Entertaining television and sound public policy are not necessarily compatible. This should be obvious with the new ABC reality series State v.
Like NBC's Crime and Punishment, State v. focuses on high-stakes criminal prosecutions. But the emphasis in State v. is on the defendant and the legal tactics employed in an attempt to beat the rap. A more significant difference: Arizona, the venue for all the cases, agreed to allow State v. cameras inside the jury room to record deliberations.
Allowing cameras inside courtrooms is a logical extension of America's open legal system. However, courtroom spectators are not allowed to witness deliberations - and TV cameras shouldn't be, either.
On the principle that the process of observation alters the phenomena being observed, reality television is almost an oxymoron. TV cameras alter people's behavior. Watching State v., it's difficult not to conclude that some jurors are playing to the cameras. In two episodes provided for preview, verdicts seemingly headed in one direction take a dramatic swing because one or two jurors refuse to be swayed, meanwhile checking that their righteous stance is being recorded. Call it Last Angry Man syndrome.
State v. also demonstrates how justice isn't equal. The premiere is built around a manslaughter case, State of Arizona v. Guillermo McNab. The defendant is accused of being behind the wheel after drinking and perhaps smoking pot, driving well over the speed limit, missing a detour and crashing into a barricade. McNab was severely injured; his best friend and cousin, Michael, was killed.
McNab's parents have gone into hock to hire one of Phoenix's most respected lawyers, Jess Lorona. There were extenuating circumstances the night of the crash, and Lorona drives each home to the jury. A sign warning of the detour had been knocked down only minutes before by another driver, who was sober. Some of the emergency vehicles summoned to the accident made the same mistake McNab did.
Lorona also plays the sympathy card. McNab, who previously had a clean record, is in a wheelchair since the accident. McNab is always wheeled into the courtroom after the juryto show that he is not going unpunished.
In the second episode, a ne'er-do-well named Rudy Santos is accused of fatally shooting an a acquaintance, a colleague in various nefarious deeds. Santos argues self-defense. His buddy, he contends, was in a methamphetamine haze and had pulled a gun on him first.
Santos is represented by a public defender, Jerry Hernandez, who does his best but is severely outgunned. This is only Hernandez's third murder trial. His opponent, John Ditsworth, is a veteran prosecutor, one of the most experienced in the D.A.'s office at murder cases.
Unlike McNab, who was free awaiting trial, Santos has been sitting in jail for 14 months.
There are enough surprise twists in each case to sustain interest and create hung juries in many homes. However, the vast inequity in resources available for each defense seems to weigh heavily in the outcomes.
Still, it feels like both trials might have turned out differently if jurors weren't aware their every word and deed were fodder for prime-time entertainment. ABC can't be faulted for pushing the boundaries. Its purpose is compelling entertainment, which it achieves. It's the state of Arizona, which is supposed to be in the business of ensuring justice, that went over the line in pursuit of TV time.
Sun TV critic David Zurawik is on vacation.