Editor’s Note:

On May 13, 2012, a bomb was detonated at the funeral of Miranda Rothstein, killing, among others, the renowned journalist Arthur Hunt. The following document—apparently written in a fit of manic activity over the thirty-six hours prior to the funeral—was subsequently recovered from Hunt’s laptop in his room at the Chappine Hotel.

Had its salacious subject matter not already become public knowledge, I would have fought to keep the manuscript a secret. From the evidence of the text, Arthur quite clearly intended to share what he wrote either with no one or only with his sister. But secrets are not what they used to be, so I cannot protect my old friend by silencing him. I do wish that, in taking account of his life, Arthur had focused less on his vile mistake and more on his lifelong fight against injustice. He might have mentioned the time when, as he and I emerged from a bar at two in the morning, he spotted a mugger who had just stolen a woman’s iPod. Without hesitation Arthur stepped in front of the mugger and took a swing at his nose. That he missed, and that the mugger then broke Arthur’s nose and got away, does not detract from the instinctive bravery of the act, a bravery on display throughout Arthur’s long career as a journalist. I do hope that, if you haven’t already, you will seek out his other works, especially his three excellent books about the country that unfortunately I must refer to, and have amended Arthur’s manuscript to refer to, as REDACTED.1

1 Speaking of REDACTED—or, rather, not speaking of it: Citing an interpretation of the Qu’ran extremely specious even by Islamist standards, the country’s government issued a decree threatening violent reprisal against any Western publisher or publication that prints the name of the country. It is true that these threats have never been acted on, but nonetheless I must choose the safety of my staff over the integrity of Arthur’s text.