🔗 Share this article

The real-life crime category has a new medium, or perhaps even a whole new language and grammar: officer-worn camera recordings. Countenances of those harmed, observers and possible perpetrators appear suddenly to the cameras, at times in the intense brightness of headlights or torches as the officers approach, their expressions and tones eloquent of wariness or panic or anger or dubiously feigned naivety. And we often catch sight of the faces of the officers themselves, one waiting impassively while the other conducts the inquiry with what sometimes seems like remarkable hesitation – though perhaps this is because they are aware they are being recorded.

An Emerging Pattern in Documentary Filmmaking

We have previously seen the Netflix true-crime documentary American Murder: Gabby Petito, about the slaying of an social media personality by her partner, whose primary focus was officer recordings and in which, as in this film, the police seemed surprisingly lenient with the perpetrator. There is also the acclaimed short film Incident by Bill Morrison, made exclusively of body cam film. Now comes Geeta Gandbhir’s documentary about the tragic incident of Ajike Owens in Ocala, Florida, a woman of colour whose children reportedly bothered and tormented her neighbor, 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 address her about throwing objects at her children.

The Police Inquiry and State Laws

The investigating authorities found proof that the suspect had done online research into the state's self-defense statutes, which permit residents and others to use firearms if there is a significant presumption of danger. The movie builds its story with the body cam footage generated during the repeated police visits to the location before the killing, and then at the horrific and chaotic incident site itself – prefaced by emergency call recordings of Lorincz calling the police in a dramatically trembling voice. There is also police cell footage of Lorincz which has a chilly, queasy fascination.

Portrayal of the Accused

The film does not really suggest anything too complicated about Lorincz, or any extenuating circumstance. She is clearly unstable, although the children are heard calling her “the Karen”, an ugly jibe. The film is presented as an example of how self-defense regulations lead to senseless and tragic bloodshed. But the reality of gun ownership and the second amendment (that longstanding U.S. legal right that a late commentator famously claimed made gun deaths a necessary cost) is not much emphasized.

Police Interrogation and Firearm Norms

It is feasible to watch the police interrogation scenes here and feel astonished at how minimal concern the officers took in this aspect. When did she buy her gun? 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? Was it just on the couch, loaded and ready? The authorities aren’t shown asking any of these surely relevant questions (though they may have done in footage that didn’t make the edit). Or is possessing a firearm so commonplace it would be like asking about kitchen appliances or toasters?

Arrest and Aftermath

For what seemed to her local residents a very long time, Lorincz was not even arrested and charged, only detained and even offered a hotel stay away from home for the night (another point of comparison, incidentally, with the a prior incident). And when she was ultimately officially taken into custody in the detention area, there is an remarkable scene in which the individual simply refuses to stand, refuses to put her wrists out for the cuffs, not aggressively, but with the politely self-pitying air of someone whose psychological state means that she just can’t do it. Did the gentle handling up until that point led her to think that this could be effective?

Conclusion and Verdict

It was not successful; and the jury’s verdict is revealed in the closing credits. A deeply sobering portrayal of American crime and punishment.