We often imagine evil as something extraordinary, an act so monstrous it must belong to someone different from us. But Jeffrey Abney’s Empty Piñatas forces us to face a more uncomfortable truth: evil can look ordinary. It can be born out of familiar emotions like anger, grief, pride, and the desire for justice. By setting his story in a believable world and filling it with complex, deeply human characters, Abney redefines what it means to be a monster.
Set in 1960s St. Louis, Empty Piñatas follows FBI Special Agent Cole Hunter as he investigates a series of grotesque murders. Each victim is found hollowed out, their organs removed with chilling precision. The case appears to be the work of a cold-blooded killer. However, as the story unfolds, Abney takes the reader beneath the surface of the crime to explore the emotions that drive it, resentment, wounded pride, and the twisted pursuit of moral balance. It isn’t a story about a faceless villain. It’s about people pushed to their limits, about how far a person might go when convinced they are right.
In real-world psychology, criminal profilers often note that the most disturbing killers don’t act out of chaos or madness. They act out of conviction. They see their actions as justified. That sense of purpose, not insanity, is what makes them truly frightening. Abney captures this mindset perfectly in Empty Piñatas. His killer doesn’t see himself as evil. He believes he is correcting the wrongs of others, delivering justice where the law has failed. The reader is left to face the uneasy realization that this logic, however distorted, is rooted in feelings we all understand: pain, betrayal, and the need for control.
Abney’s portrayal of ordinary evil extends beyond the killer. The investigators, the victims, even the innocent, all carry pieces of moral compromise. Agent Cole Hunter, dedicated to the pursuit of justice, begins to question whether the truth he’s chasing will ever make the world right again. Patsy, the man accused of the crimes, becomes a tragic figure trapped by circumstance and manipulation. Each character reflects a fragment of human weakness, reminding us that morality is not fixed. It shifts with fear, power, and desperation.
The book’s climax, where faith and vengeance collide in a chilling confession scene, brings this idea full circle. The murderer reveals himself not as a deranged outsider, but as someone hiding behind the language of righteousness. His calmness is what makes the horror sink in. He doesn’t revel in chaos; he believes he’s cleansing it. In that moment, Abney shows that the true face of monstrosity is not grotesque or unrecognizable. It’s rational, articulate, and disturbingly human.
Empty Piñatas is a psychological thriller that goes beyond crime. It asks readers to confront the darker corners of their own emotions and question how easily good intentions can lead to harm.
For those who believe evil is always obvious, Abney’s novel offers a sobering reminder: the most terrifying monsters are not the ones we fear in others, but the ones we fail to see in ourselves. For readers who crave thrillers that reveal truth beneath terror, Empty Piñatas by Jeffrey Abney is a must-read. Available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/196986883X/
