The truth did not kill Jason Arday

I wanted a reckoning. I did not want Jason Arday dead.

Three days before he was found dead at his London home last week, I published a column entertaining what I admitted was a mischievous theory: Maybe the disgraced Cambridge professor was not merely a fraud but a world-class trickster who understood liberal institutions well enough to play their racial and ideological anxieties for all they were worth.

Maybe the cruelty was not that somebody finally checked. Maybe the cruelty was that almost nobody checked sooner.

I hoped someday he would confess. I even had the title of the book I wanted him to write: “I Thought You’d Believe Me.”

I wanted that book. I did not want an obituary.

Graeme Wood, writing this week in the Atlantic, makes a