I have a certain fondness for courtroom drama.
From the novels of Scott Turow to the pulsating shenanigans of my selfless mentor, Alan Shore of "Boston Legal," the posing and the revelations can often be far more exciting than anything in Henry James or E. L. James.
But though the excitement of seeing excluded evidence being slipped into journalists' hands is precisely the sort of thing the great Shore would have done with innocent eyes and guilty lips, one aspect of the case confuses me.
It gnaws at me like the tags on an H&M shirt. … Read more