A few weeks ago, Johann and I sat down to watch The Case Against Adnan Syed, the four-part miniseries based on the first season of the Serial podcast. I didn’t know much about the case, which may come as something of a surprise to those who know me. I’m a true crime junkie through and through. I live for Dateline and Forensic Files. Once, back when I was working in New York, a coworker mentioned that his father was the executive producer of 48 Hours and I nearly vaulted over his desk.
“Do you think he could get me an internship?” I asked.
“Yes?” my colleague answered as he scooted his chair up against the wall. “…I’ll ask him???”
I could see in his eyes that he would do that. Maybe not because he wanted me to get the job so much as he wanted his dad to know where to begin the investigation in case something happened to him.
I’m not sure how I managed to get this far in life without knowing every last detail about Adnan Syed, but I did. As one might expect, Johann was in the same boat, having never had occasion to learn the intricacies of wrongful conviction cases before I came along with my Netflix account and a crush on Kathleen Zellner. Long story short, by the time we got to the end of the series, both of us were feeling a little deflated.
“I didn’t expect a happy ending,” I said. “But still…”
“How is that even possible?!” Johann asked.
I’d like to know the same thing. The state of Maryland convicted a man and sentenced him to life in prison on the word of a troubled teenager who had a track record for lying. There was no evidence. There was no motive. There was little investigation into some other suspicious characters, one of whom was a grown man dating a 17 year-old high school student.
And then there’s the alibi: What it all came down to for Syed was proving where he was, or wasn’t, for a 40-minute window on the day his ex-girlfriend’s disappeared. His friend claimed that he was stuffing her body into the trunk of a car and then driving across town to show it to him. Two additional witnesses corroborated the timeline during the trial but now seem a little less clear about when and where things happened. Meanwhile, the cell phone records seem to prove it’s all a bunch of bologna. Even if Syed did it, it didn’t happen the way prosecutors say. By the by, several other witnesses have come forward claiming to have seen or spoken to Syed during this time. And I get that you can’t really trust their memory all these years later, which is why I put my faith in those digital records. They don’t lie. But I guess they can still fail you because Syed was still convicted.
It’s a terrifying proposition—to think that a poor choice in friends and the inability to account for a random hour one afternoon can irrevocably alter the course of your life. That any one of us can get handed a life sentence based not on actual evidence, but the lack thereof. I, for one, am terrified at the prospect of having my future hinge on the word of a liar and a timeline that’s based in large part on the airing of an episode of Judge Judy.
“It’s scary because it could happen to anyone,” I told Johann. “I mean, back in 1999, if you told me to account for my whereabouts on some random Tuesday a few months prior, there’s no way I could do it.”
“I couldn’t do it then and I couldn’t do it now,” Johann answered.
“Well now it’s different,” I said. “I’m pretty much accounted for all the time now.”
Johann raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked. “You know where you were this day last year?”
“Probably,” I answered. I picked up my cell phone.
“Without your phone,” he said.
“Why?” I asked. “That’s the whole point. The police used a cell phone to supposedly prove that this guy was in a certain place at a certain time (even though he wasn’t). Why can’t I do the same?”
I opened my photos application and typed in the date, then snorted. Turns out my whereabouts that night go something like this: Helsinki. Johann’s apartment. On the couch at 9 p.m. I have a video to prove it—a ten second clip wherein I put my feet on his shoulders and pretend to give him bunny ears. I turn my phone around to let him see the screen.
“Does this look like the feet of a killer to you?” I ask.
Beyond the actual clip, I can add the following details:
When I pan to myself, you can see that my hair is washed, so that likely means that I went to the gym beforehand. There’s a fingerprint scan needed to get into and out of the 24/7 Fitness, plus security cameras throughout. The police can pull those records.
Usually, if I go to the gym, I stop at the grocery store on the way back home. My shop of choice is the LIDL near the Helsinki Art Museum. Pull those tapes.
Helsinki is more or less a cashless city, which means that I can probably establish my whereabouts through a string of debit card transactions all day long. The grocery store would be one, as would a purchase at Starbucks earlier in the day. I usually go there to work for a few hours, nurse a single coffee and binge on free WiFi. Check those tapes. And maybe the WiFi logs too, since you have to register to use the network.
Then there’s the emails: I have at least one sent every hour starting at 8 a.m. and ending at 11 p.m. I’m not a tech wizard, but I think the IP address would confirm where I was when I hit send regardless of the device I used. Furthermore, I looked back at my work calendar. I had a conference call scheduled from 7 to 8 p.m. local time. While I doubt anyone would remember whether or not I actually joined the call, they would at least agree that if I didn’t, there would be some sort of digital paper trail explaining my absence.
So there you have it, that’s my alibi. There are still some pockets of time here and there that are unaccounted for, but for the most part, I’m on the grid. To believe that I had committed some kind of heinous crime, you’d not only have to believe that I did it in a smidgen of a window, but also that before and after I kept a perfectly ordinary schedule, just carrying on with my day, running 3 miles, picking up some budget groceries and then annoying the shit out of my boyfriend.
Johann wasn’t satisfied.
“Well that’s just one day,” he said. “November 16.”
Tallinn. Christmas market. Lunch at a Mexican restaurant. $200 purchase of liquor at Super Alcohol Mart. Ferry rides to and from Estonia at the crack of down and 10 p.m., respectively. e-Tickets to prove it.
“May 25, 2017.”
Philadelphia. I spent the morning at my brother’s house with his kids and then visited a friend in the afternoon. If memory serves, I stayed with her through dinner and after her baby’s bedtime. I probably bought gas on the way home and I used a GPS because I am terrible at directions.
“March 6.”
“What year?” I asked, feeling cocky.
“2016,” Johann answered.
South Africa. Durban. I rented a Seg-Way for two hours and then got a henna tattoo.
“You’re making this up,” Johann said.
I showed him footage of me in a bicycle helmet riding a Segway near the beach. “I am not making this up,” I insisted.
“This is a good game,” I said. “My life is super exciting.”
“I think your videos prove otherwise,” he said, handing the phone back to me. “Fine. 2015.”
I sighed. 2016 is as far back as my records go. That’s when I started traveling and taking pictures all the time. Before that, I can probably account for myself here and there through credit card purchases and scanning in and out at the office, but that’s kind of it. Once I walked in my front door, I was in no man’s land. Since I worked from home for the last few months I lived in New York, my time is almost totally unaccounted for. If someone comes with questions before that, I’m out of luck.
And that’s why the docuseries about Adnan Syed scared me so much. It’s why I found When They See Us lightyears more disturbing than any fictional television show or movie. It’s why I am so anxious to see how Making a Murderer really ends. Because it can happen. It does happen. Anyone who isn’t straight-up horrified better be asking themselves some really tough questions about cynicism and complicity and objectivity. Because if you think this can’t happen to you or someone you love, you just haven’t been watching enough TV.
This could totally be an Apple phone ad! Your career in an ad agency is secured!
But seriously…. this is scary and something I , and
Likely most others, never think about.
Gotta go take some pics! I’ve been up for
an hour and cannot prove what shenanigans
I’ve been up to.
Yeah, I mean, I get that it’s a remote possibility. And that for you and me the possibility is far more remote than for certain others. Still. I get those Innocence Project emails all the time and these things still happen regardless. (I just got an email about a woman who was thrilled to buy a bathrobe when she was released. There’s heartbreaking truth to that.) Anyway, you be careful on those trails. Take lots of pictures and run like the wind!
Sooo loved that podcast, it was fascinating! Didn’t know about the show. I’m on it!
Yes – I am listening retroactively! I’m not much of a podcast person, but I will admit that there’s a reason for the hype!
I couldn’t account for the last year except by random grocery slips and two new pair of shoes I bought last week.
Shoot, at this age I have trouble accounting for anything, anywhere. Don’t even ask me where the dining room chairs are, all I know is they were there this morning.
That’s a chilling thing to think about, that not only didn’t someone commit a crime, but his friends seem duty bound to make sure he did. Some friends.
I agree… “with friends like that” and all that. Maybe I need to stop watching so many crime shows because I truly believe that we are all just one bad friendship and bored cop away from this kind of fate.