The Staircase

The sky is clear. What a break for us. But of course, it’s cooler.

I’ve to chop wood today. That’s the only chore on deck for me today, so Her Highness and I may go to Drumbeg for our walk. We haven’t been there for quite a while.

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I’m watching The Staircase on Netflix. I find it riveting.

I was once arrested and charged with assault. Anyone who knows me, knows I am not an aggressor but the police arrested and fingerprinted me. I was so naïve that when my trial date came, I went with no lawyer. Why? Because, as I told the court clerk, I was innocent.

They got a public defender to represent me and he got the trial delayed and I got a lawyer. I was, of course, found not guilty and the woman who lied about our encounter was reprimanded—as was the prosecutor. The judge apologized to me and my soul was instantly voided of its sense of fear and doom. It was that experience that got me interested in movies like The Staircase.

The access the lawyers, prosecutors and everyone involved in the case give to the filmmakers is extraordinary and the case is full of twists. 

I’m only part way into it, but the defendant, Michael Pederson, spends an estimated $800,000 in his defense before the trial even begins. It’s shocking how expensive defending yourself can be.

I have never seen anything that reveals the complexity of going to court as this film series does.

The sunset ceremony in Varanasi was a
highlight of my life.