As a North Carolina judge suspended Mike Nifong, the disgraced prosecutor whose actions veritably define prosecutorial excess, I can’t help but think of another story–a story as tainted with elements of racism, sexism, and elitism as the Duke lacrosse scandal.
But the story I’m thinking of has ended on a radically different, and an even more profoundly disturbing note.
You may remember hearing about Lamar Owens, the African-American Naval Academy quarterback who was accused of raping a white female classmate. Recently Owens was court-martialed and subsequently found not guilty of the crime. The accuser recanted.
Even though the jury did not recommend any punishment, Naval Academy Superintendent Rodney Rempt, after initially recusing himself from the trial, somehow un-recused himself for the punishment phase, seemingly going out of his way to penalize Owens.
Simply by virtue of being innocent of rape, Owens was now guilty of consensual sex in the dormitory, a violation of Academy rules. Owens’ accuser was, of course, likewise guilty of the same infraction, yet she was allowed to graduate. Meanwhile, Superintendent Rempt succeeded in getting Navy Secretary Donald Winter to not only expel Owens, but also to demand that he repay the $90K cost of his education. Winters followed through, and Owens no longer attends the Academy.
Meanwhile, Owens’ mother is appealing to the NAACP and other organizations to advocate on behalf of her son. But, in what may be the fatal story twist, Rempt retired from his post. As a result, I doubt there’s much chance that Owens will be able to garner the media momentum needed to revivify his story nationally.
Why is that? Because every story needs a villain and a victim, and the villain should ideally be someone in a position of power. So Lamar Owens is stuck in his role because his Nifong has simply gone away.
In the Duke drama, Nifong provided a politically ambitious villain right out of Central Casting, and he gave the defense the foil it needed to shift the verdict full-circle in the court of public opinion. In the Navy sex case, an absentee villain can provide no such leverage whatsoever.
Duke’s Lacrosse team members can now begin to rebuild their lives while Lamar Owens’ life hangs in continuing suspended animation, all because of a missing piece in the media playbook. Make no mistake about it: the media’s input was decisive in both cases.
As Johnny Cochran once said, “Innocent until proven broke.“
Larry Smith, Senior Vice President of Levick Strategic Communications, is one of the profession’s leading consultants on media strategy as it directly affects the marketing of legal services and the outcome of high-profile litigation. Mr. Smith is also a leading crisis communications consultant, working with C-Suite executives throughout the world on reputation management and brand protection issues.
meh, what’s the Navy’s side of the story?
Your thesis is flawed. In addition, while these two cases share similar facts, there is not as much disparity between the outcomes as you suggest.
Like the Navy QB, the Duke players also got booted out of their school. What you didn’t mention is that many empathetic Navy boosters took up a collection and raised a boatload of money, so that the expelled Navy QB won’t have to repay his tuition.
The Navy QB is now planning to sue the Academy, and the smart bet is that the Navy will settle out of court — like Duke did with its three athletes. So, same end result.
The only noteable difference between the two situations is that the Navy QB story didn’t experience the same media feeding frenzy that the Duke story did. That probably helped him as much as it hurt him.
Think about it: did the Navy QB’s acquittal get as much press coverage as the Dukies? No. But his arrest and explusion didn’t get as much coverage, either.
Rempt could still be in power and have horns growing out of his head. The Navy QB could’ve had a PR whiz. It wouldn’t have mattered. From the get-go, the public simply didn’t care as much about this story as they did the Duke scandal.
All this proves is that human beings are capricious and arbitrary when it comes to media consumption — and not that every story needs a villain. If that were the case, no one would’ve given a damn about the recent Indian tsunami.
So what if Rempt disappeared? Bin laden disappeared, too — and people still care about 9/11.