True Story
From AwardAnnals
| Book: | True Story: Murder, Memoir, Mea Culpa |
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| Author: | Michael Finkel |
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| Publisher: | HarperCollins |
The next day, on page A-3 of the Times, comes another bit of troubling news: a note, written by the paper’s editors, explaining that Finkel has falsified parts of an investigative article and has been fired. This unlikely confluence sets the stage for a bizarre and intense relationship. After Longo’s arrest, the only journalist the accused murderer will speak with is the real Michael Finkel. And as the months until Longo’s trial tick away, the two men talk for dozens of hours on the telephone, meet in the jailhouse visiting room, and exchange nearly a thousand pages of handwritten letters.
With Longo insisting he can prove his innocence, Finkel strives to uncover what really happened to Longo’s family, and his quest becomes less a reporting job than a psychological cat-and-mouse game—sometimes redemptively honest, other times slyly manipulative. Finkel’s pursuit pays off only at the end, when Longo, after a lifetime of deception, finally says what he wouldn’t even admit in court—the whole, true story. Or so it seems.
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Reviews
Amazon.com
In True Story: Murder, Memoir, Mea Culpa, disgraced New York Times writer Michael Finkel recounts the story of the murderer who assumed his identity and examines the reasons for his own fall from journalistic grace, in a memoir that is gripping, perceptive, and bizarre. In 2002, Finkel, a rising star at the Times, was fired for fabricating a character in a story about child laborers in Africa. Just as the story of his downfall was about to become public, he learned that a man named Christian Longo, arrested in Mexico for the murder of his wife and three small children in Oregon, had been living under an assumed identity: Michael Finkel of The New York Times. Sensing a story—and an opportunity for redemption—Finkel contacted Longo, initiating a relationship that would grow increasingly complex over the course of Longo’s trial and conviction.
Finkel makes no excuses for his actions. Nor does he deny his own narcissism—a narcissism that allowed him to rationalize his own lies as surely as Longo rationalized his crimes. Ultimately, Finkel says, his year with Longo taught him “how a person’s life could spiral completely out of control; how one could get lost in a haze of dishonesty; and how these things could have dire consequences.” The lesson, Finkel need not add, applies as much to the disgraced writer as it does to the killer. —Erica C. Barnett
