I love just about all Clint Eastwood movies, but Richard Jewell is in a class by itself. This one was personal. This one Clint Eastwood made for me. Only a handful of people in America know what it’s like to be Richard Jewell and unfortunately, I’m one of them. Mr. Eastwood got it right. Two thumbs up!
I rarely ever go to the movies. Nearly seven years after my acquittal in the shooting death of Trayvon Martin, I still have to be very cautious about where I go. A few years ago, a man took a shot at me and missed my head by inches. He will be in prison for another dozen years or so, but every time I see my name trend on Twitter, I am reminded there are people out there who would like to pick up where the assassin left off.
My gut reaction in watching Richard Jewell was sadness. The film reminded me just how much heartache an accusation this heinous puts a parent through. For those who don’t know the story, Richard found a suspicious backpack in Centennial Park in Atlanta during the 1996 Olympics. He alerted authorities to the backpack and helped clear the area.
Two people were killed when the bomb inside the backpack went off, but many more would have been killed if Richard had not acted on his suspicions. For a brief period, people called him a hero, but then the media and the FBI turned on him and accused him without evidence of being an attention-seeking security guard. They call it “trial by media,” and it is beyond horrible.
This movie hit home. I absolutely identified. Richard and I were both cop wannabes — or so the media told us. We were both gullible. We both believed law enforcement had our best interests at heart. We both believed reporters wanted the truth. We both believed everyone was basically good and then we both realized what fools we had been to believe all that.
As I sat there in the dark, my stomach in knots, I found myself wishing Richard was still alive so I could reach out and hug him and tell him, “Yes, Richard, you are a hero.”
I know as only a few others do how gut wrenching it is to be at the center of the storm like this. You can only imagine what people think of you. You worry that everyone thinks you are the monster the media created.
