Remembering Patrice O’Neal.

The intricate dance between highly organized ultras fan organizations, the teams they support, and the mafia for control of the center of curva and the lucrative ticket-touting opportunities that come with it.

The world’s fastest growing economy isn’t China; it’s the “unheralded alternative economic universe of System D” aka the $10 trillion global black market.

The story of Attila Ambrus, who was released from jail this morning in Hungary. Nicknamed the Whiskey Robber because witnesses always spotted him having a double across the street prior to his heists, Ambrus only stole from state-owned banks and post offices, becoming a Hungarian folk hero during his seven years on the lam. While on his spree he was also the goaltender for Budapest’s best-known hockey team and was arguably the worst pro goalie ever to play the sport, once giving up 23 goals in a single game.

Excerpted from Ballad of the Whiskey Robber: A True Story of Bank Heists, Ice Hockey, Transylvanian Pelt Smuggling, Moonlighting Detectives, and Broken Hearts.

What makes a great show?

How the Oglala Lakota healed from a massacre.

On the clip that captured a society falling apart.

A physician becomes convinced he’s dying.

How the veterinary industry went corporate.

Two very different fates at the Chicago Marathon.

It was the worst AIDS crisis in years—until it wasn’t.

On the modern era’s answer to James Baldwin.

Tracking down the very best in Grateful Dead concert concessions.

A jailhouse interview.

Doing mushrooms in space.

A reporter returns to My Lai.

How Sherwin Shayegan pulled off a 3,000-mile, piggyback ride-fueled road trip.

On rongorongo, which no one can decipher.

The paper spiked a #MeToo story. Why?

On living in dark times.

An interview with the historian Robin D.G. Kelley.

In a district where parents are epidemiologists and health policy experts, the meltdown happened one Zoom meeting at a time

The Mennonite women of the Manitoba Colony would awake with blood and semen stains, dried grass in their hair, and tiny bits of rope on their wrists and ankles. Their rapists, armed with a veterinary tranquilizer converted to spray form, were eight young men from their own community.

Justin Vivian Bond found downtown fame as Kiki DuRane, decrepit drag chanteuse and comedic prophet of gay rage born out of the AIDS era. Then he killed Kiki to try to become the woman (and man) he always wanted to be.

Chris Earnshaw began taking photographs of Washington, D.C. more than 40 years ago. By the time he paid a visit to a museum to tout his work, he had in his possession—in plastic bags and filing drawers—3,000 Polaroids of a city long gone.