John McAfee · Dr. Death · OJ
Plus: Airbnb crime
the true crime that's worth your time
This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper. Was once-admired antivirus pioneer John McAfee as hollow a man as those referred to by T. S. Eliot’s much-quoted poem? Maybe: I dealt with him, tangentially, during a temp job I had in the 1990s, and back then I wasn’t attuned enough to Silicon Valley bullshit to know if he was just gently weird (say, like the brilliant folks my college-prof dad hung out with) or if he was chasing something he’d never find.
Decades later, the guy whose virus warnings were on nearly every computer was the subject of documentaries like Showtime’s Gringo: The Dangerous Life of John McAfee, longreads like Fast Company’s 2010 piece “Plagued by Lawsuits, McAfee Founder Hunts for Cures in Belize,” and Kindle Singles like Wired reporter Josh Davis’s John McAfee's Last Stand. Tales of the former tech mogul grew weirder and weirder: his money was all gone, some said. He’s running coke, claimed others. He was allegedly in love with a teen girl he met and married after she allegedly solicited him while working as a sex worker on the street, living in an armed compound in Belize where he hung out with alleged underworld figures. In 2012 he was accused of murder; last fall he was arrested in Spain on tax fraud charges and was expected to be extradited to the U.S. This paragraph barely scratches the surface of McAfee lore.
Reuters reports that Wednesday, the 75-year-old McAfee was found dead in his cell, a month after announcing in court that "the United States wants to use me as an example." According to McAfee, he had not paid income taxes in the U.S. since 2011 “for ideological reasons.”
A statement from the regional Catalan government reported by the Associated Press says that “A judicial delegation has arrived to investigate the causes of death,” but that “Everything points to death by suicide.” Hours earlier, the AP reports, “Spain’s National Court had approved McAfee’s extradition to the United States,” suggesting that McAfee opted to take his own life rather than face trial in America. (If he was found guilty of all charges, his sentence could have been as long as 30 years.)
It goes without saying that we should expect a near-literal avalanche of McAfee-related content (not to mention the conspiracy theories) in the coming days, weeks, and months. His story was a remarkably colorful one, one that’s almost too bizarre to be believed. And yet, this is how it’s ended. Dead in a jail cell, likely by his own hands, seemingly because he feared a trial or incarceration. Not with a bang but a whimper. — EB
This is important: McAfee’s case is an unusual one, but researchers say an uptick in discussion of self-harm in the media — as we’re likely to see in the ongoing coverage of this case — can help spur thoughts of suicide in folks like you and me who are already struggling. If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicide, do not leave the person alone; remove any firearms, alcohol, drugs or sharp objects that could be used in a suicide attempt; and call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or take the person to an emergency room or seek help from a medical or mental health professional.
The Dr. Death folks want you to know that they are firmly #notalldoctors. Showrunner Patrick Macmanus and several of its stars did a promo chat with The Hollywood Reporter at the Tribeca Festival last week, where they made really sure you know that most doctors aren’t, like, deranged killers.
According to Macmanus, “While patient safety is something we really have to be focused on, while something like this absolutely could happen again, there are a lot of good doctors out there, more good doctors than bad.” And Christian Slater — who plays Randall Kirby, one of the doctors who eventually blew the whistle on Christopher “Dr. Death” Duntsch — says that the case “scares a lot of people” but “I’m not too concerned,” as “Dr. Kirby is extraordinarily passionate about fighting the system and doing the right thing. It’s those kinds of doctors that we’re really trying to highlight here and not glorify Dr. Death.” So, it’s doc-aganda, then?
But wait! AnnaSophia Robb, who plays one of the prosecutors who brought Duntsch down, says that “We’re scrutinizing systems and all sorts of institutions and that needs to be done—people need to be held accountable for their actions.”
According to Robb, “The legal system failed in many ways, the health care system failed in many ways … I think that’s a theme that we were experiencing in our country and the world at large and this is just one such example.” And, before you ask, it doesn’t look like the how-is-he-still-not-canceled Alec Baldwin (who plays one of the “good doctors” in the yarn) was in attendance, or this item would probably have been written a bit differently. ANYWAY. Dr. Death drops on Peacock on July 15, so you should probably get all your meds refilled and check-ups in before then. — EB
OJ’s fight with a Vegas resort has revived the Goldman family’s lawsuit against him. Back in 1997, a California civil jury ordered Simpson to pay the family of Ron Goldman about $33.5 million. As you of course know, Simpson was acquitted of the 1994 slayings of Simpson ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and Goldman, but civil cases carry a different burden of proof and ruled in favor of Goldman’s mom, Sharon Rufo, in a wrongful death claim.
Since then, the rights to the settlement have changed hands, but Simpson hasn’t made a dent in what he owes. According to the AP, however, after Simpson sued Las Vegas hotel The Cosmopolitan claiming “he was defamed by unnamed employees telling a celebrity news site he had been banned from the property in November 2017 for being drunk and disruptive,” that suit was settled with terms made confidential.
Now representatives of the Goldman suit say that if Simpson did get any cash from the Cosmopolitan, it’s time to start paying on that suit he lost — a sum that’s since swollen to around $60 million in judgments and penalties (and we’re not even talking about the separate suit Fred Goldman won against Simpson, which now clocks in at around $58 million). Meanwhile, Simpson, now aged 74, lives in a gated community in Las Vegas, where he says he plays golf every day. “The town has been good to me,” Simpson told USA Today in 2019. “Everybody I meet seems to be apologizing for what happened to me here.”
I’m so glad this story didn’t drop until after I returned from my recent vacation in Palm Springs. We had a really cute Airbnb in a classic Mid-Century neighborhood, and had a lot of fun! About two weeks later, this Bloomberg headline crossed my feeds: “Airbnb Is Spending Millions of Dollars to Make Nightmares Go Away.” If you’re planning an Airbnb vacation soon, this is the last item in today’s issue, so if you want to close the tab now I completely understand. See you for the open thread tomorrow!
OK, now that they’re gone, here’s the deal. According to reporting from the great Olivia Carville, the vacation rental monolith has “a culture of silence” when horrible things happen to guests at spots rented through its site. She spoke with eight former members and 45 other current and former Airbnb employees, all of whom confirmed that Airbnb will do whatever it takes to avoid the kind of stranger-danger headlines that similar-in-flavor companies like Uber and Lyft get on the regular, even if that means paying out millions to keep victims and others in the know quiet. Here’s a snip:
Team members have the autonomy to spend whatever it takes to make a victim feel supported, including paying for flights, accommodation, food, counseling, health costs, and sexually transmitted disease testing for rape survivors. A former agent who was at Airbnb for five years describes the approach as shooting “the money cannon.” The team has relocated guests to hotel rooms at 10 times the cost of their booking, paid for round-the-world vacations, and even signed checks for dog-counseling sessions. “We go the extra mile to ensure anyone impacted on our platform is taken care of,” Bunch says. “We don’t really worry about the brand and image component. That stuff will take care of itself as long as you do the right thing.”
Former agents recall cases where they had to counsel guests hiding in wardrobes or running from secluded cabins after being assaulted by hosts. Sometimes the guests were the perpetrators, as with an incident when one was found in bed, naked, with his host’s 7-year-old daughter. Agents have had to hire body-fluid crews to clean blood off carpets, arrange for contractors to cover bullet holes in walls, and deal with hosts who discover dismembered human remains.
The work can be so stressful that agents have access to cool-down rooms with dimmed lighting to create a soothing atmosphere for answering harrowing calls. And it can take a heavy toll. Some former agents say they suffer from vicarious trauma. On the job they tried to remember that everything that happens in life can happen in an Airbnb. That perspective was drilled into new recruits during 12-week training sessions: Just as nightclubs can’t eliminate sexual assaults and hotels can’t stop human trafficking, Airbnb can’t prevent bad actors from using its platform.
Will this story freak you out? Yes, it will! Will it make you stop using Airbnb? Probably not, just like how stories of violent attacks from ride-hail drivers have barely harmed those companies, and how despite report after report of Amazon unsavoriness, we all (myself included) keep on using the app. Still, if we’re here to talk about how true crime is told and sold, we also need to talk about how true crime is stifled. That’s exactly what Carville does, so her piece is an important read for a time, perhaps, when you’re not checking into a Airbnb and wondering “who else has the keys/this code?” — EB
Friday on Best Evidence: Speaking of Airbnb, I’m going to pitch Sarah on a vacation-related thread.
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