, Moscow. Besides the officers, only four people appear in the video—two shy young women, two belligerent young men—but the detectives study its grainy shadows for hours, trying to connect it, in some way, to the footage of the Kohbergers taken at the traffic stop. They are hoping for a lead in a case that has baffled them for over a month: the brutal slayings of four students in that very same house on King Road.

Half a year earlier, in June of 2022, six female students—Ashlin Couch, Bethany Funke, Dylan Mortensen, Madison Mogen, Xana Kernodle, and Kaylee Goncalves—signed the lease for a six-bedroom house on 1122 King Road. For some of them, it was their first rental. After a couple of nights, however, Ashlin Couch moved out of the cramped basement bedroom she had been stuck with and found lodgings elsewhere. Bethany Funke, a “sparky” blonde, chose to remain in the other basement bedroom. One floor up was the “merry soul” of the house, the living room and kitchen area where the housemates hosted their frequent parties. A sliding glass door led into the kitchen from the porch, and on either side of the living room were two corner bedrooms, one of them occupied by Dylan Mortensen, a tall, 20-year-old junior from Boise. Like Bethany, she belonged to the Pi Beta Phi sorority. Her sorority sisters regarded her as naïve, which later would strike some observers as ironic—or “worse.”

The other bedroom on the second floor was the “tiny domain” of Xana Kernodle, the sole housemate on the lease who wasn’t blonde. Dark-haired and also a Pi Beta Phi sister, Xana was a 20-year-old marketing major who loved sports and who waitressed part-time at the Mad Greek restaurant on Moscow’s Main Street. Smart, fun-loving, and ambitious, Xana had triumphed over a troubled family history, which included a mother with over 40 arrests for drug offenses. On the day of her high school graduation, Xana embellished her mortarboard with a hopeful message: “For the lives I will change” (60). A couple of years into college at the University of Idaho, she fell in love with Ethan Chapin, a handsome, athletic, easy-going student from an affluent background. Known as a “gentle giant,” the six-foot-four Ethan had been a star basketball player in high school and in college had a reputation as an affable, sometimes clownish “life of every party” (63). Xana and Ethan met in their freshman year and became a couple less than a year later, with Xana often joining the Chapin family at their lavish summer home in Priest Lake, Idaho.

The top floor of the house at 1122 King Road had two bedrooms, divided between Madison Mogan and Kaylee Goncalves, two high-spirited 21-year-olds who had been best friends since the sixth grade. Sister-like in appearance as well as in personality, the bubbly Madison (or “Maddie”) and Kaylee had always shared everything, and Kaylee’s parents looked on Maddie almost as another daughter, welcoming her on their wide-ranging family vacations. Kaylee, whose well-heeled family owned a large house on seven acres, grew up as a daredevil and prankster, the middle child of a family of five. But Maddie, whose father was frequently in jail for substance use, had a more impoverished, turbulent childhood, sometimes pretending to be a fairy as a whimsical escape from her bleak home life. The two girls bonded strongly at the rigorous Coeur d’Alene Charter Academy, but, liking each other much more than the school, insisted on transferring together to the more laid-back Lake City High. At the University of Idaho, however, they somewhat loosened their tight bond, pursuing different fields of study (marketing for Maddie; the College of Letters, Arts and Social Sciences for Kaylee) and pledging different sororities. Maddie made the dean’s list every year while waitressing (like Xana Kernodle) at the Mad Greek restaurant in Moscow. Also affecting their sisterly bond—perhaps inevitably—was their love lives. In their freshman year of college, both had fallen in love.

On bid night, shortly after joining Pi Beta Phi, Maddie Mogen met a good-looking Delta Tau Delta named Jake Schriger. A couple of years older than Maddie, Jake shared her serious, practical mindset. Only after many months of quiet friendship did the two begin to date, and then, as Jake’s mother recalls, “They were like peanut butter and jelly” (71). Kaylee Goncalves, too, was in a relationship, but her own college romance was less tranquil than her friend’s. Jack DuCoeur, a handsome redhead whom Ashlee had admired since their days at Lake View High School, may have given her more heartache than happiness. A skilled juggler, tennis player, and “big man on campus,” Jack exuded a flamboyant energy that Kaylee always felt herself drawn back to, however many times they quarreled and broke up. Toward the end of her junior year, however, Kaylee finally found the will to end this five-year-long “entanglement.” Around the same time, she moved into the house on King Road with her (once again) best friend, Maddie. Expecting to graduate in December—a semester early—Kaylee made audacious plans to backpack through Europe after Christmas. By early fall, she had already lined up a lucrative job at a marketing firm in Texas and began preparing for her bright new future by moving back to Coeur d’Alene. First, however, she had a surprise to share with Maddie. Excitedly, she asked her old friend if she might spend the weekend of November 12 with her in Moscow.

Kaylee’s “surprise” was a Range Rover that she had just bought and was dying to show off. Her car was the line’s “entry-level” model (the Evoque) and was six years old, but it would still turn heads in Moscow. Maddie and her other friends were thrilled by Kaylee’s new acquisition, and amazed that she could afford it, especially since she was still paying for the third-floor bedroom in the house on King Road. On Saturday morning, the five young women (Kaylee, Maddie, Xana, Dylan, and Bethany), with Ethan Chapin joining them, posed for a group photo on the house’s porch: a way of memorializing the tight group of friends before Kaylee and others moved on. In the photo, Kaylee hoists Maddie on her shoulders, while Xana—as in most photos with her boyfriend—nestles her head against Ethan’s protective arm.

After attending the U of I Vandals football game, Ethan escorted his sister to her sorority dance, then took Xana to a party at his frat house. Meanwhile, Kaylee and Maddie went to the Corner Club, a safe choice for women who didn’t want to be hassled by dateless young men. However, the roommate of Kaylee’s ex-boyfriend Jack DuCoeur was working the bar, meaning that Jack would probably be there too. Later, friends speculated that Kaylee may have returned to Moscow that weekend with thoughts of reconnecting with Jack; though, as it happened, they exchanged only a few, terse words at the club. Sometime after 1:00 am, the two young women set off homeward in the cold night, Maddie mildly dismayed by her friend’s continuing interest in Jack. Followed at a discreet distance by a casual acquaintance (Jack Showalter), the two ate at a Grub Hub before calling for a ride home.

By 2:00 am, all the residents of 1122 King Road were home: Dylan and Bethany in their separate rooms with the doors closed, Xana and Ethan in Xana’s second-floor bedroom, and Kaylee sharing Maddie’s third-floor bedroom, her dog Murphy curled up in the room across the hall. Presumably troubled by her (brief) encounter with Jack that night, Kaylee called him seven times after 2:26 am, always getting voicemail. Maddie then tried to call him three times more, finally giving up around 3:00 am. Xana, still hungry after her night out, called Door Dash for a cheeseburger and fries from a Burger King in Pullman, Washington, which was delivered to her at 4:00 am. Then, Blum writes, “the night came falling down with a madness all its own” (80).

At 3:30 am, a white car breaks the late-night stillness of King Road, circling slowly past 1122 again and again, seemingly “summoned” by an “invisible force.” After a few passes, it seems to drive away, as if its occupant has decided not to be this “other person.” Then, the car returns and comes to a final stop on a parking bluff above the house. A shadowy figure emerges and heads for the house’s back porch, a sheathed KA-BAR knife clutched in his gloved hand. Passing through the back sliding-glass door, which is seldom locked, he ascends the narrow staircase to the third-floor bedroom where Kaylee Goncalves and Maddie Mogen are sleeping. Since he pays no mind to the two second-floor bedrooms, the author speculates that he has targeted a specific person in the house, probably Maddie—since Kaylee is only visiting for the weekend. Quickly and efficiently, he inflicts deadly wounds on the two sleeping young women with the sharp, seven-inch blade. Kaylee, however, wakes and briefly fights back, prolonging his “vicious” attack. In the room across the hall, the dog smells blood and howls. On the floor below, Dylan wakes up and calls out. Xana, in the opposite bedroom on the same floor, shouts, “There’s someone here!” (83) as the murderer comes creeping down the stairs. Frightened and confused, Dylan peers out into the darkness, but then goes back to bed. Seconds later, Ethan emerges from Xana’s bedroom to investigate. Though his broad-shouldered frame towers over the intruder, he has no time to react: With one stroke of the knife, the killer severs his jugular, killing him. Xana, in her room, bursts into sobs, causing Dylan to open her door a crack, whereupon she hears the killer’s gentle words to Xana: “It’s okay, I’m going to help you” (84). Sleepy and confused, Dylan closes the door and goes back to bed. Cornered in her room, Xana fights the killer but is quickly overpowered. Stepping over Ethan’s body, the murderer walks unhurriedly to the sliding glass door, right past Dylan, who has, for the third time, opened her bedroom door. He gives no sign of seeing her, but she commits him to memory: a lean, fit-looking figure, about 5’10”, dressed all in black, bushy eyebrows visible above a black mask. Tired, baffled, and (perhaps) in denial, she closes her door again and goes back to sleep. The killer gets back into his white car and speeds away. In less than eight minutes, he has killed four people.

December 15, 2022: Sergeant Ernstes, the officer who has pulled over Bryan Kohberger’s car (which, like the killer’s, is white), informs him and his father that he stopped them because they were tailgating a van. He asks them where they’re headed, and Bryan replies evasively that they’re going to get Thai food at a nearby restaurant. Michael, however, tells the cop that they’re driving home from Washington State University, and then rambles, in a distracted way, about the shootout earlier that day at the WSU campus, describing it as “horrifying.” Indignantly, Bryan cuts in that they weren’t there for the shooting. Michael smooths the waters by saying they’re both “punchy” from the long drive, and the deputy lets them off with a warning. Nine minutes later, however, they are pulled over again, this time by a state trooper. This second stop alarms the FBI surveillance team assigned to track Kohberger, which includes a fixed-wing plane following him from above. The FBI’s long weeks of painstaking work, they fear, may well be thrown away if the Idaho cops arrest Kohberger prematurely.