A Debate on "Twelve Angry Men":

Via Overlawyered, you can find a harsh critique of the classic jury deliberation movie here, and a vigorous defense here.

I saw the movie many years ago, but I remember that my reaction was that Henry Fonda raised many questions that should have been asked by the defense lawyer (e.g., maybe an eyewitness wasn't wearing her eyeglasses), raising two possibilities: (1) that the defense lawyer was incompetent; or (2) that the defense lawyer knew that the answers wouldn't have helped his client. This raised, to me, a broader issue: to meet his burden of proof, does a prosecutor need to anticipate and rebut all possible objections, even those not actually raised by the defense attorney, or is it enough for the jury to determine that if one accepts the evidence placed before them by the two sides, the prosecutor has the overwhelmingly stronger case?

Related Posts (on one page):

  1. 12AM:
  2. Twelve Angry Men and the Cumulative Weight of Evidence:
  3. A Debate on "Twelve Angry Men":
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Twelve Angry Men and the Cumulative Weight of Evidence:

Twelve Angry Men, the classic movie discussed in David's post was a great film. But I've always thought that the defendant Henry Fonda's character persuades the jury to acquit was actually guilty. There were four or five separate pieces of evidence pointing to the defendant's guilt, including two separate eyewitnesses. Fonda's character does a good job of showing that no one piece of evidence was enough to prove the accused guilty beyond a reasonable doubt by itself. But he and the other jurors ignore the possibility that guilt might be established by the cumulative weight of multiple pieces of evidence that are individually insufficient. For example, let's assume that the defendant has five pieces of evidence against him and each of them individually shows that there is only a 70% chance of his being guilty. The combined probability of his guilt based on all five items is about 99.8%, more than enough to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. By focusing on each piece of evidence individually, Fonda's character obscures this fact and persuades the jury to let a guilty man go. Obviously, this interpretation of the movie is not the one that the filmmakers wanted the audience to come away with. But I think it fits the evidence nonetheless.

In real life, this "divide and conquer" strategy was effectively used by O.J. Simpson's defense lawyers, who raised doubts about some of the individual items of evidence against their client, but successfully avoided confronting the fact that he was almost certainly guilty based on the cumulative weight of many different items of evidence. Former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi discusses this in his excellent book on the Simpson case.

The point is applicable to issues beyond criminal law. People often dismiss individual arguments and evidence against their preferred position without considering the cumulative weight of the other side's points. It's a very easy fallacy to fall into. But the beginning of wisdom is to at least be aware of the problem.

UPDATE: My analysis assumes that the five pieces of evidence were conditionally independent of each other (i.e. - that the discrediting of one does not affect the odds of the others being valid). That, I think, is an accurate representation of the evidence in the movie, which consistent of several independent items: two separate eyewitness accounts, some items of physical evidence, and flaws in the defendant's alibi.

Related Posts (on one page):

  1. 12AM:
  2. Twelve Angry Men and the Cumulative Weight of Evidence:
  3. A Debate on "Twelve Angry Men":
Comments
12AM: It's not just the time, it's also the movie Ilya and David blog about below (and one of my favorites). Ilya considers whether the defendant in 12 Angry Men was really guilty. I think the author, Reginald Rose, deliberately leaves that unclear. The audience never even hears any testimony, and what we hear second-hand from the jurors is conflicting. It's conflicting for a reason, I think; the idea is to make the audience dwell on the difference between guilt and the absence of reasonable doubt of guilt.

  David suggests that Henry Fonda asks a lot of questions that should have been asked by the defense attorney. I would put this a bit differently: I think Henry Fonda is the defense attorney. Rose's clever move is to take a criminal case -- government witnesses, followed by cross examination, closing, and then jury deliberations -- and to present them all as all just part of the jury deliberations. As I see it, the jurors who think the case is easy present the government's case; Fonda's questions are the cross examination and closing argument; and the hostile reaction by jurors who object to Fonda's inquiries are the testimony of the goverment's witnesses under cross examination. This device lets Rose tell the story of an entire criminal trial under the guise of the screenplay being just about jury deliberations. Great stuff.
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