Even the Wicked . . .
So, there was an ending line on this night's Law and Order that caught my attention; this is probably another one of the reasons I like the show. It's not merely an opportunity to muse about human venality, but also a show which shows some appreciation for the desire for grace. (And this probably isn't the last time I'll be blogging about Law and Order.)
The line in its full reads "Even the wicked get worse than they deserve." The plot of this particular episode revolves around a fallen judge. After a bitter divorce, in which she ends up essentially losing her shirt, she becomes bitter about having to preside over these cases in which rich bastards compete over $50,000 this and $100,000 that. So she ends up taking bribes to decide cases. She believes that she's not really doing anything really bad, because she believes she's still considering the 'best interest of the child'. But it turns out that she has decided cases against the best interest of the child, in her increasing habitual venality. (So this connects with my earlier post about good people doing bad things, too.) Oh, and she ends up committing murder. Accidentally.
It's clear from the episode that Branch at one time thought highly of her. At one point he says that she was the best student he ever had, and he clearly has trouble believing that she's done what she's done, based on what he's known of her in the past. But what brings this though beyond the mere 'good people doing bad things' type of thought is that she had reasons for doing what she did. Not reasons that would justify it, to be sure, but she had reasons. She wasn't merely an evil woman, trying to snag an extra buck. She was given the test of despair, but failed. And there aren't many people who have even taken that test. (It might be worth noting, in connection with a recent post, that Charlotte Simmons took that same test, and also failed, though in a different way.) It's at least clear that her failing is a merely human failing, and not anything worse.
This is not to say, of course, that we should condone her failings, excuse them in some way. This is merely to indicate that our moral censure should probably something less than our legal censure. To some extent, we all face that Test of Despair, and few if any of us pass that Test with straight As. This might well be especially relevant to future prosecuting attorneys -- on the one hand, to remind us that, however we might feel about someone's actions morally, we're compelled to prosecute them according to the law, but also that, however someone appears legally, that's not necessarily how they appear morally. They're two separate categories.
The line in its full reads "Even the wicked get worse than they deserve." The plot of this particular episode revolves around a fallen judge. After a bitter divorce, in which she ends up essentially losing her shirt, she becomes bitter about having to preside over these cases in which rich bastards compete over $50,000 this and $100,000 that. So she ends up taking bribes to decide cases. She believes that she's not really doing anything really bad, because she believes she's still considering the 'best interest of the child'. But it turns out that she has decided cases against the best interest of the child, in her increasing habitual venality. (So this connects with my earlier post about good people doing bad things, too.) Oh, and she ends up committing murder. Accidentally.
It's clear from the episode that Branch at one time thought highly of her. At one point he says that she was the best student he ever had, and he clearly has trouble believing that she's done what she's done, based on what he's known of her in the past. But what brings this though beyond the mere 'good people doing bad things' type of thought is that she had reasons for doing what she did. Not reasons that would justify it, to be sure, but she had reasons. She wasn't merely an evil woman, trying to snag an extra buck. She was given the test of despair, but failed. And there aren't many people who have even taken that test. (It might be worth noting, in connection with a recent post, that Charlotte Simmons took that same test, and also failed, though in a different way.) It's at least clear that her failing is a merely human failing, and not anything worse.
This is not to say, of course, that we should condone her failings, excuse them in some way. This is merely to indicate that our moral censure should probably something less than our legal censure. To some extent, we all face that Test of Despair, and few if any of us pass that Test with straight As. This might well be especially relevant to future prosecuting attorneys -- on the one hand, to remind us that, however we might feel about someone's actions morally, we're compelled to prosecute them according to the law, but also that, however someone appears legally, that's not necessarily how they appear morally. They're two separate categories.
posted by Mad Jurist at 10:02 PM
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