The Tragedy of Systemic False Confessions: Two Great Series

“We don’t expect the police to play dirty in criminal trials:
to hide evidence, to manufacture evidence.
We don’t expect the police to do that. . . .

It happens all the time.” —John Grisham

A lot of people are binge-watching various shows during this 2020-Coronavirus episode. I generally don’t binge-watch, but when I do, I try to do so with material I find productive. I have compiled a long list of documentaries and a few series on the topic of one of my chief passions, criminal justice reform. I’ve started with a couple, and I’d like to share with you why they are so important to watch.

People generally, but Christians and conservatives perhaps even more than others, have little idea of the flaws deeply imbedding in our criminal justice system in many ways. I hope to have a lot more to say on this in the coming months and years, but let’s make a start. I think everyone should watch the two series I’ll briefly highlight here (warning: there some graphic photos, descriptions, and reenactments in some scenes).

The Innocent Man

The 2018 Netflix original documentary series The Innocent Man is derived from the non-fiction book novelist John Grisham published in 2006 by the same title. Grisham has since been an advocate for criminal justice reform, particularly for the Innocence Project, a nationally-networked organization working to overturn wrongful convictions throughout the country.

The book and documentary cover two separate 1980s murder cases in the small town of Ada, OK (pop. 16,810). In both cases, police used high-pressure, manipulative interrogation techniques to extract “confessions” from suspects who were subsequently convicted, virtually on those confessions alone. In each murder case, two men were convicted and sentenced to prison.

In one case, DNA evidence later exonerated both men and they were freed from prison—one of them only five days before his scheduled execution. The other two men imprisoned for the other case are both still in prison. One, Thomas Ward, is a central focus of the documentary and of an ongoing appeal.

Cheryl Pilate, the civil rights attorney who has worked on Ward’s appeal, noted that this case had an extraordinary number of the types of violations normally found in wrongful conviction cases. She listed,

1. Eyewitness misidentification
2. Snitch evidence
3. Incentivized witnesses
4. Hidden exculpatory evidence
5. Bogus or junk science
6. Incompetent defense

Listing it like this makes it sound far too simplistic. One focus of the appeal is the suppressed exculpatory evidence. Again, merely saying it doesn’t do it justice. Police had something like 800 pages of documents in the files. They distilled this into a crucially-edited summary of only 146 pages for the prosecutor, custom tailored for a conviction. This version is also all that the defense was given, despite the fact that there were several witnesses, interviews, alibis, other suspects, etc., that put major holes in the police’s and prosecution’s cases, all detailed in that 800 pages. This included interviews with other suspects, some of whom were mysteriously bypassed while the to-be-convicted men were subjected to the intense manipulative interviews.

These interrogations become a linchpin in the story, in both cases. They highlight a technique that is now widely under scrutiny and has led to many convictions that have now been overturned with DNA evidence and other measures. It is nothing short of brainwashing an innocent person into delusions and self-doubt with high pressure tactics until they finally break down and “confess” to that for which what interrogators have been browbeating them they are guilty for several hours.

Worse, police would often carry on with such browbeating for several hours before they record anything. Once the target has broken, they rehearse the whole scenario carefully, then turn on the cameras. They then make sure to prompt the individual to say they are giving this “confession” freely and were always free to leave (most believed in hindsight that they really were not). This establishes a show for bare-minimum admissibility as evidence in court. Then they would lead the person through their rehearsed “confession” on camera.

In the case of Thomas Ward, he denied ever being at the scene of the crime. But after his first interrogation, he had a dream about the rape and murder of the young girl and then of himself trying to wash black off his hands. Of course, who would not have nightmares after first hearing the details of a gruesome rape and murder, etc., and being told you were suspected of it? Upon a second interview, he divulged this dream. This information was seized upon by the interrogators who twisted it into his “confession,” and eventually got him to repeat it in those terms.

As we know now, there were also details and evidence suppressed, and some twisted and very likely manufactured, to put these guys away. I will not rehearse all these details in either case, and how they are related and similar due to being run through the same prosecutor’s office with the same tactics. You should simply invest the time in watching the series yourself. It is only six episodes and is currently on Netflix.

Lessons we need to learn . . . and spread widely

Janet Davis, one of Ward’s public defenders, made this important observation: “We talk all the time about the presumption of innocence. We act like there’s a huge burden on the prosecutor to overcome that presumption of innocence. But the fact is, jurors tend to think, ‘Why would they have charged him if there wasn’t the evidence? He’s got to be guilty.’”

Couple this general attitude of jurors—the average public—with the dirty tricks pulled by police and prosecutors to get their convictions and maintain their public image. Richard Leo, an expert attorney on false confessions, stated, “Most people don’t know that the police can lie to you. They can completely fabricate evidence.” This is the type of problem for which John Grisham is trying to raise awareness. Thus, the quotation at the start: “We don’t expect the police to play dirty in criminal trials: to hide evidence, to manufacture evidence. We don’t expect the police to do that.” But, he adds, “It happens all the time.”

It is also important to realize that this is not the big city, not the ghetto, not the urban centers. This is taking place in Bible-belt, heartland America. It struck home to me when one of the public defenders, Mark Barrett, stated, “It is amazing to me that people can go to church every day and hear only a limited portion of the Bible that fits whatever the preacher wants to promote. That’s part of the culture of prosecutors in Oklahoma.”

I wish he would have elaborated further on that vignette. What I think he was getting at was that conservative, Bible-believing churches almost universally have an uncritically pro-conservative, “tough on crime,” pro-military, pro-police attitude, and this warps how they view both the Bible and the realities of the criminal justice system in America. This segment of culture tends to defer so much to “our finest” that the idea they would not only occasionally have bad apples, but quite often lie, suppress evidence, pervert stories, manipulate confessions, stack the deck against the defense, and much more, is beyond unthinkable—it is blasphemy. Anyone suggesting such a thing is considered a threat to public order and America and grandma. That person is suspect as an “anarchist” and subversive. And then Romans 13 gets quoted for sure. “Submit.”

I am not sure what portions of the Bible Barrett had in mind that are left out, but I would say that it certainly includes the parts that place greater burdens and higher standards on those in power as well as penalties on false accusers. There is no doubt that pulpits need to pick up these ideas from the Bible and start preaching them widely, converting complacent ears with them, and challenging public offices and policies with the truth of them.

These two things maintain the problem: police and prosecutor immunities and the presumption that people in power are suddenly more righteous and trustworthy than everyone else. Police and prosecutors are here shown lying, manufacturing evidence, suppressing crucial exculpatory evidence, and more—and they do so as a matter of practice because they know even if they’re caught, they will most likely get away with it. Unless there is clear malice provable—a near impossibility—there will be no ramification. Since they are so broadly held in high esteem for being “tough on crime” and successful at that, the more they do what they do, the more likely they are to be reelected or promoted. Such awful practices actually turn out to be running reelection campaigns and resumé builders.

But, you may think, this particular case was simply a bad department in podunkville USA. These bad apples can do such things in isolated cases. That’s where the other series becomes important.

The Confession Tapes

Also a Netflix original, The Confession Tapes (2017) offers two seasons that detail ten further cases of convictions derived from similarly fraught “confessions.”

As the title suggests, taped “confessions” become the central focus. In each case, just as with The Innocent Man, interrogators brainwash or deceive key suspects with wearying, manipulative tactics, including outright lies, over and over, for hours—sometimes 10 or more sustained hours—until they break in various ways and start repeating what they have been fed in order just to get it over with. In most cases, the subjects were already wearied by the incidents, lack of sleep, etc., before even beginning the interrogation. You can watch them decline physically and mentally over time before they capitulate.

You can also watch the power of the manipulative process in action over and over. You can see subjects be moved progressively from asserting their innocence, to anger at being repeatedly contradicted and accused to their face, to being tripped up (by lies told to them about non-existent evidence against them), to doubting their own sanity, to total disbelief, to complete, weary capitulation, just wanting to end a torturous experience because they were usually told they could then leave. Most are arrested when they capitulate.

You can watch the biases of judges and the utter lack of critical thinking of some jurors. You can watch how easy it is for trained professionals to manipulate individuals and the system in order to get what decision they want.

Again, just like with The Innocent Man, you need to watch the entirety of The Confession Tapes. You need to see how badly our system often functions, some crucial ways in which it does so, and come to the realization that there is a truly systemic problem—that is, a chronic and widespread problem—in key respects. There is much more to say, but getting this in-depth and extended look at the system and how it destroys peoples lives is a very good entry-point.

Conclusion

One of the refrains that surfaces multiple times in both series goes something like this (and you need to hear its repetitions): We are told that we have the greatest justice system in the world, that you are innocent until proven guilty. That is not how it works out.

Instead, what you see is how easy it is to filter select evidence, taint evidence or taint a jury, completely ice the defense, and lead a jury right to the guilty verdict you wish to get. You’ll see how doggedly some prosecutors fight for “guilty” more than for truth and justice. Indeed, they see it as their job to convict, it seems even at all costs.

For these reasons—the uncritical assumptions jurors make, the manipulative techniques and handling of evidence or non-evidenc, by police and prosecutors—another refrain that surfaces more than once in The Confession Tapes is, Don’t talk to the police. Don’t give a statement. Don’t answer any questions. Don’t talk. Demand an attorney. Invoke your fifth amendment right to remain silent. Demand it and stick to it.

In one case, a young woman was accused of murder and put though the meat grinder. Even with no evidence against her, comments made in her 11-hour-long interrogation were enough to get her accused to the point where she accepted a plea deal for manslaughter. She was lucky to escape with her freedom, even though she has the conviction to live with now, too. Her parting words to the camera:

I thought that by speaking and telling them everything that I knew or could tell them that I would just clear it up; I wouldn’t need a lawyer and I would just be free. But boy was I ever naïve.

There is a real problem in this country with education: the education of jurors (the general public) on presumption of innocence and what “reasonable doubt” actually means; and the education of average folk on why you should never talk to the police.

In contrast, police and prosecutors are especially educated on this general lack of education and on how to take advantage of it.

These two series are a small time investment (I binged them in a total of three days), but they are well worth it for getting the point across and eradicating the idea that the problems of false confessions are isolated or “bad apple” problems.