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Volume 30, Number 4 (1996) reprinted by permission of the Law Review© cite as 30 U.S.F.L. REV. 1131
By MICHAEL ASIMOW*
FILMMAKERS HAVE ALWAYS been fascinated by courtroom
stories.1 The reasons
are obvious. Courtroom plots automatically generate confrontation and conflict
- attorney vs. witness, attorney vs. opposing counsel, attorney vs. judge,
attorney vs. client - and trial movies have a built-in suspense factor.
When the judge says, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached
a verdict?" we never know whether this mysterious group of twelve strangers
will send the defendants to the chair or let them walk out of the courtroom
to freedom.
This enduringly popular format allows filmmakers to present controversial legal and social issues in a sugarcoated package. The ethical dilemmas presented by war crime prosecutions are vividly dramatized by Judgment at Nuremberg2 and Prisoners of the Sun.3 The eternal conflict of science and religion comes to life in Inherit the Wind.4 The issue of transracial adoption becomes heartrending drama in Losing Isaiah.5 Nuts6 raises the issue of whether a person has the right to be punished for committing a crime rather than be treated for mental illness. Doctors and lawyers debate whether a quadriplegic has the right to die in Whose Life Is It Anyway?7 The problem of command influence in military justice is probed in numerous films such as Breaker Morant8 and Paths of Glory.9 And capital punishment has been the subject of many gripping trial films. The brutality of the gas chamber is unforgettably rendered in I Want to Live10 and the risk that an innocent person will be put to death is treated in Ten Rillington Place,11 The Thin Blue Line,12 and Let Him Have It.13 I am particularly interested in the rich gallery of lawyer portraits presented in the trial film genre. These films tend to mirror popular culture, and the power of the movies tends to reinforce that culture. Therefore, how the movies portray what lawyers do and why they do it is fascinating social history. In older trial movies, lawyers were often described in glowing terms. Although there were a few scoundrels14 or mouthpieces for the mob,15 most film attorneys seemed oblivious to the need to make a living. Untroubled by ethical conflicts,16 they fought hard but fair in court. We find them springing to the defense of the downtrodden,17 battling for civil liberties,18 or single-handedly preventing injustice.19 These stories reflect the popular culture of the time in which attorneys were widely respected. Attorneys were never all that wonderful, but no doubt they loved to watch themselves pictured as heroes up on the screen. And surely this benign treatment in film enhanced the image of lawyers in the public's mind. Contemporary movies sometimes present attorneys in the traditional heroic style.20 But more often, lawyers today are presented in courtroom movies as money-hungry,21 boozed-out,22 burned-out,23 incompetent,24 unethical sleazebags.25 Just as the old movies unrealistically painted lawyers in glowing terms, the current ones are too negative. Yet they accurately reflect and no doubt reinforce the popular culture in which attorneys have about the same public approval rating as the criminals they represent. Of course, I love the old movies in which lawyers were heroes. These films portray our profession as we wish it really was and as it sometimes, though rarely, really is. After all, there have always been quietly heroic lawyers, and there are plenty of them still practicing today. Why shouldn't they get into the movies along with the legal lowlifes? We find unsung heroes in law offices everywhere working competently for ordinary clients paying modest fees. We see numerous lawyers serving pro bono in public interest cases or volunteering in clinics. We find them doing underpaid jobs as public defenders, prosecutors, or legal service lawyers. They are toiling away for the government, protecting the environ- ment, collecting taxes, or enforcing worker safety laws.26 Pictures that focus on this kind of lawyer teach the public that there is a different model of professional conduct than the one they hear about in lawyer jokes. And such films teach lawyers that their profession entails something besides money-grubbing. Lawyers can, and do, go to the limit for their clients, often without any chance of profit. It's a story that deserves to be told. And that brings me to my all-time favorite trial film, To Kill a Mockingbird.27 I. The Story of To Kill a Mockingbird For readers who haven't seen this film (or who read Harper Lee's book 28 in junior high school but have forgotten the details), let me summarize the story.29 It is told through the eyes of two children, Jem and Scout, who live in Maycomb, Alabama, during the Depression. In a neighboring house lives a mysterious and terrifying recluse, Boo Radley. A local judge appoints their father, Atticus Finch, to represent Tom Robinson, a black man accused of beating and raping Mayella Ewell, a young white woman. Without hesitation, Atticus takes on this exceptionally unpopular client, but almost immediately, he must face a lynch mob bent on snatching Robinson from the jail and stringing him up. Atticus manages this feat with the timely assistance of his kids. At the trial, Mayella testifies that she invited Tom into the house to do chores and he attacked her. Her father is a racist redneck named Bob Ewell. Ewell testifies that he came home, found Robinson on top of his daughter, and chased him from the house. Nobody called a doctor. Atticus' cross- examination of both witnesses leaves little doubt that they are lying through their remaining teeth. Robinson testifies that Mayella had invited him in to do chores many times and that he did them for nothing because he felt sorry for her (not the smartest thing to say to an all-white Southern jury). Robinson also testifies that on the critical day, Mayella grabbed and kissed him. Her father came home and saw it happen. Atticus then shows that Mayella's facial injuries were on the right side; her father Bob was left handed. Robinson could only use his right hand; his left arm was useless. Atticus' closing argument is masterful. He points out that the trial was about a few simple ideas: that whites tell the truth and blacks lie, and that white men must protect their women from black men. He observes that Mayella broke the code by kissing and trying to seduce a black man. Nevertheless, the jury convicts Robinson. Shortly thereafter, Robinson tries to flee and is killed by a deputy. When Atticus goes to tell the news to Robinson's family, Bob Ewell shows up and spits in his face. In a stunning conclusion, Ewell attacks the children as they walk home from a school pageant. The mysterious Boo materializes and kills Ewell. The sheriff tries to atone for his mistaken belief in the Ewells' false story, which led to Robinson's prosecution and death. He declares that Ewell fell on his own knife, so that the pathetic Boo30 would be spared any further torment. At first Atticus demurs, but then he accepts this expedient strategy. II. The Lawyer as Hero in To Kill a Mockingbird Atticus Finch could not have welcomed the assignment to defend Robinson, yet he accepted it without hesitation. The task required him to challenge the comfortable myths of rural southern life. At a minimum, this made him and his children highly unpopular. In fact, it placed his family in mortal danger. To his children, Atticus explains that if he refused the assignment, he could never hold up his head up in town again. This simple explanation says it all. Not long before Robinson's trial, in the famous case of the Scottsboro boys, the U.S. Supreme Court held that impoverished defendants in capital cases are entitled to the effective assistance of counsel.31 Robinson certainly received the benefit of dedicated and effective defense counsel. In- deed, the judge who appointed Atticus probably didn't expect him to challenge the whole social structure of the rural South. Yet the reality was that Atticus' defense was doomed from the start. There was no way that an all-white jury would disbelieve white people in favor of an uppity black man who "felt sorry" for a white woman and claimed that the white woman tried to seduce him. Perhaps Atticus should have tried to negotiate a plea bargain; perhaps the prosecutor would have settled for an assault charge. However, the case had such a high local profile that the prosecutor might not have felt that he was able to make such a deal. After all, the honor of a white woman and the strict sexual code of the old South were at stake. The conclusion of the movie lays bare a difficult moral dilemma and reveals Atticus' humanity.32 Atticus has sacrificed a great deal to have the truth told. Can he take part in covering up the truth that Boo Radley killed Bob Ewell to protect Atticus's own children? At first, when he thinks his son Jem killed Ewell, he refuses to agree to any coverup. But when Atticus realizes that Boo was the killer, he reluctantly agrees to hush up the truth. If the sheriff properly reported the incident, Ewell's family and friends would demand that Boo be prosecuted. Boo probably had a good defense; he killed Ewell in the reasonable belief that it was necessary to protect the lives of the children. Still, the pitiful Boo, who never utters a word, would have been destroyed if he became a public figure - this would "kill the mockingbird." Atticus concurs in the coverup. A man sincerely devoted to truth and justice decided that there are values more important than the truth. Conclusion To Kill a Mockingbird is an immortal work of art that succeeds brilliantly on every level. The screenplay, acting, direction, set design, cinematography, and music are all superb.33 By telling its sad story through the eyes of Atticus' innocent children, the movie acquires an intense poignancy. The socialization of children and the relationship between a loving single parent and his young children have never been depicted more movingly. Every detail is perfectly etched and the overall product is so powerful that its impression is able to last a lifetime. The picture of race relations and class differences in the rural South is dead on. To Kill a Mockingbird stands alone as the best courtroom movie about law and race.34 Who can forget the segregated courtroom, or the Finch children huddled with the blacks in the gallery? The lynch mob? The all-white jury?35 The white-trash Ewell family? Mayella Ewell's forbidden sexual longings? The dignified, but doomed, Tom Robinson? The utter futility of challenging the entrenched moral code of the rural South in a closing argument? Atticus' character is memorable because he is such an unlikely hero. He's just a homespun small-town lawyer and state legislator struggling during the Depression to make a living (we see a former client paying Atticus' fee with farm produce). He's a widower, raising a couple of kids pretty much by himself.36 Yet he has unexpected depths; he turns out to be a deadeye shot when he kills a mad dog; he's one hell of a trial lawyer, even though his normal practice consists of property law; and he's no goody two-shoes: he tolerates a coverup to shield the pathetic Boo Radley from ruinous exposure. Few lawyers will ever be asked to wager their careers and the safety of their families on the defense of a despised man in a hopeless case. But all of us like to think that if such a call came, we would answer it to the very best of our ability. More realistically, the practice of law presents lawyers with many less risky, less costly opportunities to use their skills for the public good. There are pro bono cases. There are legal clinics. There are nonprofit groups that need advice. There are needy clients who cannot pay full fees. There are invitations to share knowledge in classes, seminars, or written articles. A lawyer can treat clients, staff members, or opposing lawyers with civility, gentleness, and empathy. An experienced lawyer can mentor a young lawyer or train a secretary to become a paralegal. To all of the lawyers who decide to use their precious time and skills in ways that don't go straight to the bottom line, Atticus Finch is the patron saint. He is a mythic character. He is everything we lawyers wish we were and hope we will become. |
