The Narrative of the Wrongfully Accused

Introduction:

One of the most compelling and recurring literary themes is the narrative of the wrongfully accused. The narrative of the wrongfully accused is embedded in our culture and our history. It shows itself in the famous axiom “that many guilty persons should escape unpunished, [rather] than one innocent person should suffer.” John Adams said this to the jury when he defended the British soldiers charged with perpetrating the Boston Massacre in 1770. Adams would later write in his diary:

"The Part I took in Defence of Cptn. Preston and the Soldiers, procured me Anxiety, and Obloquy enough. It was, however, one of the most gallant, generous, manly and disinterested Actions of my whole Life, and one of the best Pieces of Service I ever rendered my Country. Judgment of Death against those Soldiers would have been as foul a Stain upon this Country as the Executions of the Quakers or Witches, anciently. As the Evidence was, the Verdict of the Jury was exactly right.

It is because of this serivce that Adams is the “patron saint” of American criminal defense attorneys, and provides the moral authority for defense attorneys to defend even the most unpopular clients.

Popular Media:

In popular media, the narrative of the wrongfully accused is often told within the context of a mystery that must be solved. To that end, generally, the narrative is told from one of three perspectives:

• the protagonist who must solve the mystery to bring the guilty to justice;

• the protagonist who must defend the wrongfully accused from injustice;

• the protagonist who has been wrongfully accused himself and must endure the ignominy and abuse of persecution.

Sometimes, perhaps often, these three perspectives are combined, such as when the protagonist is wrongfully accused and must investigate the mystery himself to clear his name, or when in the course of defending the wrongfully accused the protagonist solves the mystery.

As a criminal defense trial attorney I’m very interested in how the narrative of the wrongfully accused is portrayed in the popular media through fiction. This is a different focus than true crime representations which have become very popular in documentaries and podcasts. Also, there is a growing subgenre of the narrative that focuses on racial and social injustice. In this blog post I want to focus just on fiction.

When a criminal case proceeds to a jury trial, the defense attorney must often present a compelling narrative of the wrongfully accused to overcome the prosecution’s evidence. It’s dangerous and unprofessional to seek inspiration from, or make comparisons to, true crime examples because there are too many unknown elements. Also, true crime can be burdened with politics and ideology in a way that fiction is not. For example, nobody believes that Atticus Finch was immoral for vigorously representing Tom Robinson in “To Kill a Mocking Bird”. Likewise, nobody thinks Henry Fonda was the villain in “12 Angry Men”. However, there’s a lot of room for disagreement when discussing true crime narratives like “Making a Murderer” or “Serial”, for example. When we focus on fiction we know that everybody has access to the same information, which is the information that the author chose to give to us when he or she wrote the narrative. For this reason, fiction provides us with a more consistent shared cultural experience.

Our entire criminal “justice” system depends on the narrative of the wrongfully accused. We codify the narrative with certain legal principles such as the defendant is innocent until proven guilty; the prosecution bears the burden of proof; and guilt must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. These principles are so self-evident that one need only reverse them to create a nightmare dystopia. For example, in an episode of Deep Space Nine, I believe it was Gul Dukat who said that on Cardassia the outcome of every criminal trial is predetermined because it wouldn’t make sense to put an innocent man on trial. On the surface this seems rational until you see the Cardassian legal system in practice, which is exactly what happened in the episode “Tribunal.”

This, of course, is an example of a Criminal “Conviction” System.

Criminal “Conviction” Systems and the Narrative of the Wrongfully Accused:

The difference between a criminal “justice” system and a criminal “conviction” system is the presumption of innocence and the burden of proof. In our culture, criminal “conviction” systems are usually presented as cautionay visons of dystopian nightmares. Well known examples of such cautionary visions include “Nineteen Eighty Four” by George Orwell and “The Trial” by Franz Kafka. In these stories, guilt, innocence, and truth are irrelevant. The narrative of the wrongfully accused is replaced by the reification of the System— the system itself becomes the antagonist. These cautionary visions are important because they remind us about the fragility of the presumption of innocence and the importance of the guarantee of due process of law.

In a culture that still remembers and values the narrative of the wrongfully accused, as opposed to one that reifies the System, the accsused must be afforded a popular, layman's version of due process, which is often depicted as an intricate and dogged investigation and/or a dramatic trial. This is the “Spectacle.” The Spectacle is the commodification of due process — when due process is reduced to a performance for consumption rather than to achieve the end of justice. A classic representation of the Spectacle is “The Brothers Karamazov” by Fydor Dostoevsky. In Dostoevsky’s vision, the performance and consumption of due process provides the foundation or canvass upon which the narrative of the wrongfully accused is placed. In this vision, the System is not the antagonist— it hasn’t been reified. While the entire novel develops the spectacle, it is most fully revealed in the trial of Dimitri for parricide. The trial culminates with the arguments and rebuttals of the prosecutor and the renowned defense attorney, Fetyukovich. So powerful was Fetyukovich’s closing summation that

“the enthusiasm of the audience broke all bounds and burst forth in an uncontrollable storm [ . . .] the women were in tears, so were many men [. . .] The presiding judge gave in and put off ringing his little bell as long as he could, for he may have felt, as our ladies later insisted, that ‘interfering with such enthusiasm would have been tantamount to interfering with something sacred’.”

After the defense’s closing argument concluded, the prosecutor waited for the crowd to settle before delivering his rebuttal. The prosecutor mocked Fetyukovich, and in doing so, he mocked the Spectacle itself:

“I have been accused here of making up a whole novel. And what about the defense? What has it offered us if not a romance based on antoher romance? There was everything in it, short of verse.”

[. . .]

“Perhaps the defense counsel is even too modest when he asks you simply to acquit his client? Couldn’t he, for instance, suggest the creation of a scholarship grant bearing the name of this parricide, so that his fine deed would be properly remembered by our young and descendants?”

Despite the prosecutor’s efforts to mock the great Fetyukovich, who is the personification of the Spectacle, the consensus among the audience was that the latter had presented the better narrative. After the jury retired to deliberate, Fetyukovich turned to Dmitri, his client, and said “[c]ertain invisible ties must be established between the defender and the jurors during the defender’s speech. I felt that the contact was made. I don’t think you need worry— you’ve won.”

An hour after the jury retired to deliberate, it returned and pronounced Dmitri Karamazov guilty as charged on all counts— with no extenuating circumstances and without a recommendation for leniency. The audience was stunned. Did it matter that Dmitri was not factually guilty of his father’s murder?

The Spectacle is the foundation or canvass upon which the form, tone, color, shape etc. of the narrative is placed. Without the spectacle, there can be no narrative, otherwise it’s just the reification of the system. Without the performance of due process, the narrative of the wrongfully accused is nothing more than rote power. So, we have two different visions— the reification of the System and the spectacle. Now, let’s talk about “Wednesday.”

Wednesday- Introduction:

I recently watched “Wednesday” on Netflix. I realize that I am probably not the target audience, but I decided to watch “Wednesday” because I’ve been a fan of Tim Burton since Batman (1989). “Wednesday” is an eight-episode show about the Addams Family character “Wednesday Addams” and her experience at Nevermore Academy, a private high school located in a small town in Vermont. Of course, Nevermore is far from ordinary; it’s a private school for “outcasts”, who are presented as typical monster cliches from western culture, such as werewolves, vampires, sirens, gorgons (Medusa), and Hydes (from The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde). While much of the story is devoted to Wednesday’s unyielding, monolithic personality, which itself has become a cliche, the plot is essentially a typical murder mystery, which fuels the narrative of the wrongfully accused.

Wednesday is the central character, though I’m reluctant to call her the “protagonist”. Her role is simply to solve the mystery. The plot of the show is mostly irrelevant. It serves as nothing more than a canvass on which to paint the character of Wednesday. This is somewhat ironic because Wednesday is not really necessary to the plot at all except as a contrivance. In other words, the story of “Wednesday” could have been told without the character of Wednesday being in the show at all. This fact, along with the reliance on the narrative of the wrongfully accused creates an unintentional dystopian vision of the reification of the System.

SPOILERS— Summary:

Through the first 7 episodes, we learn that a monster is on the loose who is killing people and terrorizing the town. The reasonable supposition is that the monster comes from Nevermore Academy. Eventually, we learn that the killer is a monster called a “Hyde”, a reference to the story “The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde.” Thus, we learn that a human being transforms into the Hyde monster. We also learn that in order to transform into monster form, the Hyde must be triggered by something. One way that the Hyde can be triggered is by a handler, who then gains control over the Hyde. There are, therefore, two two criminals responsible for the murders, the Hyde and the handler who was controlling it. The mystery is to identify the Hyde and the handler, and discover their motivation.

For no reason other than her inevitability, Wednesday Addams, took it upon herself to investigate the mystery. Despite her preturnatural abilities, Wednesday wrongfully accused Xavier, a student at Nevermore, of being the Hyde, and Dr. Kinbott, the school psychiatrist, of being the handler. She was wrong on both counts. As a result of Wednesday’s accusation, Xavier was arrested and (very) briefly imprisoned in a dungeon-like holding cell at the local police station. Dr. Kinbott was murdered by the Hyde immediately after Wednesday accused her . Though, I’m not sure if Wednesday’s accusation of Dr. Kinbott was connected to her murder, or if this was just a plot device to let the audience know that Wednesday’s accusation was wrong.

Interestingly, Wednesday’s false accusations of Xavier and Dr. Kinbott were interwoven with a subplot about the wrongful accusation of Gomez Addams, Wednesday’s father. Through flashbacks we learned that Gomez Addams was the primary suspect in the murder of Garrett Gates, that occurred in 1990. At the time Gomez was a student at Nevermore with Wednesday’s mother, Morticia. In the present day, while visiting Wednesday at Nevermore during a family weekend, Gomez Addams was arrested for the 1990 murder after the local coroner apparently killed himself and left a suicide note that implicated Gomez. We then learn that the coroner was possibly murdered for no apparent reason other than to implicate Gomez.

The 1990 murder subplot was connected to the main mystery when the story revealed that the handler controlling the Hyde in the present day is Garttett Gates’s sister, Laurel Gates. We would later learn that Gomez confessed to the murder to protect Morticia , who he believed had accidentally killed Gates. However, Gates actually died from a lethal dose of poison that he had brought to Nevermore for the purpose of poisoning entire school because of his father’s hatred of “outcasts.” The mayor of the town acknowledged that he and the coronor had covered up Gates’s motive, and agreed to release Gomez and drop the charges against him. The wrongful accusation was resovled within the span of an episode based on miraculous evidence discovered by Wednesday with virutually no consequence to anybody except for the coroner.

So, the narrative of the wrongfully accused invoked the usual tropes including a false confession to protect another person, and an official coverup to hide the truth. Yet these elements are barely discussed beyond their effect on progressing the main plot. This connection provided the handler’s motivation in the present day— she was seeking revenge for the death of her brother, though it was a little more complicated than that. The handler belonged to a family who hated “outcasts” generally and Nevermore specifically for reasons that don’t really matter.

Aside from this plot connection between the events of 1990 and the present day, the writers did not explore the connection between the wrongful accusation of Wednesday’s father to the wrongful accusation of Xavier and Dr. Kinbott. Wednessday learned nothing from her father’s plight.

The consequences of the wrongful accusations were resolved quickly without any lasting damage. Neither Xavier nor Gomez Addams lost his family, career, property or mental health as a result of a lengthy period of incarceration. Both Xavier and Gomez Addams were cleared and released within one or two episodes. Though Xavier was mad at Wednesday while he was incarcerated, by the end of the show, there were no lingering hard feelings. Of course, in the real world, a false accusation that leads to incarceration would usually be enough to permanently end a friendship.

Wednesday as the System:

The story was told through Wednesday’s perspective, so we the audience learned the true identify of the Hyde as Wednesday learned it. Because the story was told from Wednesday’s perspective, we the audience really didn’t care about the consequences, or lack of consequences, of the false accusations. We were given no reason to doubt the accuracy of Wednesday’s investigation (though the writers did leave some clues along the way, such as the Hyde’s hairstyle. I suspect this is an example of Chekhov’s Gun in action). In fact, throughout the show, Wednesday suffered no lasting consequences for anything that she did. The narrative of the wrongfully accused was nothing more than a plot device to lengthen the story and provide some color to the mystery. As such, “Wednesday” is similar to “The Trial” in which the protagonist’s guilt or innocence was irrelevant. In “The Trial” Kafka told the story of how the System, reified as the antagonist, afflicted the protagonist, “Joseph”. What would happen if “The Trial” was told from the perspective of the System, as personfied in a cartoon character? Here’s the answer:

Wednesday is the System. But, Wednesday is not just the reification of the system, she is the personification of it. Wednesday was logical (though mistaken), emotionless, and inevitable. The Wednesday character was so intentionally shallow, inhuman, and unnecessary to the plot that the writers had to manufacture a reason for her to physically be in the story at all. Wednesday’s blood was literally the key that Laurel Gates used to implement her plan to destroy the school. If you could read “Nineteen Eighty-Four” or “The Trial” from the perspective of the System, they would be Wednesday.

After Xavier had been arrested on suspicion of being the Hyde, Wednesday spoke with him while he was detained in the holding cell. Wednesday told Xavier that she had wrongly accused him, but she had since learned the true identity of the true Hyde. In response, Xavier told Wednesday that she had ruined his life. But, the story doesn’t really show us how his life was ruined other than the obvious fact that he was in a prison cell. His anger towards Wednesday is feckless and almost comical because we, the audience, know that Wednesday doesn’t care, and Xavier’s guilt or innocense doesn’t matter. He’s not Tom Robinson from “To Kill a Mockingbird”, nor is he Dimitri Karamazov. He’s Joseph and Winston— he’s the object upon which the System acts. There’s no due process. There’s no spectacle.

Wednesday did not even discover the Hyde’s true identify— the Hyde revealed his identity to Wednesday simply as another plot device to advance the story and enhance the climax.

Conclusion:

I wonder if the story in “Wednesday” had been written independently, and then adapted to the Addams Family IP in order to make it more marketable. The writers obviously did not intend for “Wednesday” to be a deep and complex exploration of the narrative of the wrongfully accused. After all, it was a shallow piece of popular media; it was essentially a live-action cartoon. But, that’s what makes it so interesting. We live in a zeitgeist where the people who control popular media seem determined to deconstruct everything. “Wednesday” was certainly desconstructed— before I ever watched an episode I saw articles and blogs criticizing the racial identity of the cast. Interestingly, it’s perfectly acceptable and normal to deconstruct popular media using critical theory, as long as it’s the right type of critical theory. Nobody would accuse “Wednesday” of offering a deep and complex exploration of racial dynamics in the most bourgeois of settings— a private school in a small New England town.