It was a sunny, breezy afternoon in Venice Beach when I spotted him again—the man behind a small booth plastered with a large Palestinian flag and photos that he claimed were from Gaza. Months earlier, I had asked him if he had any connection to the conflict. He didn’t. Yet there he was, inviting passersby to “Prove Me Wrong.” Curious, and determined to finally have a real conversation, I approached him with my phone ready to record and what followed revealed just how little knowledge can masquerade as conviction.

I had biked eight or nine miles down the boardwalk that day, weaving through vendors and booths. I remembered passing this particular booth months ago, when my conversation with the man had been brief. At that time, I had regretted not asking my friend to film the encounter. I made a mental note then: if I ever saw him again, I would have a longer discussion and record it.

To my surprise, the booth was still there. After grabbing a quick bite, I approached him. This time, I recorded the conversation. Clay already had several cameras and GoPros set up to capture interactions with passersby. A small sign on the booth read “Prove Me Wrong,” in red, green, and white.

I asked why he was manning the booth if........

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