3.5
Despite having grown up near the Eastern and Southern District Courts of New York, I never understood exactly what it was they did or why they were important. Their operations rely equally on historical legal precedent, laws currently on the books, and current events all over the New york Metropolitan area, and I was not familiar with any of those pillars. Johnny Dwyer seems to be. In this book, he contextualizes the law, and he does so beautiflly. His writing is captivating. The Districts is easy to read without ever feeling simplistic. His sentences flow easily, and he creates not just a series of facts, but a narrative.
The Districts is broken into five parts, each dealing with a different type of crime. The longest of these is the section on terrorism while the strongest is probably that dealing with white collar crime. Each section follows a single case over the course of several chapters. Dwyer punctuates that case with information regarding the defendant, the prosecutors, the judge, and relevant prior cases that inform the reader's understanding of what is going on. To use the example of organized crime: first the reader meets the players who will eventually become defendants. After telling us about their early career as wiseguys, Dwyer gives the history of RICO, an act passed during that early career that allowed prosecutors to charge organized crime bosses. Readers then meet some of the first prosecutors to take advantage of RICO, who in turn mentor other lawyers. The mentees appear as judges in the case of the original wiseguys, who, now that we are back in the present, are being charged. It's a clear setup. We are introduced to the characters, their history, the history of their adversaries, and the final clash between them. Drama really does unfold in the courtroom.
The structure is not without flaws. I personally think it breaks down a little in the section on Terrorism, which combines the complexities of FBI surveillance, charging criminals, and international cooperation and extradition. I found that Dwyer failed to successfully elucidate this sphere of crime, but I had bigger bones to pick with him.
My biggest gripe, and the reason why I can't whole-heartedly give this book four stars, is that I can't believe Dwyer gave us as unbiased an account of the Eastern and Southern Districts as he could. He claims that the book's premise is "that the true measure of the justice within a society can be discovered by stepping into its courts" (12), but it seems to me he has this secondary assertion. He implies that the justice in our courts is flawed because of the power imbalance between prosecutor and defender. Dwyer reveals our government's history of charging individuals while side-stepping their own moral dilemmas. Time after time we see the government search records without a warrant to use that information in terrorist cases. We see a government charge criminals with secondary crimes after those criminals have received a not-guilty verdict in an earlier trial. We see a government pursue heavy sentences for some defendants while trading prison time to corporations in exchange for guilty pleas.
At the same time, Dwyer tends to have pronounced opinions on the defendants in his chosen cases. He seems to favor younger defendants. In a drug courier case, he describes the teenage defendant Chevelle Nesbeth as looking "minimized and harmless" (109). Contrast that with his coverage of former hedge-fund-worker Stefan Lumiere, whose "brief, unsuccessful career" (133) Dwyer discusses at length. Or take Jason Thorell, who, by the author's assessment" lack[ed] the moral strength to refuse to go along with a conspiracy" (171). The difference in treatment from Dwyer implies that his sympathies lie with one party but not with the other. The description he gives to each witness obfuscates the fact that they are not simply harmless or feckless Dwyer characters but are instead real, complex individuals whose very complexity led to their trials in the first place. Dwyer's simplistic humanization undermines his own credibility in some ways.
Still, the presence of humanization at all is what makes this book so readable. Dwyer's pursuit of a personal connection with his subjects may be overzealous, but it accomplishes an important goal. With it, we readers can form our own connection with an entity that otherwise seems inaccessible or irrelevant to our daily lives. While he may not successfully show us the justice inside the courts' walls, he gives us a reason to knock on the door.