He has been called the most prolific murderer who ever lived. He never owned a gun, never built a weapon, and left no manifesto behind. His only tool was a strip of cloth and the patience to make a stranger trust him before he used it. Two centuries later, the story of Thug Behram still anchors every argument about the outer limits of human violence. But it is also a story about something more uncomfortable: how the historical record itself can be bent by the people who write