“I look down at my hands, where I used to hold notecards with talking points scribbled in pencil. Little bulleted instructions to remind me what to say, what not to say. How to order the story like I’m following a recipe, meticulous and careful, sprinkling the details in just right. But I don’t need those anymore. I’ve done this too many times.”

The reader gradually gains context for Isabelle’s keynote speech at TrueCrimeCon, context which is tied to loss and tragedy. The use of simile comparing her speech to recipes shows how her loss has become formulaic as a result of her repeated need to perform for others—a performance that is rooted in desperation. Her life is portrayed as simultaneously horrific and banal, a juxtaposition that creates the foundation of her actions throughout All the Dangerous Things.

“Chairs squeak; throats are cleared. A mousey woman in the front row is shaking her head gently, tears in her eyes. She is loving this right now, I know she is. It’s like she’s watching her favorite movie, mindlessly snacking on popcorn as her lips move gently, reciting every word. She’s heard my speech already; she knows what happens. She knows, but she still can’t get enough. None of them can.”

Isabelle’s description of the TrueCrimeCon crowd is visceral and intentionally positions the reader on her side, highlighting the negative effects of groups who benefit from the pain of others. She describes the woman in the front row in a way that positions her as a consumer of entertainment before reasserting that the entertainment in question is someone’s tragedy. Furthermore, this moment is vital because the crying woman, Abigail Fisher, is ultimately revealed to be involved in Mason’s kidnapping.

“‘It’s not a story,’ I say. ‘It’s my life.’”

Isabelle reveals one of her foundational difficulties, which is the separation of truth from story. Waylon’s offer for her to come onto his podcast is framed in the