Today I was sitting around in the computer lab with my students. Now before you conjure up visions of cherubic six-year olds clustered in some happy-Kumbaya learning circle, these are college undergraduates. Most of the students I teach are either some variant of “honors” students, or some variant of “pre-law” so they are annoyingly well-prepared for class, and ask annoyingly well-thought out, occasionally even insightful questions.
More than occasionally, I feel like I’m the class slacker. Who wants to talk about institutional structures that impact constitutional review?
Not me. So today, I did anything but.
To set the scene, my students are sitting in the computer lab for a legal research free work day. Some of them have pages of careful notes on their subject; others have highlighted books in stacks by their side. Every one (with the odd non-honors student on im or reading Perez Hilton) is hard at work.
Except, of course, me. I’ve been instructed by the professor that today, instead of teaching any material, I’m to supervise and act in “advisory” capacity. Which I take to mean “sit in the back of the room and stealthily read internet trash.” After my somewhat dispirited scouring of the gossip blogs, I trotted on over to the BBC to see if anything new had developed in the Josef Fritzl case.
So if you haven’t been near a television/radio/computer for the past three days, Josef Fritzl is the 73 year old Austrian who (in what seems to be a popular new Austrian pastime), imprisoned and sexually abused a young women for 24 years. Ok, let that first part sink in. TWENTY FOUR YEARS.
Oh yeah. And she was his daughter. Clearly merits all caps again. HIS DAUGHTER. Can it get worse? Oh yes. She bore him seven. Yep, SEVEN, children.
Three of the children spent their entire lives down in these little intricately organized, soundproofed basement rooms. Four of the children, for reasons which are entirely unclear, were raised aboveground by Fritzl and his wife. And a pause for caps: HIS WIFE.
There are lots of intricate details to his plan. The door that was locked by some type of secret code, the fact that he told his underground daughter and children that they would be gassed if they tried to leave (yeah, he just makes the fucking Nazi jokes so easy, doesn’t he), the fact that he told authorities and his wife that their daughter had run away from home. Or even the simple fact that he had been sexually abusing his daughter since she was eleven years old.
What starts to become interesting, in the end, is not really all these little tiny plotting details, but the fact that these little tiny plotting details are so interesting. Continue reading ‘Voyeurism 101′