It was a breath of fresh air to read Geoffrey C. Ward’s column ("The Life and Times,” April) about the two latest “books” concerning the kidnapping and murder of Charles Lindbergh’s son. I recently saw Noel Behn, the author of one of these works, on a network news magazine. He was standing in front of the crime scene and expounding on his thesis that Lindbergh’s sister-in-law had killed the child.

As the network interviewer listened intently and with great seriousness, I watched at home with a sinking feeling in my stomach. The most outrageous claim Mr. Behn made with the straightest of faces—and which went wholly unchallenged—was his assertion that Charles Lindbergh buried his own son in a shallow grave to begin the cover-up.

As the father of two young sons I know that is absolutely impossible.

Mr. Ward’s article says what I’ve been feeling since watching Mr. Behn’s theater-of-the-macabre performance: it is time to give up these morbid fascinations and let the baby rest in peace.