Meredith McCardle: The Eighth Guardian

But my biggest fabrication in the Boston Massacre scene lies with Patrick Carr. Not much is known of Carr’s history. There’s no indication that he was married with a family, so it’s certainly not true that he was there with his young son. But it is true that Carr, being from Ireland, was used to political mobs and would have known instantly the danger of the situation. It’s also true that Carr’s deathbed account of the massacre was perhaps the most important piece of evidence in the subsequent trial (and acquittal) of the British soldiers. (Legal trivia: Carr’s testimony is one of the first recorded instances of the dying declaration hearsay exception used in an American courtroom.)

Also, I tried to keep the events and timeline of the notorious Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum heist as close to accurate as I could, but I have to admit to embellishing the security system in place at the time. The museum did use electric eyes that were hooked up to alarms, but they were not audible alarms that would have rung throughout the museum. This detail was added to the book just for dramatic effect. None of the artwork stolen that night has been recovered, although the FBI recently came out and said they know who was behind the heist. As of my writing this, however, no suspects have been identified.

Next, the scene where Iris causes Senator McCarthy to miss a cab is a complete fabrication. Senator Eugene McCarthy was a real person with a long, winding (and pretty fascinating) political career, but the vote he was late for and his exact residence were fictions of my mind.

Finally, there is no indication that any member of the Dallas police force was in the school book depository at the time of the Kennedy assassination. What is true is that Lee Harvey Oswald, after killing the president and fleeing the building, encountered Dallas officer J.D. Tippitt on the street. By that time, police were already on the lookout for someone matching Oswald’s description, and when Tippitt confronted Oswald, Oswald shot him four times, killing him. The police officer portrayed in this book is not meant to be Tippitt, however. This is just a bit of trivia.

Any other historical inaccuracies that might be revealed are, unfortunately, simply errors on my part.

I have just now realized that writing an acknowledgments section is harder than writing a book. So many people contributed to this story in so many ways, and I worry that I won’t be able to sufficiently express my gratitude.

But I’ll try.

First, thank you to my agent, Rubin Pfeffer, for taking a chance on a wide-eyed newbie, for whipping this book into shape, and for finding the perfect home for it. And to my editor extraordinaire, Marilyn Brigham, thank you for loving these characters as much as I did and for polishing their story until it shone. And to this book’s copyeditor, Andrea Curley: you did a tremendous job, and I can’t thank you enough.

Thank you to my mom, for making me a reader, which then made me a writer, and to my dad, who made sure my early cultural education included a dash of James Bond and Jack Ryan. That shaped me more than you know. To my sister, Hilary, for being my own personal PR rep and for patiently answering bizarre medical questions without batting an eyelash. To my brother, Patrick, for sharing a love of books and writing and for helping me cultivate a thick skin with regard to the latter.

Thank you to two individuals who gave me the early encouragement I needed to try my hand at writing. My aunt, Kathy Goût, whose interest in my early childhood writings led me on this path. And my high school English teacher, Mr. Charles Balkcom, who was the first teacher I had who recognized that, for me, books were more than words on paper and who gave me the confidence I needed to write some words of my own.

A huge debt of gratitude to my fearless critique group—Kerry Cerra, Michelle Delisle, Jill Mackenzie, Kristina Miranda, and Nicole Cabrera. You taught me so much about writing, about publishing, about life . And you read the very early (very rough) chapters of this story, encouraged me, and gave me a push to get it moving in the right direction. I would not be here without you.

Thank you to Susan Dennard, Jenni Valentino, Katy Upperman, and Corinne Duyvis, who read this story at various points. Your insight made it so much stronger and saved me from several embarrassing mistakes. I still cringe when I think about them.

Thank you to Greg Bollrud, who answered countless questions about MIT and who introduced me to the lore of Building Twenty.

Thank you to my FK girls, for being the world’s best cheerleaders.

And finally, I could not have done this without my family. Vivian and Audrey, thank you for being the world’s most patient three-year-old and newborn, respectively. And to Scott, for being my rock, my support, my plot whisperer. This book would not exist without you, and for that I will be forever grateful.