When someone lies and gets caught, most people stop. Brief awkwardness, some backpedaling, life continues.

Then there's the other species. The ones who double down. Eyes locked on yours, recalibrating in real-time, watching your face for which version of reality you might accept next. They're not embarrassed. They're iterating. You're not having a conversation. You're being A/B tested.

My wife and I have seen this pattern enough to stop being surprised by it. We've also gotten good at ending it. Truth defeats them eventually. But not before they make it wildly weird.

My sister, when confronted with receipts publicly, didn't backpedal. She changed her name. Multiple times. She now lives in the middle of a forest, unreachable, unlinkable to the public record of her own words. A Dr. Phil producer contacted me about it back in 2013. Same pattern I've seen since: denial isn't a response, it's a lifestyle.

I wrote a book about our most recent encounters with a business partner. Not theory. Receipts. So many receipts, its wild almost like a collection of baseball cards the number of binders contained (texts, emails, documents, recordings, written statements from community and business).

People send us things now because of their experience with this person. Stories told. New variations. Fresh audacity. The lying equivalent of a rare bird sighting, except the bird is gaslighting you about whether it's even a bird.

So we post the good ones here. Field notes from the ongoing study of people who looked at getting caught and thought, "This is a negotiation."