Does my name belong to me? Does my face? What about my life? My story? Why is my name used to refer to events I had no hand in? I return to these questions because others continue to profit off my name, face, and story without my consent. Most recently, the film Stillwater.

This new film by director Tom McCarthy, starring Matt Damon, is “loosely based” or “directly inspired by” the “Amanda Knox saga,” as Vanity Fair put it in a for-profit article promoting a for-profit film, neither of which I am affiliated with. I want to pause right here…

A causal kiss, just three seconds among hours of standing around exhausted, scared, waiting for news from the police, and yet it came to define me in the media and in court…

One of the unexpected gifts from my wrongful conviction is that I have become acutely aware of the cognitive biases that we are all susceptible to, and thus better able to avoid them in my own thinking.

One reason I still receive so much vitriol is THE ANCHORING BIAS: the tendency to rely on the first piece of information, regardless of its validity. The first thing most people heard about me was that I was a suspected killer. That colors everything else they ever hear about me.

The BASE RATE FALLACY is the tendency to ignore general information and focus…

[For an audio reading of this essay accompanied by further discussion, see this bonus episode of my podcast, Labyrinths.] [Italian text below]

It has been my fate to bear the infamy of Meredith Kercher’s tragic death, an infamy that belongs to her forgotten killer: Rudy Guede. Despite leaving his DNA on Meredith’s body, despite leaving his fingerprints and footprints in her blood, Guede was never charged with murder. Instead, was he quietly convicted of a lesser charge long before my own trial ever reached a verdict.

Taking his cue from the prosecution and media, Guede has taken every opportunity to…

What my wrongful murder conviction showed me about how to get through 2020

Amanda Knox. Photo: Patrik Andersson

This year— with its seemingly never-ending pandemic and economic recession and with the president and his enablers threatening our democracy — isn’t just disorienting and sickening. It’s also deeply familiar.

It’s been five years since I was definitively acquitted for a murder I didn’t commit, and I’m still unsure what my best path forward is. I don’t know if I can ever restore my reputation or achieve anything that will impact my life as much as this external trauma has.

I feel perpetually lost.

This year, the rest of the country has joined me. All at once, so many of…

Eight years after my release from an Italian prison, I’m still someone else’s story

Photo by Christopher Robinson/Amanda Knox

I’ve had more than my fair share of surreal moments. You probably know the obvious ones. The moment an Italian court declared me guilty of a murder I didn’t commit was mind-breaking. Up until that instant, I thought my innocence was a guarantee of my freedom. I was wrong. The moment I was acquitted was just as insane. I had prepared myself to grow old in prison. I’d forgotten what it was like to walk on grass.

I’m about to return to Italy for the first time since I was released from prison and fled the country in a high-speed…

Amanda Knox

Host of Labyrinths podcast, The Truth About True Crime, The Scarlet Letter Reports, and author of NYT bestseller Waiting to Be Heard.

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