Errol Morris Says ‘Fatal Vision’ Killer Was Railroaded: Books
This time it’s the 1970 triple murder of Captain Jeffrey MacDonald’s wife, Colette, and their daughters, Kimberley, 5, and Kristen, 2. MacDonald, a U.S. Army doctor and Green Beret, was convicted of the crime in 1979. Now 68, he is serving a life sentence in federal prison in Maryland, where he continues to protest his innocence and fight to overturn his conviction.
In “A Wilderness of Error” -- a book because he couldn’t sell it as a movie -- Morris revisits the case and critiques the accepted version of events as portrayed in court and in Joe McGinniss’s 1983 book “Fatal Vision.” He finds a catalog of leads unpursued, evidence obscured, logic inverted and confidences betrayed.
“We know that Jeffrey MacDonald was railroaded,” Morris concludes. Which isn’t the same as saying he’s not guilty.
There’s plenty of reason to hang the crime on MacDonald. Colette, Kimberley and Kristen were stabbed dozens of times, and two of them were clubbed with bone-shattering force. Jeffrey escaped with cuts and bruises and a single serious stab wound that punctured his lung -- the kind of incision a surgeon would be able to inflict on himself.
While MacDonald blamed a quartet of drug-crazed hippies, investigators concluded that he concocted a Charles Manson-style massacre (the Tate-LaBianca murders had occurred only a few months before) to cover up a quarrel with Colette that had triggered a spasm of homicidal rage.
But what Morris learns disturbs him. Investigators decided the crime scene in the MacDonalds’ Fort Bragg, North Carolina, living room was staged, based on the placement of a flowerpot and a coffee table. Those leads both turned out to be false, but by then it was too late: MacDonald was the prime suspect.
“What happens when the narrative of a real-life crime overwhelms the evidence?” Morris asks. “When evidence is rejected, suppressed, misinterpreted -- or is left uncollected at the crime scene -- simply because it does not support the chosen narrative?”
The crime scene was compromised: an ambulance driver stole MacDonald’s wallet; fingerprints were lost; objects (including the flowerpot) were moved. A woman who matched MacDonald’s vague description of one of his alleged attackers was spotted by police on the way to the crime scene -- before MacDonald described her. No one went back to look for her that night.
Because of the shoddy investigation, an Army officer deemed the accusations against MacDonald “not true” and let him go.
That might have been the end of it had MacDonald kept his mouth shut. Instead, he appeared on “The Dick Cavett Show” to ridicule the Army for going after him. Some, including Colette’s grieving stepfather, Fred Kassab, found the spectacle unsettling. MacDonald was reinvestigated, indicted, tried and, nine years after the murders, convicted.
Morris lambastes prosecutors for overlooking evidence and finessing lab results. He questions why the judge let the government read a copy of Esquire magazine to the jury. A drug- addled woman who allegedly told people she was present during the killings was, Morris suggests, frightened by prosecutors into changing her story.
The prosecution commissioned a psychiatric assessment of MacDonald that reads like testimony from a Soviet show trial. Morris despairs.
“A trial is not a science fair, but rather a magic show,” he says. “A show based on appearances and logical fallacies and sleight of hand. It isn’t about proof. It is about convincing the jury.”
He supplies diagrams, thumbnail biographies and timelines of the decades of investigation and obfuscation. While Morris may not sow reasonable doubt about MacDonald’s guilt, he shows how zeal can trump truth when authorities focus on, as one Army lawyer puts it, “the most convenient person to charge.”
Nor does Morris hide his contempt for McGinniss, who began as a MacDonald partisan but switched sides before “Fatal Vision” came out. Morris calls him “a craven and sloppy journalist who confabulated, lied and betrayed while ostensibly telling a story about a man who confabulated, lied and betrayed.”
Morris isn’t the first person to go after McGinniss. Janet Malcolm’s “The Journalist and the Murderer” examined how he gained MacDonald’s trust and suggests he hoodwinked his subject. MacDonald himself sued McGinniss over his portrayal in “Fatal Vision.” That case settled after the jury deadlocked on the first of dozens of claims.
“Fatal Vision” harps on MacDonald’s every flaw: He’s vain, he cheated on his wife, he reads (gasp) Mickey Spillane. But the tale isn’t completely one-sided. McGinniss notes the investigators’ missteps and gives space to MacDonald’s rambling, self-justifying monologues. And it must be noted that before “Fatal Vision” appeared, a jury had already decided MacDonald’s guilt.
The last thing any look at this case should be is an examination of character, and Morris’s personal jabs at his subjects diminish an otherwise estimable book. Just as we shouldn’t decide MacDonald is a killer simply because he’s a manifest jerk, so too should we not discount “Fatal Vision” because McGinniss may have blindsided its protagonist.
Morris is at his best when he looks at the physical proof, and technologies that were unavailable in 1979 can now make more specific determinations of who bled where and whose hair was whose. MacDonald is seeking a reexamination of the evidence, and there’s a hearing set for Sept. 17 in Wilmington, North Carolina.
(Andrew Dunn is an editor at Bloomberg news. The opinions expressed are his own.)
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