The Perfect Father by John Glatt: New Excerpt

In The Perfect Father, New York Times bestselling author John Glatt reveals the tragedy of the Watts family, whose seemingly perfect lives played out on social media—but the truth would lead to a vicious and heartbreaking murder.

Read on for a new excerpt of The Perfect Father—available now!

Author Acknowledgement

This is my twenty-second true-crime book and perhaps the most disturbing. There are so many unanswered questions as to why Chris Watts, a seemingly perfect father, would annihilate his entire family.

“He was a great father,” Shanann’s father, Frank Rzucek, told investigators. “Husbandwise the same way.”

So what could have been going on in Chris Watts’s mind to make him do the unthinkable? So far he has not undergone a single psychiatric examination and neither the prosecutors nor his public defenders have ever requested one. Perhaps if he had undergone a mental evaluation some of these questions might have been answered.

There are so many victims of this senseless crime who may never know what really happened in those early morning hours of August 13, 2018, which Chris has said he will carry to the grave. As he languishes behind bars for the rest of his life, with photographs of Shanann, Bella, and Celeste posted to the walls of his cell, who knows what he is thinking.

And although he still writes letters to Shanann and the girls, which his parents read out over their graves, so far he has shown no remorse.

Among the victims hardest hit are Chris’s family. His parents, Ronnie and Cindy Watts, and his older sister, Jamie, are still trying to accept what he did. I would like to thank the Watts family for talking to me at length about the Chris they knew and their daily battle to survive the consequences of his actions. For the record, I want to make it clear that they do not benefit financially from my book.

Unfortunately, the Rzucek family did not wish to cooperate with the book and I respect this. Their lives have been shattered by the killings, and my heart goes out to them as they try to heal.

This book took eighteen months to write and I would like to thank everyone who helped me both on and off the record.



Monday, August 13, 2018


Nickole Atkinson’s alarm went off at 7:45 a.m. Half-asleep, she checked her cell phone for messages from Shanann Watts. A few hours earlier they had returned from a grueling weekend business trip to Scottsdale, Arizona. Bad weather had delayed their flight by more than three hours. At fifteen weeks pregnant, Shanann had been in pain and discomfort throughout.

Just before 2:00 a.m. Nickole had finally dropped Shanann off at her home at 2825 Saratoga Trail in Frederick, Colorado, waiting to leave until she was safely inside.

“Normally when we come back from these [business trips], she harasses me,” explained thirty-seven-year-old Nickole. “Like, ‘Come on. Let’s call people. Let’s get things goin’. Let’s work business.’ ”

So it was odd that there was nothing from her team leader, especially as they had an important business lunch that day. Nickole put the lack of messages down to thirty-four-year-old Shanann’s morning sickness and went back to sleep.

But after an hour passed and still no word, Nickole instinctively knew something was wrong.

* * *

Shanann had not been her usual upbeat self all weekend. The helicopter mom of two beautiful little girls, Bella, four, and Celeste, three, had been seriously depressed. Her boundless energy and optimism were replaced by a big black cloud. During the trip, she had tearfully confided that her husband, Chris, was acting strange. After six years of happy marriage she no longer knew him. Shockingly, he had informed her that he no longer wanted their new baby.

“He wasn’t being the loving Chris that he normally was,” said Nickole. “He wasn’t touching or hugging her . . . and he wasn’t being attentive to the girls.”

On Saturday night Shanann had received a bank alert charge of $68 for a salmon dinner and was immediately suspicious. Chris had told her that he’d gone to a baseball game with some workmates and then dined alone. Shanann thought the price was unusually high for just one person and wondered if he was cheating. She told Nickole she would confront him about it when she got home.

All through the morning, Nickole texted and called Shanann without any response. That was unusual. Shanann lived on Facebook, promoting Thrive, the lifestyle supplement that had changed her life. The charismatic social media maven had a legion of online followers and was known for her catchphrase “I’m super-excited.”

She projected the image of the perfect family with her handsome husband, Chris, and their two young daughters as costars. Shanann had even broken the news of her pregnancy to Chris in a Facebook video entitled “Oops . . . We Did It Again.”

So it was strangely out of character for her not to have posted anything on Facebook that morning or texted anyone on her team.

Nickole also knew that Shanann had a 9:00 a.m. prenatal doctor’s appointment and had been looking forward to hearing her baby’s heartbeat for the first time. So after calling the doctor’s office and finding Shanann had not kept the appointment, Nickole knew something was very wrong.

Finally, around midday, she drove over to Shanann’s house.



Nickole hadn’t wanted to bother Shanann’s husband, Chris Watts, as he worked out in the oil fields. But after ringing their doorbell and getting no answer, then seeing Shanann’s white Lexus in the garage, Nickole called him.

“I’m worried about Shanann,” she told Chris. “Her car is here but she’s not at home. Do you know where she’s at?”

Chris seemed unconcerned. He said Shanann had taken their girls to a friend’s house on a playdate, although he did not know which one.

Suddenly, he informed Nickole that he and Shanann were separating and selling their house.

“[Chris], your personal stuff is none of my business,” Nickole told him. “That’s not my concern right now. But where is your wife?”

Chris said he was too busy to talk and hung up.

Nickole wasn’t the only one worried. Shanann’s mother, Sandi Rzucek, and several friends had also been trying in vain to reach Shanann all morning. They, too, had spoken to Chris and were shocked by his apparent lack of concern. It just didn’t add up.

Outside the house Nickole held a conference call with Sandi and several friends, to decide how to proceed.

“I’m like, ‘What do I do? [Chris] said she’s with a friend,’ ”Nickole recalled. “And they [told me], ‘Call the cops!’”

Chapter 1: A Star Pupil

Christopher Lee Watts was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina, on May 16, 1985, the second child of Ronnie and Cindy Watts. His sister, Jamie, was six and a half years older and helped raise him. Ronnie worked as a parts manager for a Ford dealership, while Cindy was a secretary and notary.

From an early age, Chris idolized his father, who was quiet and reserved.

“Ronnie and Chris were so close,” said Cindy. “They did everything together.”

Chris loved sports, and his father would take him to basketball games in the winter and football and baseball games in the summer.

They also shared a love of NASCAR and went to more than two hundred races together, including the Daytona 500. Ronnie also taught his son car mechanics, which Chris discovered a natural talent for.

Unlike his gregarious older sister, Jamie, who took after her mother, Chris was shy and withdrawn like his dad. When he started school, he was an average student but shone at sports, winning many trophies, which his parents still proudly display in their living room. His father would always come to watch him compete in school sports, cheering him on from the sidelines.

Chris was also close to his maternal grandmother, Gertrude Schottner McLeod. She would quiz him on state capitals while they waited outside Pine Forest Middle School to pick up Jamie.

“He knew all the capitals of the United States and was learning the capitals of Europe,” said Cindy. “It was just something they did to pass the time.”

At fourteen, Chris followed his parents and sister to Pine Forest High School, where he became even more withdrawn. He kept to himself and was uncomfortable around his schoolmates, who largely ignored him.

“He didn’t go out with friends,” said his sister, Jamie. “I was more of a social butterfly, and he was quiet and interested in mechanics and cars. He was just a focused person.”

Chris enrolled in the Automotive Technology class taught by Joe Duty and soon became one of his star pupils. Duty was something of a mentor to Chris, believing he was destined for great things.

“It’s hard to find a more perfect kid,” said Duty. “He was in the top ten percent of students I ever had. He was very quiet [and] introverted, but he was always completely polite and courteous.”

The gangly, tall teenager with braces and a bowl cut impressed his teacher with his encyclopedic knowledge of NASCAR stats and trivia. He was obsessed with the sport and would spend hours in his bedroom reading about it.

“He had a photographic memory,” recalled Duty, “and he could recite anything you wanted to know about NASCAR from memory. . . right off the top of his head. And I was very impressed with that.”

Duty was also struck by how isolated Chris was and never saw him speak to a girl, let alone have a girlfriend. Ironically, many girls at the school had crushes on the handsome teenager, who was too “awkward and shy” to do anything about it.

“That was one thing I always wondered about,” Duty recalled. “Many times I would look at him and think, ‘What’s going on in his head?’ It was like the wheels were spinning but he was by himself.”

One girl Chris did become close to in high school was Brandi Smith, who remembers him being “smart and gentle.”

She said, “Most of our conversations that I recall were about music and things like that. I was a bit of an outcast and he kinda just seemed to understand me.”

Lance Alfonso played football with Chris and remembers him being almost too easygoing.

“I’ve never seen him get angry at anybody,” he recalled. “[He] wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

In the 2002 Pine Forest High School yearbook, Chris appears in a group shot of Academy of Applied Technology students. He is also in a Patriot’s Day photo spread, taken on the first anniversary of the World Trade Center 9/11 attacks.

On another yearbook page entitled “Life in the Fast Lane,” Chris was asked whether American cars were better than foreign ones. “American sports cars,” says Chris, “because Fords are made in America.”

Joe Duty remembers Chris driving a Ford Mustang his father had bought him and helped him fix up.

Unlike his older sister, Chris never rebelled as a teenager or caused any trouble. But as he grew up, Jamie often wondered if something was wrong with Chris, as he was so obsessive and controlled.

“I really thought he was autistic,” said Jamie, “like he was on the spectrum. He had to get things in order . . . from the way he would eat to the way he had to say his prayers at night. It was his mannerisms. It was hard to hold a conversation with him unless we were talking about cars.”

On March 18, 2003, Joe Duty brought seventeen-year-old Chris Watts and another student to Winston-Salem, to compete in a North Carolina Statewide Automotive Competition. They had spent months training for the prestigious competition.

The Fayetteville Observer had featured Chris in a story headlined “Auto Tech Students Compete for Garage Glory.”

“When Pine Forest High School senior Chris Watts . . . lifts the hood of a Toyota Matrix next week,” read the article, “[he] will find an assortment of problems. Their teacher, Joe Duty, can only stand on the sidelines and watch. If he gives any help, the team will be disqualified.”

Alongside the article was a photograph of Chris working on a car engine, and he was also interviewed.

“When I was a kid, I watched car shows and went to races,” he told the reporter, adding that his dream car would be a ’69 Boss 429 Mustang.

“It’s not just a paper test,” Duty said. “They get to compete. They have to perform. It tells you whether you can do the job.”

But unfortunately, at the competition the Pine Forest team placed a disappointing third out of the four teams competing.

At the end of May 2003, Chris Watts graduated from Pine Forest High School. The yearbook has a color picture of him wearing a tuxedo and black bow tie, an enigmatic knowing look in his eyes. A female admirer had to invite him to the prom, as he was too shy to ask.

Before graduation, Joe Duty gave his star pupil a pep talk. Chris had just been awarded a $1,000 scholarship to the NASCAR Technical Institute in Mooresville, North Carolina, and his auto teacher was convinced that he would go far.

“He had everything going for him,” said Duty. “I told him, ‘Chris, if ever I had a student who was going to be tremendously successful, it’s you.’ I was sure that one day I was going to read about him [being] a crew chief of a NASCAR team.”

In the summer of 2003, eighteen-year-old Chris Watts left home for the NASCAR Technical Institute in Mooresville, North Carolina. Lying 120 miles west of Fayetteville, the Charlotte suburb was his first taste of city life.

“We paid his rent until he got on his feet,” said his mother, “because he had to go to school five days a week. We would help him out with his groceries, pay his car insurance and all of this stuff.”

To supplement his income, Chris found a part-time job at a Ford dealership in Mooresville, renting an apartment with another NASCAR student named Richard Hodges.

“He was straight as an arrow,” recalled Hodges. “He was very dedicated to his work . . . and wasn’t the kind of guy that went out and partied.”

While most of his classmates were out every night drinking, Chris studied in his bedroom. He dreamed of a career in NASCAR and devoted himself to achieving it.

“He was pretty reserved,” said Hodges, “and not the kind of guy who’s just going to walk up and introduce himself and try and make friends.”

Around the same time that Chris left home, his sister, Jamie, got married and also moved out. Now studying and working a part-time job, Chris rarely came home. Ronnie, who had once been so close to his son, seemed to fall apart.

“I never came back,” Chris later explained, “and I think that hit [my dad] pretty hard. He was used to me being around. He’s my hero. He’s my best friend.”

To feel better, Ronnie Watts secretly began snorting cocaine and became addicted. He was soon spending so much money getting high that Cindy thought he was having an affair.

“At first I thought, ‘Okay, maybe something’s wrong,’ ” said Cindy. “ ‘Do you have another family or something, because we’re supposed to have money in the bank.’”

Finally Ronnie confessed he was hooked on cocaine because he was so depressed after Chris had left.

“It shocked me . . . because I trust him,” said Cindy. “I put Ronnie on a pedestal because I thought he does no wrong. And I realized that with Chris leaving, maybe this was an outlet and he couldn’t cope. Ronnie doesn’t tell you how he feels.”

Finally Cindy told her children what was going on at an emotional family meeting.

“You could see it in his face and eyes,” said Chris. “He was losing a lot of weight. His nose was bleeding all the time.”

Chris staged an intervention and Ronnie agreed to give cocaine up.

“He just quit,” said Cindy. “He stopped right there and then.”


In 2006, Chris graduated from the NASCAR Institute with honors. He found a full-time job at the Mooresville Ford dealership as a service technician, making good money. But the twenty-year-old still dreamed of a career in NASCAR, sending off a stream of job applications. He only got one interview, which went nowhere, and his dreams of joining a NASCAR race team were shattered.

Over the next few years Chris worked at the far-less-glamorous Ford dealership, buying himself a hot-rod Mustang and saving for the future. It was a big disappointment for him although he never complained and bottled up his frustrations.

“He was making good money,” said his mother. “He bought a toolbox and started buying tools. He enjoyed it and was doing well.”

He also found his first steady girlfriend, who was on the rebound after a messy divorce. But he never once brought her home to meet his family and it soon ended badly.

“I was helping her get through her divorce,” Chris later explained. “And then she went off with someone else. I’m like, ‘Oh, nice to know.’ ”

Then his cousin Nicole Canady suggested he send a Facebook friend request to her work colleague Shanann Rzucek, who was coming out of a bad marriage. He plucked up his courage and did so, but it would be months before he got a reply.


Chapter 2: “Very Insecure”

Shanann Cathryn Rzucek was named after Sha Na Na, the popular sixties rock-and-roll doo-wop group who played Woodstock. She was born on January 10, 1984, in Passaic, New Jersey, to Frank and Sandi Rzucek. Almost two years later her brother, Frankie, arrived to complete the family.

Shanann always stood out with her vibrant personality and intelligence. But she was a sickly child who constantly needed medical attention.

“When she was a baby,” explained her father, “we took her to all kinds of doctors because she always had migraines. Brain surgeons . . . to find out why she was having these problems. She took those real strong pills and used to get shots for it.”

When Shanann was still little, Frank moved the family to Clifton, New Jersey, where she attended Number 11 Elementary School in the Lakeview section. Growing up, she and her young brother formed a strong bond.

“[We were] pretty close,” said Frankie. “She would tell me things she wouldn’t tell [our] parents.”

Shanann was insecure and often bullied at school, so Frankie became her protector, getting into numerous fights on her behalf.

“They’d poke her on the school bus,” said Frankie. “I’m like, ‘Leave her the hell alone!’”

Years later Shanann would describe her miserable time at school: “I had people who picked on me and said mean things. I wasn’t the popular kid in the group.”



Around 1999, Frank Rzucek moved the family to Aberdeen, North Carolina, where job prospects were better. He started his own home-improvement business, and Sandi worked in a hair salon, dreaming of opening her own one day.

At fourteen, Shanann began her freshman year at Pinecrest High School, in Southern Pines. Founded in 1969 as a progressive school, Pinecrest boasted team teaching, closed-circuit-television instruction, and a fully equipped media center. It specialized in arts and drama, and the school’s Pinecrest Players competed in regional theater competitions every fall with original productions.

Soon after enrolling at Pinecrest, Shanann Rzucek joined Matt Francis’s theater class. The charismatic twenty-five-year-old drama teacher instilled his passion for drama in his students. His class would change Shanann’s life, giving her confidence and a new set of friends.

“Shanann was a very insecure young lady who didn’t have a lot of friends when I met her,” Francis remembered. “She did not have a good self-image of herself, but she was brave enough to sign up for beginning acting.”

The ninth-grade theater class had almost forty pupils, and the shy teenager soon had to prove herself in a group situation.

“Right away Shanann realized we were about ensemble,” explained Francis. “She was with a group of people that were much more outgoing than she was. But she also realized that they cared about her . . . so I think she started to really thrive.”

Shanann soon became close with Colby Cruse and Claire Littlejohn, who were also in the theater class.

“We became friends all throughout high school,” said Colby. “She was one of the sweetest girls you could ever encounter. She got involved with the acting, and she also did some of the tech crew and stuff like that.”

Shanann started with improvisation and acting, but Francis soon realized that her real talent lay behind the scenes, organizing the props and stage scenery. Over the many hours they spent working together on various productions, Shanann and her drama teacher became close.

“He connected with her on a mentor level,” recalled Claire Littlejohn, “whereas I was more of a friendly classmate.”

After school, Shanann was often in Francis’s office, opening up about her “horrible” home life. She told him that her parents were going through a bitter divorce, although they never were divorced and are still together after thirty-eight years of marriage.

“[She told me] she didn’t get a lot of attention from her dad that I know she wanted,” recalled Francis. “I think there was a lot of hurt and frustration in the divorce. I mean it was pretty fresh.”

Colby Cruse also knew about Shanann’s problems at home: “She did overcome some challenges in her life. There were some struggles. I don’t want to say that she didn’t really have a good father figure, and Frank did the best he could. She spent a lot of time at my house. I’ll put it to you that way.”

During high school, Shanann had a tight group of friends that played softball together and socialized outside school.

“She was the mother hen of the group,” said Colby. “The responsible one.”

But Shanann was often absent from school with various medical problems, which she was secretive about.

By her sophomore year Shanann had become a key part of the theater class. The Pinecrest Players were now working on Little Shop of Horrors, and Shanann ran everything backstage.

“She was a rock for me,” said Matt Francis. “She became a stage manager and a production person and was always there to help with the tech crew, but she’d also work amazingly with the actors. She loved that role.”

Shanann viewed the theater group as a safe haven, often working late painting the sets. She made regular runs to Back Yard Burgers to feed her crew, and everyone would sit around to eat.

“We had so many stupid moments,” recalled Francis. “I remember laughing a lot with them in the middle of chaos.”

One time Colby Cruse spilled water over her white slacks and was embarrassed. So Shanann took the initiative to break that awkward moment.

“Shanann put water on her crotch,” said Francis, “and then everyone else in the class spilled drinks over themselves, so Colby didn’t have to feel singled out. It was pretty awesome.”

In her junior year, Shanann stage-managed a production of Godspell, as well as helping with the Pinecrest High School yearbook and volunteering for many clubs.

Over the summer vacation, Shanann found a part-time job at Vito’s Pizzeria in Pinehurst, where she became close friends with Morgan Lankford, who was two years ahead of her in high school.

“We were hostesses,” Morgan recalled. “We answered the phones and to-go orders and cut pizzas.”

Morgan had seen Shanann in school, where she seemed shy and withdrawn. But at Vito’s she opened up and they started socializing.

“We went midnight bowling,” recalled Morgan. “She spent the night with me a few times . . . and we would talk and get our nails done together.”

Shanann was now spending so much time in Matt Francis’s office pouring out her problems at home that the school principal intervened, sending her to a more qualified guidance counselor.

But she kept going to Francis, whom she viewed as her confidant.

“She just trusted me,” he explained, “and could tell that I really did care. She didn’t trust the guidance counselors, so I just listened a lot.”

In 2002, the Pinecrest Players won a state award for an original play called Maximum Capacity. Soon afterward Matt Francis left Pinecrest High School to get married. Eighteen-year-old Shanann wrote him a heartfelt letter saying she would never forget him. “You have been like a father figure to me,” she told him, “even more than my own father.”



In her senior year, Shanann started dating a fellow Pinecrest High School student named Leonard King. It was a whirlwind romance.

They were already engaged and planning their future when Shanann graduated.

For her graduation message she quoted Muhammad Ali: “Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It’s not something you learn in school. But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything.”

Soon after graduation Shanann married Leonard King. Some of her friends worried that she was too young and needed to see more of life before settling down.

“She was adamant about starting her life and having a family,” said Cruse. “They got married so quickly and she was young and very ambitious.”

Shanann started college while her new husband joined the army, as a means to go to law school. They also each took out large life insurance policies through USAA.

But Shanann soon dropped out of college, getting a job selling pagers and cell phones. Within a couple of years the marriage had gone bad.

“I never completed college,” said Shanann many years later. “I started into a bad relationship [and] quit college to take care of him so he can go to [law school].”

Then in 2006, Shanann became manager of a cell phone store in Fayetteville, North Carolina, owned by Lebanese-born entrepreneur Hisham Bedwan. For the next few years Shanann worked for Bedwan, eventually becoming the bookkeeper for his new company the Dirty South, a custom car fittings and wheels company with stores in Fayetteville and Charlotte. It had a wealthy clientele of rappers, sports players, and car enthusiasts.

She worked long hours managing both stores, which were 130 miles apart, and had the use of a custom-fitted Cadillac Escalade.

Later Leonard King would say that after Shanann started managing the Dirty South she stopped coming home at night, refusing to tell him where she had been. They went to several marriage counseling sessions, but Shanann had little interest in saving the marriage.

In 2007 they divorced and Shanann moved to Charlotte, where she enrolled for a psychology course at Queens University. She would later describe the tough time she had during their breakup: “I went through a real awful divorce, and that relationship took a lot from me. It literally took everything. I had to start . . . financially all over.”

And finding herself alone as a single divorcée at just twenty-three brought back all her childhood insecurities.

“All the doubts,” said Shanann, “all the fears, everything that I had in me came flooding back into my life. I wasn’t happy.”

That fall, Shanann decided to build a house and began looking around Charlotte for suitable land.

“My goal was to buy a house . . . that I could resell one day,” she later explained. “I was tired of paying someone else’s mortgage.”

On November 30, 2009, Shanann King signed a $309,000 mortgage to build a luxurious brick mansion overlooking Lake Wylie, in the swanky Charlotte suburb of Belmont. Over the next few months she supervised the building of 1000 Peninsula Drive.

“I was twenty-five years old when I built my first house,” said Shanann in May 2018. “That was the biggest accomplishment . . . I have ever done because I did it by myself. I did it by working my tail off.”

The four-thousand-square-foot, twelve-room mansion had four bedrooms and four bathrooms. Set in its own grounds, it had a balcony with sweeping views of the lake, a sunroom, and a custom-made kitchen. Shanann bought top-of-the-line furniture.

Her brother, Frankie, would later estimate she was earning almost half a million dollars a year during this period.

“She was very wealthy,” he said. “She was doing very good [and] she was very business savvy. She was pretty but she could talk the talk and walk the walk.”



Soon after moving into 1000 Peninsula Drive, Shanann became ill. Her hair started falling out and she lost twenty pounds in a month, going from a size six to a size one.

“I was feeling extremely terrible,” she later recalled, “to the point where I did not want to get out of bed for days.”

She finally “dragged” herself to a doctor, who did a barrage of tests to find out what was wrong, and why her entire life had been dogged by illness.

In May 2010, Shanann was diagnosed with lupus, an incurable autoimmune disease, in which the body’s immune system attacks its own organs and tissues. It is difficult to identify as the signs and symptoms mimic those of other illnesses.

“When they diagnosed me with lupus . . . I was lost,” said Shanann. “I had no idea what in the world lupus was.”

She immediately googled lupus, reading that there was no cure and it could be fatal.

“I was freaking out. I was overreacting. I had all these things going on in me and I had no idea.”

She then contacted the Lupus Foundation of North Carolina, who provided support and treatment information. And over the next two months she sought second opinions from a host of rheumatologists, who all confirmed she had lupus as well as fibromyalgia.

She was prescribed heavy medication that gave her flu-like symptoms, and her weight ballooned to almost 170 pounds.

“I completely lost it,” she remembered. “I wasn’t feeling good. I was in a dark place. I was really sad, emotional . . . and I didn’t know where to turn.”

Shanann then quit the Dirty South, telling Hisham Bedwan that she could no longer manage his stores.

“I just said, ‘I’m done,’ ” she recalled. “ ‘I can’t do this anymore. You don’t understand what’s going on in my life.’”

Then in late July 2010, when Shanann was at her lowest point, she received a second Facebook message from Chris Watts. This time, she replied.


Copyright © 2020 by John Glatt.

See Also: Q&A with John Glatt

About The Perfect Father by John Glatt:

In the early morning hours of August 13th, 2018, Shanann Watts was dropped off at home by a colleague after returning from a business trip. It was the last time anyone would see her alive. By the next day, Shanann and her two young daughters, Bella and Celeste, had been reported missing, and her husband, Chris Watts, was appearing on the local news, pleading for his family’s safe return.

But Chris Watts already knew that he would never see his family again. Less than 24 hours after his desperate plea, Watts made a shocking confession to police: he had strangled his pregnant wife to death and smothered their daughters, dumping their bodies at a nearby oil site. Heartbroken friends and neighbors watched in shock as the movie-star handsome, devoted family man they knew was arrested and charged with first degree murder. The mask Chris had presented to the world in his TV interviews and the family’s Facebook accounts was slipping—and what lay beneath was a horrifying image of instability, infidelity, and boiling rage.

In this first major account of the case, bestselling author and journalist John Glatt reveals the truth behind the tragedy and constructs a chilling portrait of one of the most shocking family annihilator cases of the 21st century.


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