Monday, 14 November 2016

My Take On The Tostee Interview

Not sure to whom I should address this.  Not sure what salutary start fits the most.  Should I begin with: 'Memo to all judgemental idiots out there'?  Perhaps something along the lines of: 'Dear Armchair Lawyers, Armchair Jurors, & Armchair Psychologists' would be more suitable.  'Dear Fuckwits' is kind of mean and harsh, but it's what I want to type.  I settled down on my lounge Sunday night, revelling in its current freedom from dog hair because I vacuumed it Saturday, and did something I virtually never do: watched '60 Minutes'.  I detest that show, and equally detest all tabloid style journalism.  However, I was curious to see how the Gable Tostee interview would be conducted (my guess was 'with heavy handed bias'), and interested in how Tostee would conduct himself.  I didn't mind Tostee's answers, but like many of my age a bit puzzled as to why someone would record a date, but then it's a generational thing, I suppose.  Tostee was at the salient time twenty-eight years of age and his generation post every insignificant minutiae of their lives on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest ('Hey, look at this monster crap I did, everyone!  It's all lumpy like a hand grenade! #cleanedout').  Hell, they probably record themselves swiping a packet of chewing gum at the automated checkout. 

Naturally, the majority of the comments I've since read online are along the lines of Tostee being creepy.  'Oh, his eyes are creepy'.  'Oh, he shows no emotions.'  It would appear in the Court of The Public being someone less than warm, or not wailing like a banshee with a stubbed toe equates to being guilty.  People, I'm going to type this slowly for you: having a 'cool' demeanour does not equal guilt.  Got that?  Take a moment to let that absorb.  In my humble (well, not really) opinion, the only really creepy thing about the interview was Liam Bartlett's style of questioning.  He made great use of the dramatic pause that I think might have been patented by Mike Willesee.  The aired segment would have been fifteen minutes shorter had Bartlett not used those dramatic pauses at the beginning.  Those pauses were designed to give the same dramatic tension and angst as when Sir Alec Guiness did one in his soliloquy in 'Bridge Over The River Kwai' (apparently he actually forgot a line when filming and had to think for a moment, and the director thought he was doing some great acting and giving the scene a special gravitas - and he got an Oscar for it!).  This ploy didn't work with me; all it did was get on my nerves.  There were bits where I thought Bartlett was behaving in a manner that was slightly adversarial and hostile, and especially formulated to make Tostee look guilty.  Liam, are you a frustrated Crown Prosecutor or something?  At least you spared us the tactic used by your late predecessor, Richard Carlton, which entailed removing his spectacles, looking disdainfully around the room (anywhere but the subject's face) and spitting out accusatory and interrogative questions (and coming across as something of a prick).

But getting back to addressing the occupants of Judgemental Self-Righteous Land: you lot weren't there that night.  You weren't serving on the jury.  You didn't hear all the evidence the jury did.  You didn't receive any advice on points of law from the learned judge like the jury did.  You were fed sensationalised bits and pieces from the media.  Some of you are acting like small-minded biddies gossiping over the back fence, quite frankly.  Some of you are saying he behaved appallingly following the unfortunate woman's fall.  He didn't behave accord with the societal norm.  Look, everyone is different.  Our base instincts are fight or flight.  Self-preservation is also a powerful response to a situation, as well.  Ringing one's solicitor would appear a sensible thing to do, when wondering how to preserve one's liberty.  And let's be honest here: these were some seriously bodacious circumstances: Tinder, alcohol, sex, fighting, and a fall from a balcony.  'Why didn't he put her out the door?' 'Why did he put her on the balcony?' is the common demand of the Keyboard Lynch Mob.  Well, who bloody knows?  Again, if you're not the one in that situation, it's hard to know WHY the balcony was chosen.  Similarly, it's hard to know how you'd react, when someone suddenly goes over your balcony. Shock and alcohol make people respond in different ways, and there is probably no true 'right' way.  There is likely an 'honourable' way, but I don't think there is a 'right' way.

It's my understanding Tostee is on the autism spectrum, which would assist in explaining why he appears as detached and clinical as he does, but let's not make mention of this, will we, 60 Minutes? Go, you!

To those of you expressing horror that 60 Minutes paid Tostee for the interview, you might want to sit down because I've got some interesting news for you.  Remove your socks as well, because this will knock them off and you wouldn't want to lose them.  Ready for this?  Bladder voided?  Socks removed and put in a safe spot?  Okay: tabloid television shows will pay for interviews, and something else you might be unaware of is that gravity makes things fall down.  If the producers are going to fork out money for an interview, then Tostee is entitled to take it because he is a free man, acquitted for a jury of twelve good men and good women.  What he does with it is nobody's damn business. 


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