Freda Black's closing argument in The Staircase was the turning point I've argued since I saw it. The bitch was, in her authority as a state employee, lawyer and officer of the court, saying to the jury that your hate has a place here. Is appropriate here. Was admissible, so to speak, and applicable.
So it was about permission.
Permission to bring that stuff to bear. The jury's 'disgust' wasn't relevant. Their bigotry and prejudice and dislike of the person weren't relevant or appropriate. In fact, it was the jury's responsibility to rise above all that. They didn't. And influential Republicans are all-in on permission. Permission to hate.
Freda died in the ditch, more or less, like the piece of shit she was. But don't let that make you feel it was a fitting outcome or justice. It should make us sad and in complicated ways. People like Freda drag us all into the ditch. People like Marjorie Taylor Greene. And mostly they can't help it.
As much as their behaviors seem composed, organized and sickly coherent it's a compulsion. They're sick. But why we would let these psychos run the show I don't know. Apathy, maybe. Or frustration or feelings of powerlessness. I understand. Perhaps we think we will get away with it.
And I don't know how to stop it myself, so who am I to talk.
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