This is as much intriguing who-done-it as it is a critique of infamy in the age of the internet. Life imitating a reimagining of a movie. The most interesting thing about it, apart the the expertly constructed narrative, is the feelings of culpability you’re left with. We’re implicated in the crimes because we’re interested in the crazy intelligence that committed them. The outsider or criminal is the measure of our own integration into the world. They are the other we use to define ourselves; I’m part of this because I’m not that. What’s more interesting is the question it confronts you with; what will I sacrifice to stop feeding the beast of infamy? My guess is probably not very much. It is to our eternal shame that we need them as much as they need us, but for very different reason.
Darrin // Nightingale 