Most complex investigations don’t close with the satisfying resolutions of crime fiction. I find it liberating to embrace the uncertainty.
There is a pressurized space I sometimes occupy as a private detective when clients demand unassailable answers to difficult questions.
Where is the money my business partner stole from me?
Who is behind the astroturf campaign targeting my brand?
Why was I arrested for a crime I did not commit?
Also in this space, you’ll find journalists and lawyers whose jobs require gathering elusive information, molding it into compelling stories, and defending those narratives.
Convincing everyone that you are correct about something is rare, although some fields, such as mathematics, have developed reliable proofs.
In cryptography, for instance, a zero-knowledge proof is a protocol in which one person convinces another person that a statement is true without providing any information beyond the fact of that statement’s truth.
To be sure, when unambiguous discoveries do occur in my work, and I find myself in an hour of gold, it is thrilling.
I found your runaway son in a shelter downtown.
The pseudonymous X account doxxing you is run by your former intern.
The defense contractor is bribing the procurement officer with tuition payments for her daughter.
Life is usually duskier, however. My work often leads to unsatisfying conclusions. Cases reveal fissures, but they are not cracked. Guns are found, but they are not smoking.
These investigations lack a Scooby Doo ending or the dramatic climax of an Agatha Christie novel: all of the passengers did it; all of the characters die; the narrator is the murderer.
These investigations lack a Scooby Doo ending or the dramatic climax of an Agatha Christie novel: all of the passengers did it; all of the characters die; the narrator is the murderer.
If I learn that a prosecutor hid exculpatory information — such as the identity of an alternative suspect — from the defense lawyers before a murder trial, that can lead to a vacated conviction, freedom at last, but it is not evidence of actual innocence.
If I find during due diligence for an investor that a candidate for a stock trading job is a racist with a litigious past, his credibility may be impugned, but he may still be financially savvy and get hired.
Each client has a different appetite for risk. We live in the balance. Life is messy. OJ did it and (his lawyers argued) they framed him.
As much as we seek finality, this murky uncertainty is important to embrace, even if it conflicts with financial interests — i.e. demanding, paying clients. Otherwise our stories have a terrible sameness — and are garlanded with too many exclamation points and not enough question marks.
The investigative mindset, almost by definition, must embrace an openness to learning more, to receiving new evidence that corroborates or contradicts leads.
In an effort to accomplish this, I sometimes think of myself as a scientist presenting a paper at a research conference, open to peer review. If I fail to assume that posture, I fail to gain insights.
I learned this anew from the book Open Socrates, by Agnes Callard, a philosophy professor at the University of Chicago who makes the case that we can build a more knowing and fair society if we live a Socratic life: engaging in dialogue with each other while seeking to absorb information, not just lecturing each other. This inquisitiveness has benefits.
One of Callard’s anecdotes is the flawed construct of school debate teams, which require fixed positions instead of open minds. A debater’s goal is to win an argument by taking an opposing view from a competitor, not to acquire knowledge.
You won; you’re wrong.
The value of this lesson is enhanced if we consider that certainty is no clear indication of accuracy.
Academics in the field of psychology have found that in “non-pristine” environments (a flawed lineup procedure in a criminal investigation, for instance) the accuracy of eyewitnesses who claim to have “high confidence” in choosing a perpetrator is “seriously compromised.” Eyewitness misidentification is the leading cause of wrongful convictions. Translation: Our eyes and our confidence both betray us.
Another danger is to begin an investigation with a flawed premise — a conspiracy theory, a hunch, or junk science — because confirmation bias can set in. We must be contrarians with ourselves.
I am making an effort to apply all of these lessons. Recently, a documentary film featuring a four-year project by my investigations firm, QRI, was released, in which we identify who we feel are the pseudonymous creators of Bitcoin.
Are we right? I’m confident we are, but if I wasn’t open to receiving new information that either corroborates or refutes our conclusion, I wouldn’t be doing my job — or living a Socratic life.
About the author:
Tyler Maroney co-founded and co-manages QRI. Previously he was the managing partner of the Mintz Group’s New York office and worked at Kroll. Before that, he was a reporter for Fortune and a producer for “Frontline.” Tyler has taught investigative techniques as a guest lecturer at Columbia Law School, New York University, and The New School. He is recommended by Chambers and Partners for Litigation Support in Business Intelligence & Investigations. Tyler has written for The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, and is the author of “The Modern Detective: How Corporate Intelligence is Reshaping the World.“