By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
"I don't sleep with Amy anymore," McAfee volunteered. "She tried to kill me four times. She stabbed me in the ass. I'm deaf in one ear because she tried to shoot me in the head. Since we stopped having sex, she hasn't tried to kill me. Not even once."
McAfee then offered to hook me up with his sadistic ex. "Amy is not going to want to skin you alive," he said, "because she will notice that you are actually faithful to women."
"Sure," I said, trying to laugh.
600 Lincoln Road
Miami Beach, FL 33139-2916
Region: South Beach
"You have courage, my friend," McAfee said. "I would want you in the jungle with me. All you are lacking is a bit of self-confidence. We'll fix that by the end of the day."
He would certainly try. Over the next three hours, he would frequently suggest that I take the Herald reporter on a date, only to warn he would swoop in for the kill if I didn't.
At the register, McAfee forked over a crisp $100 bill, which he explained had come in a package delivered to him the night before thanks to the guy running his blog, whoismcafee.com. We turned to leave, but the cashier called after us. McAfee had forgotten more than $20 in change. "I'm dying for some sushi," he said as we hopped back into Camacho's cab.
In the car, McAfee vented about how he had spent three hours the previous night giving an interview, only for the reporter to ask him to keep quiet. "This guy said he was my friend," McAfee said bitterly. "But if he was my friend, he wouldn't ask me that." McAfee would touch upon this theme of betrayal several times. In one moment, he promised to tell me the absolute truth. In others, he said he disdained journalists and admitted to playing "practical jokes" on them by routinely lying.
Ten minutes after leaving Ross, we settled at a small table inside SushiSamba on Lincoln Road. Without looking at the menu, McAfee ordered $400 worth of nigiri. Then he proceeded to hold court for two hours, like a more charming but no less insane Charlie Sheen.
"There are two ways to live, my son," he told me. "You can live according to the formula. We all know it: You go to school, you learn as much as you can, you find the right [partner], you settle down and have children. You live 20 years for your children, another 15 for your job, you retire, get a golden watch, and enjoy your life.
"Or there is no formula. There is nothing to live by except what is happening in that moment. Life is infinite. You can't have rules for infinity. The only rule is this here," he said, tapping the other reporter over her heart.
"Your life seems like endless chaos," I said at one point. "That can't be fun."
"Life is fun," he said. "You've been hanging out with me here in chaos for hours, yet you're enjoying it because you're in the moment."
Maybe that's the thing about McAfee — the key to his mix of childlike wonder and desperation, the secret of his chaos. He has burned his past behind him in Belize. And he refuses to commit to the future.
"I have no future, no dreams, no plans," he said. "If you don't have plans, then life is nothing but chaos." McAfee paused. "Here's the truth of life: You can be the president, but if nobody pays attention to you, you don't exist."
And suddenly I understood why McAfee looked so old, so ragged. Without a past or a future to retreat to, his life had become one frenetic moment — an endless search for recognition. Without his young women around, he had turned to reporters for validation.
"Life is boring," he said. "Play is the only noble thing."
He had been playing hide-and-seek for weeks with the authorities, he said. Even his infamous blog posts, in which he discussed testing and perfecting mysterious drugs on himself, were, he now claimed, just part of a bet with a friend. He had played Russian roulette in front of a reporter in Belize, he said, just to fuck with the man's mind.
We left the restaurant, but not before McAfee ordered $24 worth of green-tea ice cream. We walked along Lincoln Road eating it with chopsticks. Eventually, he turned to me with a warning. "You've got ten minutes to ask her out," he said, pointing to the Herald reporter. "After that, I'm going to enter the competition."
I demurred again as we wandered into and out of phone stores until McAfee found one capable of calling Guatemala. He instantly began flirting with the woman behind the counter, taking out a Marlboro and asking her for a light. "Do I know you?" she said with a laugh.
"I dated your sister, remember?" McAfee bullshitted. "She got so upset when I snuck into your room that one night. But it was worth it. You did things that I don't even think there are names for." He forked over $438 for a phone, including $300 credit to call Amy and Sam.
@melissalyttle I went aero trekking with that guy a few years ago for a story in AZ. Interesting to see how he's spent his time since.
Hey, McAfee, since you are a self-professed liar, why should your just saying you didn't kill Greg Faull be good enough? Like we should believe you? You are a compulsive liar & I believe you killed him. Enjoy your freedom while you can, because your lies are catching up with you. I'd take real good care of Samantha & Amy or they will turn on you. That's what I'm hoping.
Hey, McAfee, since you're a self-professed liar, why should you just saying that you didn't murder Greg Faull, be good enough? Like we should believe you?
Her name was Jennifer, or Jenn, & she caught him in bed with Amy, the 17 year old who tried to kill him. She demanded he throw Amy out, but he refused and she packed up and left him & Belize after 12 years together, since she was 19. Smart girl.... Finally. You are an evil, evil man with a sick, psychopathic mind, McAfee, & I can't wait until your fate catches up with you. Hopefully, it will be soon, before someone else ends up murdered.
@psychodrama Are you her?