Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks

While Keefe’s longform journalism essays are stories in their own right, many of his subjects also evince a remarkable storytelling capacity. This runs the gamut from a professional skill, as in the case of Mark Burnett, Anthony Bourdain, or Judy Clarke, to self-justification, as in the case of Matthew Martoma, to public mythology, for figures like Monzer al-Kassar, Hervé Falciani, and former president Donald Trump, among others.

In the case of the more professional storytellers in Keefe’s essay collection, it becomes apparent that a desire to reach the public can be laudable or morally dubious, depending on the goals. Judy Clarke acts entirely out of ideological conviction, earning herself the nickname “Saint Judy, on the basis of her humility, her generosity, and her devotion to her clients” (259). Anthony Bourdain’s storytelling capacity is the fulfillment of a personal dream, but he becomes a national icon and celebrity within and outside the culinary world. Keefe argues that Bourdain’s focus on food became a kind of public good at critical moments: For example, his TV show garnered significant ratings in the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombings because people “needed a break” (338) from chaos and tragedy. Though Ken Dornstein’s obsession may strike readers as unhealthy, his impulse to document his brother’s life and his quest for truth are profound acts of love. Mark Burnett’s storytelling skills and eye for drama created a new television phenomenon. But even a show like Survivor may be less anodyne than it appears, as Keefe interviews a psychologist who stopped working with Burnett “in part because he feared a contestant might harm himself” (181). In interviews, former Apprentice contestants underscore that they feel Burnett’s harm has become national in scope thanks to the Trump presidency.

In the cases of known or alleged criminals in Keefe’s work, self-construction may be an attempt to convince an audience of innocence, or, at least, distract from harsher realities with spectacle. Before his sister’s tell-all book, Wim Holleeder successfully cultivated a public image as a “huggable criminal” (37). Hervé Falciani portrays himself as a crusader for justice and transparency, largely successfully, despite the doubts of his former partner. Monzer al al-Kassar ostentatiously displays his wealth along with his devotion to family. Matthew Martoma insists that he only faked his grades in Harvard Law School out of filial devotion, not a real intent to deceive; in response, his family sees him as a persecuted man, the victim of Steven Cohen and Sidney Gilman. Keefe’s suggestion that Martoma chooses prison over a guilty plea to avoid confronting the distance between his behavior and this image is the ultimate cautionary tale in self-deception. While the world of Rogues is often one of political and financial power, Keefe’s subjects are all acutely aware that such conventional and material resources are even more potent with a compelling narrative attached, however dubious its veracity may be.

Though Keefe’s 12 principal subjects would seem to have little in common—they comprise many nationalities, occupations, classes, and political views—many of them are driven by ties to their families, even against their better judgment. Astrid Holleeder tells Keefe that she is “still communicating” (49) with her brother even after her choice to betray him and years of silence between them. Amy Bishop similarly tells Keefe and others that she is in regular communication with her deceased brother, Seth. Depending upon one’s view of Bishop, this either imparts humanity to a mass murderer, or makes her appear even more sinister. Keefe’s more self-destructive protagonists, and their advocates, cite family bonds as part of the driving force behind their decisions. Judy Bishop’s friends stand behind her account of Seth’s accidental death because they know the alternatives are too difficult for her to contemplate: Judy Bishop still thinks of Amy as a “good girl” (148) and cannot face Keefe’s alternative account of Seth’s death.

Judy Clarke argues that only a strong sibling bond could have driven Dzhokhar Tsarnaev to become a mass bomber, though the jury in the case rejects her view of the events. Sidney Gilman blames his grief and despair over loss of his son for his susceptibility to Matthew Martoma’s charms and willingness to provide his protégé with confidential information. Matthew Martoma cites a desire to please his parents as the impetus behind his creation of a false transcript of his law school grades. Martoma’s father blames himself for his son’s arrest, suggesting that devotion gone wrong, not the desire for money, was the impetus behind his son’s behavior.

Even Keefe’s accounts of loving families are marked by deep attachment in the face of loss: Ken Dornstein can only be devoted to his brother’s memory due to David’s early death. Anthony Bourdain’s account of his devotion to his daughter acquires a tragic tinge when today’s reader knows that he died by suicide. In the world of Rogues, the reader meets families changed by extraordinary circumstances, pushed beyond their limits into worlds few of them anticipated.