🔗 Share this article

The real-life crime genre has a new medium, or perhaps even a whole new language and structure: police body cam footage. Countenances of those harmed, witnesses and possible perpetrators loom up to the cameras, sometimes in the intense brightness of headlights or torches as the police arrive, their expressions and tones expressing caution or fear or anger or suspiciously contrived innocence. And we often incidentally glimpse the expressions of the officers themselves, one standing by blankly while the other asks the questions with what sometimes seems like extraordinary diffidence – though maybe this is because they know they are being recorded.

A Growing Trend in Non-Fiction Cinema

We have already had the Netflix true-crime documentary The Gabby Petito Case, about the slaying of an social media personality by her boyfriend, whose primary focus was officer recordings and in which, as in this film, the law enforcement 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 four young kids allegedly harassed and antagonized her neighbor, a local resident. In 2023, after an increasing number of neighborhood conflicts in which the police were summoned multiple times, the accused shot Owens dead through her closed front 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 arresting officers found evidence that Lorincz had done online research into Florida’s “stand your ground” laws, which allow residents and others to use firearms if there is a reasonable belief of danger. The documentary constructs its narrative with the officer recordings generated during the multiple officer calls to the scene before the killing, and then at the disturbing and disordered incident site itself – prefaced by emergency call recordings of Lorincz calling the police in a melodramatically shaky voice. There is also jail video of Lorincz which has a chilly, queasy fascination.

Depiction of the Suspect

The film does not really imply anything too complicated about the neighbor, or any mitigating factors. She is clearly unstable, although the children are heard calling her “the Karen”, an ugly jibe. The production is showcased as an illustration of how “stand your ground” laws generate senseless and tragic violence. But the fact of firearm possession and the second amendment (that historic American constitutional privilege that a late commentator famously claimed made gun deaths a price worth paying) is not much emphasized.

Police Interrogation and Firearm Norms

It is feasible to watch the officer questioning segments here and feel astonished at how little interest the police 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? Could it have been easily accessible and prepared? 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 gun ownership so normal it would be like asking about kitchen appliances or bread heaters?

Arrest and Aftermath

For what appeared to her neighbors a extended period, Lorincz was not even arrested and charged, only held and even provided accommodation away from home for the night (another point of comparison, by the way, 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 mental health means that she is unable to comply. Did the gentle handling up until that point led her to think that this might actually work?

Final Outcome and Judgment

It was not successful; and the jury’s verdict is revealed in the closing credits. A deeply sobering portrayal of U.S. justice and consequences.