MARCH 2, 2023 – (Cont.) Despite my career as a lawyer, I’m not a legal geek, but as I explained in my previous six posts, I got sucked into following the trial, then the broader Faulknarian story of the Murdaugh murders. Now that the trial is over, I can close the book, return it to the shelf and move on to other demands and distractions. Other breaking news, news with a lasting effect on the world, for example.
Before leaving the Lowcountry (a single word; I looked it up) of South Carolina, however, I have two main thoughts to impart.
First is my take on the courtroom proceedings.
After hearing much about the Murdaugh legal dynasty and admitting to my prejudiced assumptions about “how things work” in what sounds like a backwater part of the South, I was surprised by the quality of the legal players.
One can critique lawyers mercilessly, and while watching a live-stream of the trial, I was amazed by the number of legal geek-armchair quarterbacks posting hyper-critical comments about all the lawyers in the case. None of the prosecutors or defense attorneys was a Clarence Darrow—or a Perry Mason—but in reality, few courtroom lawyers are, and truth be told, few should try to be. The lawyers in the Murdaugh case were up to the task, and while I found aspects of their performances to criticize, I was impressed by the lawyers’ endurance, civility and overall professionalism.
The judge was exceptional: smart, fair, calm, attentive, respectful, deliberative, decisive, and not the least bit full of himself. Against the “Old [White] Boys Club” tradition in which the Murdaugh dynasty had flourished, I was struck by the poetic justice in a judge of color presiding over the demise of that dynasty.
In addition to the quality of judge and jury, I found reassurance in seeing how much the rules of decorum, procedure and evidence; presentation of witness testimony; introduction of exhibits; handling objections, looked the same as they do in Minnesota and most other states, as well. In an age of extreme factionalism, I was heartened by the fact that the legal system in places as disparate as South Carolina and Minnesota are nearly identical. This is a critical, unifying feature of our national landscape.
The trial renewed my respect for the jury system; for procedural due process guaranteed by the Constitution. Our court systems, particularly in large urban areas, are stressed to the limit, often denying parties swift and just results. But the basic structure, common across the country, is painstakingly fair and designed to get at the truth. The Rules of Evidence, with a high degree of uniformity from one jurisdiction to another, could serve as the textbook for a course in critical thinking, called “How to Vet Information.”
In short, I think the Murdaugh trial was a “win” for American jurisprudence.
My second thought about the Murdaugh story concerns . . . the unspeakable horrors in Syria, Turkey and Ukraine. Yes, you read correctly. When I heard the story about the totality of Murdaugh’s misbehavior—and that of his murdered son—against the backdrop of wealth and privilege, I wondered what displaced people trying to survive Russian bombardment, the never-ending strife in Syria, and ruins of the earthquake would think of Alex Murdaugh. One word came to mind: “squandered.”
That’s what he did with his life and its tangible and intangible abundance. What people surrounded by catastrophe would do, I thought, for the opportunity to live in peace with access to opportunity, let alone wealth and privilege. Imagine the strivings of Ukrainians, Syrians, and earthquake victims and refugees in Turkey if given the chance! But then you have people such as Alex Murdaugh, who have it all, only to squander it all.
Case now closed.
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
