‘London Falling’ Review: A Family’s Real-Life Search for Truth Is Detail-Oriented to a Fault

The London Bridge is falling down, or so the nursery rhyme goes. In Patrick Radden Keefe’s latest non-fiction true-crime novel, it is not the bridge that is falling but a teenage boy. “London Falling” is an investigative report into the mysterious and very real death of 19 year old Zac Brettler. The book follows Zac Brettler’s grief-stricken parents as they uncover a shocking double life that their son had kept hidden for years. Following a captivating premise, the detail and diligence of research of the true story behind “London Falling” is simultaneously its greatest strength and biggest obstacle in establishing a cohesive narrative.

“London Falling” marks the sixth release of investigative journalist Patrick Radden Keefe, an award-winning staff writer at The New Yorker and a New York Times bestselling author. Keefe has uncovered a variety of real-life controversies ranging from eavesdropping by the United States’ National Security Agency to the murder of a mother of ten in Northern Ireland.

In the early morning of November 2019, security camera footage captured Zac Brettler jumping into the River Thames from the fifth-floor balcony of an apartment building. Only after his death did his family discover that he had been living a secret life masquerading as the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, Zac Ismailov, and networking in London’s criminal underground. “London Falling” narratively follows the collaborative struggle between the author himself and Brettler’s family to determine what led Brettler to this secret life and his tragic death.

The opening reveal of Zac “Ismailov” makes for an undeniably compelling hook. Immediately, readers are pulled into the life story of a beloved, ambitious, and lonely young man who sought connection in unconventional ways. As Keefe discovers, Brettler misled his loved ones to an astounding extent, including hiding a heroin addiction. His parents were unaware that their son had used a separate email account — a Russian address ending with the .ru domain extension — to negotiate high-profile business deals. Brettler also communicated with his business partners in broken English to sell his persona of being the Russian-born, London-raised heir to a massive fortune. Keefe’s incorporation of such details grounds an otherwise unbelievable figure. Brettler is portrayed as a savvy teenager using his technological prowess to his advantage, albeit for a manipulative cause.

The book showcases the impressive level of detail in Keefe’s research. Telling the story of Brettler’s death requires digging into his past and working in reverse order, which Keefe pursues with serious intent. Each time a new character is introduced to the narrative, Keefe must establish sufficient context for the reader to understand why. This background often manifests as several pages of history that might, at first, seem irrelevant. For instance, all 23 pages of Chapter Seven are dedicated to Uganda’s Asian community in the late 20th century, with the connection to Brettler remaining unclear until it is revealed that Akbar Shamji, the “slippery” businessman who became Brettler’s alleged mentor, is descended from one of the aforementioned Ugandan Asians.

At times, these pages of detail flaunt Keefe’s expertise on the history of his sources more than they substantiate his claims. Where others may have accepted a dead end, Keefe took it upon himself to dive into police archives and track digital footprints of sources. His writing highlights this attention to detail yet risks losing sight of the overarching narrative. For example, Shamji’s connection to Brettler remains unclear for longer than necessary. One paragraph in particular methodically describes a public appearance of Shamji and boxing icon Muhammad Ali, going into excessive detail about the ticket prices and the color of Shamji’s socks.

This rambling imagery amounts to a fundraiser that was but one of Shamji’s many failed business ventures. As quirky as it is, the side story dampens the eerie momentum building up to Brettler’s death, which, by this point in the book, is suspected to have been a murder.

More concise tangents in “London Falling” strike a better balance. Despite its heavy subject, the book features plenty of humorous moments.

“Fear about Zac’s whereabouts and discomfort at the idea that Verinder might be some kind of underworld crime boss were mingling with an acute sense of embarrassment about the monthslong con that their son had perpetrated upon these unsuspecting, middle-aged men,” Keefe writes.

One-liners like this restore some levity to the narrative and are a gentle reminder that Brettler was a real teenager with a multifaceted identity. Keefe also includes kernels of blunt wisdom.

“If you act like you are already a success, people tend to treat you like a success, which in turn can lead to real success,” Keefe writes.

In the midst of extensive research, these moments help focus the book’s narrative as a cautionary tale. What exactly it cautions against is unclear, as the truth of Brettler’s death remains frustratingly murky to this day. In the absence of an explicit final message, Keefe’s hypotheses nonetheless demonstrate a keen insight into human behavior. Guided by this understanding, the journalistic curiosity and attention to detail foregrounding “London Falling” is commendable if somewhat distracting.

—Staff writer Audrey H. Limb can be reached at [email protected].