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The true crime category has a new medium, or perhaps even a completely fresh vocabulary and grammar: officer-worn camera recordings. Countenances of those harmed, observers and potential offenders loom up to the cameras, sometimes in the harsh glare of headlights or torches as the police arrive, their faces and voices eloquent of wariness or panic or indignation or suspiciously contrived innocence. And we frequently catch sight of the expressions of the officers themselves, one waiting impassively 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.

An Emerging Pattern in Non-Fiction Cinema

We have already had the Netflix true-crime documentary The Gabby Petito Case, 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, made exclusively of officer footage. Now comes Geeta Gandbhir’s documentary about the grim case of Ajike Owens in Ocala, Florida, a woman of colour whose four young kids allegedly harassed and antagonized her white neighbour, a local resident. In 2023, after an increasing number of neighborhood conflicts in which the police were repeatedly called, Lorincz shot Owens dead through her closed front door, when the victim went to the neighbor's residence to confront her about hurling items at her children.

The Investigation and State Laws

The arresting officers found evidence that Lorincz had done online research into Florida’s “stand your ground” laws, which allow householders and others to use firearms if there is a reasonable belief of danger. The movie builds its story with the body cam footage captured during the multiple officer calls to the scene before the killing, and then at the disturbing and disordered crime scene itself – prefaced by 911 audio material of the caller contacting authorities in a dramatically trembling voice. There is also jail video of Lorincz which has a disturbing, unsettling appeal.

Depiction of the Suspect

The film does not really imply anything too complicated about Lorincz, or any extenuating circumstance. She is obviously disturbed, although the kids are heard calling her “the Karen”, an ugly jibe. The production is showcased as an example of how self-defense regulations generate unnecessary and heartbreaking violence. But the reality of gun ownership and the constitutional right (that longstanding U.S. legal right that a deceased pundit notoriously said made gun deaths a price worth paying) is not much highlighted.

Officer Questioning and Firearm Norms

It is possible to watch the police interrogation scenes here and feel surprised at how minimal concern the officers took in this aspect. When did she buy her gun? Did she receive any instruction on handling it? Had she ever had occasion to fire it before? Where did she store it in the house? Could it have been easily accessible and prepared? 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 kitchen appliances or bread heaters?

Detention and Consequences

For what appeared to her neighbors a extended period, the suspect was not even arrested and charged, only held and even provided accommodation away from home for the night (another point of comparison, incidentally, with the a prior incident). And when she was finally formally arrested in the detention area, there is an remarkable scene in which Lorincz simply refuses to stand, will not extend her arms for the handcuffs, not hostilely, but with the courteously pathetic demeanor of someone whose psychological state means that she just can’t do it. Did the gentle handling up until that point led her to think that this might actually work?

Conclusion and Verdict

It didn’t; and the jury’s verdict is revealed in the end titles. A deeply sobering picture of American crime and punishment.