Truth in the Details: How Police Procedure Shapes My Stories

Good mysteries are built on imagination, but the best ones are grounded in reality.

When people read mystery novels, they often assume the most difficult part of writing them is inventing the crime. In truth, the crime itself is usually the easiest part. What takes far more effort—and far more care—is making sure everything that follows feels believable. The investigation must unfold in ways that make sense. The clues must appear at the right moments. The authorities involved in the case must behave like real professionals rather than characters moving pieces around a chessboard.

In other words, the story must respect the way real investigations actually work.

Both the Angels Trilogy and the Savannah Mysteries depend heavily on that realism.

The Rhythm of an Investigation

Real police work is rarely as dramatic as television suggests.

There are no instant revelations under flashing lights. Evidence does not magically appear the moment it is needed. Investigations move forward slowly, piece by piece, through patient work and careful attention to detail. Interviews must be conducted. Timelines must be built. Alibis must be tested.

Often, investigators spend as much time eliminating possibilities as they do discovering new ones.

That steady, methodical rhythm is something I try to bring into the novels. When a character begins to understand what really happened, it should feel earned—not like a sudden guess pulled from thin air.

The Importance of Motive

One of the most important principles of real investigative work is also one of the simplest:

People commit crimes for reasons.

Understanding those reasons is often the key to solving the case.

In the Savannah series, this is especially important. Many of the crimes unfold within close-knit communities where history, relationships, and long-standing resentments all play a role. A murder rarely appears out of nowhere. It grows from something that has been building for years. The investigator’s job is not simply to gather evidence. It is to understand people.

Why Investigators Notice Small Things

Another lesson drawn from real procedure is the importance of seemingly insignificant details. A misplaced object, an unusual reaction, or a timeline that does not quite fit have all been the basis of solving a perplexing case.

Experienced investigators learn to notice the moments when something feels slightly wrong. These small inconsistencies often open the door to a much larger truth. In fiction, those details become clues.

Readers enjoy spotting them, even if they do not immediately understand their significance.

I have had the privilege of discussing my stories with several good law enforcement officers. They are unfailingly kind and patient with my millions of questions. Two that have been particularly helpful are Mike Harshbarger and Jason Pentecost. These two men helped me understand everything I needed to know to craft a believable police story. As I mentioned in the foreward to one of my books--if I got it right, it's thanks to them. If I got it wrong, it's my own fault.

Balancing Accuracy and Story

Of course, novels are not police reports.

Real investigations can take months or even years. A book must compress that timeline so the story moves forward at a satisfying pace. The goal is not to reproduce every step exactly, but to maintain the logic of real investigative work. The conclusions must grow naturally from the evidence. The characters must make decisions that reflect how trained professionals think.

When that balance works, the mystery feels authentic without becoming bogged down in technical detail.

The Human Side of the Investigation

Perhaps the most important lesson drawn from real police work is that every investigation ultimately revolves around people. Behind every case are human lives—families, friendships, loyalties, and betrayals. The evidence may reveal what happened, but understanding the people involved often reveals why. That is where the emotional core of a mystery lies.

In both the Angels Trilogy and the Savannah Mysteries, the investigative process is not just about solving a crime. It is about uncovering the human stories that led to it. Sometimes those stories reveal courage. Sometimes they reveal tragedy.

And sometimes they reveal the quiet choices—good or bad—that shape the direction of a life.

Two Investigators, Two Worlds

Two characters in particular reflect this influence of real investigative thinking: Mark Burton in the Angels Trilogy and John Mitchell in the Savannah Mysteries.

Mark Burton approaches the world with the mindset of a trained investigator. His instincts push him to look beneath appearances, to question convenient explanations, and to keep following a trail even when it leads into uncomfortable territory. In the Angels Trilogy, this mindset becomes especially important because the events he encounters sometimes appear mysterious or even impossible at first glance.

Burton does not simply accept those moments as supernatural experiences. Instead, he approaches them the same way a professional investigator would approach any unusual situation—by observing carefully, asking questions, and testing what he thinks he knows. That grounded perspective allows the story to explore extraordinary possibilities without losing its connection to reality.

John Mitchell, in the Savannah series, represents a different but equally important side of investigative work. Mitchell is a seasoned detective who understands that solving a crime is rarely about dramatic revelations. It is about patience. Interviews. Evidence. The slow construction of a picture that eventually reveals the truth. Where Burton sometimes finds himself standing at the edge of events he cannot fully explain, Mitchell deals with crimes that are entirely human in origin. His work requires him to look steadily at the darker parts of human nature while still holding on to fairness and professional discipline.

Both men share a common trait: they are observers.

They notice what others overlook. They ask questions that others might avoid. And they understand that truth is rarely obvious at first glance. In their different ways, they guide the reader through the mystery—one careful step at a time.

A Final Thought

Living near the coast has a way of reminding me that truth is often hidden beneath the surface.

From a distance, the marsh appears smooth and simple. But beneath the water lies a complex landscape of channels and currents that shift constantly with the tide.

Investigations work in much the same way.

What we see at first is rarely the whole story. The real work—both for investigators and for storytellers—is learning how to follow the hidden channels until the truth finally emerges.