James Allen is serving three life sentences for murder. No one ever said he killed anyone.

A 27-year old reporter is kidnapped in Somalia and held hostage for over a year.

When it comes to representing pharmaceutical companies, a doctor’s medical record is far less important than his or her ability to sell.

James Frey is starting a publishing company, paying young writers (very poorly) to reverse engineer a Twilight-esque hit.

A reporter heads to Istanbul, where Iverson is playing minor league hoops in a 3,200-seat arena and hanging out at T.G.I. Friday’s.

Trump’s key adviser is a lobbyist known for reinventing tyrants.

Everyone knows who killed Rodolfo Illanes. So why is his death such a mystery?

He’s just as nice as you think he is.

The writer contemplates beauty and identity following reconstructive surgery.

There was a long period of time, almost a year, during which I never looked in a mirror. It wasn’t easy, for I’d never suspected just how omnipresent are our own images. I began by merely avoiding mirrors, but by the end of the year I found myself with an acute knowledge of the reflected image, its numerous tricks and wiles, how it can spring up at any moment: a glass tabletop, a well-polished door handle, a darkened window, a pair of sunglasses, a restaurant’s otherwise magnificent brass-plated coffee machine sitting innocently by the cash register.

The anatomy of a 1930 epidemic that wasn’t:

Was parrot fever really something to worry about? Reading the newspaper, it was hard to say. “not contagious in man,” the Times announced. “Highly contagious,” the Washington Post said. Who knew? Nobody had ever heard of it before. It lurked in American homes. It came from afar. It was invisible. It might kill you. It made a very good story. In the late hours of January 8th, editors at the Los Angeles Times decided to put it on the front page: “two women and man in Annapolis believed to have 'parrot fever.'"

But the more that I tried to remind myself of the various ways in which I did, in fact, seem to have a body that was moving, with a heart that pumped blood, the more agitated I became. Being dead butted up against the so-called evidence of being alive, and so I grew to avoid that evidence because proof was not a comfort; instead, it pointed to my insanity.

Inside the lack of an investigation into Florida State Heisman Trophy winner Jameis Winston.

Did Thomas Pynchon write a series of letters to Northern California newspapers under the pseudonym “Wanda Tinasky”?

The story of a high school basketball star’s sexual abuse conviction and its aftermath, told from all sides.

Untangling the aftermath of a United States drone strike in Yemen.

Kim Goodsell had a pair of rare diseases. Doctors didn’t have the time to look for a link. So she taught herself genetics and found it herself.

Sex and status disclosure in the age of Grindr and undetectable HIV-levels.

On William Cockford and his 1800s gambling hall in London, where much of the British aristocracy lost its fortune.

A profile of former Duke basketball star Jay Williams a decade after the motorcycle crash that ended his career.

The private life of a disgraced former congressman.

A collection of war stories told by women who have seen combat while serving in the U.S. military.

The rise and fall and rise of Hill flack Kurt Bardella, and what it says about D.C. culture.

Loretta Young, Clark Gable and the truth behind one of old Hollywood’s greatest scandals.

Mexicans on social media have their own hashtag for images of naked – and plainly impoverished – women.