After reviewing police documents, interviewing school officials and peers of both students, the author travelled to Ethiopia in her search to understand Tadesse, because she discovered that "no one in America knew her."

Thernstrom said her visit to the family yielded very little answers; the family's confusion and ignorance of the facts of the incident became another baffling part of situation.

Particularly moving was Thernstrom's reading of a five-page letter Tadesse wrote in which she described her frustration and sense of alienation more than a year before the tragedy.

"Why am I writing this letter?" she writes. "Because I am desperate...The mention of Harvard might make you think, okay, she's one of those successful people who've made it in life. Unfortunately, I don't feel one tiny bit of the success."

The letter, sent to an unknown number of people, pleads for someone to reach out into her abysmal solitude and befriend her before she finished her spiraling plunge into psychosis.

One concerned recipient sent the letter to a Harvard administrator, who then referred it to the master of Dunster House. The letter was read and filed without action being taken upon it. Police investigators came across it after the crime ocurred.

At the time of the tragedy, both students were pre-med biology concentrators in their junior year and had been roommates since they had entered Dunster House as floaters.

Struggling with intense depression, falling grades and loneliness, Tadesse became more self-absorbed and self-critical as the year progressed.

Ho had informed Tadesse of plans to room with another student, and in spite of subsequent friendly overtures from Ho, Tadesse reacted with anger. The two were not on speaking terms at the end of the year, when the incident occurred.