Showing posts with label HBO. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HBO. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

A True Crime


Talk about a crime related news week! Sunday night we heard that one of the biggest criminal masterminds in the world has just left this earth. I'm sure for days, maybe weeks, we'll hear more of the story, unraveling bit by bit, stringing along the news cycle. But for me, personally, Sunday marked a milestone in a different fight against crime.

This past Sunday, as Navy Seals were locked in mortal combat with Osama Bin Laden, a film I produced premiered at the Tribeca Film festival. (I still have a hard time saying or writing that line.) I was part of a small team of talented producers, directors of photography, editors, and a director who have all worked, off and on, over the last four years on The Education of Dee Dee Ricks, which will continue to garner attention when it airs on HBO this October.

Luckily, Dee Dee herself is not a victim of this crime. She's a smart, beautiful, tough-talking, wise-cracking woman of means, who was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007.

For two years after that, she had me follow her around with a camera crew, documenting her life. Through a double mastectomy, a brutal round of chemotherapy, and the havoc it all wrought on her personal life, her finances, and her body, Dee Dee fought hard, kicking, screaming, and sometimes cursing like a dockworker.

Eventually she won.

But that was only part of how she spent her time and resources. Arguably she spent the better part taking on the inequities of cancer care in this country. In plain terms, Dee Dee set out to learn why a rich, white woman who can afford whatever she needs can win her fight, but a poor, underinsured black woman can't - and often doesn't.

And then she set out to tell the world, or at least anyone who would listen to her, and eventually, anyone who would watch our documentary. She interviewed doctors and advocates, and women who weren't as fortunate as she. She met and befriended Cynthia, another funny, outspoken breast cancer patient, who seemed like Dee Dee in many ways, except the critical one that placed her in so much more jeopardy. And she met a man who has worked for decades to change all that.

Dr. Harold P. Freeman is a renowned, elegant, soft-spoken, Harvard educated, African-American cancer surgeon (that's a LOT of impressive qualifiers). As a young man, he watched his own father die of cancer, which inspired his life's work. In his lifetime, he's seen amazing strides in cancer research, seen science transform the odds, as people today beat cancer. From when he started, to where things are now, miracles are now commonplace.

What makes him shake his head in dismay, then, is how many people are still dying. They're not dying because nothing can be done, or because their disease baffles the doctors. They're dying because they're poor. And that, says Dr. Freeman, is what is truly criminal.

"It's not a scientific issue," he says. "It's a moral issue. People should not die simply because they're poor." He's talking about the women he has seen with no insurance and no other means to get treatment until they find their way to the cancer center he runs in Harlem. By that time, he chillingly describes, they sometimes have no breast tissue left in the affected area. Just tumor. By that time, it's too late.


Why didn't they go in sooner? Well, as Dr. Freeman told a captive audience after the Tribeca screening, if you have no insurance and you go to an emergency room because you have a little lump in your breast, you'll sit there for hours. When you're finally examined, you'll be told you're in the wrong place. You have to go get a Medicaid card first, then appear somewhere a hundred blocks south to get examined.

"At that point," Dr. Freeman explained, "the effort to get help is so much more painful than the painless lump in your breast, you'll throw up your arms and go home."

Dr. Freeman then told the audience about something he has developed over the years to counter that sense of helplessness, something that is now growing in practice all over the country. It's a concept called Patient Navigation. First, it's outreach and education - to help bring women (and men) to places like the Ralph Lauren Cancer Center, which Freeman heads up. There, an often panic stricken or numbed patient in denial is turned over to an actual human being, someone looks like them, speaks their cultural language, and will hold their hand every step of the treatment way, steering them around the myriad hurdles that cause even the hardiest to give up.

No insurance? Your navigator will take you through every step to get it, then line up tests, procedures, surgical options, chemo, etc, etc. No support at home? Your navigator's latched on, as are the doctors, nurses, social workers - even the in-house pharmacist. No one to prod you to make appointments and then keep them? You'll get the call from your patient navigator. As Dr. Freeman says, it's a low tech approach, but it literally saves lives. But so much more needs to be done.

I was with Dee Dee the day she met Dr. Freeman and, as she likes to say, fell in love. That day, he made her cry, and then she did the same to him. You'll have to watch the film to see why. Since that day, she has championed him and his cause, raised millions of dollars for it, and quite literally bared her soul and every other part of herself to get people to look... and listen. A hot blond who can also make you laugh while she moves you to tears is a powerful tool.

I have great hope for this team, and I'm proud to have been able to help tell their story. And after Sunday night, instead of the tired refrain, "If they can put a man on the moon..." I'm going to try a fresh tack. If we can track down and take out Osama Bin Laden... we should be able to win this war on crime too.


Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Hollywood (In)justice - The Show Must Go On . . . Even When Celebrities Are Guilty

by Tina Dirmann

R. Kelly is not guilty.

Wow. Honestly, who could have seen that one coming?

Well, just about anyone, actually. As I wrote in my last blog posted May 20, exactly two weeks before the Chicago jury handed down their across-the-board acquittal on child pornography charges: "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd say get ready to see the latest celebrity charged with a crime walk away a free man!"

Oh, how I hate to use the phrase. . . . But, you know, I did. Told you so, I mean.

I'm not trying to gloat here. I'm actually sad that the inevitability of it all was so clear. Celebrity, once again, was the only piece of evidence a defense team need submit. Who cares if every other piece of evidence, including a videotape, showed Kelly having sex with a woman who looked an awful lot like his 13-year-old goddaughter?

Though I'm sure it didn't hurt that the R&B's fortune from fame allowed him access to the best defense attorneys money can buy. Even if the best they could come up with was to point out that it wasn't actually Kelly on the sex tape because a mole on the star's lower back region wasn't visible in the video. The defense put a video expert on the stand who declared that a small dot in that area--and obvious on film--was actually, get this: "digital noise," not a mole. And since there was no mole, well, it's not Kelly. Huh?

But the jurors, you know . . . They bought it.

One female juror, who asked to remain anonymous, said afterward, "At some point, we said there was a lack of evidence. There was nothing concrete enough to say it was him or her on that tape."

Even though there was the tape. With Kelly's apparent non-moled up twin on it.

I know, the "victim" in this case did deny it was her on the video. But the fact is, as any prosecutor who has worked with sex victims will tell you, it's often difficult to get them to say, publicly, they were abused. There's a lot of misplaced shame involved. And, in this case, the alleged abuser was the girl's famous, Grammy-winning, R&B star godfather. That's a lot to overcome. Perhaps the jurors, in their scant seven hours of deliberation, didn't have time to consider that fact. And apparently, they also didn't believe the girl's family members, who took the stand and swore it was, indeed, their 13-year-old relative having sex with Kelly.

A writer for the Village Voice, who ultimately lashed out at the unjust verdict, put it this way: "For entirely selfish reasons, it's natural enough to feel good when a favorite musician wriggles out of a predicament that would've kept him from making music for a long, long time."

It is? Is that why there were cheers--cheers--from courthouse clerks when the "not guilty" verdict was announced? I can't relate.

Isn't it ironic that R. Kelly's acquittal, on charges that could have brought him fifteen years in prison, by the way, comes just as HBO began airing its documentary "Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired," which basically chronicles the charges brought against Polanski (pictured right) for having sex with an underage girl. Also thirteen years old, by the way. In that case, the intense media glare scared the victim so badly, she didn't want to testify.

Prosecutors in the 1978 case were willing to deal, dropping a laundry list of charges, including rape and supplying a minor with drugs and alcohol, but left unlawful intercourse with a minor. Polanski pled guilty, but fled the country, fearful that a media-adoring judge would sentence him to hard prison time. I think most people agree the judge in the case was a man driven more by reporters and public opinion than his law books.

But in the end, Polanski did engage in sex, even sodomy, with a minor. He now lives in France, where he is celebrated as one of the most brilliant filmmakers of our time. He refuses to return to the United States, where he'd be arrested. Technically, he's still a fugitive.

Still, I wonder if Polanski follows celebrity court cases in the United States today. And as he watches stars walk away from charges ranging from murder to child pornography, if he considers what would've happened if his case had been in a California court today. A media-obsessed judge would be irrelevant. All he'd need to set him free is your average, celebrity- obsessed jury.