Sarah Koenig

A few weeks ago, after these rumors started surfacing, I got a letter in the mail from Adnan.

It was 18 typed single-spaced pages.

He gave me his reluctant permission to talk about it.

He wrote about lots of things, his religion, his case, how he's managed over the past 15 years.

It's a good letter.

He's a good writer.

But it swung from pole to pole, from distrust to gratitude to confusion.

Anand is obviously aware of this podcast, that it's out in the world, and I could tell that my story had messed with his equilibrium.

When he was convicted of murder, he said the biggest shock for him was that people thought he was capable of this hideous thing, that people didn't believe him.

As I look back now, he wrote, I realize there were only three things I wanted after I was convicted.

To stay close to my family, prove my innocence, and to be seen as a person again, not a monster.

That third one he says he's managed, inside prison.

Quote, people in here know me as a stand-up guy.

Guards, inmates, staff, people I've been around for 15 years, have seen me every day, recognize me as someone whose word can be trusted.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was able to find the peace of mind in prison that I lost at my trial, unquote.

And now I come along at Rabia's behest, not his, and yank this door open again to the outside world and to all its doubts about Adnan's integrity, stirring up the most painful possible questions about whether he's a monster.

It's his nightmare, basically, to be accused of manipulating everyone around him.

Of course, I've had a sense of this feeling from him now and then over the year that we've been talking.

But his letter made plain that in 40 hours of taped conversations, he was weighing every word.

His goal was to keep it all business.