What's the best way to protect the fairness and accountability of our legal system?
By keeping it out of the public eye, according to U.S. District Court Judge Leonie Brinkema.
In December, Court TV had been hoping for the chance to exercise its First Amendment right. The cable network filed a request to broadcast the criminal trial of Zaccarias Moussaoui, accused as an accomplice in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.
But in a ruling late last week, Brinkema decided that logistical challenges and paranoia outweigh our system's openness -- and, apparently, our Bill of Rights.
Court TV, represented by Penn alumnus and Daily Pennsylvanian legal counsel Lee Levine, put forth a compelling case for a television broadcast.
In its memorandum, the network appealed to the basic right of the press -- and the public -- to observe, first-hand, what goes on in our courts.
And that's not a new concept. All criminal proceedings are open to reporters and to any member of the public who's able to attend.
Why, then, should only those in the Alexandria, Va., area get to see what happens in and to ensure the fairness of what's sure to be one of the most significant trials of our time?
And why, asks Court TV, should the second-hand accounts of reporters -- and not the hard images, plain and clear for people everywhere to view and judge for themselves -- be all that's available to the public at large?
Because, Brinkema wrote, "an audio-visual feed of the proceedings to a nearby courtroom has increased seating capacity to 200 seats, about one half of which will be reserved for the media and the other half for the general public."
I'll see if I can get you a ticket.
Forget, for a moment, that Moussaoui himself, according to one of his lawyers, has expressed support for some sort of broadcast. The Sixth Amendment does, after all, guarantee him a public trial.
Remember, instead, this gem from Brinkema's decision: "In addition, publicly broadcast photographic images of the set up of the courtroom, the location of the cell block, the number of deputy marshals, where the deputies stand in the courtroom, placement of doors and other courtroom details could jeopardize the security of these proceedings."
We wouldn't want anyone knowing what our courtrooms look like.
Sorry, your honor, but what's public is public. Last time I checked, Alexandria, Va., was not a Soviet republic.
Not that Brinkema's ruling brings us to 1984. But as our nation enters uncharted territories after Sept. 11, it may mean we're well on our way.
And not that any right is absolute, either. There are, as both Court TV and Brinkema recognize, times that compelling state interests can and should take precedence over basic rights.
With good reason, courts take action when human life or safety is at stake, and Court TV aptly asserts that "identifiable, specific, and compelling risks" must be "identified and articulated." But Brinkema's vague concern about "courtroom details" and the identities of those present don't qualify. "The permanent preservation of images of law enforcement witnesses could also jeopardize their future careers or personal safety," she writes. And later, "even if every witness' face were obscured, the faces of attorneys, court staff, and security officers would be exposed, subjecting them to the possibility of long-term security problems."
Long-term security problems? I'd hope that wouldn't put us in as much danger as the possibility of terrorists worldwide, say, knowing where the witness stand is.
And Brinkema even recognizes that Court TV would, if asked, "agree to mask the faces of all jurors or witnesses who did not wish to be photographed."
Unfortunately, such a solution "creates an additional management issue in what is already a complex case," she claims, an issue that, if solved, "would certainly add to any nervousness that person might have about testifying and could delay the trial while the camera was being adjusted."
And there's one more reason: "mistakes can be made," possibly subjecting possible witnesses to possible long-term security problems.
So a potential logistical challenge has become a compelling state interest.
Brinkema aptly notes that "the purpose of this trial is not to provide catharsis to the victims or to educate the world about the American legal system."
But the purpose of broadcasting any trial is not "catharsis" or simply education.
The judge more boldly claims, against Court TV's broader view, that "the purpose is to determine the innocence or guilt of this defendant for the specific crimes charged in the Indictment."
And what better way to ensure that that happens than to make it available for everyone to see?
Matthew Mugmon is a junior Classical Studies major from Columbia, Md., and executive editor of The Daily Pennnsylvanian .
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