[Update, 12 Dec., 2.55pm: Yet more legal commentary from filmmaker Burns, this time on video from an appearance at the 92nd Street Y. The relevant remarks begin at 6:56 on the video.
These comments reveal (in the most charitable possible interpretation of filmmaker Burns) a figure spouting off on a case about which he knows nothing.
First: “We” didn't “fire” Mike Nifong. Nifong was disbarred by the North Carolina State Bar, after a public ethics proceeding that resulted in detailed findings of fact regarding Nifong's ethical misdeeds. If filmmaker Burns has a complaint with the performance of Lane Williamson's panel, he has yet to specify it. It does not appear that, in general, filmmaker Burns believes that unethical prosecutors should go unpunished; why, then, is he apparently so troubled by Nifong's fate?
Second, Burns appears to lament that “we sort of went crazy at how bad we'd been in accusing them.” Again, Burns' use of the royal “we” is puzzling. (To the best of my knowledge,
he has never apologized to the lacrosse players.) Many people—the Group of 88, for starters, or entertainers such as Wendy Murphy or Nancy Grace—proudly, even defiantly, refused to apologize for how they mistreated the lacrosse players. Other institutions that rushed to judgment—the
New York Times, the
Herald-Sun—issued mealy-mouthed apologies trying to shift the blame to other parties, hardly examples of going “crazy” at how “bad” they had been. Still other members of the rush-to-judgment crowd—the likes of
Selena Roberts or
John Feinstein—tried to avoid apologizing altogether by . . . misremembering . . . what they had said or written in the spring of 2006. Still other commentators—such as the various sportswriters
linked here—coupled acknowledgement of the dismissal of charges with continued character assaults against the falsely accused students. The City of Durham, obviously, has never apologized to the falsely accused players. It's true that a handful of people who rushed to judgment—
Ruth Sheehan,
Jemele Hill—issued what clearly were genuine apologies. But these statements stood out because they were so atypical of the general reaction.
Third, this appearance marks at least the
third occasion in which filmmaker Burns described the process of being arrested for a crime that never occurred, suspended from school for two semesters, and seeing a Newsweek cover containing the students' mugshots under the title of “Sex, Lies, and Duke” as being an “inconvenience.” On this occasion, he slightly lengthened the
time of the “inconvenience,” from a few weeks to two months.
Finally, note that in the span of 20 seconds, Burns found the time--
twice, no less--to identify the falsely accused students' race.]
[Update, 11 Dec., 4.22pm: It turns out that his
Phoenix interview wasn’t the first occasion in which Burns had
referenced the lacrosse case through the “inconveniencing” lens. Here he was in
a
November interview with the Collider.
Mused the filmmaker,
Do you remember in 2006 the white Duke lacrosse players that somebody had falsely charged? Remember that?
Do you know what happened? The prosecutor was fired. The prosecutor
was disbarred. The prosecutor went to jail for inconveniencing for a few
weeks these white kids from Duke. I rest my case.
It’s not clear to me what “case” Burns was attempting to make. Mike Nifong went to jail (for a day) not for “inconveniencing”
anyone. He went to jail, for criminal contempt, because he lied to a judge
about material evidence. Does filmmaker Burns believe that prosecutors lying in
open court counts merely as an “inconvenience” to a falsely accused suspect, as
opposed to an assault on the ideals of justice?
Nor is it clear how filmmaker Burns concluded that Nifong persecuted the lacrosse players “for a few weeks.” Each of the three was indicted. For Reade Seligmann and Collin Finnerty, the period of indictment lasted just under a year; for Dave Evans, just under 11 months. In what
universe does 11-12 months constitute “a few weeks?”
At least, I suppose, Burns should be praised
for referring to college students as “kids” rather than “boys.”]
Burns was speaking of his new film project, a study of the
Central Park Five, a group of minority teenagers accused of raping a Central
Park jogger in one of the highest-profile cases of the era. Several of the
suspects confessed to the crime, and each was convicted and sent to prison. (Those
who confessed subsequently retracted their confessions.) In 2002, a prisoner
named Matias Reyes confessed to raping the jogger; when his DNA matched that
from the rape kit, the Manhattan district attorney, Robert Morgenthau, voided the
Central Park Five’s convictions.
In the Phoenix interview,
Burns was asked about the similarities between Central Park and the case of the
West Memphis Three. Instead, wholly unprompted, Burns provided this nugget of
contextual insight: “You can also compare the Central Park Five to the Duke
University lacrosse players, three rich white boys who were mildly
inconvenienced by rape charges that proved to be false. In no time the
prosecutor of that case was fired, disbarred, and put in jail, and the three
ended up getting a huge settlement.”
Since Burns chose to make the comparison—as he expressed
hope that the . . . honesty . . . of his work would prompt the NYPD to admit
error in the Central Park jogger case and (“from your lips to God’s ear”) win
him an Oscar—his remarks deserve consideration.
“The Duke University lacrosse players, three rich white boys”:
Imagine the outrage from people like filmmaker Burns if a prominent filmmaker
had publicly referred to three African-American college students as “boys.”
“ . . . were mildly inconvenienced by rape charges that
proved to be false.” Presumably, filmmaker Burns has never been arrested for a
crime he didn’t commit (much less a crime that didn’t occur). Nor, I suspect,
was filmmaker Burns ever suspended two semesters from college for a crime he
didn’t commit (much less a crime that didn’t occur). Nor, I suspect, did
filmmaker Burns see his mugshot plastered on the cover of a national
newsmagazine—or heard himself compared to Hitler, or his parents to child
molesters—for a crime he didn’t commit (much less a crime that didn’t occur). Yet
to filmmaker Burns, these experiences (and more) constituted a mild
inconvenience. I wonder what filmmaker Burns would consider a major inconvenience, much less something
more significant than an inconvenience.
“In no time the prosecutor of that case . . .” Actually, Mike
Nifong was re-nominated and re-elected, in large part because of his handling
of the fabricated claims. He didn’t suffer professional difficulties for nearly
a year after his misconduct. To filmmaker Burns, perhaps, nine months
constitutes “no time.” But I would think that someone who makes his living in
part through use of words would be more accurate in his description.
“ . . . the prosecutor
of that case was fired, disbarred, and put in jail.” It’s not clear exactly
what filmmaker Burns’ complaint on this front is. Does he believe that Nifong
should not have been fired or
disbarred for his myriad, and massive, ethical violations? Does he believe that
if a prosecutor lies outright to judges on materially important matters, the
prosecutor shouldn’t be held in contempt of court? Or is he suggesting that the
prosecutors in Morgenthau’s office committed prosecutorial misconduct and
should have been fired and disbarred? If so, what evidence does he have to substantiate such
an inflammatory claim?
“ . . . the three ended up getting a huge settlement.” Currently, the falsely-accused players are awaiting a
ruling from the 4th Circuit; they have received no settlement from
Durham or Nifong at all. They have, obviously, received a settlement from Duke,
for an undisclosed amount. Does filmmaker Burns have information that the
amount was “huge”? If so, from whom did he obtain this information: has Duke
violated the settlement’s confidentiality clause?
Apart from the obvious difference—in the Central Park case,
a crime occurred; in the Duke lacrosse case, the only crime was the filing of a
false police report—there was one intriguing point of comparison between the
two cases. In the Central Park case, as events were unfolding, the African-American
press, most prominently the
Amsterdam
News,
did
not shield the identity of the woman who was raped, Trisha Meili. The
News argued—not unreasonably—that since
the suspect’s identities were revealed, giving the accuser anonymity tilted the
scales against the accused.
In the lacrosse case, of course, the News joined other publications of the black press (and all major
newspapers and TV stations) in shielding Crystal Mangum’s identity until the
attorney general branded her charges false. (Even then, the Herald-Sun and the New York Times resisted naming Mangum for several months.)
Burns doesn’t appear eager to explore this obvious hypocrisy
in his film, however: shining a harsh light on publications like the Amsterdam News wouldn’t fit his agenda.