By Robert Rice
The following is an account of an interview, not a transcript nor even a very coherent paraphrasing. It couldn’t have been, because what took place was too sprawling and fractal, because that’s the nature of a long conversation, because he is a non-discriminating student of the horrific and the convivial, because I got lucky. I got lucky because I was slated for fifteen minutes and he gave me an hour and fifteen. I got lucky because, via some serendipitous allowance of mutual and overlapping interest, we both felt like talking about neuroscience, frailty, nature, fathers, and fear with another person who knows about the killing of Tim McLean. Or, more likely, I felt like it, and he wasn’t actively opposed to indulging me.