The proximate cause of this trial, the murder of an innocent nine-year old boy, is pretty well known so I won't dwell on it. Two rich, brilliant kids from powerful Jewish families in Chicago -- Leopold and Loeb -- are only 18 and 19 years old when, in thrall of Neitzsche, they kidnap a neighbor's kid at random, murder him, strip him, mutilate the body, stuff the body into a water pipe in a park, and write a ransom letter to the parents of little Bobby Frank. They don't care about the money. They care about proving they are Übermenschen, Nietzschean supermen to whom the laws no longer apply.
They make a series of stupid mistakes and are quickly rounded up. They seem proud of their accomplishment, taking the police and the press on a tour of relevant locations in Chicago. They confess to every detail. The police officer in charge, Crowe, who is as ugly and ordinary as Leopold and Loeb are exceptional, had got everything he needs to get the boys to the gallows. He doesn't figure on the famous defense lawyer Clarence Darrow being hired by one of the families.
Sensing that the jury in the case is ready to pull the levers and see these rich snotnoses get their necks stretched, Darrrow switched the plea to "not guilty," which eliminates the jury and puts the fate of the two young criminals -- the noose or life behind bars -- in the hands of the judge alone. It's a smart move. The prosecutor presents all of the damning facts, parading witness after witness before the court. No cross-examinations from Darrow, and the two defendants watch the testimony snickering from time to time. The defense seems helpless until it's Darrow's turn. He brings his own cavalcade of expert witnesses who testify that both the boys are cases of arrested development with the emotional assets of small children. (One carries around a teddy bear.) They even introduce the abuse excuse -- one of them claims to have been sexually abused by his governess at the age of twelve. "It took a lot of chutzpah," says one commentator, "but Darrow managed to convince a lot of people that these boys were victims."
He did it by introducing some Freudian material. This was in 1924 and it was all new to the public. They boys were acting out "phantasies" that had been generated by childhood conditions. Gosh. "Maybe we're all a little nuts," said one newspaper cartoon. The media and the readers were riveted. The main message, simple as it sounds now, was that there were reasons for everything that happens. People aren't just good or evil. Everybody is a bit of both. The film doesn't say so but the result was a new look at causality. From childhood onward through time to the deed, with each incident providing a springboard for the next. Previously, ordinary reasoning had been backwards, beginning with the crime and then examining personal history for more corroborating evidence of criminal inclinations. In my opinion the judge made the mistake of conflating "explanation" with "justification." That particular problem persists, not just in courtrooms but in everyday behavior.
The trial took three months. Darrow's final statement was long, rambling, probing, and moving. "It could have been written by Shakespeare." Darrow was being well paid but his bewitching lecture wasn't phony. He was a devout atheist and a committed activist against the death penalty, for anyone. "He had the whole courtroom eating out of his hand." It took the judge four days to reach a decision. They got life for the murder and 99 years for kidnapping. Half the country was outraged because, after all, if these two didn't deserve the death penalty, who did? Nathan Leopold, the brilliant Schlub, was released in 1958. His partner, the dazzling Loeb, had had his throat cut by a fellow inmate years earlier.
The case still fascinates the public and for good reason. Leopold and Loeb had everything going for them. Why would they do such a horrible thing? What was their "motive"? Darrow tried to dispense with a search for motive by explaining that they were somehow "sick" without being frankly nuts. It sounds phony to us but it was a step forward in forensic psychology. Instead of a Manichean world of black and white, there were perplexing shades of gray. What Darrow did was separate the killers from the crime.
Yet, even today, we're consumed by the search for a "motive," even where every motive we can imagine looks preposterous. Most of the time we can understand a murder because it's been committed by someone for profit or out of passion. We tend to kill people we know or love because we care about their opinions of us, they're in a position to hurt us. But mass murders, serial killers, or misguided ideologues like Leopold and Loeb? It's so tragic it's ridiculous.
They make a series of stupid mistakes and are quickly rounded up. They seem proud of their accomplishment, taking the police and the press on a tour of relevant locations in Chicago. They confess to every detail. The police officer in charge, Crowe, who is as ugly and ordinary as Leopold and Loeb are exceptional, had got everything he needs to get the boys to the gallows. He doesn't figure on the famous defense lawyer Clarence Darrow being hired by one of the families.
Sensing that the jury in the case is ready to pull the levers and see these rich snotnoses get their necks stretched, Darrrow switched the plea to "not guilty," which eliminates the jury and puts the fate of the two young criminals -- the noose or life behind bars -- in the hands of the judge alone. It's a smart move. The prosecutor presents all of the damning facts, parading witness after witness before the court. No cross-examinations from Darrow, and the two defendants watch the testimony snickering from time to time. The defense seems helpless until it's Darrow's turn. He brings his own cavalcade of expert witnesses who testify that both the boys are cases of arrested development with the emotional assets of small children. (One carries around a teddy bear.) They even introduce the abuse excuse -- one of them claims to have been sexually abused by his governess at the age of twelve. "It took a lot of chutzpah," says one commentator, "but Darrow managed to convince a lot of people that these boys were victims."
He did it by introducing some Freudian material. This was in 1924 and it was all new to the public. They boys were acting out "phantasies" that had been generated by childhood conditions. Gosh. "Maybe we're all a little nuts," said one newspaper cartoon. The media and the readers were riveted. The main message, simple as it sounds now, was that there were reasons for everything that happens. People aren't just good or evil. Everybody is a bit of both. The film doesn't say so but the result was a new look at causality. From childhood onward through time to the deed, with each incident providing a springboard for the next. Previously, ordinary reasoning had been backwards, beginning with the crime and then examining personal history for more corroborating evidence of criminal inclinations. In my opinion the judge made the mistake of conflating "explanation" with "justification." That particular problem persists, not just in courtrooms but in everyday behavior.
The trial took three months. Darrow's final statement was long, rambling, probing, and moving. "It could have been written by Shakespeare." Darrow was being well paid but his bewitching lecture wasn't phony. He was a devout atheist and a committed activist against the death penalty, for anyone. "He had the whole courtroom eating out of his hand." It took the judge four days to reach a decision. They got life for the murder and 99 years for kidnapping. Half the country was outraged because, after all, if these two didn't deserve the death penalty, who did? Nathan Leopold, the brilliant Schlub, was released in 1958. His partner, the dazzling Loeb, had had his throat cut by a fellow inmate years earlier.
The case still fascinates the public and for good reason. Leopold and Loeb had everything going for them. Why would they do such a horrible thing? What was their "motive"? Darrow tried to dispense with a search for motive by explaining that they were somehow "sick" without being frankly nuts. It sounds phony to us but it was a step forward in forensic psychology. Instead of a Manichean world of black and white, there were perplexing shades of gray. What Darrow did was separate the killers from the crime.
Yet, even today, we're consumed by the search for a "motive," even where every motive we can imagine looks preposterous. Most of the time we can understand a murder because it's been committed by someone for profit or out of passion. We tend to kill people we know or love because we care about their opinions of us, they're in a position to hurt us. But mass murders, serial killers, or misguided ideologues like Leopold and Loeb? It's so tragic it's ridiculous.