‘The Jinx’ Chapter 11 Exposed The Truth and Nothing but "Mostly the Truth"
The taped downfall of real estate heir Robert Durst provides a much-needed, relieving closure.
It could be argued whether Andrew Jarecki’s fascinating 2015 true crime documentary, The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst, really needed a follow-up of another six episodes nine years later. I’m talking about the series that not only chronicled the life of a diabolical and wealthy figure accused of three murders over four decades but directly effected it. “Killed them all, of course” is likely the most chilling ending among all true crime documentaries in the past decade. You can’t write it, you can’t manufacture it, it just happens by chance.
Understandably, Jarecki decided to see through the aftermath of that incriminating confession, and if there’s one thing that’s been undoubtedly worth it to see this Part II unfold is the penultimate episode of Season 2, “Mostly the Truth.” An hour of intense TV that shows Bob Durst taking the witness stand and putting on a final show of outrageous lies and snarky remarks only to get demolished by the out-for-blood prosecutor John Lewin.
That episode puts its “star” front and center again while he’s on trial and being cross-examined for the 2000 murder of his long-time friend, Susan Berman. A choice Durst could’ve easily avoided, but he had to take the spotlight one more time. He confidently believed he could manipulate and lead on an entire jury by exploiting his own frail and sick 78-year-old body, the miserable sight of an old man transported in and out of court in a wheelchair. After admitting to the lie that he wrote the infamous “cadaver” note — reasoning that even he had difficulty believing it for years — Durst created a new narrative around it with the help of his defense team.
The goal of this fresh angle was to make himself sympathetic and pitiable to the jurors by making up a bundle of memories that didn’t exist. As you watch him visibly struggle to hear or even understand some of the questions, it’s almost impressive how far he’s willing to go trying to lie himself out of jail. It’s truly a performance.
Before being faced with Lewin’s lethal stare and methodical interrogation, Durst recalls fond memories of his childhood and how he played Uno and Frisbee with his mother (whom he watched die when he was seven), father, and brother. The happy times as he remembers them in the early 1950s. The only problem is that none of those games were invented until much later, and Lewin instantly calls him out for that, which Durst has no comeback for. This seemingly innocent and stupid fabrication is only the beginning of an incriminating avalanche that completely obliterates any accountability the defendant had in the first place.
In the following nine days, Lewin manages to torpedo the liability of every word that comes out of Durst’s mouth — it's both gobsmacking and comical how he comes up with more preposterous lies that nearly sends his attorneys into a panic attack — and eventually, bring the pathological liar and wretched monster out of him that he always was. It’s like watching an animal caught in a bear trap wriggle, making his hopeless final attempts to escape before accepting that it’s over. But Lewin works him meticulously as if saying: “You’re caught again, Robert, but this time it’s not just an audio recording.”
Ultimately, it's his belligerent arrogance and overblown confidence in his cunning skills that causes Durst’s eventual downfall — and it’s extremely satisfying to watch him unravel. But it also shows the fallibility of U.S. Criminal Law and the Justice System (especially when it comes to the rich) that there were jurors (at least one) who indeed began to feel sorry for this murderer despite a mountain of evidence against him. I mean, even the assumption to not see how this old man deliberately tries to manipulate and trick the system one final time is ridiculous.
Thankfully, Jarecki captures and edits everything flawlessly with a combination of suspense and tragicomedy, mixing scenes of guilty confession with drama and snarky comments that Durst fires out of nowhere as if realizing that his plan is failing, and wanting to prove once more that under this fragile and shaky exterior he’s still the cold-blooded psychopath and murderer he’s always been. As far as true crime entertainment goes, this is good television, but more importantly — and really, that’s where the value of Jarecki’s immense work lies — it’s an immeasurable relief for the families of the victims (not just Susan Berman’s but Kathleen McCormack’s, too) to see this man finally meet his fate. If you strip down Season 2 to its essence, you'll realize it had to be made. For the people personally involved and entangled in this case (more than us, the audience, and outsiders) to provide the closure they've been waiting for decades.
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