But is this a good decision? We all ‘know’ about the Amanda Knox, Dr. Conrad Murray, OJ Simpson and Joanne Woodward trials. I use the term ‘know’ loosely, as what we know is the ‘truth’ the media provides us with. I am not going to determine the innocence or guilt of defendants in this article, but I question if ‘Trial on TV’ is a good idea.

Most judicial systems in Criminal Law are based on being judged by a person of equal legal status, peer. It is the peers, also called the jurors who ultimately decide the fate of defendants.

The Defence, Prosecution and Judges go through a rigorous lengthy schooling system for qualifications in Law. Jurors, however, are not practiced in Law; have years of qualifications or work in the legal system daily like the aforementioned. This is a ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunity for jurors. (I was selected twice for jury duty, but that is another story altogether). I understand this is the reason that forms the basis of being ‘judged by peers’ as ideally, and hopefully, it is the defendants first time on trial.

Importantly, the ‘TV Republic’ are not party to all the facts the jurors have. Only the jury hears all of the evidence. The production company/station forms its own version of the truth even if ‘live.’ Producers provide their own ‘experts’ to testify their version of the truth, to which the ‘TV Republic’ make their informed decision of the guilt or innocence of the defendant, not to mention most stations are obligated to show ads interrupting ‘live’ feeds therefore distorting the truth.

The jurors psychologically must be under a lot of pressure to reach an informed decision – cases for the Prosecution and Defence alone can be mind-numbing. With the Media and especially cameras introduced into the courtroom, the psychological pressure of making the ‘right’ decision must be unbearable. One, it cannot be underestimated the importance of the informed decision as jurors know their decision forms the life of the defendant. Secondly, the one opportunity that the jurors make will be critiqued by the Media regardless of the outcome of the trial. Therefore, television must have a psychological impact on the juror’s decision.

It appears it is not only the defendants on trial, but possibly also the jurors.

Applying Baudrillard’s theory, I would question whether Ireland’s ‘Boom’/Celtic Tiger ever existed.

For instance, developers request funds for a new estate and the bank obliges. I suggest what happens is the bank gives the developer a promissory intention of funds. The developer reaches into the bank’s pocket without banks exacting due diligence checks thus developing these simulacra.

The bank gives the ‘funds’ the developer does not have the developer then builds the project expecting a full sale of the development. A few sell, so the developer asks for more money for a new development and the bank again obliges. The bank and the developer create a fantasy. As developments increase, 100% mortgages have been granted to the public and so the public the public have become part of this new reality. These new representations replace the old and the new become more important than the ‘real.’ Reality has been replaced by simulacra. The money/funds are in effect a version of hyperreality. The division between the ‘real’ and simulation has collapsed. A verisimilitude co-exists between Baudrillard’s Disneyworld and the developments in Ireland.

The cycle goes on. Super-saturation occurs. The glass is not full but leaking more ‘money’ than it can take. The bubble bursts resulting in ghost estates, bankrupting developers, banks, homeowners and eventually the country itself. They were playing with money – a simulation – that never existed. The notion of the hyperreal questions if the money existed in the first place.

As a last note, I’ll finish with two quotes I amended slightly from one of my favourite movies The Usual Suspects (1995).

‘The greatest trick the devils ever pulled was pretending that the funds existed.’

‘Like that… it’s gone.’

Hyperreal.

12 o’clock in the afternoon and a plan is afoot. Ireland was promised good weather so I was going to make use of it; go for a walk from Raheny to Howth and back and try to do it in a good time.

As I am quite competitive, I gave myself a target of two hours but was also to leave at twelve. (It didn’t matter that I hadn’t attempted this walk before, but the target was there to beat). As usual, good plans do not always come to fruition as I forgot to take into account I needed to prepare for my walk – dress in the requisite gear, put on a bit of sun cream and look silly stretching before I departed.

12:30pm came and I was off, happy that the sun was shining in the sky and a warm complimentary sea breeze was coming up the road and that blackbirds were singing in the trees. I head towards the coast road – the path along the Bull Island with the sun on my back and the sea on my right. Flecks of the sun shine on the sea below, like little camera flashes.

Along the coast road, it was nice though surprising how few people appeared to be out walking. Several bikes dodged around me, I walked past the odd pedestrian, the odd dog, said hello to an old school friend, but most were driving in the good weather. Traffic always haemorrhages on the coast road on sunny days as they head towards Howth. I walk on check the watch and check my pace. At 1pm, I am at Kilbarrack Cemetery, so I quicken.

1:30pm I reached Sutton Cross. Here, the cars disperse and the plan had changed slightly. The fork on the right alongside Marine Hotel goes towards St. Fintan’s Cemetery where my dead grandparents lie. I felt compelled to visit.

In a car, the drive from Sutton Cross to the cemetery is minimal, but as I am walking and going up a hill, I question whether this is the correct road but plough on nonetheless. Paths disappear and I am forced to cross the road twice, and doubts arise and the time is 1:40pm.

Graves appear on my right and into the cemetery I go. The time no longer matters. I say a quick prayer for my relatives and end it wishing them a Happy Easter. In the trees the birds rejoice. I walk back home the same way I came content with my day’s work.

Like here
Or start anywhere
Or start here
Up
Down
It grows out
The rhizome has no centre
In ‘A Thousand Plateaus’
Of Deleuze and Guattari
Like confusing voices
there
Or it could be
Here
Starts
The rhizome

A car passes. He flails both arms like he’s practicing semaphore. Try again, I think, you may take off soon. Another car passes seemingly oblivious to his actions. His arms again flail.

I tell myself to slow down, as he might have been saying goodbye to his brain cells. I did not want to find myself caught up with him and him engaging me in a conversation about trivialities.

He walks on. I walk on; both in our own worlds. He waves again as a car passes. He then crouches, stretches out his arms. A small smiling child jumps from a buggy and runs into his arms.

I smile and walk on.

Writing is only difficult when you don’t do it. Therefore, it’s important to write no matter how banal or how bad you think it is. Hopefully other writers will confirm this. The bin I just pointed to contains two unpublished books and a screenplay. Even though I finished them, I wasn’t happy with them so I parked them in my own slush pile.

Does it matter? It does, but have to tell myself it doesn’t. Writing them was what mattered. Even though they’re binned I made the effort, I tell myself. All is not lost. I may come back to them someday – may.

A lack of confidence keeps you away from pen and paper, but confidence can only be gained by picking pen and paper up to write. Once I finish a section, I pat myself on the back. I have to. Writers like me are notoriously insecure.

Right now, I need to get back to that empty page.

The contagious mood infected protagonists and villains. This mood suggested that modernity corrupted the modern individual. Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler were the pioneers of noir books that mirrored the age of American writers writing during the Great Depression. In doing so, these books and films comment critically on the politics on the city where the economy offers little prospects.

Similar economic circumstances have arisen worldwide in 2010, here’s hoping for a resurgence of noir novels and films.

‘A voice comes to one in the dark. Imagine.’

Company – Samuel Beckett (1979)

A great start to a novella, and to me it is a good source of inspiration. Company may not always be deconstructed as a source of writing stimulation, but it is a good exercise. The novella continues:

‘To one on his back in the dark.’

This I would encourage – ‘lie on your back in the dark, let the voice come to you, imagine.’ Now start writing!

Admittedly I missed the beginning where a Helpline was possibly aired, but for such a serious issue, surely RTÉ should air a Helpline at the end too.