Over the past several weeks, adults gathered in a St. Paul courtroom to argue about whether one brawny man punched another brawny man at an Irish pub in San Diego on the night of October 12, 2006. The bar was full of Navy SEALs and their families, some in town for a graduation ceremony, others for a memorial service honoring Michael Monsoor, a SEAL who had recently died in Iraq after he dove on a live grenade to save his teammates—an act that earned him a posthumous Medal of Honor.

In attendance that night was Chris Kyle, a SEAL sniper whom I wrote about last year for the magazine, and Jesse Ventura, the former professional wrestler and Minnesota governor, who, in the nineteen-seventies, was a member of the Underwater Demolition Teams, a predecessor to the SEALs. According to Kyle, Ventura had been speaking loudly about his opposition to the Iraq War; Kyle asked Ventura to keep his opinions to himself; Ventura said the SEALs deserved to “lose a few guys,” upon which Kyle punched him and Ventura “went down.”

Or so Kyle had said. Ventura says that he remembers the night quite differently, and that he neither disparaged SEALs nor, for that matter, was hit by Kyle. Two weeks ago, testifying in court, he characterized Kyle’s story as “a fabricated lie.” The dispute between Kyle and Ventura originated in January, 2012. Kyle’s memoir, “American Sniper: The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U.S. Military History,” had just come out, and was a runaway best-seller. In the book, Kyle told his story of the night in the bar without naming Ventura, whom he referred to as “Scruff Face.” During a radio interview to promote the book, Kyle conceded that Scruff Face was, in fact, Ventura, who was wearing his beard in braids, like Jack Sparrow, at the time. Ventura sued for defamation.

Ventura’s case seemed, at first, like a futile one: the credibility of a two-time Silver Star recipient pitched against that of a loudmouth former rival of Hulk Hogan with a penchant for conspiracy theories. Ventura has uttered comments that made the “lose a few” line seem plausible: he once referred to the United States as “the Fascist States of America”; he was a vocal opponent of the Iraq War and, in general, of American foreign policy; he reportedly believed that 9/11 was an inside job; he refused to salute the American flag and had moved to Mexico in protest; and he had attempted to sue the Transportation Security Administration for failing to afford him sufficient respect. Explaining his row with the T.S.A. in 2011 on the Robert Scott Bell radio show, he said, “It is not reasonable to believe that Jesse Ventura, who has been flying for thirty years, who’s an honorably discharged Navy veteran, a former mayor, and a former governor, presents a threat. And I do not want to be searched anymore.”

A year after the lawsuit was filed, Kyle was murdered at a gun range by a former Marine struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder—a young man he’d tried to mentor and help.

But one thing I learned about Kyle, apart from his military exploits and his generosity toward other veterans, was his propensity for embellishment. More than one person I spoke to remembered him telling a story about how he’d travelled to New Orleans in the days after Hurricane Katrina and, in a bid to establish law and order, had set up a sniper position on the roof of the Superdome and shot numerous looters. He told another story, too, about how he’d shot and killed two men at a gas station outside of Dallas after they tried to rob him—and was then allowed to flee the scene, without penalty, because a police officer recognized his contributions to the country. Both stories might have occurred. But, in numerous interviews and records requests, I turned up no verifiable evidence that they had. Last February, at Kyle’s memorial service, one of his teammates said, in a remembrance, “He was a man, he was a myth, and he was a legend.”

In spite of Kyle’s death, Ventura pressed on with the lawsuit, pursuing damages from Kyle’s widow in her capacity as the executor of his estate. The trial began on July 9th. Ventura took the stand two days later. He claimed that, after Kyle’s book appeared, his career came “to a screeching halt.” He was once a desired guest on television shows, he said—“I always got offers”—but, after Kyle’s book and the Scruff Face story came out, “I got no offers.” Bradley Cooper, on the other hand, bought the rights to the book and will play Kyle in a forthcoming adaptation, directed by Clint Eastwood.

A successful defamation case depends on two points: that the information is false, and that it was intentionally spread in order to damage someone’s reputation. Public figures who file such a libel suit are required to show “reckless disregard for the truth.” Both sides in Minneapolis called witnesses. One of Kyle’s former SEAL teammates said that he’d heard Ventura “bashing” President Bush and making the comment about how the SEALs deserved to “lose some guys,” before being decked by Kyle. “It’s something that sticks with you,” the SEAL said. But no one else from Kyle’s side seemed to have witnessed the entire event: some heard Ventura badmouthing U.S. policies; some saw Ventura go down; some saw a melee that followed. (Kyle had said that he didn’t stick around, and took off running, after landing the punch.) A witness for Ventura, himself a former SEAL who had accompanied the former governor to the pub that night, said he neither saw Ventura get hit nor heard him speak ill of SEALs. The witness’s wife testified that she heard Ventura say, “I don’t think this war is worth one SEAL dying for,” but she felt that the comment “expressed love,” not rancor.

Last Tuesday, the jury got the case. They deliberated for the rest of the day, and then all day on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. On Monday, they informed the judge that they were hung. “Give it one more shot,” he instructed them. He also got both sides to agree to accept a verdict that was not unanimous. On Tuesday, they returned with an eight-to-two verdict in favor of liable.* The judge awarded Ventura $1.8 million in damages. Ventura was not present when the judgment was announced, but his attorney, David B. Olsen, speaking for his client, said, “There are no winners in this trial.”

_*Correction: An earlier version of this post said that Kyle's estate was found guilty by the jury; it was held liable. The post also misidentified the city where the trial took place. It was St. Paul, not Minneapolis.

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