Make sure you spellled Make The Cut 4.6.2 correct, you can also try searching without including the version number. If you still cant find Make The Cut 4.6.2 you can try the sponsored results above they are free or you can try our partner site: CrackSpeed. Adnan Syed, the convicted killer featured in Serial, the world's most popular podcast, is our new Barkley, the one that everyone wants. Did Jay cut a deal for himself? Vass served 10 years of a 20-year sentence and was awarded $250,000 for his wrongful imprisonment.
In the mid-1990s, a young Baltimore man got high and decided to “walk” his dog by draping the leash outside his car window and driving slowly. He was arrested and his dog was confiscated. The dog, Barkley, became a sensation. Everyone wanted to adopt him. When told he was not available for adoption – a judge had to rule in the case first – callers to the animal shelter were asked if they were interested in another dog. No, no, most of them said. I just want Barkley.
Adnan Syed, the convicted killer featured in Serial, the world’s most popular podcast, is our new Barkley, the one that everyone wants. Millions have listened to the podcast every week. They debate the case in internet forums. They assume everyone else shares their fascination with this one story about a man who says he didn’t commit the crime of which he was found guilty, killing his ex-girlfriend, Hae Min Lee. But there is little indication that Serial’s devoted fans want to grapple with the larger issues of the US criminal justice system.
I expected to love the podcast, but I opted out after one episode. (Since then, asked by media outlets for my take, I have listened to episodes nine to 11 and read the summaries of the rest; I also have read two interviews with the reporter behind Serial, Sarah Koenig.) I just don’t get it. Why was this case chosen? And why, far more troublingly, is it being reported in quasi-real time, with the reporter taking centre stage as she follows every lead? There are real ethical dilemmas in that choice, outlined most succinctly at ThinkProgress.
There is no evidence that this man is guilty, investigative reporter John Sweeney argued when we discussed Serial on BBC’s Front Row. Well, if by “evidence”, he means physical (forensic) evidence, this is largely true. But many homicides leave no forensic evidence; solving them comes down to witnesses and confessions. In this case, there is a witness, identified in the podcast only as Jay, who testified that he helped Adnan dispose of the body. Was Jay a co-conspirator? Yes. Did Jay cut a deal for himself? Absolutely. Does this happen frequently in the US criminal system? All the time.
Make no mistake: if Syed has been convicted of a crime he did not commit, that’s a travesty and a wrong that should be righted. But it is far from unique. Spare some outrage for Leslie Vass, a Baltimore man arrested at the same age as Adnan (17) for a 1975 robbery he definitely did not commit. Vass served 10 years of a 20-year sentence and was awarded $250,000 for his wrongful imprisonment. It took him another 14 years and a lawsuit to expunge his record. He has struggled to find a full-time job.
Or consider this: the Innocence Project, which agrees in the final episode of Serial to take Syed’s case, has won the freedom of more than 300 people since its founding in 1992. This has led to the Innocence Network, an umbrella of nonprofits that investigate cases in which DNA is not a factor – and it is estimated that DNA is a factor in only 5-10% of criminal convictions. In 2013, groups affiliated with the Innocence Network helped free 31 people. These include a woman who spent 17 years in prison for the arson murder of her three-year-old-son. Wouldn’t you like to hear her story? Or do you want to play armchair detective with the Serial Scooby Gang?
I was a journalist for 20 years before I became a full-time crime novelist; I hold reporting in the kind of esteem that expatriates sometimes hold for a less-than-perfect motherland. For years, I have worried publicly about crime fiction’s tendency to elevate the investigator above the victim. I could be accused of this myself. But if this tendency is troubling in fiction, it is inexcusable in nonfiction.
In the end, Serial slights the victim, Hae Min Lee. Granted, Koenig says she tried to get her family to speak, that she has expended more effort on this than on anything in her reporting career. We may never know who killed Hae Min Lee, but we know that she was murdered. Serial allows Syed’s advocates to say that two families lost children – Hae Min Lee’s and Syed’s. Even if Syed is proven to be innocent, that assertion is patently false. Syed speaks. Syed writes. (He tells Koenig in a letter that he has been careful not to ingratiate himself with her, which sounds ingratiating to me.) Syed has champions. Syed lives. Hae Min Lee does not.
And that’s why I gave up on Serial.
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