The Babysitter
by Liza Rodman and Jennifer Jordan
Growing up on Cape Cod in the 1960s, Liza Rodman was a lonely little girl. During the summers, while her mother worked days in a local motel and danced most nights in the Provincetown bars, her babysitter—the kind, handsome handyman at the motel where her mother worked—took her and her sister on adventures in his truck.
But there was one thing she didn’t know; their babysitter was a serial killer.
Some of his victims were buried—in pieces—right there, in his garden in the woods. Though Tony Costa’s gruesome case made screaming headlines in 1969 and beyond, Liza never made the connection between her friendly babysitter and the infamous killer of numerous women, including four in Massachusetts, until decades later.
Haunted by nightmares and horrified by what she learned, Liza became obsessed with the case. Now, she and cowriter Jennifer Jordan reveal the chilling and unforgettable true story of a charming but brutal psychopath through the eyes of a young girl who once called him her friend.
As one House of Cadmus’ Highly Anticipated Nonfiction Book Releases of Early 2021 choices, The Babysitter was high on our list of must reads. A twisted tale of a woman’s childhood summers spent with a man who would later be revealed to be a serial killer, there was no looking away from this book or the strange story of Tony Costa.
Though I knew it to be a story of how one of the authors’ lives intersected with that of the brutal, unsuspecting serial killer Tony Costa’s, there were several aspects of The Babysitter that took me by surprise, not the least of which was the focus and scope of this narrative. The Babysitter shifts the direct focus to Costa himself, not his victims or his crimes alone, offering a remarkable glimpse of who he was before, during, and after his horrific crimes. With chapters alternating between Tony and Liza, the narrative weaves together the pieces of a disturbing killer’s troubled life and a young girl’s childhood summers in Provincetown, shifting from third person narration within Costa’s chapters to first person within Liza’s. I was first taken aback by the direction of Liza’s chapters—decidedly more memoir-like, focused on formative childhood years and not just her firsthand account of Costa. Despite my initial concerns that I would find these chapters discussing Liza’s personal life unrelated to Costa dull or extraneous in terms of what was worth including in a true crime novel, I ended up appreciating them. Not only did they allow readers the chance to see a different, shockingly personal account of Costa from young Liza’s point of view, but they fleshed out the world—Provincetown and surrounding areas during the ‘60s and ‘70s—in a much more personal, visceral way that added context and understanding and created a richer reading experience throughout Costa’s chapters as well. However, it is worth pointing out that her chapters are very much pieces of a memoir. They delve into childhood experiences that are completely unrelated to Tony Costa, making the book drift further away from a true true crime novel with each unrelated bit of information included. While I ended up enjoying the mix of memoir and true crime, it would be understandable if these chapters bored readers looking for just a true crime book.
Related: Anticipated Early 2021 Nonfiction Book Releases
Predictably, the subject matter of The Babysitter is frighteningly dark and disturbing. While I was prepared for the discussion of brutal murders and the twisted man behind them, there were multiple layers of unsettling, disturbing, and saddening occurrences focused on as well. It’s no shock to find such things in a true crime novel, however it extended past the gruesome details of Tony Costa’s murders, drug use, and personal history into Liza’s own dark childhood and even the brief descriptions of the lives surrounding them in Provincetown—a town I hadn’t realized (as a Massachusetts native) was marred by such a dark history. The Babysitter—its subject, its mood, its observations—focuses on some of the most troubling aspects of life. Set largely during the turbulent ‘60s, the details of Costa’s and Liza’s lives expose pieces of the era’s dark side of rampant drug abuse, teenage runaways that went unreported, and the shocking lack of care for missing girls. Everywhere you turned within this book, there was more darkness. Abuse in the form of childhood cruelties including physical and mental abuse, shockingly uncaring and dangerously unprofessional doctors, girls too susceptible to the wiles of strange men because of their own disturbing pasts, incompetent police departments. It was heavy, but fascinating and compelling nonetheless.
Further Reading: Women in White Coats | A Review
While narrative nonfiction can provide a smoother reading experience, it isn’t necessarily something I gravitate toward when choosing nonfiction reads. I don’t mind it, but sometimes I find the reading experience marred by the author’s infusion of awkward, contrived emotional moments that, presumably, come from their imagination. Something about it feels disingenuous, conjuring up emotions and fictionalizing moments to suit the author’s intentions and the readability of their depiction of true events. The Babysitter is narrative nonfiction, but its delivery felt rather natural and unobtrusive for the entirety of the novel, barring a few small contrived moments that leaned toward try-hard cinematic drama. Considering the fact that the authors had access to a veritable trove of interviews, Costa’s own manuscript, and were able to interview several key players for themselves, the information they offer and the format they present it in felt completely natural. It was well written and organized into a narrative detailing Tony Costa’s life that readers won’t be able to look away from. Liza’s chapters—as essentially a memoir—were just as compelling and created an interesting juxtaposition between the Tony we knew to be the true Tony (drugged-up oddball with a history of strange violence before he became a serial killer) and the one seen through a neglected child’s eyes (someone who was kind to her, one of the few people who seemed to not mind having her around). Seeing Tony through young Liza’s eyes was truly chilling, making for a very unique true crime book that keeps readers wholly engaged.
Part true crime, part memoir, The Babysitter weaves together the complex life and lies of Tony Costa to present the clearest possible picture of him to readers while simultaneously unpacking the life of Liza Rodman—a young girl whose circumstances led to her being left with Tony Costa for hours on end. From trips to the town dump to drives out to Tony’s secluded spot in the woods, young Liza Rodman found something of a friend in a twisted, horrific killer. It’s enough to put chills down your spine, and it made for a fascinating read.