Rob Edelman: Grim Indeed

The recent events in Ferguson, Cleveland, Staten Island, and elsewhere only serve to emphasize the content and significance of a powerful new documentary that has just earned theatrical play. It is TALES OF THE GRIM SLEEPER, and it is directed by veteran documentarian Nick Broomfield.

In TALES OF THE GRIM SLEEPER, Broomfield explores the life of Lonnie Franklin, a longtime resident of South Central Los Angeles who is known by many in his community as a friendly neighbor, a truly nice guy. But then in July, 2010, Franklin is arrested and charged with raping and murdering a number of women. Indeed, it is revealed that over the past quarter-century Franklin allegedly killed over one-hundred women, and the questions that Broomfield explores are: Who exactly is Lonnie Franklin? Is he really the “grim sleeper” killer? How did his alleged criminal acts go undetected for so long? Why was there not more of an effort to solve the crimes? Why did the authorities wait for two decades to admit that so many women had gone missing and inform the community that a serial killer was on the loose in South Central? 

In this regard, TALES OF THE GRIM SLEEPER is a mystery, and the film might be described as an “investigative documentary.” But other questions examine larger issues and, inexorably, race now becomes part of the story. If the murdered women were Caucasian, would the authorities have made more of an effort to crack the case? Where was the media coverage and public outrage relating to so many disappearances? 

Broomfield postulates that, sadly but predictably, the disregarding of the crimes directly relates to the fact that Franklin’s victims were African-American. Now sure, in 2014, there are African-American movie stars, African-American millionaires, an African-American President. Still, racism survives and thrives in one-too-many corners of America and, despite all the Barack Obamas and Oprah Winfreys and Michael Jordans, it is Broomfield’s position that blacks and whites still are viewed differently by many in authority. In this regard, TALES OF THE GRIM SLEEPER mirrors the events in Ferguson, Cleveland, and Staten Island.

Broomfield also suggests that, if you are an African-American who is abused, the police automatically will assume that you have done something to cause your victimization. If, for instance, you sensed that Lonnie Franklin was capable of raping and murdering women, why would you want to contact the authorities? If you did, you just might find yourself under suspicion. For after all, in certain circles in America, every black woman is viewed as a hooker and every black male must be guilty of some untoward act.

However, race is not the only issue in TALES OF THE GRIM SLEEPER. South Central is a poor community that has fallen victim to a crack cocaine epidemic. In South Central, one-too-many residents have no jobs and no hope. Life is of little consequence and, if a young woman from South Central goes missing, well, who cares? If a hundred young women from South Central go missing, well, who cares?

In TALES OF THE GRIM SLEEPER, Broomfield offers a portrait of a community whose residents are so used to living with violence that they casually accept that violence. And in the end, it is those with the power who emerge unscathed. Upon Lonnie Franklin’s arrest, then-Los Angeles mayor Antonio Villaraigosa is seen holding a press conference in which he declares that the arrest is the culmination of “two decades of exhaustive detective work.”

Neither the politician nor the LAPD will speak with Broomfield, and the press conference is a textbook example of back-slapping self-congratulation taking precedence over honest, unbiased public service.

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