Inside America’s resurgent paramilitary movement.

Between 1996 and 2015, the number of working-age adults receiving federal disability payments increased dramatically — but nowhere more so than in rural America. This is one man’s story.

Bangalore was once the icon of a globalized, high tech, utopian future. Now it’s a sign of global catastrophe.

A college student accused a powerful man of rape. Then she became a suspect.

Davon Mayer was a smalltime dealer in west Baltimore who made an illicit deal with local police. Then they turned on him.

A late night host finds a new voice.

“It is a John Wick training montage, but with teachers wearing T-shirts with elementary-school mascots or “This is what an AWESOME SCIENCE TEACHER looks like” emblazoned across the front.”

Upon returning to my hometown, though, some twenty-odd years after that bus ride, I kept seeing signs that perhaps, even in rural Appalachia, the times had changed.

California has more charter schools than any other state. But the way they’re overseen is flawed—and questionable operators are making millions.

At least one in three Alaska villages has no local law enforcement. Sexual abuse runs rampant, public safety resources are scarce, and Gov. Mike Dunleavy wants to cut the budget.

More than fifteen years after he died, Fred Rogers has never been more revered—or more misunderstood.

Our economy is built on Americans of all class levels buying things. What happens when the ability—and desire—to do so goes away?

George Floyd’s murder is a brutal reminder that the entire legal edifice—from slavery to mass incarceration—was designed to break down black people meticulously. This isn’t accidental.

In New Orleans, hospitals sent patients infected with the coronavirus into hospice facilities or back to their families to die at home, in some cases discontinuing treatment even as relatives begged them to keep trying.

How a middle-class jock from a Texas border town became La Barbie, one of the most ruthless and feared cartel leaders in Mexico.

Far from our barrios, mountains, and islands, we cook, so that we may practice swallowing our undesirable truths, acidic and blood-heavy. Sisig, like our islands, is cooked three ways, and we––descended from gods, made in dirty kitchens––must learn to master each one.

Armed with a handgun, a fake ID card and disguises, Miriam Rodríguez was a one-woman detective squad, attempting to catch her daughter’s murderers in the border town of San Fernando.

Evidence of the failure to love is everywhere around us. To contemplate what it is to love today brings us up against reefs of darkness and walls of despair.

You walk around carrying this invisible weight — this pressure on your whole spirit—because the worlds you’re trying to fit into are rejecting you in so many ways. And you think it’s your fault.

A radical housing program in the San Francisco Bay is recognizing how women who killed their abusers deserve dignity—and a second chance.

James and Lindsay Sulzer have spent their careers developing technologies to help people recover from disease or injury. Their daughter’s freak accident changed their work—and lives—forever.

Jai Alai once packed Florida’s frontons with gamblers and glamor. Today, America is down to a single top-level pro who plays under the name Tevin in honor of Tevin Campbell.

To understand why a 64-year-old man would try and break the land speed record by traveling hundreds of miles per hour, you need to know a little something about his family.

A personal history of Soldier of Fortune magazine and the mercenary-wannabes who read and wrote it.