By Diane Dimond
For the Journal
My name is Diane Dimond, and I love crime.
I love justice more.
Over the last couple of decades I've dedicated much of my journalism career to telling stories about people who commit the crimes that plague us all and how society deals with them.
Some of the defendants I've covered were famous— like Michael Jackson, O.J. Simpson, William Kennedy Smith and Winona Ryder.
Others were anonymous but clever con men who convinced love-blind women they were CIA operatives before they stole their money.
There was the Missouri mayor's daughter who got married, got bored and killed her husband all in the span of a year. And the Detroit father who loaded his five kids in the car one day and took a "wrong turn" into the Detroit River. All the kids were lost, and Dad is in prison for the rest of his life.
I love hanging around courthouses to watch the cauldron of human soup that gets stirred up and served out. A courthouse is the great equalizer: those dragged in will be forever changed when they leave no matter how much money is in their bank accounts.
My job has taken me into more maximum security prisons to interview more grisly killers than I care to admit. James Earl Ray; Kenneth Bianci, the so-called Hillside Strangler; and Jeffrey McDonald, nicknamed the Green Beret Killer, to name just three.
And there's little more exciting to me than hearing a verdict read in a packed courtroom after a sensational trial.
As a new Albuquerque Journal columnist I'm wondering how many of you share my fascination with those who live and work right next to us but somehow take a criminal turn in their lives? What motivates them to think they can get away with lying, cheating, stealing, putting the rest of us in danger— or worst of all taking a life?
Somehow, I'm not so caught up in the idea of, "Gee, what made them do it?" because as a long-time crime reporter I've sat in too many courtrooms and heard too many excuses.
The bottom line is always the same. It's someone else's fault. The defendant came from a broken family, had a bad childhood, didn't get to go to college, their grandma didn't bake them cookies ... blah, blah, blah.
Richard Allen Davis, the man who kidnapped and killed little Polly Klass told me (in the only interview he ever gave) that Polly's father was to blame for her death. Go figure.
Growing up in Albuquerque and then getting out to see the rest of the world brought me to the realization that the idea of New Mexico justice is the one that stuck with me.
It's the justice that demands fair play among neighbors, personal integrity and responsibility for one's actions. It's the justice that says yours is yours and mine is mine and keep your hands off what doesn't belong to you.
It's quite simple, really. Until the system fails us.
I've worked with many lawyers— some famous, some not— and I have respect for most of them. But I've seen some lawyers do more than just withhold truth. I've seen them look right at the folks in the jury box and lie to their faces.
They justify it under the guise of defending their client, but that's not what our founding fathers anticipated when they embraced the idea of "innocent until proven guilty."
Where I come from that type lawyer should be ashamed for helping release known criminals back into society. So should the cops who lie under oath. So should the judges who allow legal shenanigans in their courtrooms.
The truth about our justice system is much more boring than the headlines that scream about what's wrong with it. It may take a while, but mostly it works just fine.
I wanted to use this first column to tell you a little about myself. In columns ahead I hope to tell you all sorts of interesting crime-related stories, ways you can keep your family safe and new laws that may or may not work. I also hope to introduce you to some of the unique people I get to meet on the crime beat.
Sometimes, I might just tell you about myself and some of my extraordinary experiences away from New Mexico. I hope you'll write me with questions about the state of things as you see them. That should make for some great future columns.
Now you know where I stand on crime and justice. It's a modern day version of "do unto others." It's quite simple, really.
Diane Dimond's column appears in the Journal on Saturday. E-mail to diane@dianedimond.net
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