From 1971-2003 TV audiences tuned in to Columbo, a show named for its fictional homicide investigator, played by Peter Falk. Lieutenant Frank Columbo masked his sleuthing brilliance behind a rumpled, befuddled veneer. Suspects were disarmed by his brand of seemingly offhand questions and charming self-deprecation:

“I’m not the brightest guy, see, so forgive me for asking a really stupid question …” 

“My memory isn’t all that great these days, but, uhh, maybe you could clear something up for me …” 

By playing dumb, Columbo led deceivers to inadvertently reveal the truth. 

It’s a tactic understood by former real-life investigator Cynthia Beebe, whose work as a federal agent put her face-to-face with suspected arsonists, bombers, and other violent criminals. The author of the crime-fighting memoir, Boots in the Ashes, shared her thoughts with me on the importance of feigning ignorance:

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve played dumb with bad guys. You’re interviewing them and they haven’t yet confessed or whatever, but maybe they’re telling you how they would’ve committed the crime or built the bomb and you’re like, Oh, sorry — could you explain that to me again? … I needed to get them to confide in me, by playing far more confused than I really was and pretending to have no insight into people’s motives.”

“[But] sometimes it paid to let suspects know I was as smart or smarter than they were. But if you say, “I know you did it,” you need to already have all the proof.”

To be sure, playing dumb has uses beyond catching criminals. In “delicate” situations, it can coax out confessions or reckonings without openly crying foul. As sales and negotiation expert Wayne Paprocki put it, “I learned that it’s sometimes smart to act dumb.” In response to an unfair or ethically questionable statement, Wayne suggests asking …

“Does that seem right to you?”

and to evasive language or faulty logic …

“What are you saying?” or “Help me understand.”

(To be fair, those last two questions can be effective when we’re legitimately clueless, not just acting it.) 

Playing dumb can be a way to flush out untruths, contradictions, or dubious claims or motives in non-confrontational ways. For example: 

Response to hypocrisy: “Your plan sounds lucrative, but I’m confused: how does it square with the ‘transparency’ part of our company’s core values?”

Response to deceit: “I know this sounds crazy, but it seems the folks you paid to install your facility’s sprinkler system somehow forgot to attach water pipes to all those sprinkler heads poking through the ceiling up there. Were you aware of that?”*

(*Actual question that my father, in his official capacity as a municipal fire inspector, once asked a deceitful warehouse owner.)  

Response to passive-aggressive comments: “You seem like a nice person, but that almost sounded like a putdown – is that how you intended it?” 

Response to baseless assertions: “Why, no, I haven’t heard about waves of immigrants stealing and eating neighborhood pets. But I’m sure a story like that must be the result of rigorous research, or the people who believe it would risk sounding gullible and stupid. What evidence convinced you?” 

When playing dumb, it’s best to assume an air of innocent curiosity or mild bewilderment. But you mustn’t let on that you, like the cat toying with the mouse, are enjoying asking the question. If the person suspects you’re playing “Gotcha!” they’ll make for the exit long before you go “full Columbo” and ask them,

“Oh, just one more thing …”

***

Paul Quinn is the author of a forthcoming book about the importance of asking, The Big Ask.