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The real-life crime category has a new medium, or perhaps even a whole new language and structure: police body cam footage. Countenances of those harmed, witnesses and potential offenders appear suddenly to the cameras, sometimes in the intense brightness of headlights or torches as the officers approach, their faces and voices eloquent of caution or panic or indignation or dubiously feigned naivety. And we frequently incidentally glimpse the faces of the law enforcement personnel, one standing by blankly while the other conducts the inquiry with what sometimes seems like remarkable hesitation – though perhaps this is because they know they are being recorded.

An Emerging Pattern in Non-Fiction Cinema

We have previously seen the Netflix true-crime documentary American Murder: Gabby Petito, about the slaying of an Instagram influencer by her boyfriend, whose main point of interest was officer recordings and in which, as in this film, the law enforcement seemed extraordinarily lax with the perpetrator. There is also Bill Morrison’s Oscar-nominated short Incident, composed entirely of officer footage. Now comes Geeta Gandbhir’s documentary about the grim case of Ajike Owens in Ocala, Florida, a African American woman whose four young kids reportedly bothered and tormented her white neighbour, Susan Lorincz. In 2023, after an increasing number of neighborhood conflicts in which the police were summoned multiple times, Lorincz shot Owens dead through her locked door, when the victim went to Lorincz’s house to confront her about hurling items at her children.

The Investigation and State Laws

The arresting officers found proof that the suspect had done online research into Florida’s “stand your ground” laws, which allow householders and others to use firearms if there is a reasonable belief of danger. The movie builds its story with the body cam footage captured during the repeated police visits to the scene before the shooting, and then at the disturbing and disordered incident site itself – introduced by emergency call recordings of the caller calling the police in a dramatically trembling voice. There is also police cell footage of the individual which has a chilly, queasy fascination.

Portrayal of the Accused

The documentary does not really suggest anything too complicated about Lorincz, or any mitigating factors. She is clearly unstable, although the kids are heard calling her a derogatory term, an ugly jibe. The film is showcased as an illustration of how “stand your ground” laws generate unnecessary and heartbreaking bloodshed. But the reality of gun ownership and the constitutional right (that longstanding U.S. legal right that a late commentator famously claimed made gun deaths a price worth paying) is not much emphasized.

Officer Questioning and Gun Culture

It is feasible to watch the police interrogation scenes here and feel astonished at how minimal concern the police took in this point. At what time did she purchase the firearm? Where (if anywhere) did she train in its use? Had she ever had occasion to fire it before? Where did she store it in the house? Could it have been easily accessible and prepared? The police aren’t shown asking any of these surely relevant questions (though they could have inquired in footage that were not included). Or is possessing a firearm so normal it would be like asking about microwaves or toasters?

Arrest and Aftermath

For what seemed to her neighbors a extended period, Lorincz was not even taken into custody and indicted, only held and even offered a hotel stay away from home for the night (another point of comparison, incidentally, with the Gabby Petito case). And when she was finally formally arrested in the detention area, there is an extraordinary sequence in which the individual simply refuses to stand, will not extend her arms for the handcuffs, not aggressively, but with the politely self-pitying air of someone whose psychological state means that she just can’t do it. Had the kid-gloves treatment up until that point encouraged her to think that this might actually work?

Conclusion and Verdict

It was not successful; and the panel's decision is saved for the closing credits. A deeply sobering portrayal of American crime and punishment.