Michael Hainey was six years old when his father died suddenly one night. Hainey didn't know the questions to ask then -- his mother refused to discuss it, and the obituary in the paper merely said his father, a copy editor for the Chicago Sun Times, had died “after visiting friends.” It wasn't until he was almost the same age as his father had been when he died that Hainey, an editor at GQ, found the determination to investigate what, exactly, had happened the night his father didn't come home, and why his mother had lived under such a fierce code of silence for so many years. In his memoir, After Visiting Friends, he writes about approaching the story as a journalist, interviewing his father’s former colleagues and friends, and finally uncovering the truth behind the secrets and silence.

Biographile: At what point in the process of investigating your father’s death did you realize you wanted to write about it?

Michael Hainey: The two are impossibly intertwined. This is a tale of obsession -- an obsession that had gripped me from the time I was a boy. I decided that I needed to know this story... and because I needed to know the story, I decided that I wanted to tell/write the story. I was writing the story as I went.

Biog: What were some of your fears about not just finding out the truth of your father’s death, but writing a book about it?

MH: Fears? How much time do you have? I had fears about just about everything... I'm a writer, after all. But I will say that the book allowed me to battle and in some cases conquer (many of) those fears.

Biog: I imagine you were taking notes the entire time, but at what point did you actually start writing? Did you need time to process the experience before starting to turn it into a story?

MH: I worked on this book for ten years. I went through two entire drafts. The book that you are reading is the result of the third effort. To answer your question, I didn't need time to process the experience, I needed time to process the telling of the story. As a writer who is an editor by training, I was pretty ruthless on the paring down; on focusing on what was essential and what was not.

Biog: Were there any moments when you thought you’d never solve the mystery?

MH: Many times. As I write in the book, there were many times I thought the trail had run cold. But then I would meet a stranger -- someone I never knew existed before I began my quest -- and they would rise up to guide me. This is one of the great gifts I received in writing this book: the strangers I met in my quest.

Biog: Without giving away too much about what actually happened, can you talk about your worst-case scenario of how he died? Was the truth better or worse?

MH: There was never a worst-case scenario. I'd already lived through that -- losing my father when I was a boy of six, that's pretty much worse-case scenario. For me, looking for the story -- the facts -- of how he died, that was important. The truth was not "better or worse" -- it was simply the truth, without judgments. All of us have family, and inside all of our families there are secrets, the answers to which we long to go in search of.

Biog: What has your family’s reaction been to the book?

MH: My mother and my brother are the heroes of this book. My mother and brother are individuals of great strength and integrity and them giving permission for this story to be told is a testament to their dedication to living their lives with truth and honesty as their guides.

Biog: You describe your father’s world, including the men he worked with at the Chicago Sun-Times, as hardboiled, like something from a Dashiell Hammett novel. Did this affect your decision to structure your book as a mystery?

MH: I didn't structure the book as "a mystery," as a genre. And this is an important distinction. To my mind ALL literature -- all great literature -- must possess at its core a mystery. The mysteries inside the story keep us turning pages, keep us on the search with the narrator. Because we see the narrator's search for answers to their mysteries as our search.

Biog: What do you think your father would think about this book and your decision to investigate his past?

MH: If he was the man I came to understand him to be -- a man who respected and loved great reporting and writing and a great story -- I believe he would admire this book. He would know that there was a story there that needed to be gotten.

Biog: What was the hardest part of the book to write?

MH: Perhaps the part I struggled with most was telling my mother what I learned. As I write in the book, I was frozen for more than a year, unable to move forward. For a long time I thought I would not be able to publish the book.

Biog: Is there anything you learned that you wish you didn’t know?

MH: No. All knowledge is good knowledge. We are never sorry when we learn a truth. It may upset us or cause us heartbreak in the moment, but inevitably we know clarity is better than the fog of ignorance or self-deception.

Biog: What advice do you have for someone wanting to investigate a family secret (and write about it)?

MH: Start. Now. Start the conversations. Now.