Amanda Knox
It never occurred to Amanda Knox that she would be looked at as a suspect for the murder of her roommate Meredith Kercher. The police told her she was their star witness. But once the story made international headlines, the investigation quickly turned into a calculated and violent interrogation that left Amanda without a voice and with a wrongful conviction that would change the course of her life forever. Who do our stories belong to? And how can we avoid objectifying the real people at the center of them?
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In this episode:
How should we think about the stories we are told in the media?
Who is being helped and who is being harmed by the systems we rely upon for information, and what can we do about it?
Amanda’s experience when first moving to Italy.
The first week of November when Amanda’s life would change forever.
The news Amanda received that she was the key witness to this case.
Amanda and her boyfriend’s fight for freedom and justice.
Three core principles to live by when storytelling.
Stay connected to Amanda:
Website: KnoxRobinson.com
Twitter: @AmandaKnox
Instagram: @AmamaKnox
Podcast: Labyrinths
Charity Donation: Frederick Douglas Project for Justice
Wise Words
The last thing that I thought was going to happen to me that morning was that I was going to come home to a crime scene.
It never occurred to me that someone would look at me as a suspect in this case. It was beyond me that someone would think that I would have anything to do with this.
One in four wrongful convictions involve this kind of submission, this kind of submission to an authority that is telling you that you are involved and it is to your benefit to submit.
I do think that this experience is more common than people think, and it happens every time we are in a situation where the loudest voice in the room ultimately becomes the voice that everyone just sighs and says, “Yeah, okay, have it your way.” That same impulse to just say, “fine, whatever you say,” I feel like we’ve all had that in some relationship. Even when we know that the person across from us is wrong.
Here I was in a situation where days earlier my roommate had been raped and murdered. I was alone in a foreign country with nowhere to live. The people I thought that I could trust, the authorities that were there to protect me, they were the ones who were telling me that I was wrong and that I was in danger if I didn’t do exactly what they told me to do.
I felt an incredible amount of shame because very quickly after my interrogation I knew that I had been manipulated and that I had signed statements that weren’t true, so I recanted pretty much immediately. I wasn’t listened to, no one believed me. I felt incredibly helpless.
One of the things that I’ve discovered from this experience is that sense that we have as kids that adults are a whole different kind of animal than we children are, that they operate according to logic, and are reliable, and are always telling the truth, they’re not. We’re all just kids, some of us older than others, and we’re all doing our best and we’re making mistakes all the time.
Instead of treating human beings like human beings who deserve as much dignity as we can give them, given the circumstances, and deserve the right to be thought of as innocent before proven guilty, instead we exist in a world that is quick to judge and quick to slot people into characters in our own morality plays. We become symbols, real people become symbols in other people’s ideas about the world and how we want to describe the world.
I think that’s one of the ironies of this situation is that when people think of the Amanda Knox story, what they’re really thinking of is the murder of Meredith Kercher by Rudy Guede. They’re thinking about how that whole situation went awry. When really my story is the story of someone who was surviving a very terrible overwhelming circumstance, and I just did the very best I could with the circumstances that were handed to me.
Prison had given me an appreciation for all of the freedoms I had taken for granted. Freedom showed me how many still lacked.
I feel that time and time again real people who have lived really overwhelming, interesting stories that are of public interest are never considered in the process of storytelling. They are considered objects, they are not considered storytellers in their own right who have voices that can shape the narrative in a positive way.
Whenever I approach someone else’s story, I ask myself, “Who has the most to gain and who has the most to lose?” Absolutely taking that question into consideration as I pursue that story.
I think we need to ask ourselves why are we consuming a story, first of all. Is it because we are indulging our sense of judgment? Are we enjoying the experience of observing someone else’s suffering? Are we using this story to further our own narrative or to further our own ideas about how the world should be or how the world is and it needs to change? Or have we investigated that story with a genuine sense of curiosity, acknowledging that every single person involved is someone that we could potentially relate to, they’re not just cartoon characters that we can put into these boxes in our minds?
People have told me I’ve found words that they needed for themselves, that they couldn’t articulate to themselves, and it helped them make meaning of their own worst experiences. That to me is the most fulfilling thing. Knowing that when my voice was stolen away, and I’ve fought so hard to get my voice back, I’ve also helped other people find their own voice, which is ultimately, I think, the goal of any ethical storytelling is helping people find their voice.