Gossip Drop #14: Holy mushroom lady.
Oh, Erin.
I had almost a full newsletter written on an entirely different topic, and then the verdict came down in the Erin Patterson trial and I have simply been unable to think about anything else.
For those playing along at home, I’ve been obsessively listening to the ABC’s Mushroom Case Daily podcast for the last two months. Everywhere I go, I insist on talking to people about what I affectionately call ‘my mushies’. I know all the details of the case. The names of everyone involved. Far too much about Erin Patterson’s bowel movements in the final days of July 2023.
For anyone who missed it, Erin Patterson has been found guilty of murdering her father-in-law Donald Patterson, her mother-in-law Gail Patterson, and Gail’s sister Heather Wilkinson, as well as the attempted murder of Heather’s husband, Ian Wilkinson, at a lunch held at her home. Erin served her guests beef Wellington containing death cap mushrooms, and they all became violently ill. She was arrested months later, after an extensive police investigation uncovered numerous lies told by Erin, including her insistence that she’d bought the mushrooms from an Asian grocer, despite her dumping a dehydrator (containing traces of death cap mushrooms) in an e-waste bin in the days following the lunch.
The case captured international attention because the closer you looked at it, the more bizarre it became. A woman being accused of murder is rare. Intentionally poisoning people is rare. Killing your in-laws is rare. And: what if it was all a tragic accident? Three people dead, one recovered after being critically unwell, a mother on trial, a family torn apart - and what if the whole story wasn’t what it seemed?
There’s been some criticism of the media’s obsession with the Erin Patterson trial, and a lot of it is understandable. It’s telling that multiple daily podcasts and relentless news coverage has been dedicated to the case of a (now-convicted) female murderer, when murders perpetrated by men - which are far more common - aren’t given the same attention. Men’s violence against women isn’t an aberration, and this violence poses a serious, ongoing threat that requires multiple levels of prevention. There’s utility in examining the factors and systematic failures that lead to men killing women in alarming numbers. Is there utility in the story of one woman poisoning her in-laws? Is there anything we can learn from that, any social change that can emerge from it? I’m not sure.
Then there’s the issue of how true-crime-as-entertainment sanitises the tragedy of these kinds of cases. Three people are dead, being mourned by the people who loved them. And we’re laughing at memes of the alleged killer? I’m making mushroom jokes over cocktails with friends? I’m leaving 7 minute long voice notes for my sister about the day’s court proceedings? About how I, personally, wouldn’t wear white pants if I had diarrhea? It’s ethically uncomfortable.
But it stems, I think, from the innate interest we all have in human psychology. Why do people do what they do? Why do they lie? This whole case hinged on Erin Patterson’s intent - even though the prosecution acknowledged they could not offer a motive. That’s an incredibly hard bar to clear. How do you prove someone did something intentionally, when no one can say why?
The intense interest, too, has been directed at the court process itself. How is justice carried out? What does ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ even mean?
I’m fascinated by the details we’re only learning now that the verdict has been delivered. The facts that were suppressed in the interests of giving Erin Patterson a fair trial. For example, media weren’t permitted to report that Erin Patterson had been in custody since November 2023, and that an inmate had accused her of tampering with prison food, allegedly causing them to fall ill.
If you’re interested in the biggest moments from the case or the things I personally find most bizarre about the whole thing, let me know and I’ll write about it. I have a frankly useless wealth of knowledge.
Until then… recommendations!
Recommendations
I have so many this week because I’ve been sick, which meant a) a depressive fog that seems to descend over me every time I get struck down by a cold or flu (I think it’s inflammation in the brain, I’ve googled it), and b) lots of reading and watching things in bed.
I’m late to the party but raced through The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden in one day. It’s historical fiction, set fifteen years after World War II, and tells the story of two women living in a house in the Dutch countryside. The writing is stunning, the plot is enthralling, and it’s sexy and alive and profound. With so much written about that particular period, it can sometimes feel like it’s well-worn territory, and there won’t be anything new to say about it. But The Safekeep grabbed me by the wrist and took me in a direction I couldn’t have predicted, revealing a part of post-war history I wasn’t familiar with. The characters are vivid and the interactions between them are utterly masterful - literary fiction that doesn’t feel heavy-handed.
On the topic of literary fiction, this story by Zadie Smith in the New Yorker floored me. It’s called ‘The Silence’ and is one of the most tender descriptions of ageing I’ve ever read. Sharon is 56, her husband is sick, her children are grown, and she’s considering the quietness that has descended over her. She’s unobserved, now, in a way she wasn’t in her youth. And with that comes freedom, contemplation.
I also read into it something I’ve observed in recent years: that the more I see and understand the world, the more often I find myself with nothing to say. Or perhaps what I want to say is more layered, more weighed down in context, that it feels too exhausting to say. I’m going to share a few passages because the writing is just that beautiful.
On retiring and cleaning up her desk:
She got a box and went to clear out her cubicle, unpinning the postcards and photographs that had long decorated the space, every one of them, she now realized, the portrait of a silent person, although the silence in each case was different… The old photograph of her husband was silent because that young man no longer existed, having been superseded by eight or nine different versions of the same man. She couldn’t remember what on earth this long-ago handsome boy was smiling about or what—his mouth slightly open, as if about to speak—he was on the verge of saying. But there he sat, smiling, in a café, in Bath, with sun-drenched oolitic limestone behind his head, a healthy young man, with no idea that he would ever be otherwise.
On watching talkative teenagers on the bus:
And it wasn’t only that she spoke so much less than they did but also that her inner voice—the ever-present internal narrative, the self-regarding monologue, which she now realized had always been in some sense preparing itself to perform, so that it could become a character for other people out there in the world, in the hope that these others might love and understand her—that was gone, too.
On the great, unknowable mystery of living:
If pressed, Sharon thought, she would admit to believing that there is a gigantic mystery at the center of the world, a many-faceted jewel, and that no person glimpses more than a facet of it.
On no longer being a woman who attracts attention in public:
She could sit on a bench in Europe completely unmolested, without a single human being saying a word to her, until the sun fell out of the sky. Silence within, silence without.
I’m terrified of ageing… of sickness and death and loss. But Smith’s short story evokes a sense of surrender to it all, and potential liberation? I’m not sure, but it’s a deeply moving piece of writing.
Goodness it’s clearly another dark week for me, because I also watched Louis Theroux’s documentary The Settlers. He meets an ultra-nationalist community of Israeli settlers, and engages with them about what their plans are, and what the consequences might be. I’ve always admired his approach - endlessly curious, and direct without being aggressive.
Finally, an anti-recommendation, which I usually would’ve give because making anything is hard and unavoidably imperfect. But. I feel like I can talk about this one because it’s made by Jesse Armstrong - the creator and showrunner of Succession - so there’s no denying he’s a genius. But this is an example of how we sometimes need to… slow down.
Armstrong wrote and directed the film Mountainhead, released on May 31, about four billionaire friends who spend a boys’ weekend together and watch global conflict arise as a result of one of their apps. Armstrong was clearly like I need to make this because *looks around at the world* and I need to make it now. He started the script in January. Started. I’ll repeat, the film was released in May. The entire project was ideated and executed in six months. Casting, filming, editing, writing - everything. And… you can tell.
It is not good. There are moments of brilliance - laugh out loud funny lines, clever social commentary on AI, the involvement of tech entrepreneurs in government, the arrogance of these networks of men, the concentration of power, etc. But the dialogue is like Succession on steroids, to the point where you have no idea what’s happening, whether people are joking, whether you’re an idiot for understanding zero references. It’s a nice reminder that everyone, literally everyone, needs an editor. And to perhaps take a beat. Before handing the script to Steve Carell, putting a camera on his face and being like… okay GO. It probably could’ve been great! But not when we’re rushing. No.
Speaking of, I have a Substack I’ll publish later this week about screenwriting and what (very little) I’ve learnt about it. See you then!
xxx
The way I raced to open my inbox as soon as the notification came up. Yes please do a full write-up on the case - I’m interested in your take! What I’m stuck on is the motive.
But absolutely to the broader commentary about our fascination with female murderers.
Sometimes I think this comes from a reductive view of femininity as ‘gentle and nurturing’, failing to view women as fully actualised human beings capable of dark deeds.
It’s almost like we’re shocked because she isn’t following the script but sadly male violence has become so commonplace it doesn’t shock us when it occurs.
Thanks, Clare, for handling this subject with introspection and sensitivity. As a member of the Korumburra community it is really really tricky. There has been immense interest, some thoughtless comments, and media phone calls that have indeed been intrusive.
But it would be disingenuous of me to come down too hard on public interest in the case when I myself have often enjoyed a true crime podcast. Every case has a personal impact on people somewhere, doesn’t it?
But if you will indulge me for a tick, can I just leave a picture for you of those at the heart of this tragedy…?
The Pattersons and the Wilkinsons were just the best. Gail and Heather were avid community ‘givers’. It was almost impossible not to cross paths with them as they sprayed around their goodwill. And although I am not religious myself, it was always a pleasure working on a program with them, as they were so kind and gentle and - you would have loved them!
So this verdict is very tricky.
I am happy for Simon and Ian, whom I’m sure are feeling a sense of justice today. But the void is so immense.
I, like you, lay awake last night picturing Simon sitting the kids down and trying to make some sense of this with them and I don’t know how he did it.
This trial has been murky and fascinating, cruel and intense, and everybody loses. But by far the biggest losers are those two kids. xxx