This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.

In today’s reading list, Atlantic journalists offer an intricate examination of those who swindle or hurt others, and those who must live with the fallout. The stories below follow a con man turned true-crime writer, a prison break facilitated by a dog crate, the spectacle of murder fandoms, and more.

The Con Man Who Became a True-Crime Writer

In his old life, Matthew Cox told stories to scam his way into millions of dollars. Now he’s trying to sell tales that are true.

By Rachel Monroe

The True Story of the Married Woman Who Smuggled Her Boyfriend Out of Prison in a Dog Crate

She wanted to escape her marriage. He wanted to escape his life sentence.

By Michael J. Mooney

They Stole Yogi Berra’s World Series Rings. Then They Did Something Really Crazy.

The childhood friends behind the most audacious string of sports-memorabilia heists in American history

By Ariel Sabar

The Perfect Man Who Wasn’t

For years, he used fake identities to charm women out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Then his victims banded together to take him down.

By Rachel Monroe

The Gross Spectacle of Murder Fandom

After four University of Idaho students were killed, TikTok and Reddit sleuths swarmed the campus. The community is still struggling with the wreckage they left behind.

By McKay Coppins

The Mobster Who Bought His Son a Hockey Team

A tale of goons, no-show jobs, and a legendary minor-league franchise that helped land its owner in prison

By Rich Cohen

The Tomb Raiders of the Upper East Side

Inside the Manhattan DA’s Antiquities Trafficking Unit

By Ariel Sabar

The Rise and Fall of an All-Star Crew of Jewel Thieves

They were highly sophisticated. The local police seemed helpless. Then a retired septuagenarian detective stepped in.

By Geoff Manaugh

The Week Ahead

Season 2 of The Night Agent, an action series about an FBI agent who is drawn into the mysterious world of the Night Action organization (streaming on Netflix on Thursday) We Do Not Part, a book by Han Kang that follows the friendship between two Korean women and the massacre on Jeju Island (out Tuesday) Presence, a horror film told from the perspective of a spirit bound to a family’s suburban home (in theaters Friday)

Essay

Illustration by The Atlantic. Source: Getty.

America Just Kinda, Sorta Banned Cigarettes

By Nicholas Florko

No drug is quite like nicotine. When it hits your bloodstream, you’re sent on a ride of double euphoria: an immediate jolt of adrenaline, like a strong cup of coffee injected directly into your brain, along with the calming effect of a beer. Nicotine is what gets people hooked on cigarettes, despite their health risks and putrid smell. It is, in essence, what cigarette companies are selling, and what they’ve always been selling. Without nicotine, a cigarette is just smoldering leaves wrapped in some fancy paper.

But if the Biden administration gets its way, that’s essentially all cigarettes will be.

Read the full article.

More in Culture

The hipster grifter peaked too soon. A singing chimp isn’t the wildest part of Better Man. Where Han Kang’s nightmares come from A Palestinian story unlike any other A Holocaust novel confronts fiction’s limits.

Catch Up on The Atlantic

How Trump made Biden’s Gaza peace plan happen David Frum on Justin Trudeau’s performative self-regard The one Trump pick Democrats actually like

Photo Album

A young child runs across a rectangle of light in a dreamlike image. (Mitja Kobal / Kolari Vision)

Take a look at the top images in this year’s “Life in Another Light” biannual infrared-photography competition.

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This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.

Not long after Secretary of Defense nominee Pete Hegseth read his opening statement and began fielding questions from the Senate Armed Services Committee, I began thinking: I hope neither America’s allies nor its enemies are watching this. The hope was, of course, completely unreasonable. Such hearings are watched closely by friends and foes alike, in order to take the measure of a nominee who might lead the most powerful military in the world and would be a close adviser to the president of the United States.

What America and the world saw today was not a serious examination of a serious man. Instead, Republicans on the committee showed that they would rather elevate an unqualified and unfit nominee to a position of immense responsibility than cross Donald Trump, Elon Musk, or the most ardent Republican voters in their home states. America’s allies should be deeply concerned; America’s enemies, meanwhile, are almost certainly laughing in amazement at their unexpected good fortune.

Most of the GOP senators asked questions that had little to do with the defense of the United States and everything to do with the peculiar obsessions that dominate the alternative reality of right-wing television and talk radio, especially the bane of “wokeness.” Perhaps that was just as well for Hegseth, because the few moments where anything of substance came up did not go well for him. When Senator Deb Fischer of Nebraska, for example, tried early on to draw Hegseth out with some basic questions about nuclear weapons, he was lost. He tried to fumble his way around to an answer that included harnessing the creativity of Silicon Valley to innovate a future nuclear force … or something.

On many other questions, including adherence to the Geneva Conventions, the role of the military in domestic policing, and the obligation to disobey illegal orders, Hegseth fudged and improvised. He seemed aware that he had to avoid sounding extreme while still playing for the only audience that really matters: 50 Republican senators and one former and future president of the United States. His evasions were not particularly clever, but they didn’t need to be. He was clear that his two priorities as secretary will be to lead a culture war within the Pentagon, and to do whatever Trump tells him to do.

If America’s friends and adversaries saw an insubstantial man in front of the committee, they also saw Republicans—members of what once advertised itself as the party of national security—acting with a complete lack of gravity and purpose. Few Republicans, aside from Fischer and a rather businesslike Senator Joni Ernst of Iowa, asked Hegseth anything meaningful about policy. Ernst extracted a promise from Hegseth to appoint a senior official to be in charge of sexual-assault prevention, but most of her colleagues resorted to the usual buzzwords about DEI and cultural Marxism while throwing Hegseth softballs. (Senator Eric Schmitt of Missouri also managed to mention drag queens, but the trophy for most cringe-inducing moment goes to Senator Tim Sheehy of Montana, who asked Hegseth how many genders there are. When Hegseth said “two,” Sheehy said: “I know that well. I’m a she-he.” Get it? Sheehy? She-he? He’s here all week, folks; tip your waiters.)

And speaking of buzzwords, most of Hegseth’s answers relied on his vow to support “the warfighters” and their “lethality,” two words that have been floating around the Pentagon—as things full of helium will do—for years. Hegseth, to his credit, has learned how to speak fluent Pentagon-ese, the content-free language in which the stakeholders help the warfighters leverage their assets to increase their lethality. (I taught military officers for years at the Naval War College. I can write this kind of Newspeak at will.) As Senator Richard Blumenthal of Connecticut noted, Hegseth might not be qualified to be secretary of defense, but he could squeak by as a Pentagon spokesperson.

Some Democrats highlighted that Hegseth has never run anything of any significant size, and that his record even in smaller organizations hasn’t been particularly impressive. Senator Gary Peters of Michigan pointed out that no board of directors would hire Hegseth as the CEO even of a medium-size company. Other Democrats drilled Hegseth on his personal behavior, including accusations (which he has denied) that he has engaged in sexual assault and alcohol abuse. At one point, Senator Mark Kelly of Arizona listed specific incidents, asking Hegseth to confirm or deny them. Each time, Hegseth responded only by saying “anonymous smears,” which he seems to think is like invoking the Fifth Amendment. Hegseth also said he wasn’t perfect, and that he’s been redeemed by his faith in Jesus Christ, whose name came up more often than one might expect during a hearing related to national security.

Senator Tammy Duckworth of Illinois, an Army veteran who was wounded during her service in Iraq, brought out a large poster of the Soldier’s Creed, emphasizing the insistence on standards and integrity embodied in it. She asked Hegseth how the Defense Department could still demand that service members train and serve at such high standards if the Senate lowered the bar for leading the Pentagon just for him. After she quizzed him on various matters and Hegseth again floundered, she put it simply and directly: “You’re not qualified, Mr. Hegseth.”

Not that any of it mattered to the Republicans on the committee, some of whom took great offense at questions about Hegseth’s character. Senator Markwayne Mullin of Oklahoma tried to turn the tables on his colleagues by asking how many of them had ever voted while drunk or cheated on their spouses, as if that somehow obviated any further fussing about whether a possible secretary of defense was an adulterer or struggles with substance abuse.

Unfortunately for Mullin, he doesn’t know his Senate history, so Senator Jack Reed of Rhode Island, the ranking member, helpfully spelled it out for him: If any member of the Senate were nominated to such a position, Reed said, they too would have to answer such questions. And then he added that the late Senator John Tower was in 1989 rejected for the same job Hegseth wants—over accusations of a drinking problem.

Throughout this all, I tried to imagine the reaction in Moscow or Beijing, where senior defense-ministry officials were almost certainly watching Hegseth stumble his way through this hearing. They learned today that their incoming opponent apparently has few thoughts about foreign enemies, but plenty of concerns about the people Trump calls “the enemy from within.” The MAGA Republicans, for their part, seem eager only for Hegseth to get in there and tear up the Pentagon.

After today, I suspect America’s enemies are happily awaiting the same thing.

Related:

Pete Hegseth declines to answer. The perverse logic of Trump’s nomination circus

Here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

Jack Smith gives up, David Frum writes. How Los Angeles must rebuild A secret way to fight off stomach bugs

Today’s News

Israel and Hamas are “on the brink” of accepting an agreement for a cease-fire in Gaza and the exchange of some hostages and prisoners, according to U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken. Former Special Counsel Jack Smith’s final report on Donald Trump’s effort to overturn the 2020 presidential election was released last night. The Biden administration announced that Cuba will be removed from the state-sponsor-of-terrorism list, which would help clear the way for the release of some political prisoners.

Evening Read

Illustration by Federico Tramonte

They Stole Yogi Berra’s World Series Rings. Then They Did Something Really Crazy.

By Ariel Sabar

On a Wednesday morning in October 2014, in a garage in the woods of Pennsylvania, Tommy Trotta tried on some new jewelry: a set of rings belonging to the baseball great Yogi Berra. Each hunk of gold bore a half-carat diamond and the words “New York Yankees World Champions.”

Read the full article.

More From The Atlantic

Why didn’t Jack Smith charge Trump with insurrection? Iran’s return to pragmatism “Dear James”: I have a huge crush on a writer.

Culture Break

Paramount Pictures

Watch. The musical biopic Better Man (out now in theaters) is so much more than its chimpanzee gimmick, David Sims writes.

Read. In Han Kang’s novels, the South Korean Nobel laureate returns again and again to her country’s bloody past, Judith Shulevitz writes.

Play our daily crossword.

Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.

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During the years-long height of the British superstar Robbie Williams’s fame, I’d often wonder why he struggled to cross over to true global recognition. Williams, for those who are unfamiliar, started out as a member of the wildly beloved English boy band Take That in the early 1990s. After leaving the group in 1995, right when its success was cresting, Williams transformed himself from potential pop-culture footnote into icon. A slew of blockbuster albums made him a household name across the United Kingdom, Europe, and Australia—but not in the United States, where his early-2000s attempts to gain traction made little progress. Perhaps the country had too many of its own idols—or perhaps, as the new musical biopic Better Man argues, Williams was too gleefully self-deprecating to sincerely make the sales pitch.

The director Michael Gracey adheres to the biopic genre’s basic contours. Better Man follows Williams’s hardscrabble youth, his rise to fame, and the ups and downs that came with notoriety, all punctuated by interpretations of some of his most famous tracks. This synopsis suggests that the film is a programmatic, musician-approved project, almost as if it’s designed to be an entry point for a new generation of fans. Except, get this: Williams is represented as a CGI chimpanzee. Like, a walking, talking, human-size chimp, portrayed and voiced by a combination of a motion-capture actor (Jonnie Davies), a musician (Adam Tucker), and Williams himself.

Why is he a primate? Better Man doesn’t ever explain—though in its trailer, Williams mentions feeling “less evolved” than everyone else—and none of the characters ever remarks on it. Instead, the meaning of the conceit is left in the hands of the audience. This decision is a baffling swerve for a celebrity biopic, one that will probably keep it from becoming an out-and-out sensation. But Better Man deserves to be treated as more than a strange curio: Despite the seemingly run-of-the-mill premise and the contrivance of the protagonist, it properly delves into its subject’s erratic persona, using the musical segments to advance the story instead of as mandatory breaks in the action. The result is one of the most thoughtfully constructed movies about a musician I’ve seen in years.

[Read: Bob Dylan broke rules. A Complete Unknown follows them.]

A core part of Williams’s appeal has always been his cheekiness, as the Brits would put it. Yes, he’s a handsome fella who sings catchy hits. But even though his stock-in-trade is sincere love ballads and toe-tapping anthems about having fun, Williams exudes the sense that he’s never taking any of the glitz around him too seriously. His narration throughout Better Man poses a possible reason for his devil-may-care attitude: It’s a cover for what he refers to as the clinical depression that has dogged him over the course of his career, especially at its peak. What better way to underline that than by removing his image from the film entirely?

The appealing presentation of chimp-Williams is helped by the fact that Gracey started his career as a visual-effects artist—he knows his way around computer-generated characters. His prior directorial effort was The Greatest Showman, a more conventional movie musical that tried to package the complex and problematic life of P. T. Barnum as a family-friendly inspirational tale. It made little sense, but it became something of a box-office phenomenon on the backs of Hugh Jackman’s bravado and Gracey’s steady hand behind the camera.

Better Man has not only similarly earwormy tunes but also a far richer subject than Barnum. Williams is a showman too, but he’s a rawer, more relatable one; he’s always worn his personal deficiencies on his sleeve, even on the biggest stage. Gracey’s attentive care with Williams’s discography is especially striking. Williams’s career could easily have been shot as a straightforward jukebox musical, running down the track listing of his greatest-hits CDs while sprinkling in some run-of-the-mill backstory material. Instead, Gracey rearranges the chronology, finding numbers that thematically match the events of his protagonist’s life. Williams performs the power ballad “Feel,” the lead single from his fifth solo album, to illustrate his tough childhood. The director re-creates the singer’s famed 2001 live rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” for Better Man’s grand finale; instead of just plucking another of the singer’s own numbers, he chooses to evoke one of Williams’s biggest inspirations.

[Read: The missing piece of the Bob Marley biopic]

The film’s most jaw-dropping set piece is also perhaps its most timeline-flouting. After covering his difficult adolescence in the downtrodden industrial town of Stoke-on-Trent, Better Man turns to Williams’s early years in the music industry. Gracey captures the explosion of Take That’s crossover appeal—they climbed the ladder from small gay clubs to national arenas—in a scene where the band performs “Rock DJ,” Williams’s solo chart-topper from 2000. It unfolds as an unbroken, CGI-assisted camera move, with Williams and his bandmates—who, in real life, had nothing to do with the song—dancing through the streets of Central London, surrounded by a growing throng of fans. An artificial long take can sometimes come across as gimmicky, but it works tremendously well here, thanks in part to the creative choreography. Movie-musical directors must make certain decisions when mounting their big numbers: Should they throw everything into a wide shot, capturing the scale of the dance routines but making the world around them feel static? Or is it better to cut into the action constantly, highlighting the individual players but losing that sense of magnitude? The one-shot technique helpfully circumvents those questions.

Gracey makes an effort to innovate in several other ways, navigating around the musical genre’s visual conventions and limitations. A later scene, for example, renders the anthemic “Let Me Entertain You” as a dreamlike battle between Williams and his mouthiest chimp-demons. High points like these helped keep Better Man in my good graces even as the second half dips into excessively maudlin territory, as Williams wrestles with the strictures of fame. Still, some viewers might find the audacity of a hero that’s a CGI chimp impossible to overcome—especially those who know little about the real person (including what he actually looks like). Early box-office returns seem to indicate U.S. theatergoers’ disinterest, if not outright bafflement. But Williams has always thrived on the audience’s sympathy as much as their admiration, and Better Man finds a wonderfully goofy way to represent that with its charming, if unevolved, simian star.

Adam Tucker counts Pink, Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron among his fans even if they don't know it.