An overarching question in any true crime story is, was justice served? The question Salamon seems to pose instead is, is reconciliation possible? There is no question that it was Bob Rowe who took a baseball bat and clubbed his entire family to death, including his wife, Mary, his namesake Bobby, handicapped son Christopher, and adopted daughter Jennifer. He would go on to successfully plead insanity brought on by the stress of Christopher's handicaps and his own career tailspin. The murders would come as a terrible shock to other parents of children with disabilities who had come to know the Rowes through a support group. They not only saw the Rowes as fellow sufferers but also as role models who embodied both the attitudes and the strengths they thought they should emulate. Now suddenly they were confronted with a rude and terrible truth--Bob Rowe did not ever make the adjustment necessary for a parent of a handicapped child. The facts leading up to the murders are discussed, and the aftermath is thoroughly recounted. --Marlene Chamberlain

This true-crime story reaches beyond the relatively narrow focus of the genre to ask painful and provocative questions about guilt and forgiveness. In 1978, Bob Rowe, an out-of-work Brooklyn lawyer, killed his two sons, his daughter and wife by bashing their heads in with a baseball bat. He was found not guilty by reason of insanity, and after several years in a mental institution was released. He later remarried and had another daughter. Although journalist Salamon (Net of Dreams) did not interview Rowe before his death in 1977, this expertly crafted account is informed by diligent research and interviews with his second wife, Colleen, as well as with a women's support group to which Rowe's first wife, Mary, had belonged. This group was made up of mothers whose children, like Rowe's son Christopher, were born with severe physical impairments. One of the strengths of Salamon's sensitive narrative is her depiction of these mothers and how they dealt with the strain of raising disabled children. The Rowe's seemingly good marriage and his deep involvement in Christopher's care made Mary's murder all the more incomprehensible to the women, who never forgave him. Salamon adequately details Rowe's depression and subsequent mental breakdown that preceded the killings. She also describes how he painfully built a new life and found Colleen, who forgave him for his past. After her husband's death, Colleen met with the members of Mary's support group. Salamon provides a riveting account of this meeting, where Colleen attempts to explain why she loved her husband, and the women try to understand how she could forgive him. National publicity. (Apr.) Forecast: Salamon is a contributor to the New York Times, so this title will be widely reviewed-and many of those reviews will be highly positive. This book will have legs, and strong blurbs from Ted Conover and Anne Fadiman, among others, will give it a first big step. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

A suspenseful, well-researched account of the life of a Brooklyn lawyer Robert Rowe, who murdered his wife and three children and escaped prison with the insanity plea in 1978. Does mental illness excuse one from murder? Salamon ( The Christmas Tree , 1996, etc.) draws on court and hospital records, Rowe’s diaries, and her interviews with the people who knew him to explore the psychological dynamics of his crime from every angle. His marriage to his first wife, Mary, seemed idyllic until their second son, Christopher, was born with severe visual and neurological impairments. Eventually the Rowes joined the Industrial Home for the Blind (IHB)—a support group in which parents, mostly mothers, discussed the emotional challenges of raising disabled children. The author’s sympathetic portraits of IHB members reveal that homicidal thoughts were common among such parents, forcing readers to realize the personal pressures that contributed to Rowe’s madness. During the 1970s, Rowe began to suffer from an undetermined mental illness that prevented him from working. Heeding what he claimed to be the wishes of his late mother, he bludgeoned his wife and three children to death with a baseball bat. Charged with four counts of second-degree murder, he was sent to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center for ten years. Salamon devotes the second half of her investigation to Rowe’s second wife, Colleen, who—although aware of Rowe’s crime—gave birth to his fourth child. In the final chapter, after Rowe has died of cancer, Salamon allows the women of IHB (who once admired the magnetic murderer) and Colleen to debate Rowe’s right to evade punishment and create a new family. While Salamon concludes that Rowe believed himself to be a victim of mental disability and refused to accept responsibility for his actions, she encourages readers to make the final judgments. A perturbing read that prods us to ponder guilt and innocence from new perspectives.

This is the haunting story of Robert Rowe, a respected lawyer, loving husband, doting father and multiple murderer. It is also the story of the mothers of disabled children who came together at Brooklyn's Industrial Home for the Blind as members of a support group before the heyday of self-help gurus and groups for every affliction. Rowe was one of the few fathers actively involved with the group, and he was highly admired by the mothers. The book reveals Rowe's slide into mental illness, which led to his murdering his entire family, and his journey in life after the murder. For anyone interested in how parents cope with disabled children or how mental illness can strike anyone, this book will be a fascinating read. Well written and heavily researched, it clearly demonstrates Salamon's (The Christmas Tree, LJ 9/15/96) prowess and her journalistic roots. Readers will not easily forget this tale. Recommended, especially for true crime/psychology collections. Karen Sandlin Silverman, Ctr. for Applied Research, Philadelphia (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.