TRUST ME WHEN I LIE

Australian stand-up comedian Stevenson’s fiction debut is anything but funny: It’s the dark-hued story of a true-crime television producer whose miniseries is instrumental in freeing a wrongly convicted killer who might not be so innocent after all.

“I’m not a journalist,” Jack Quick tells anyone who’ll listen, and you have to admit he has a point. His TV series on the murder of English backpacker Eliza Dacey, which throws serious doubt on the culpability of Curtis Wade, the restaurateur on whose property Eliza’s strangled, mutilated corpse was found, made him just as famous as Curtis and tied him even more inescapably to his notorious subject from the moment a new trial set Curtis free four years after his conviction. An even more important disqualification than Jack’s celebrity is the need he feels to lie to Curtis and his kid sister, Lauren, his lawyer, Alexis White, prosecuting attorney Theodore Piper, Sgt. Andrew Freeman of the New South Wales Police, and even Detective Ian McCarthy, the NSWP ally who keeps feeding him information. The sad truth is that much as Jack hates lying, he’s gotten used to it ever since a devastating childhood accident left his older brother, Liam, in a persistent vegetative state. His unexpected discomfort with Curtis’ release is multiplied a thousandfold by a second murder with unmistakable echoes of the first. Is a copycat trying to get Curtis locked up again, or is Curtis celebrating his newfound freedom by acting out in fury against the enemies who locked him up in the first place? Although the threats to Jack’s life multiply, he’s actually facing psychological threats much worse than death.

Stevenson locks his remarkably small cast in a cage where they do unspeakable things to each other.