I think it worked quite well. We conducted it last night. Since Nov-Dec seems to be more about conditions than baseline morality (i.e., it is predicated on self-defense being a priori acceptable, and the issue is about whether the situation at hand qualifies as self-defense), it seemed to make sense to demonstrate the conditions. So we held the trial of Daisy Dweeble, convicted of murdering her husband, a crime (in NY) which apparenly could earn her a sit-down in Old Sparky (although I vaguely remember a court voiding CP in the State, but that may just be me). Our jury could not reach a verdict in the allotted time, which indicates that there are plenty of ways the ball could bounce in a debate round. Anyhow, for your delectation, the background notes of the event. Feel free to have your own TOTC. Make O.J., Nesbitt and the Lindbergh baby eat their hearts out.
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Here’s how the trial will proceed.
Menick will provide an introduction.
Emily will act as judge. The team at large is the jury.
Ben is the District Attorney Ham Berger, and will prosecute. Eric is the defense attorney, Frank Footer.
State’s witnesses: Officer Fwop Doolitttle (Matt R) from the upper New York State town of Frog’s Foot, Episcopalian Minister the Right Reverend Minnie Mouskewitz (Brianne)
Defense witnesses: Social Worker Brill Goodfellow (Stephen), Daisy Dweeble (Nicole)
Please have fun but try to make it real.
Background:
(Each person was given a marginally different script, highlighting what they needed to emphasize, deleting what they need not know).
Victim
Dwight Dweeble, Husband, 37 years old – Dropped out of college after one year (couldn’t keep up with the work). Ended up in a low-paying job as a shoe salesman at the Syracuse Salt City mall. Much of his day was spent sitting around reading newspapers, waiting for customers to come by. Business would pick up at the end of summer, with back-to-school sales, but mostly it was a few customers a day during the week, relatively busy weekends, and a boring job all around. Life was frustrating for Dwight, who came across to everyone as a hale fellow well met, always smiling and charming and patting people on the back. He wanted more from life, and never got it. He saw himself endlessly earning a chump salary, working for a boss who graduated college a year ago and was already earning twice Dwight’s salary. The high point of his day would be dropping in at the Rosebud Inn, a local bar in the town where Dwight grew up, and everybody knew his name, and for a few minutes, he was Somebody. He wasn’t that big a drinker, though; one or two beers and he’d head on home. And if there was no one he knew at the Rosebud, just a quick one and then home to Daisy and the kid. At least at home he was King. There was no punk kid boss to push him around, to make him stack and restack the shelves in the back room, to make him flounce around cleaning the shelves with a feather duster like a bloody French maid, rubbing it in that he was the boss and Dwight was the slave. At home Dwight’s word was the law. And he made sure the law was enforced. Daisy did what he told her to do, and the kid did what he told them to do, and if they didn’t, well, he would make sure they did. A firm right hand can always get the job done. Of course, once or twice he might have gotten carried away, but he always made it up to them afterwards. And he made sure that he never did anything that left any visible signs, although he was happier when Daisy stayed home where she belonged. That was a woman’s place, after all, making a house a home for her family. Daisy didn’t even have her own car, not that Dwight could afford two cars even if he wanted them. When they shopped for groceries, they shopped together. After all, they lived about twenty miles out of town: it was the only place decent enough that Dwight could afford. The only time Daisy really ever got out anywhere was to go to church on Sundays. Sometimes Dwight would go with her but mostly he felt that church was woman’s work, like cleaning house and raising kid. So Daisy would take the kid to St. Johns every Sunday, and he’d even let her take the car, but she’d better be home right after it was over so that she could start making Dwight’s Sunday dinner. Dwight loved a big Sunday dinner, and watching the game, at least on those Sundays when he didn’t have to work. Damn, but life was tough if you weren’t some snotty college kid. If things had only played out better, it would have been Dwight running things 20 years ago, instead of being run himself now. Who knew how things would have turned out if he had stayed in school?
Wife
Daisy believed, in the beginning, that it was right for her to be home raising the kid, that that was her place, and that Dwight ought to be the king in his castle. But then he started to hit her. Not often, but when he did, she usually felt she deserved it. And he always apologized afterwards and tried to make it up to her. But then he broke her arm. At the hospital they just said she tripped and fell down the stairs, and no one asked any further. But that was the beginning. As he began to hate his job more and more, he took it out on her. And there was nowhere for her to go. She lived in an isolated area, she didn’t have use of a car most of the time. Once she tried to talk to the police, but they just told her they couldn’t do anything, they didn’t interfere with family issues. She thought they didn’t believe her story. And she talked to her minister. He seemed to side with Dwight, that somehow it was her fault. And when Dwight suspected her of talking to the minister, he beat her worse than ever. She began living in total fear. She thought she would try to escape, but where would she go? All she saw was a life of progressive degradation. And then the night that Dwight attacked their daughter—that was the breaking point. Daisy could never let that happen again. The next time Dwight raised his hand to his children, Daisy was ready. She popped him over the noggin with a frying pan. Again and again and again. Until it was over.
Social worker
A witness for the defense. He knows that there are no domestic violence services in the small town of Frog’s Foot. No Battered Women hotline. No obvious place to turn.
SW has all the facts. E.g.:
▪ Only about 1 in 5 of domestic violence victims with physical injuries seek professional medical treatment.
Murder
▪ Women are far more likely than men to be murdered by an intimate partner. Of those murdered by their intimate partner, 74% are women and 26% are men.2 In other words, nearly 3 out of 4 of the murders committed by intimate partners have a female victim.
▪ The FBI reports that between 1976 and 1996, domestic violence claims the lives of more than four women each day.3
▪ Between 1976 and 1996, there was a "sharp decrease" in the number of men murdered by intimate partners, whereas the number of women murdered by an intimate partner remained constant.3 Some have attributed this to the increasing availability of shelters which provide battered women with options other than killing an abusive partner. It is possible that some women who might have otherwise killed their abuser are able to leave and go to a shelter.
Under-reporting of Domestic Violence to Police
▪ Only about half of domestic violence incidents are reported to police. African-American women are more likely than others to report their victimization to police.3
▪ The most common reasons for not reporting domestic violence to police are that victims view the incident as a personal or private matter, they fear retaliation from their abuser, and they do not believe that police will do anything about the incident.3
▪ Even with this dramatic under-reporting, domestic violence calls constitute approximately half of all violent crime calls to police departments. For example, 49% of the violent crime calls received by the DC Metropolitan Police Department in 2000 were for domestic violence incidents.6
Police Response Frequently Inadequate
▪ Skepticism regarding the quality of police response is grounded in reality. A recent study by the D.C. Metropolitan Police Department concluded that there was a "clear and pervasive pattern" of departures from departmental policy.6
▪ For example, in only one-third of the domestic violence calls did an officer take photographs or ask about prior abuse.6
▪ Only 17% of the victims were asked about a restraining order, and 83% were provided no printed information with contact information or resources.6
Officer Fwop Doolitttle
The facts.
Daisy herself called up and reported that Dwight was dead. She claimed that Dwight was about to attack their son, Mortie, but Mortie is 4 years old and unable to testify. A police doctor reported no visible signs of abuse on Mortie, some slight signs of abuse on Daisy, but it was impossible to confirm whether the abuse was caused by Dwight or was self-inflicted.
Daisy had come to the police once in the past, but there was no evidence on which to press charges. Frankly, it looked like a simple domestic squabble. Everybody in town knows Dwight, and he was always a good old boy. Daisy refused to see a doctor to confirm her story at that time. She claimed it was out of fear of reprisal from Dwight.
Minister Minnie Mouskewitz
Daisy came to church every week. She had come once to say that things weren’t right between her and Dwight, but the minister urged Minnie to pray to the lord to find a way to reconcile with her husband. She didn’t mention anything about abuse (but the minister has no experience in this area, and wouldn’t know what to do or how to recognize it).
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