An excerpt from the new WIRED e-book
John McAfee’s Last Stand
by Joshua Davis
On November 12, Belizean police announced that they were seeking antivirus pioneer John McAfee for questioning in relation to the murder of his neighbor. Six months prior, WIRED’s Joshua Davis began an in-depth investigation into McAfee’s life. Our first WIRED Single, John McAfee’s Last Stand, is the chronicle of that investigation — a harrowing tale of ambition, paranoia, sex, and madness. Buy it now on Amazon.
ohn McAfee flicks open the cylinder of his
Smith & Wesson revolver and empties the bullets, letting them
clatter onto the table between us. A few tumble to the floor. McAfee is
66, lean and fit, with veins bulging out of his forearms. His hair is
bleached blond in patches, like a cheetah, and tattoos wrap around his
arms and shoulders.
More than 25 years ago, he formed McAfee Associates, a maker of antivirus software that went on to become immensely popular and was acquired by Intel in 2010 for $7.68 billion. Now he’s holed up in a bungalow at his island estate 15 miles off the coast of Belize.
The shades are drawn so I can see only a sliver of the white sand beach and turquoise water outside. The table is piled with boxes of ammunition, fake IDs, Frontiersman bear deterrent, and a single blue baby pacifier.
McAfee picks a bullet off the floor and fixes me with a wide-eyed, manic intensity, his light blue eyes sparkling. “This is a bullet, right?” he says in the congenial Southern accent that has stuck with him since his boyhood in Virginia.
More than 25 years ago, he formed McAfee Associates, a maker of antivirus software that went on to become immensely popular and was acquired by Intel in 2010 for $7.68 billion. Now he’s holed up in a bungalow at his island estate 15 miles off the coast of Belize.
The shades are drawn so I can see only a sliver of the white sand beach and turquoise water outside. The table is piled with boxes of ammunition, fake IDs, Frontiersman bear deterrent, and a single blue baby pacifier.
McAfee picks a bullet off the floor and fixes me with a wide-eyed, manic intensity, his light blue eyes sparkling. “This is a bullet, right?” he says in the congenial Southern accent that has stuck with him since his boyhood in Virginia.
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