When to Take the Mask Away
by Stuart Taylor, Jr.
On CNN, she was a round blue blob, haloed by dark hair, hovering over a strand of pearls, expressionlessly emitting rape accusations, memory lapses, whimpers, and sobs.
On Court TV, she was a flickering checkerboard mosaic, a high-tech mask.
She had a human face and a name only for the six jurors and the handful of spectators squeezed into the tiny Palm Beach courtroom. The rest of us could catch fragments of her identity only when the TV people mistimed the annoying bleeps they used to censor out each utterance of the name of history’s most famous rape victim.
Or is she just a famous perjurer?
We couldn’t see whether her gaze was steady or shifty, whether those sobs looked as genuine as they sounded, whether the woman herself was more believable (as some who saw her say), or less, than the disembodied voice behind the blob.
Was all this really necessary, while she was face to face with her alleged rapist in the courtroom, trying to send him to prison and destroy his reputation forever? Is it still necessary, after the jury has found William Kennedy Smith not guilty in just 77 minutes’?
We all knew his name. We all saw his face. And while he was legally presumed innocent unless and until proven guilty, no one was showing much solicitude for his privacy. Wherever he goes, people will know him as the alleged Palm Beach rapist.
So why should she be shielded from public view while testifying at a public trial? Why, indeed, so many months after everyone in Palm Beach knew who she was, and after two national news organizations first used her name?
Protecting a rape complainant’s anonymity (if she wants it protected) is, in fact, very good journalistic policy, up to a point. But in my view (not my employer’s), that point was reached in this case the moment she appeared on the witness stand-or, if not then, at least by the time that the jury had found Smith innocent.