Warren St. John of The New York Times has long followed the faux career of not-so-real JT Leroy. In November 2004, St. John introduced Leroy to Times readers. On January 6, 2006, St. John revealed that (for public appearances, anyway) the male Leroy was actually Savanna Knoop. In today's installment, St. John reports musician Geoffrey Knoop's allegations that his former girlfriend, Laura Albert, is the writer behind JT Leroy's byline. (Precisely what Stephen Beachy suspected in his exhaustive New York article on the subject last October.)

But the real question (for Fishbowl readers, anyway) is this: What does Warren St. John think about the whole scam? The answer is after the jump...

FishbowlNY: Do you feel somewhat vindicated that you've followed this story through to its ugly (and tawdry) conclusions?

Warren St. John: Vindication doesn't come into it. That's not to say that it isn't a satisfying process to solve a riddle, because it is, and that's really what drove the reporting. I became a bit obsessed with figuring it out, as I think my editors would attest.

I assume you're referring to the original JT Leroy story — the credulous one — with that question. It was an assignment. To be honest, I'd never heard of JT Leroy. But the story sounded interesting — some crazy character in a wig and sunglasses — so I volunteered. I had a day to prepare for the interview, and a day to write. I read the books back to back; and a stack of clips. And while there were certainly rumors about JT Leroy's identity, most of them were specific and had been disproved. He wasn't Dennis Cooper. He wasn't Mary Gaitskill. Nevertheless, I made some reality-check calls. I called [Leroy's agent] Ira Silverberg, and Dr. Owens, both of whom reassured me that JT Leroy was real. Of course, what I didn't know then was that they were being duped as well, and had been for years. So off I go; I do my interviews, write my story and pat myself on the back for a job well done. Stupid me. Not one of my finer moments. But as they say, fool me once...

FBNY: There was so much JT Leroy speculation on the web and elsewhere — what's it like to cover a story where everyone else is trying to get to the bottom of it at the same time?

WSJ: It's exciting, frustrating at times, a little scary. I had a Google news alert for "JT Leroy" and every time I received an alert, I opened it with trepidation, fearing that I'd be reading the answer to the riddle. At the same, one puzzles a bit over the unseemly glee bloggers and some journalists exhibit at the news that someone may have been duped, as well as the chorus of people who write and say, "Oh I knew all along!" Well, a lot of people suspected, but there's a big gap between suspicion and confirmation, and if at all possible, I wanted to close it.

One thing about Laura Albertthough is that she united a bunch of reporters who might otherwise be blood enemies. We've all talked. Stephen Beachy deserves a huge amount of credit for breaking through. I think we've all marveled at the scheme, the most artful detail of which is that by going to Dr. Owens, Laura Albert lent credibility to her tale with someone who, because of patient confidentiality laws, would never be in a position to out her. There's something deviously brilliant about that twist.

FBNY: Is this the kind of story you miss, or one you're just glad is over?

WSJ: A bit of both. A good whodunit doesn't come around that often, so you have to enjoy them when they do. At the same time, if you're spending countless hours working on a story about a con, you can't help but think that the con artists are winning, if only by taking up so much of your time. But probably more of the former.

FBNY: What's your take-away as a reporter about this story? What did you learn? Do you do anything differently now when researching a story?

WSJ: That's the big question, and it's one I've been turning over in my head a lot and talking to colleagues about. When I look back at that first story, I've tried to dissect what impulses led me to get it wrong, and how I might avoid that in the future. A few more days of sniffing around might've helped. And it's true that the media — and of course readers — love a good yarn, so you have to police yourself as much as possible, and ask yourself, "Am I suspending disbelief because I want to write an interesting story?" This is all going on at some deep subconscious level, so I think you have to train yourself to be more self-aware about your motives, which is a constant struggle. And part of it is disposition; I'm an optimist. I like people. I admire people who accomplish things. It's not in my nature to meet someone and think: "Liar." Of course I assume that most people round up in their assessments of themselves, but that's quite different from assuming that people simply aren't who they claim to be. So the lesson there is to try to be more skeptical without going to other extreme, and assuming that most people are liars. In my experience, they're not.

And ultimately, you do have to believe a few basic things to get through the day without going insane. For example, I'm answering your questions because you say you're Aileen from FishbowlNY. But are you *really* Aileen? Should I have asked for some ID before answering? Maybe — some hotels ask for ID before letting people check in. I've asked myself if I should begin my future interviews by asking for a passport or drivers license. A little socially awkward, perhaps, but definitely safe. And so forth. Being that paranoid is fine for reporters — it's our job in fact — but I think the worst thing about the Leroy story was the way Laura Albert preyed on the good intentions of people whose business isn't skepticism. I think the JT Leroy story, like any good con, leaves a lot of cynicism in its wake. And that's a shame.

As for the last two stories, the unmasking of Savannah Knoop and Geoffrey Knoop's confession, the lesson is pretty simple, and the same one I use whenever competing for cabs in Midtown: Go to the ball. You can't wait around and expect anything good to happen. And it's amazing what can shake loose when you keep calling people.