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The true crime genre has an innovative format, or perhaps even a completely fresh vocabulary and grammar: police body cam footage. Countenances of those harmed, observers and potential offenders loom up to the cameras, sometimes in the harsh glare of vehicle beams or flashlights as the officers approach, their expressions and tones eloquent of wariness or fear or anger or dubiously feigned naivety. And we frequently incidentally glimpse the faces of the officers themselves, one standing by blankly while the other conducts the inquiry with what sometimes seems like remarkable hesitation – though maybe this is because they are aware they are being recorded.

A Growing Trend 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 boyfriend, whose primary focus was body cam footage and in which, as in this film, the police seemed extraordinarily lax with the suspect. There is also the acclaimed short film Incident by Bill Morrison, composed entirely of body cam film. Now comes Geeta Gandbhir’s documentary about the tragic incident of Ajike Owens in a city in Florida, a woman of colour whose four young kids reportedly bothered and tormented her white neighbour, a local resident. In 2023, after an escalating series of neighborhood conflicts in which the authorities were repeatedly called, the accused shot Owens dead through her locked door, when the victim went to Lorincz’s house to confront her about hurling items at her children.

The Police Inquiry and State Laws

The investigating authorities found proof that the suspect had done internet searches into Florida’s “stand your ground” laws, which allow householders and others to shoot if there is a reasonable belief of danger. The documentary constructs its narrative with the officer recordings captured during the repeated police visits to the location before the shooting, and then at the horrific and chaotic crime scene itself – introduced by 911 audio material of Lorincz contacting authorities in a melodramatically shaky voice. There is also police cell footage of Lorincz which has a chilly, queasy fascination.

Depiction of the Suspect

The film does not really imply anything too complex about Lorincz, or any mitigating factors. She is clearly unstable, although the children are heard calling her a derogatory term, an hurtful taunt. The production is presented as an example of how “stand your ground” laws generate senseless and tragic bloodshed. But the reality of gun ownership and the constitutional right (that historic American constitutional privilege that a deceased pundit famously claimed made firearm fatalities a price worth paying) is not much highlighted.

Police Interrogation and Gun Culture

It is feasible to watch the police interrogation scenes here and feel astonished at how little interest the officers took in this point. When did she buy her gun? Did she receive any instruction on handling it? Was this the first time she discharged the weapon? 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 could have inquired in footage that didn’t make the edit). Or is possessing a firearm so commonplace it would be like asking about microwaves or bread heaters?

Detention and Consequences

For what appeared to her neighbors a very long time, Lorincz was not even taken into custody and indicted, only held and even offered a hotel stay away from home for the night (another parallel, incidentally, with the Gabby Petito case). And when she was finally formally arrested in the holding cell, there is an extraordinary sequence in which Lorincz simply refuses to stand, refuses to put her wrists out for the cuffs, not hostilely, but with the politely self-pitying air of someone whose psychological state means that she is unable to comply. Did the gentle handling up until that point encouraged her to think that this could be effective?

Final Outcome and Judgment

It was not successful; and the panel's decision is revealed in the closing credits. A deeply sobering picture of American crime and punishment.