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Posting in the Crazy House

It is painful, even excruciating, to realize that my fellow humans may lack empathy, embrace cruelty, and/or renounce rationality. Somehow our ability to put innocent people in prison after a careful process involving highly trained scientists, police, lawyers, and judges and leave them there or even kill them (Todd Willingham, Earl Washington, Anthony Yarbough and many others besides Amanda Knox) is worse than anything else we humans do; even a war in which 50 million die is not, in some ways, quite so unreasonable as Yarbough spending 20 years of his life in prison or Willingham being executed or Washington’s confessions to numerous crimes (including giving Eve the apple) being believed.

Knox, with her case followed by millions and, at length, spawning books, BBC documentaries, movies, comments on news sites, comments at the same level from Harvard professors (maybe Dershowitz should write for the tabloids), and widespread incredulous outrage from human beings, has created a whole new class of injustice in which it’s not just the system failing us, it’s whole nations, whole peoples. Perhaps this is why I, without good reason, think about the Knox case so much even though others have suffered more.

As an exercise, I posted comments on a news site in which I argued that Amanda and Raffaele were guilty. I did this to the best of my ability but did not stoop to leaving out crucial facts or making up nonsense. I tried to argue powerfully, eloquently, and honestly, but did not entirely eschew the occasional low blow. Of course, when one does this, it reads as nonsense. Nevertheless, I did learn something. The mindless people – not stupid people as they do not all have low IQ’s as Dershowitz proves – who believe in the modern-day Perugian fairy tale have, I think, an extremely simple set of beliefs: first, no one would tell police, under any circumstances whatever, that they were present at a murder when they were, in fact, not; second, once you have what amounts to a confession, all other evidence may be interpreted from the standpoint of guilty until proven innocent. Indeed, Massei’s verdict overtly reverses the usual standard of justice. This is assuming, of course, that at least some of the people who say they believe Knox is guilty actually do believe this and are not simply monsters who know she is innocent. Maybe they just think it’s all a big game. Who knows?

What follows below are two comments I posted on news sites where the typical commenters are, for the most part, “people” who cause me to doubt what species I belong to.

Comment 1:

Knox and Sollecito are obviously deranged but dangerously clever. They used a kitchen knife to make a wound that looked like it came from a pocket knife and then they cleaned the kitchen knife exceptionally well and then used it again for cooking and just tossed it into a drawer with half a dozen other knives. They probably figured no one would test a knife that didn’t seem to fit the wound. But they thought wrong. The investigators not only zeroed in on the correct knife right away, but they also didn’t stop after three tests on the knife came up negative for blood, for anything human, and for any type of DNA. Thank goodness they broke international protocols and did the amplification procedure anyway on the apparently-clean knife. Their positive result matching Meredith’s DNA obviously does NOT mean the lab was contaminated; in fact, it means Knox and Sollecito didn’t clean the knife quite well enough. The pair of murderers left at least one cell from Meredith on the knife which the PCR procedure amplified into the DNA equivalent of a billion cells which were then analyzed and matched to Meredith (it was a perfect match, absolutely unassailable unless you believe the contamination theory).

And thank goodness for the persistence of the Perugia cops. They knew Knox was lying and they knew she and Lumumba had killed Meredith. They explained this at the post-arrest press conference: “Initially, the American gave a version of events we knew was not correct. She buckled and made an admission of facts we knew were correct and from that we were able to bring them all in.” Later police explained that they used what they called the psychological method to solve the crime, essentially studying Knox’s behavior and reactions to identify her as the killer. They clearly succeeded and they are clearly a formidable investigative team.

It was just a matter of breaking Ms. Knox. Once they got her to admit that Lumumba had sex with Meredith and then killed her, they were able to arrest both the Congolese bar owner and the Seattle native Knox. Later the cops were able to nail Knox for slander when they found out that actually the bloody handprint belonged to Rudy Guede who removed Meredith’s blood-soaked jeans and then sexually assaulted her while she was choking to death on her own blood (the blood on the front of her jeans and Guede’s DNA in her vagina make it clear that the fatal wound preceded removal of the clothing). Knox was there of course (as she admitted) and knew what really happened, so she was obviously purposely misleading the police when she described the sexual assault and the murder in the wrong order. Really Knox should have gotten two extra prison terms for her vile slander: one for saying Lumumba raped Meredith and one for saying he killed her. It’s a good thing Knox’s boss had enough customers that night to give him a minute-by-minute alibi completely covering the time that Knox, Sollecito, and Guede spent murdering poor Meredith.

If only the cops had collected the bra clasp early on when they first picked it up. If they hadn’t left it lying around for so long (46 days, come on guys!), they would have been able to identify all four (or five or six or more) of the male DNA signatures on the bra clasp and arrest ALL of the people who were involved in Meredith’s murder. We’ll never know exactly how many people committed this murder because of this serious oversight on the part of the cops who otherwise did a terrific job except for a few mistakes: not taking the body temperature of the victim when she was discovered, not taking proper care of the computer hard drives they took into custody, and, worst of all, allowing the bra strap itself to degrade so that it cannot be retested to 1) confirm Sollecito’s presence in the room and 2) identify the rest of the gang. When I think of all the murderers who are still at large, a whole deranged group who murdered that poor girl for fun, it makes me sick.

The true genius of the pair of murderers we do know about is the cleanup job they did or seemed to do. What most people don’t realize is that they didn’t simply clean up their DNA and leave Guede’s. They clearly planned the whole thing from the beginning. They undoubtedly both wore gloves and probably caps too to prevent any hairs from them from becoming part of the crime scene. They must have purposely let Guede do most of the dirty work and they undoubtedly thought that no one would believe that they could have killed Meredith without leaving any DNA behind (except for the bra clasp which they probably figured the police wouldn’t bother collecting – and they were almost correct).

This explains why they acted in such an obvious way, kissing each other at a murder scene(!); they thought their DNA trick would prevent anyone from suspecting them no matter how they acted. But they didn’t realize that the Perugian police would see right through their plan. The police and forensic investigators weren’t fooled, they didn’t focus on the lack of DNA at the scene AND they kept at it with Sollecito’s kitchen knife until they got a positive result AND they collected the bra clasp eventually AND, most important of all, they broke Knox who obviously isn’t nearly as tough or smart as she thinks she is.

Most importantly, we have to thank Judge Massei and the rest of the panel for finding them guilty in the first trial. Faced with the luminol footprints that tested negative for blood, he could have just left it at that, but he realized that luminol reacts to blood and, just because one test seems to show that there was no blood and just because the luminol print could, theoretically, be bleach or fruit juice, doesn’t mean you have to discount this evidence. Also, he knew that the swab taken in the bathroom sink that showed Meredith’s and Knox’s DNA mixed together could have been explained away because Knox used the bathroom. But Judge Massei, looking at all the evidence together, was able to conclude that the luminol footprints probably actually were blood and that the swab with the mixed DNA in the bathroom probably actually was a result of the murder. Of course, these things alone might not have been enough for a conviction. The key for Massei was seeing the big picture, from Knox’s admission that she was present when Lumumba raped and murdered Meredith all the way to the luminol footprints and the mixed DNA in the sink.

And, for the record, all police interrogations are a little harsh. It doesn’t mean all confessions should be ignored. Even if one of the cops gave Knox a smack in the back of the head to jog her memory (this cannot be proven and there was no bruising or any identifiable injury at all), it wouldn’t matter. She obviously needed a little help to do what she needed to do and tell the police what happened.

Comment 2:

I really don’t see why everyone thinks I’m being sarcastic. People who agree with me that Knox was there think I’m really a Knox supporter and Knox supporters are complimenting me. It’s surreal.

I think Knox was there because she said she was there and I believe her. It’s as simple as that. I don’t believe the backpedaling she’s done since her statements at 1:30 am and 5:45 am on 6 November 2007.

She said, and I quote, “I do not recall whether Meredith was there or arrived afterward. I struggle to remember these moments, but Patrik had sex with Meredith with whom he was infatuated, but I do not recall whether Meredith had been threatened beforehand. I recall confusedly that he killed her.”

That statement speaks for itself. Her other statement about 4 hours later reads in part as follows:

“I cannot recall how much time they stayed together in the room but can only say that at a certain point I heard Meredith screaming and I, frightened, covered my ears. Then I don’t remember anything anymore, I am very confused in my head. I do not recall whether Meredith was screaming and if [I? she?](*) also heard thuds [tonfi] because I was involved, but I was imagining what could have happened.”

Again, this is pretty clear and stands on its own.

I realize that Lumumba didn’t (and would never) kill anyone. He’s a gentle, decent man. But he never admitted to being present when Meredith was killed. Guede did admit this as did Knox. I realize also that no one had sex with Meredith and that the brutal attack came before the sexual assault.

Here’s what I think happened: Probably Knox let Guede in, helped him subdue Meredith, slashed her “friend’s” throat with the kitchen knife while Guede held her down (or perhaps it was the other way around), then helped him remove Meredith’s bloody jeans, and then watched in fascination as he fingered Meredith’s vagina as she was dying. Knox, of course, was smart enough to wear gloves. Feeling a little guilty about having helped to murder her housemate and “friend”, she covered the victim’s body. This is something the police, who spoke at length about the psychological method they use to solve crimes, realized that only a woman would do.

The fact that Knox twice says she was confused and says “do not recall” or “I was imagining” or “I don’t/struggle to remember” seven times in the above excerpts doesn’t mean we should ignore her confession. She confessed. Period. She, like Guede, is obviously a very confused person with many serious issues.

It’s true that her confession doesn’t fit in some ways with the actual crime as it happened and it’s also true that experts say that confessions that get the details wrong may be false confessions. But Knox did get a detail correct. As others have pointed out here, Knox said the victim screamed and that she (Knox) covered her ears. That seems like a pretty precise detail to me.

Once a Knox supporter (I used to be one but I changed my mind) realizes that the confession should be taken for what it is, it is easy enough to realize that the other evidence, such as the kitchen knife, should not be discounted.

Without the confession, the fact that the knife was tested for blood (TMB) and this test was negative and that it was tested for anything human (“species-specific test”) and this was also negative and that it was tested for DNA of any kind (Q-bit fluorometer) and this was a third negative would lead me to doubt the knife evidence. But the police knew Knox had confessed. They knew she was guilty, so they did the PCR amplification in spite of the three negative tests and did get a positive match to Meredith Kercher’s DNA (there is no question about this match as others have pointed out).

As Italian jurists have repeatedly explained, an “osmotic” evaluation of the evidence, in which each piece of evidence affects the evaluation of each other piece of evidence so that the evidence may be seen as a whole, allows us to conclude that the DNA found as a result of the PCR amplification was NOT due to contamination and was in fact on the knife from the beginning despite the three negative tests.

And suppose it was contamination after all. Knox supporters should remember: she confessed to being present when Meredith died.

NOTE: The second comment actually received a neutral response from a guilter and it showcases I think the power of scenarios. When you just make up what might have happened, as is legal in Italian courtrooms, you encourage all concerned to suspend disbelief as if watching a movie. The result: reality and logic go out the window.

Down the Rabbit Hole with Amanda Knox: Forsaking Legal Shangri-la

In polite society, we are supposed to presume an accused person is innocent and piously lay the burden of proof squarely upon the shoulders of the prosecution. Few of us actually do that, however, when evaluating a case. How can we? Even as members of a jury, it is difficult or perhaps even impossible for human beings to avoid saying to themselves, “Suppose she’s guilty, what would that look like?”

“Innocent until proven guilty” is legal Shangri-la, a perfect world that even the most disciplined juror is likely to depart from at some point, perhaps fleetingly, but more likely for a modest interval. Let us do that here, openly, with the Amanda Knox case. Let us admit that part of anyone’s decision process must be to assume guilt and see where it leads.

Amanda Knox was Meredith Kercher’s housemate and does not have an airtight alibi. Thus, she may have murdered Ms. Kercher and we will assume she did just that. She had means if her boyfriend (Raffaele Sollecito) and Rudy Guede were willing to help her as the prosecution theorized. Knox did not have an identifiable motive unless there was something going on between her and Meredith that no one knew about, which is of course possible. She certainly had plenty of opportunity as Meredith was home alone on 1 November 2007 and Knox was close by with keys to the house.

Means? Maybe. Motive? No. Opportunity? Yes.

The first hurdle we must cross with our presumption of guilt is Rudy Guede. A drifter/burglar, Guede was present in the room when Kercher died; he fled to Germany the next day after spending time at a dance club the night of the murder. On the run in Germany, short of cash and sleeping on trains, he spoke to his friend via Skype and described the events that caused him to literally have Meredith’s blood on his hands. He first told his friend that he wasn’t in the house at all, but then said he was there and had been making out with a willing Kercher when he left her briefly to go to the bathroom. He heard the doorbell ring and then heard Kercher scream at which point he left the bathroom, fought with her assailant – a man slightly shorter than himself who insulted him in Italian and then ran off – and finally tried to save Meredith who was bleeding to death. He said Knox was not there and indicated he didn’t know who Sollecito was – by this time, both were in jail. Guede also said that Meredith had complained to him of missing money and, at the same time, told him she had quarreled with Amanda. There is no evidence Kercher had any prior association with Guede.

The police heard every word of the Skype conversation.

Since we assume Knox was present at the murder scene, it must be the case that Guede was purposely concealing her participation. Based on his conversation with his friend, he seemed to be trying to make it look like Amanda was innocent of the murder, but guilty of stealing Meredith’s money. Guede of course is not a reliable witness: he had been arrested for burglary a week before but had been released, he was implicated by hard evidence in two other burglaries, and he almost certainly murdered Kercher. Since we don’t have any reason to trust him – he dramatically changes his story even during the brief conversation with his friend – we are free to discount his statements and to assume Knox and Guede are guilty.

However, Guede’s claim that Amanda was not there is bolstered by the physical evidence. Quarts of Meredith Kercher’s blood were spilled in the room. Guede himself was covered in blood: he left bloody handprints and bloody footprints in multiple places in the room. He also left DNA traces on the victim’s clothing and on her purse and inside her body. Knox lived in the house, but there was no trace of her in Kercher’s room at all: no DNA; no handprints, gloved or otherwise; no footprints; nothing. (Small footprints that could have belonged to Amanda or to her housemates were found using luminol, but these tested negative for blood.)

So we have one unreliable witness as well as missing physical evidence indicating Knox was NOT present at the crime scene. But she may still have been there. We can say that in addition to being willing to kill for no apparent reason and being surprisingly persuasive, Amanda Knox was also extraordinarily cautious: she undoubtedly wore gloves (probably multiple layers) and seems to have convinced Guede to lie for her during any phone conversations he might have after the murder.

And Ms. Knox was exceptionally well informed. She apparently knew Guede’s MO for breaking and entering and attempted to duplicate his usual entry method by breaking her other housemate’s window (Filomena’s) with a rock. Thus, she set up a scene that looked a lot like something the Perugia cops were rather familiar with – a Guede break-in. It was good enough to hoodwink the second jury who acquitted her and allowed her to walk away after serving 4 years in prison (Knox returned to Seattle in 2011). Her handiwork, though well done, was not sufficiently professional to fool the first and third juries who saw through it and convicted her not only of the murder but also of staging a crime scene.

Our presumption of guilt remains intact although it does now depend upon Knox having some unusual abilities and knowledge. One last hurdle remains.

After committing what was almost the crime of the century, a dangerously-persuasive, glove-wearing, burglary-scene-staging, no-motive-needed murderess made an interesting pair of decisions that are somewhat troubling: first, she retained no lawyer; second, she offered the police her full, unreserved cooperation. Her two surviving housemates hired lawyers immediately, made statements with their lawyers present, and went home. Ms. Knox chose instead to spend all night at the police station the same day her victim’s body was discovered.

Our presumed guilty case must now be reconciled with this behavior. In the days after the murder, Knox spent 20-40 hours (accounts vary) at the police station frequently repeating her claim that she was at her boyfriend’s house the night of the murder, but finally broke down sometime after midnight on the fourth day and admitted she was present at her house while her housemate was being raped and murdered. Unfortunately, her statements are filled with uncertainty and, of even more concern, she got the details wrong. This presents us with our most intransigent problem thus far.

Here are excerpts from her two statements, taken down by police in Italian and later translated into English. One statement was signed by Knox at 1:45 am and the other at 5:45 am on 6 November 2007.

I felt confused . . . 
I do not recall whether Meredith was there or arrived afterward . . .
I struggle to remember these moments . . .
I do not recall whether Meredith had been threatened beforehand . . .
I recall confusedly that he
[P. Lumumba] killed her . . .

I am very confused in my head . . .
I heard Meredith screaming . . .
I don’t recall whether Meredith was screaming . . .
I imagined what could have happened . . .
When I woke up . . . I was in bed with my boyfriend.

Patrick Lumumba, a bar owner, was Amanda’s boss and was, as usual, at his bar making his living; he raped no one, murdered no one.

Normally, “breaking” a suspect and getting a load of garbage for your trouble is very bad news. In fact, police usually withhold some details from the press hoping to hear them related by the suspect: a confession containing unpublicized details is rock solid, unshakeable. Knox’s confession was, from this standpoint, a disaster: A bizarre fairy tale, it was every bit as accurate as a wild guess.

Knox’s cooperative behavior and fabricated confession need not derail our presumption of guilt, however. Consider the following: “The naiveté was pretense; in reality, she was a daring young woman, overconfident and arrogant, eager to play cat and mouse with police interrogators. When they finally broke her, she gave them nothing but nonsense as a ruse in a last-ditch effort to save herself.”

In fact, Knox’s claim that Lumumba murdered her housemate was itself a crime (calumny) for which she would later be convicted. As for the interrogation, we do have to admit no lawyer was present which made it technically inadmissible in the murder trial. But this changes nothing. We remain free to assume what many say is obvious: she was lying about Lumumba but telling the truth about watching her housemate die.

How is our “house of guilt” doing? We’ve constructed it assiduously; however, the support beams do appear to be a trifle weak. We would be much happier if Knox had mentioned Guede in her early morning breakdown (even police didn’t know about him at that time) or if she had left some DNA on Meredith’s body or if Guede had told his friend she was the ringleader.

Unfortunately, as it stands, it wouldn’t take much of a temblor to bring our presumption of guilt down upon our heads. In Italy, by the way, if there happens to be an earthquake and if, God forbid, your house should fall on you and kill you, your family can actually charge seismologists with a crime. The seismologists might even get prison sentences. (Yes, really.) Now suppose our house of guilt should collapse. You will be crushed, rhetorically, but you will have no legal recourse, even in Italy. Thus, I am bound to remind you in the most emphatic possible way, you can walk out of this little house we’ve built any time. Please remember, earthquakes of all kinds are quite common in Italy. I’m just saying.

Let’s get back to the story. It is difficult to fathom the reasons for Lumumba’s arrest. The night of the murder, he was – surprise! – pouring drinks for customers. Knox told police he had texted her telling her not to come in as it was a slow night.

But in the 1:45 am statement – written by police in Italian and signed by Knox – Knox changed her story:

I received a message on my cellular phone from Patrik, who told me that the premises would remain closed that evening, because there were no customers, and thus I would not need to go to work. I responded to the message by telling him that we would see each other at once; I then left the house, telling my boyfriend I had to go to work.  

Police might have wondered how Knox got it into her pretty little head that this popular, gentle, family man, who had been living and working peacefully in Perugia for many years, had killed Meredith. “What are you smoking, Ms. Knox?” was one possible response. They could have brought Lumumba in for questioning and verified his alibi. They didn’t.

Virtually the moment the exhausted college kid “remembered” leaving her boyfriend’s house, meeting her boss, and sitting in her kitchen while Patrick raped and murdered her housemate who may or may not have been screaming, police arrested the nonplussed Lumumba.

They held the law-abiding businessman for two media-filled weeks with the result that his business shut down permanently; years have passed and he still has not been able to re-open his bar. Later, police indicated they were shocked, shocked to find out he was serving customers when Meredith was murdered.

No one knows what they were thinking. I can feel the ground shaking.

Amanda Knox has repeatedly claimed she was heavily pressured by police interrogators and told exactly what she was supposed to “remember.” According to Knox, the Lumumba-dunnit squad came up with their own nonsensical narrative and forced it on the one surviving housemate who hadn’t hired a lawyer. Perhaps she’s lying.

It’s too bad the interrogation wasn’t recorded. Police recorded every one of Knox’s cell phone calls starting 3 November, but unfortunately neglected to record the interrogation. The lead prosecutor, a man by the name of Giuliano Mignini, explained why in a CNN interview: Perugia’s police had “significant budget problems,” he said.

No one has ever calculated the total amount of money spent investigating the Knox case, so we can’t  compare it to the estimated cost of establishing a colony on Mars or to the value of the gold in Fort Knox. We can only say they spent lavishly. In addition to the phone taps, police were recording Amanda and Raffaele as they conversed alone in the waiting room. Later, they recorded conversations on prison phones as well as almost forty thousand calls made by Sollecito’s family members over a multi-year period. But there was not enough money to record the interrogation. Another decision in the difficult to fathom category.

The air of mystery surrounding the behavior of Perugia’s police is becoming a dense fog. The windows are rattling.

When the sun rose after Knox’s wee-hours Lumumba-dunnit session, it was the 6th of November 2007. Knox, Sollecito, and Lumumba were all jailed. At a triumphant press conference, the chief of police made the following statement.

Initially, the American gave a version of events we knew was not correct. She buckled and made an admission of facts we knew were correct and from that we were able to bring them all in.

Mr. de Felice meant to brag but instead let the cat out of the bag. And “difficult to fathom,” found a whole new level. There is a low-pitched rumbling now. I do hope you got out of the house.

The guilty 20-year-old American girl we’ve been concocting with no history of violence and no motive who teamed up with someone she didn’t know to murder her housemate and got this man to lie to his friend for her and who somehow left no trace at a horrific crime scene while also staging a burglary fitting the man’s MO and who then practically lived at an Italian police station for four days – an act, it must be said, whose stupidity is so extreme it cannot be measured on any normal scale – where she chose to put an end to an aggressive interrogation (remain silent, IDIOT girl!!!) by confirming the cops’ ridiculous theories, all the better to fool us, is not going to come into focus, now or ever, despite all our attempts to conjure her.

The chief of police and the lead prosecutor themselves wrecked our presumption of guilt. While Guede was sleeping on trains in Germany, these public officials were busy dreaming up a “version of events” they “knew were correct,” putting their story into a young woman’s mouth during an unrecorded interrogation, and then, relying on what has to be the most hesitant “admission of facts” in the long history of interrogations, arresting the husband, father, and local bar owner known as Patrick Lumumba, a man we can confidently describe as the least-likely suspect in all of Perugia.

Knox and Sollecito were likewise unlikely suspects, to put it mildly, but that would be remedied. It was just a matter of rearranging the pieces on the chessboard while your opponent gets a cup of espresso. Police and prosecutors have provided us with many years’ worth of sick entertainment with their willingness to do whatever was necessary to make Knox and her hapless boyfriend look like suspects who might be detained by competent officials.

The twisted story of the vicious, seductive, insane Foxy Knoxy, written with the assistance of the tabloids, began in earnest when police released without comment a terrifying photograph of the blood-soaked bathroom where Knox had showered the morning after the murder, before she and her unfortunate boyfriend called the police. Knox claimed, incredibly, that she didn’t realize anything was wrong with the bathroom. Her bizarre, psychopathic behavior is truly amazing.

Except for the ‘truly’ part. The bathroom wasn’t actually covered in blood – there were a few drops on the sink and a dull footprint on a bathmat, that’s it. Actual pictures of the bathroom found in court documents are night-and-day different from the nightmarish vision released by police.

Here’s what happened: The police, while investigating the murder, treated the entire bathroom with phenolphthalein, a chemical that turns a delightful pink after a little while. The cops then snapped a dramatic photograph and – wink, wink, nudge, nudge – released the pic to a hungry press corps.

Stories about the shower in the bloody bathroom are still being told.

It doesn’t stop there. Prosecutors claimed, before the first trial, they had receipts that proved Knox had purchased bleach the morning after the murder in order to wash the house clean of her DNA. No such proof made it to the trial, however. Cleaning your DNA from a murder scene while leaving someone else’s untouched is impossible in any case, but that’s unimportant if your only goal is to get a million idiots to line up behind you.

It’s hard to imagine, but it gets worse. Once Knox was in prison, awaiting trial, a prison doctor told her she was HIV-positive and got her to list all her past lovers. This list was – you guessed it – promptly leaked to the press by the next corrupt official down the line. Amanda was of course perfectly healthy.

I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice. Hippocrates did not protect Amanda Knox and space considerations force us to stop here, with the phony HIV diagnosis. There is no need to continue in any event. We can simply say the list of prosecution tricks is a lot longer than the list of Knox’s lovers and leave it at that.

Here, in the land of rationality, we did not fall for the stories promulgated by the bizarre alliance between the tabloids and the prosecution, but we did assume guilt. Indeed, we labored mightily, but failed to create a portal by which Amanda-Knox-the-deadly-siren might enter the real world. We are left with the horribly banal: beautiful Meredith in the prime of life cut down by a nobody with a knife because she arrived home ten minutes too soon.

Our presumption of Knox’s guilt buckled, you might say, under its own weight. If even a presumption of guilt cannot stand, then Knox is innocent beyond a reasonable doubt. Of course, we still have some doubt. Maybe she did an amazing job pretending to be a naive young girl (she sure fooled her parents!). There is always doubt. But reasonable doubt? Not in this universe.

Post Script

After the police had spent four days and countless hours of expensive overtime for the interrogation team breaking a delicate young woman suffering from trauma and sleep deprivation, threatening her with prison, telling her that her boyfriend had disputed her account (he had not), getting her to doubt her own memory, and convincing her to fabricate a nonsensical story implicating both herself and her innocent boss, they shuffled off to her boyfriend’s house and found a knife in a drawer that could not possibly have been the murder weapon (it was much too large) and took it to the lab and tested it. Not surprisingly, lab tests confirmed no DNA on the knife and no blood on the knife.

HOWEVER, the lab proceeded with the full testing procedure anyway in violation of every international standard in the book and performed a duplication process called PCR capable of producing significant DNA from a single cell. This lab had tested dozens of samples containing large quantities of the victim’s DNA and was not, by any stretch of the imagination, properly equipped to guard against single-cell contamination. Of course, they got a positive result for the victim’s DNA on Raffaele Sollecito’s too-large kitchen knife and the prosecution declared they had found the murder weapon.

The violation of international standards by the police lab was confirmed by independent court-appointed DNA-testing experts at one of the most prestigious universities in Italy; their report was scathing and stated unequivocally that the knife could easily have become contaminated with a microscopic trace of the victim’s DNA while it was being handled and analyzed at the police lab.

Given that the knife was actually too large to have been the murder weapon anyway, you might wonder how the prosecutors kept observers in the courtroom from laughing at them. They came up with the following theory, beautiful in its simplicity: Meredith Kercher was murdered with two knives, not one. Guede and his accomplices grabbed her, pulled her hair, struck her, sexually assaulted her, and stabbed her twice in the throat with a small knife. This knife hit bone and slipped, cutting Guede’s hands. The trio of murderers then switched knives. Since the final, slashing wound could, theoretically, have been made by any sharp object, the prosecutors ask us to imagine that it was the kitchen knife, not the original smaller knife, that made the wound that left Meredith Kercher choking to death on her own blood.

And now we have the prosecution’s case in its full glory and at its full power. The two-knife theory explains why there was a microscopic trace of Kercher’s DNA on Knox’s boyfriend’s knife which explains why Knox eventually admitted to being present at the murder scene which explains why the Guede break-in appeared to have been staged which shows how diabolical Knox really is which helps to explain how she managed to avoid leaving any traces at the murder scene, why she thought she didn’t need a lawyer, and how she succeeded in confusing the police with her misleading accusation of an innocent man. As far as how she got Guede and Sollecito to go along with her desire to end her housemate’s life, that’s easy enough to explain: just look at how seductive she is. Add in some drug use and don’t worry overmuch about a motive and you’ve got yourself a murder.

We’ve come full circle. Previously, our presumption of guilt collapsed rather spectacularly. But I had withheld information. Is it now possible, keeping in mind the two-knife theory and the DNA evidence, to imagine Knox killing Kercher?

Certainly, if you’re Meredith’s parent or sibling, you are going to reasonably ask, “What exactly is my daughter’s/sister’s DNA doing on Raffaele Sollecito’s kitchen knife?” Explaining that it was a laboratory error (oops!) may, understandably, not carry much weight with the Kercher family. Even though the prosecution has abandoned logic and honesty and simply engaged in a witch-hunt, the Kerchers may have legitimate questions about the DNA testing. They have no motive to falsely accuse anyone, so we must assume the Kerchers really believe Knox and Sollecito murdered their beloved.

For the rest of us, however, the case is quite clear. We humans are good at telling stories like the two-knife theory. We could make up a story about how you must have paid Guede to murder to Meredith. That trip to the bank you made in October 2007 was rather suspicious. Why did you go to the bank on that particular day when it’s not your usual routine? Are you saying you can’t remember what your account balance was? Are you saying you suddenly gave up on years of good financial habits that particular October? We know you’re lying. With a dozen cops, the tag-team interrogation technique, and a few credible threats, we could have quite a party. Maybe we’ll even take you to a foreign country to have our little celebration. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you will enjoy it much.

Most people involved with the prosecution or on the various juries presumably know Knox and Sollecito are innocent; after all, they have quite a bit of information at their disposal, more than enough to prove the them that the two kids are innocent. It would be interesting to subject a number of the participants in what is essentially a noir farce to lie-detector tests in an effort to determine who actually harbors irrational beliefs and who is feigning irrationality. However, this assumes the prosecutors and jury members have actually taken the trouble to form an opinion about the case. They may not have. A child can wholeheartedly believe something he or she knows nothing about, simply parroting a parental belief. A weak student can memorize an idea and spit it back without having thought about it. For all we know, most of the people involved in the Knox case, including jurors, have no opinion about it at all!

 

The Tragedy of Dershowitz

I just watched him talking about how Amanda Knox could, if she had been tried in this country, possibly have received the death penalty because of the “considerable” evidence against her.

This is very frightening to me. The fact that a man like Dershowitz, a brilliant Harvard professor, a legal expert, could throw all reason into the trash and say something so utterly preposterous is deeply, deeply terrifying. It means anything goes. Perhaps I should buy a gun. Without reason, there is no civilization; we might as well be chimpanzees.

It’s not simply a matter of a difference of opinion. Whether or not we should keep soldiers in Afghanistan is an opinion. The Knox case has nothing to do with opinion. Saying there is “considerable” evidence against her is like saying there is “considerable” evidence that the holocaust never happened. It’s such nonsense that even talking about it is costly because you are lending legitimacy to an absurd idea.

There are many people who, like Dershowitz, give up any intellectual credentials they may have and make comments that are so stupid they can only be described as obscene. It is difficult to provide a clear, sensible explanation for this behavior: it could stem from a desire for attention or perhaps it is an indication that we are fundamentally irrational as a species, destined to never go far beyond the techno-chimp stage or maybe we should think of it in religious terms as ever-present evil manifesting itself. I don’t know.

No matter how you look at it, if some supposedly serious person “reasons” as follows: “heads I win; tails you lose,” you immediately know person in question is intellectually a child, incapable of adult reasoning. That Dershowitz, who I have to believe knows better, pulls this off while keeping a straight face (mostly) is certainly a sight to see.

Dershowitz ticked off five pieces of “very, very considerable” evidence, each one more nonsensical than the last, but I have the stomach right now to discuss only the first piece of “evidence” he mentioned. Of course, no one who has given up reason is going to be convinced by my discussion, but the rest of us need to see Dershowitz and many others who hold positions of respect and trust for what they really are: mere prancing royalty. So here we go.

Four days after Meredith Kercher was murdered, Knox was at the police station for her second all-night session with police. Knox had spent many hours during the three days previous at the police station, including the entire first night after the murder. During the final all-night session, the police may have pressured her to some extent. This is not necessarily wrong as the police do have a job to do, as long as they don’t overdo. The interview or interrogation (call it whatever you want) was not recorded and no lawyer was present even though the interrogation of a suspect is inadmissible under Italian law unless a lawyer is present. This fact doesn’t necessarily mean all that much either. Police may have decided not to do an admissible interrogation for any number of reasons – they needed information so perhaps they decided it was worth cutting corners if they were able to find the killer. Police all over the world will sometimes push the envelope and bend the rules to get results.

You’ll notice I am being extremely charitable to the Italian police here, taking their side as much as possible without throwing away all logic. The paragraph above is one-sided, but not absurdly so. Thus, I can present the prosecution’s side, but I am not allowed, as a serious commentator, to spout absurdities. If I do, I have sunk, like Dershowitz, to the level of the tabloids.

Let’s get on with the story. After maintaining repeatedly that she was at her boyfriend’s the night of the murder, Knox broke down sometime after midnight on the fourth day. She signed two statements that said she was present at her house when her housemate was murdered and that her boss, with whom she had had a text exchange the evening of the murder, was also there and that it was he who killed her housemate. These statements can be called confessions, admissions, or just statements, whatever you prefer.

Now comes the part where Dershowitz throws away his reputation and his standing. How do we interpret Knox’s statements about her boss? What are we allowed to say whilst retaining our credibility? We know Knox’s boss, a bar owner, was nowhere near the house that night – he had a rock-solid alibi.  Thus, Knox’s confession did include supporting details that only a witness or perpetrator could recite accurately, but the details were nonsense. What police got from Knox was no more accurate than if they had interrogated a random person off the street and asked them to make up a scenario for what might have happened the night of the murder.

Now what? Heads I win, tails you lose? Yes, says Dershowitz, this is how we do things downtown.

Had Knox’s confession contained actual details about the crime that were not common knowledge, this would obviously strengthen it as evidence. Accurate details of this sort are called “corroborating statements” in the interrogation business. In fact, a recorded confession containing corroborating statements is extremely strong evidence and could, by itself, be enough evidence for a jury to convict a suspect. Heads I win.

However, Amanda Knox provided no corroborating statements; she tried to, but they were fabrications. Aha! says Mr. Dershowitz. These fabricated statements, like correct statements, ALSO point to Amanda Knox’s guilt. Tails you lose.

Clever, clever girl she is, providing false details about the crime in a vain effort to throw us off. But she can’t fool us; we know she’s guilty. I’m Alan Dershowitz, I’m a Harvard professor, I understand logic. Heads I win, tails you lose. If she were tried in the U. S., she might very well get the death penalty (smile)! Oh, yes.

Of course, if you are an idiot and you begin with the premise that she is guilty, you will naturally interpret her apparent lack of knowledge about the crime as an attempt to throw us off the trail or confuse us or deflect blame from herself by implicating an innocent man. Knox knew her boss was at his bar that night surrounded by patrons, but this is irrelevant. It is obviously all part of her fiendish plot. Everything points to the guilt we know is there.

Knox’s ridiculous fabrication is actually exculpatory: As Dershowitz and every cop and every judge and every lawyer in the world knows, when a suspect confesses with fabricated details, we immediately have strong reason to doubt the person was even a witness much less the perpetrator.

When you include the fact that the police overtly treated Knox as a suspect but didn’t treat the interrogation in accordance with Italian law, you have an open and shut case of a coerced confession (the law was passed specifically to prevent coerced confessions). Italy’s highest court declared Knox’s confession inadmissible; needless to say, this has no effect on Dershowitz’s dazzling display of intellectual power.

“We know she’s a liar,” Dershowitz said. In fact, we know nothing of the sort. We know someone fabricated details about the murder during Knox’s late-night interrogation. Knox’s claim that it was the police who fabricated those details and pressured her to repeat them is entirely plausible and, in the absence of a recording, cannot be convincingly refuted.

Maybe all of this seems terribly complex and subject to many opinions. It is not. Knox got the details about the crime wrong in her confession. Period. She got it wrong. Dershowitz has chosen to interpret correct details as damning evidence AND also to interpret incorrect details as damning evidence. I would say his reasoning powers are at the level of sixth-grader, but this would be an insult to sixth-graders.

When Dershowitz dies, someone should scratch “Heads I win, tails you lose” on his gravestone.

Junk Science Can KIll

I’ve been reading up on the DNA testing that put Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito in prison for four years. They are free because the courts had the testing checked by an independent lab which concluded the original testing that convicted them was utter nonsense.

We’re not talking about a dispute among scientists here. We’re talking about the difference between science and believing that the moon is made of green cheese. Let me explain.

Genetic testing is pretty reliable but there is a new kind of testing called Low Copy Number (LCN) testing which is basically the same as the old testing but involves just a few cells and so is more delicate. LCN testing is controversial and many scientists say shouldn’t be used to put someone in prison.

There are some scientists who say LCN testing can be used if a series of precautions are taken. No scientist anywhere in the world (not a single one) says it’s okay to use LCN testing in court without these precautions.

Just so you know, here are the precautions that are mandatory when testing DNA from just a few cells. Suppose you are testing an alleged murder weapon for the victim’s DNA. First, the lab doing the test must never have had any of the victim’s DNA anywhere in it. Second, along with the murder weapon a control object must be collected from the same place and must be treated in exactly the same way and must test negative for the victim’s DNA (so if you take a knife from the alleged murderer’s house, you have to take a spoon as well and test that too). Third, the LCN test has to be done twice, once on half of your sample and then again to make sure your results are accurate. Fourth, the person doing the testing must not have access to the victim’s DNA profile so that it doesn’t influence the results (you can subconsciously try to make your profile match the one you know it is “supposed” to match) .

Let’s review: 1) separate lab; 2) control object; 3) double sample; 4) blind test.

Some scientists say if four out of four of these procedures are followed then LCN might be okay to use in a criminal trial. For the evidence that put two kids in jail who had no motive and no history of violence, ZERO out of four of the procedures were followed.

The Scientific Police in Italy conducted an LCN test of a knife in a lab and on machines that had tested items loaded with the victim’s DNA. For all we know, based on the records the lab has released, items with large amounts of the victim’s DNA could have been tested during the same hour as the knife. There was no control object – if there were, it would probably have tested positive. There was only one sample. Finally, the test was not done blind.

Not only that, the scientist who did the test was seen on video handling multiple pieces of evidence from the case without changing gloves each time as is required by strict international protocols.

So we have a demonstrably incompetent scientist doing a test that no geneticist on earth recognizes as valid producing evidence that was the sole cause of Amanda Knox’s conviction. The murder victim was covered with a veritable truckload of DNA from the real killer who is currently in jail. The idea of putting two additional people in jail under these circumstances is grotesque in its barbarism.

Even worse, with Knox out of jail and safe in Seattle, there was an appeal and the Italian bozos overturned the acquittal which had overturned the first conviction and produced a second conviction that is now being reviewed by Italy’s highest court which is presumably also staffed by bozos.

I’m not sure what the problem is here. It’s hard to understand how Italian officials can be so clueless. They aren’t stupid. The problem, I think, is the court doesn’t have an independent panel of experts with the power to exclude from any consideration what might be called “witch hunt science.”

A lot of smart people mix up science and magic. If one sorcerer says one thing and another sorcerer says the opposite, the response, even from a experienced judge, might be, “well, who can know the truth.” However for an expert panel of say five geneticists, many things that are controversial and confusing for a judge would be cut and dried for them.

Any five geneticists from anywhere in the world, would discount the knife DNA “evidence” in the Knox case. It would be an easy 5-0 decision. The only geneticist in the world who thinks the knife DNA is reasonable is the person who actually did the analysis. And actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if this woman knows that what she did is utter nonsense. Dr. Patrizia Stefanoni’s boss was actually hired by the prosecution as a consultant – so her job became effectively to find a DNA trace if it was humanly possible to do so and she did succeed, by literally ignoring every precaution in the book.

The bottom line: courts, including U. S. courts, need independent scientific panels with the power to block junk science from being used in the courtroom.

Knox is out of jail, but Todd Willingham, also obviously innocent, is dead, also due to junk science.

When There Are No Good Guys

I’ve been studying the Amanda Knox case recently. According to the prosecution, she and two men attacked her housemate, raping and killing her. One of the men was a known burglar who carried a knife and had threatened burglary victims with it on at least one occasion. This man left traces of his DNA inside the victim’s body and on the victim’s body and in the victim’s room along with bloody handprints and footprints and fled to Germany after the murder where he was caught.

Amanda and her boyfriend, Raffaele, supposedly helped this man kill Amanda’s housemate but left no DNA or other physical evidence at the scene. They returned to the house the morning after the murder and called police who broke down the door to the victim’s bedroom and discovered the body and a grisly scene. The prosecution says all three participated in the rape and murder, but Amanda and Raffaele removed their DNA and other traces while leaving an avalanche of forensic evidence implicating the known burglar.

The prosecution did not explain exactly how Amanda and Raffaele accomplished the selective forensic sanitization, but they did leak to the press a photo of the bathroom in Amanda’s house which, in the course of the investigation, had been treated with a chemical that made all the walls pink. It looked like blood was everywhere. Everyone following the case knew that Amanda had returned home from her boyfriend’s house the morning after the murder and, with the the victim still lying undiscovered behind a locked door, had taken a shower. So the photo with the blood seemingly everywhere made it look like Amanda had psychotically showered in a blood-drenched bathroom that would terrify any normal person. She had not of course, but the photo played well for the tabloids.

Jurors in Italy aren’t sequestered.

The prosecution also hired as consultant the chief of the forensics lab that was analyzing the physical evidence for the case. Dr. Renato Biondi was in charge of the lab and it was one of his subordinates, Dr. Patrizia Stefanoni, doing the analysis. This is legal in Italy since it is assumed the analysis will be done objectively.

Police had removed a knife from Amanda’s boyfriend’s kitchen that they thought looked very clean and that looked about the right size to have been the murder weapon. Of course, this knife had Amanda’s DNA on it since she used these utensils. Using shockingly sloppy techniques not in accord with any known standard of practice, Stefanoni managed to get a positive result despite the fact that the amount of DNA initially on the knife was too low to be measured prior to the magnification step carried out by the lab in which even a few cells-worth of DNA can be turned into enough material to analyze using something called a “polymerase chain reaction.” A random knife from a random person’s apartment would probably also have yielded a positive result, but the lab did not perform this routine control procedure.

The court, in its wisdom, ordered the test repeated by an independent lab in Rome. The second test found no blood on the alleged murder weapon, no DNA from the victim, no traces whatsoever from the victim, but they did verify that Amanda had handled that particular knife. The second lab took the trouble to carefully list all the departures from internationally accepted forensic procedures taken by the first lab.

The knife is still part of the evidence in the case. The jurors have access to all of the scientific back-and-forth between the two labs.

Let’s move on to the rest of the prosecution’s case.

Before Amanda’s arrest, she was interrogated all night long by a half-dozen or more police who (she says) yelled and threatened and hit until she implicated both her boss and herself. Her confession was ruled inadmissible because police had not recorded the interrogation, but she was charged with and convicted of slander for implicating an innocent man. Police later explained that they did not record the interrogation and confession because they were initially questioning Amanda as a witness and witness interviews need not be recorded under Italian law.

Of course, all jurors know all about the improperly-obtained confession even though it is not part of the court proceeding.

Let us summarize the prosecution’s case: we have a theory of a clean up that may be termed surprisingly adept, we have leaked photographs that spiced things up for the tabloids, we have an unrepeatable positive lab test on a knife from Raffaele’s kitchen. The prosecution says the second lab found nothing on the knife only because there was so little of the victim’s DNA present that it was used up during the first testing procedure. They also say the internationally recognized testing procedures that were not followed are just technicalities, so, they say, the knife should be considered damning evidence.

The prosecution also says Amanda acted like a guilty person trying to shift the blame when she fingered her boss in the wee hours of the morning while being interviewed/interrogated. Since the conversation wasn’t recorded, we don’t know exactly how she came to implicate her boss and also confess to being present at the scene of the crime. Amanda claims police told her what they wanted her to say and she eventually said it, but this cannot be verified or refuted because the interrogation wasn’t recorded (this is why unrecorded interrogations of suspects are illegal in Italy).

Looking at the prosecution’s argument, there is (obviously) no need for a defense.

We have a trial in which the accused, the defense, the prosecution, and the judge all know there is no case. It’s just a question of how gullible and/or ill-informed and/or unscientific and/or susceptible to tabloid journalism the jurors are. In an Italian courtroom, you need only a majority and it’s important (obviously) to have the press on your side.

The really scary part is this is a story with no good guys. If you look at the courtroom in Italy, it’s just the bad guys and their victims. My guess is the successful prosecutors, the subordinate in the testing lab, the respected judges, the rapt tabloid journalists, and the hard-working police all sleep pretty well each night.

I’m not a fire and brimstone kind of guy, but I can’t help hoping and praying that there is, in fact, a Hell and a devil and the eternal fires and the whole damn thing.

In case you didn’t know, Amanda and Raffaele were convicted and served 4 years before the conviction was overturned. Recently, another court declared them guilty again. Amanda is relatively safe in Seattle. Raffaele is in Italy and may go back to jail.

Shakespeare Short Version

Shakespeare didn’t write Shakespeare. The five current and former U.S. Supreme Court Justices (among others) who agree with this assessment are not crackpots.

Each of the five reasons listed below is sufficient, by itself, to warrant close examination of the authorship question. All are routinely ignored by mainstream academics. Taken together, these five pieces of evidence make a virtually airtight case against the traditional authorship attribution.

1.  The author of the sonnets said he was using a pseudonym. 

The only place Shakespeare speaks in the first person is in his sonnets. These poems/personal letters celebrate the life of the Earl of Southampton and remained private for many years after being written.

Sonnet 81: “Your name from hence immortal life shall have/Though I, once gone, to all the world must die.”

This leaves little room for interpretation.

You, Southampton, your name, your life, your beauty, your honor are being immortalized, now, by me, the greatest writer in the world. Though future generations must not know who I am, you will be celebrated for eternity. “Such virtue hath my pen.” He was right about both the virtue and about dying to all the world.

Indeed the name “Shakespeare” was a spectacular overnight success in the early 1590’s beginning with an epic poem lovingly dedicated to Southampton. Everything published after that under the Shakespeare byline might as well have been written in gold. By the time sonnet 81 was put on paper, the author’s immense immodesty about the power of his pen was more than justified.

The sonnets, however, could not be published just yet. Nevertheless, the “sugared sonnets” attracted attention despite being circulated only amongst the author’s “private friends.” This is according to a contemporary account.

Shakespeare knew the sonnets would not remain private forever: “Your monument shall be my gentle verse . . . And tongues to be your being shall rehearse.” The author (whoever he was) also knew he would not fare so well: “the earth can yield me but a common grave.”

Great poets in those days (whose existence was acknowledged!) were routinely honored with graves in Westminster Abbey. Shakespeare knew this was not for him. His work would be his only monument. Sonnet 55:

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmear’d with sluttish time.

Along these same lines, when Southampton was released from prison upon the death of Queen Elizabeth in 1603, Shakespeare gleefully wrote Sonnet 107:

Now with the drops of this most balmy time,
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes [succumbs],
Since, spite of him, I’ll live in this poor rhyme,
While he insults o’er dull and speechless tribes:
   And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
   When tyrants’ crests and tombs of brass are spent. 

The fame of a name? No. The honor of a tomb? No. He would live on, after a fashion, in his monumental poetry, but his name would be buried where his body was, as he said (again) in Sonnet 72.

Of course, less obvious readings of the sonnets are possible and, one could argue, are required if a cover-up of the true authorship perpetrated by Queen Elizabeth and continued by King James I seems too unlikely. Poems aren’t letters; they could mean anything. Or maybe the sonnets were commissioned.

Mainstream academics are typically 100% sure sonnet 81 and the others cannot be taken at face value. They could be right, they just don’t make a very good case for it by ignoring the whole question.

For ordinary, unbiased observers, “Though I, once gone, to all the world must die; the earth can yield me but a common grave” — written in a private poem to a close friend when the name Shakespeare was already spectacularly famous as the number one literary light in England — is a smoking gun.  

2. The author of the sonnets repeatedly referred to himself as middle aged.

The sonnets follow Southampton’s life from his refusal to marry the bride chosen for him to his release from prison, hence the assumption that “my lovely boy” is indeed the rash young earl. Identifying Southampton as the subject of the sonnets has never been controversial; he is by far the leading candidate.

Four sonnets in particular (2, 3, 22, and 73) disqualify the man from Stratford on the basis of age. William Shakespeare was 9 years older than Southampton.

Sonnet 2: A 26-year-old commoner from Stratford recalling the beauty of Southampton’s mother in “the lovely April of her prime” is, to say the least, suspicious. The man from Stratford had no opportunity whatsoever to know the Earl of Southampton’s mother in the lovely April of her prime or at any other time.

Sonnet 3: Did a 26 year-old commoner really write, “When forty winters shall besiege thy brow . . . ” lecturing the teenaged earl about how he needs to make babies?  Yes, children do allay the psychological rigors of aging and yes, a young man can indeed write from the point of view of an aged man. Theoretically. Read the sonnet.

Sonnet 22: Orthodox scholars believe William Shakespeare of Stratford, a man probably still in his twenties, wrote, “My glass shall not persuade me I am old so long as youth and thou are of one date.” I suppose he could have regarded himself as deeply lined next to his teenaged earl friend.

Sonnet 73: “That time of year thou may’st in me behold/when yellow leaves or none or few do hang/upon those boughs which shake against the cold/bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang . . . ” Was this a “poetical exercise” or was it real. You get to decide.

The most straightforward reading of the sonnets says they were written to the Earl of Southampton by an middle aged (forties) fellow nobleman.

3. According to sonnet publisher Thomas Thorpe, the author was dead in 1609.  

The publisher of the sonnets, Thomas Thorpe, eulogized the author. That’s probably because he was dead. Of course, the commoner named Shakespeare was very much alive in 1609; he couldn’t die just yet as he had neighbors to sue.

The publisher’s dedication of the sonnets to “Our ever-living poet” is obviously taken from Henry VI Part 1 in which we witness the funeral of the great deceased King. The line used by Thorpe reads in part, “. . .that ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth . . .”

To some historians, direct testimony from a contemporary in a position to know means something. This is not true in the case of the Shakespeare authorship question.

See if you can follow this logic: The man named William Shakespeare was alive in 1609, so the phrase “our ever-living poet” must not have been a reference to a deceased poet at all, furthermore, the similarity to a Shakespearean eulogy is a coincidence, and finally, the fact that the phrase “ever-living” has never, except for this one time, been used to refer to a living person is entirely irrelevant in this case.

Here’s the dedication in full. “To the onlie begettor of these ensuing sonnets Mr. W. H. All happiness and that eternitie promised by our ever-living poet. Wisheth the well wishing adventurer in setting forth.” As with the sonnets themselves, it is possible to argue that the dedication need not be read in the most obvious way. Absent such an argument Shakespeare died before 1609.

The publisher’s dedication in the sonnets, if read in a straightforward manner, strongly implies that Thomas Thorpe believed the author was deceased at the time of publication. If so, Shakespeare didn’t write Shakespeare. 

4. Some modern experts protest way too much. 

It’s been known and widely accepted for more than 150 years that Polonius is a funny, nasty, and fiendishly accurate caricature of William Cecil, Lord Burghley, the most powerful man in Elizabethan England.  It is hard to imagine a commoner getting away with such an obvious parody and the identification of Edward de Vere (who knew Burghley all too well) as the most likely alternative author makes the Polonius character and the viciousness of the parody far more understandable (and funnier).

All of this is a problem for the traditional Shakespeare story and is typically met with either silence or denial.

Sometimes the furious backpedaling of a modern scholars provides amusing entertainment. For example, professor Jonathan Bates made comments in Harper’s magazine that included this whopper: “Hamlet is approached via fantastically cryptic supposed parallels between Lord Burghley and the character of Polonius.”

What was once obvious is now “cryptic.” This kind of desperation coming from an expert in the field is almost as convincing to me as the hard evidence in the sonnets.

The Hamlet character Polonius lampooning the powerful Lord Burghley could only have been created by a nobleman — Edward de Vere is the most promising candidate. This has led to intense backpedaling among experts who evidently fear nothing more than de Vere himself.  

5. Shakespeare of Stratford was probably illiterate. 

No letters survive; Shakespeare’s long, detailed will did not mention books or manuscripts; both adult daughters were demonstrably unable to read and write.

Shakespeare could write his name, barely. Six scrawled signatures on legal documents look suspiciously like the struggles of a barely literate man to sign his name — the contrast with the fluid signatures commonly seen from real professional writers of the time is striking. This is a man who supposedly penned more than a million words with a quill.

A man who was known during his lifetime as the greatest writer in England, a man who wrote play after play featuring brilliant, educated, witty women, did not see to it that his two daughters learned to read? Really? Centuries of painstaking searching cannot turn up a single letter or manuscript or book, nothing to even indicate literacy. Really? The most famous writer in England?

If a man leaves behind an extensive paper trail of legal documents but no books, no letters, no manuscripts, and no literate relatives, one might be tempted to conclude that the man in question was not literate.

Conclusion

(1) The author stated in rather clear language in his private sonnets that he was using a pseudonym.  (2) In the sonnets, the author repeatedly presents himself as middle-aged. (3) The dedication written when the sonnets were finally published in 1609 is a Shakespearean eulogy; Shakespeare of Stratford wasn’t dead. (4) Mainstream academics put forward absurd arguments even though there are many perfectly cogent ways to support the traditional attribution. (5) A man who was literally the most literate man in England, a brilliant, multi-lingual, widely-read, broadly-educated genius with a knowledge base that touched on literature, history, science, warfare, botany, music, law, and even falconry and a vocabulary that dwarfed that of his most erudite contemporaries brought up two illiterate daughters.

As Justices Powell, Blackmun, O’Connor, Stevens, and Scalia and many others suspect, the too-young, barely-literate man from Stratford was, in all probability, put in place as a front-man for the true author. 

Why Smart People Question Shakespeare

Who Dares Doubt?

I always thought Who wrote Shakespeare? was run-of-the-mill nonsense. Queen Elizabeth wrote Shakespeare . . . Francis Bacon wrote Shakespeare . . . it’s all a secret code . . . etc., ad nauseam. For years I paid no attention. At some point, I found out Mark Twain believed the Shakespeare byline to be a weakly-executed hoax that no one should have fallen for. I re-evaluated my position.

Three Supreme Court Justices — Brennan, Blackmun, and Stevens — conducted a mock trial on September 25, 1987 in which one side argued for William Shakespeare and the other argued for Edward de Vere, the leading alternative candidate. Even though Blackmun and Stevens believe Shakespeare did not write the plays, all three Justices agreed that, legally speaking, the burden of proof lay with the de Vere advocates who had not proven their man’s authorship beyond a reasonable doubt. Shakespeare won the case.

Justices Powell, Blackmun, O’Connor, Scalia, and Stevens all doubt Shakespeare despite his strong legal claim. Charles Dickens, Henry James, Walt Whitman, and Ralph Waldo Emerson also put their doubts in writing. So did Sigmund Freud. Throw in modern Shakespearean actors Sir Derek Jacobi, Mark Rylance, and Michael York, a growing number of college and university professors, and amateur bozos like me, and by golly you’ve got yourself an interesting little mystery.

Quotes from famous Shakespeare doubters may be found at the declaration of reasonable doubt.

The real reason some smart people doubt Shakespeare wrote the plays is commonly explained by mainstream scholars as follows: Shakespeare was a rural guy whose parents were illiterate, whose wife was illiterate, and whose children grew up illiterate and some people simply can’t believe a man of such humble origins would be as well-read as Shakespeare was and know as many languages as Shakespeare did. The authorship issue thus boils down to a kind of subtle snobbery that causes even some smart people to embrace the ridiculous proposition that Shakespeare might not be Shakespeare. That’s the official story: whole books have been written about the snobbery theory.

Going Down the Rabbit Hole

To tell you the truth, I’m not sure there is much of a question here. Shakespeare left us a series of 126 sonnets that are apparently personal letters written to the Earl of Southampton and they are rather revealing.

The sonnets follow the young earl’s life for a period spanning about thirteen years from age 17, when he obstinately rejected an arranged marriage, until age 30, when he was released from the Tower of London following the death of Queen Elizabeth. The 126 achingly beautiful works of art are a monument to a young nobleman, guiding, admonishing, forgiving, loving, and celebrating the 3rd Earl of Southampton’s tumultuous life as a young adult. The author, whoever he was, expresses a deep and powerful identification with his young friend whom he calls “my lovely boy.”

The sonnets are the only personal writings we have of Shakespeare’s.

If you are not a traditional Shakespeare scholar, you are free to assume the sonnets are what they appear to be — Shakespeare’s personal letters. Make this assumption and suddenly everything fits together so well that you quickly become stuck, lost down the rabbit hole. You can never go back. But look on the bright side, Mark Twain is down there and he’s pretty good company.

I offer you a guided trip into the rabbit hole. We will assume the sonnets are indeed the personal letters of William Shakespeare, written to his young friend, the “fair youth,” the “lovely boy,” the third Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley, that rebellious teenager who refused the highly-placed bride chosen for him by his guardian, that foolhardy young man who was arrested for treason in 1601 and sentenced to death, the rash youth who watched his comrades executed one by one, whose death sentence was mysteriously commuted to life in prison, and who was miraculously released in 1603 when Queen Elizabeth died prompting the beautiful and ebullient sonnet 107.

Come with me, but I caution you, it is a one-way trip.

SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS: Background

We know the sonnets were private writings. For at least a decade, Shakespeare’s “sugar’d sonnets” were known to be circulating only among the author’s “private friends” (Meres, 1598). Selected people were reading them, ordinary people knew of their existence, but they were not published. At the same time, Shakespeare’s two epic poems had been published with resounding success in multiple editions. But not the sonnets, not yet.

We know Shakespeare intended the sonnets to be published eventually:

When you entombed in men’s eyes shall lie/Your monument shall be my gentle verse/Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read . . . When all the breathers of this world are dead/You still shall live, such virtue hath my pen.

Shakespeare, supremely confident in the everlasting beauty of what he was creating, returns frequently to this “monument” theme:

And thou in this shalt find thy monument/When tyrants’ crests and tombs of brass are spent.

Can words really outlast brass tombs? Apparently, yes. Is it bragging if you’re right?

I Wouldn’t Marry Her If She Were the Last Girl on Earth!

“From fairest creatures we desire increase . . .” It was 1590 and Southampton was under heavy pressure to marry a particular girl chosen for him by his guardian. We don’t know who the “we” in Shakespeare’s first sonnet is, but whoever they were, they wanted Southampton to marry and produce an heir. The young earl resisted.

In this first sonnet, Shakespeare, whoever he was, spoke sternly to the obstinate young earl: Don’t be your own enemy, don’t waste your beauty, don’t be churlish, the world deserves an heir from you, you have a responsibility to us, to the world, and to yourself; don’t let us down.

Note about the first sonnet: In the original, the word ‘rose’ was capitalized and italicized. No one knows why.

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty’s Rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament,
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content,
And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding:
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

The tone is reproving and loving but not entirely respectful: the earl is a churl.

Right away, in the first sonnet, it seems obvious that the writer is a peer of Southampton, probably an older peer. Throughout the 126 sonnets, the case for the young commoner businessman from Stratford who has the right name but everything else wrong continues to unravel.

The second sonnet begins as follows: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow/And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field/Thy youth’s proud livery so gazed on now/Will be a totter’d weed of small worth held . . . The author is warning his young friend about the ravages of aging and the inevitable fate that awaits the earl’s beauty.

Southampton’s self-appointed mentor continues, promising the boy that if only he would make a successor, the aging process would be far more bearable: . . . proving his beauty by succession thine/This were to be new made when thou art old/And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.

Here is the second sonnet in its entirety.

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery so gazed on now,
Will be a totter’d weed of small worth held: 
Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; 
To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use,
If thou couldst answer ‘This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,’
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.

Mr. Shakespeare of Stratford, having recently arrived in London (circa 1590), was in his late twenties when the sonnet above was written.

In the third sonnet, Shakespeare lets us in on an important personal detail: he knew Southampton’s mother. Indeed, the sight of the boy makes the poet nostalgic for old times: Thou art thy mother’s glass and she in thee/Calls back the lovely April of her prime/So thou through windows of thine age shalt see/Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.

Here is the complete third sonnet.

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity? 
Thou art thy mother’s glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remembered not to be,
Die single and thine image dies with thee.

This sonnet, taken at face value, is very bad news for the traditional Mr.  Shakespeare who was 9 years older than Southampton, first journeyed to London when Southampton was a teenager, and had little opportunity to know the boy’s mother in the lovely April of her prime or at any other time.

There is more of course and reading the rest of the sonnets is well worthwhile. However, at this point, I am pretty much convinced that Twain, Dickens, Freud, Powell, and others are right: Shakespeare was a nobleman who was quite close to Southampton, though a generation older.

The only other possibility is that the sonnets were commissioned and that Shakespeare spent 10 years or more writing a series of private masterpieces expressing someone else’s love for Southampton. The theory that the sonnets were commissioned is the best orthodox scholarship has to offer; I don’t buy it. However, I can’t prove it wrong.

Here are some “quickies” from the 14 other marriage sonnets.

When nature calls thee to be gone . . . thy unus’d beauty must be tombed with thee. A child is the only way to defeat death.

Never resting time leads summer on to hideous winter and confounds him there. . . You’ll age as surely as the seasons change.

Thou art much to fair to be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir. An evocative image to be sure.

So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, unlooked on diest unless thou get a son. No one cares about an old man with no children.

Music to hear, why hearest thou music sadly. The idea of a harmonious family life (like a musical harmony) unaccountably holds no interest for you, why?

No love toward others in that bosom sits that on himself such murd’rous shame commits. Not having a child is like murdering yourself and is shamefully selfish.

Thou art so possessed of murderous hate. How dare you not have a child!

Make thee another self for love of me. I know you love me, and I love you and you must produce an heir.

If all were minded so, the times should cease and threescore year would make the world away. If everyone thought the way you did, the world would surely come to an end.

She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby thou shouldst print more, not let thy copy die. Nature gave you more than most with the expectation that your line would continue.

“And nothing ‘gainst time’s scythe can make defense, save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.” When death takes you, the only comfort you can have is if you have left part of yourself in a child.

Against this coming end you should prepare and your sweet semblance to some other give . . . Who lets so fair a house fall to decay . . . O none but unthrifts . . . You had a father: let your son say so. You are high-born; it is terribly wasteful to let your lineage come to an end.

Thy end is truth and beauty’s doom and date. The good of the world is in you and if you die without issue, the good will die too.

When I consider every thing that grows holds in perfection but a little moment . . . As he takes from you, I engraft you new. Youth is perfect, but oh-so-fleeting and though time will take away your life, here, in my poetry, you will be forever young.

Many maiden gardens yet unset with virtuous wish would bear you living flowers. Clear enough.

You true rights [will] be termed a poet’s rage . . . But were some child of yours alive at that time, you would live twice, in it and in my rhyme. My poetry will sing your praises forever, but if there’s no progeny, people won’t know how wonderful you truly were and won’t believe what they read.

Seventeen passionate sonnets did not convince the young earl to marry the girl who had been chosen for him. He refused his guardian who happened to be the powerful Lord Burghley and the young man suffered a huge fine of 5000 pounds levied against his estate. In the eighteenth sonnet, Shakespeare has given up and contents himself that the boy he loves will live forever in his poetry: Thy eternal summer shall not fade . . . So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Two other sonnets speak especially revealingly about Shakespeare’s close identification with the young earl and about their relative ages.

Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old so long as youth and thou are of one date.

Sonnet 73: That time of year thou may’st in me behold/When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang/Upon those boughs which shake against the cold/Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.

So who is Shakespeare? Is it the businessman commoner from Stratford who turned 26 in 1590 and who may never even have met Southampton? Or is it Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford, a generation removed from Southampton, an elder peer who turned 40 in 1590, who grew up in the same household as Southampton 23 years earlier also as a royal ward, and whose daughter just happened to be the person Southampton was supposed to marry?

Before you make your ruling, let’s look at a few more sonnets.

I Know! I’ll Try to Control the Royal Succession!

In 1601, Southampton and his buddy, the Earl of Essex, and a bunch of other morons, decided they would outfox the brilliant Lord Burghley (Elizabeth’s closest advisor and the most powerful man in England) and try to control the royal succession. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

Elizabeth would be dead within a couple of years and, since she never married, there was no heir. The Virgin Queen had had sex with Edward de Vere (there is hard evidence from a contemporary witness) and undoubtedly others as well and she may even have had unacknowledged children to boot. But none of these bastard children would have been eligible for the throne. The succession was up for grabs.

Southampton and company apparently felt they could help the Queen make the “right” decision. We don’t know who they thought they would place on the throne, but they planned to push Burghley aside by force and convince Elizabeth to see things their way. Their little plot failed comically. Burghley let them begin their ride toward the palace and then rounded them all up, put them on trial for treason, and began chopping people’s heads off (actually, if that’s all that happened to you, you could consider yourself lucky). The Earl of Essex himself was executed.

But not Southampton. He, with Essex, had been convicted of treason and sentenced to death, but the sentence was commuted to life in prison, and, once the Queen died in 1603 and James I peacefully ascended the throne, the ridiculously lucky Southampton was set free. Southampton’s exploits are chronicled in the sonnets.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired: 
For then my thoughts–from far where I abide–
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

This is sonnet 27. Shakespeare has apparently visited Southampton in prison but can’t sleep after returning home because he can’t forget the image of Southampton, languishing in the Tower of London and likely to be executed.

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When day’s oppression is not eas’d by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressed,
And each, though enemies to either’s reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee. 
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion’d night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild’st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.

In sonnet 28 above, he still can’t sleep.

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud:
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
Thy adverse party is thy advocate,
And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an accessary needs must be,
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.

Sonnet 35 is quite interesting. The poet seems to be forgiving Southampton for what he has done and is apparently advocating for him behind the scenes. Edward de Vere, as the ranking earl in England, was one of the judges that condemned Southampton to death (per the Queen’s order; the trial had a predetermined outcome) but was also in a position to push privately for life in prison in lieu of death (thy adverse party is thy advocate). If these sonnets are being interpreted correctly here, then de Vere is probably the only person in England who could have written them.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know’st thy estimate,
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thy self thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me to whom thou gav’st it else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

Sonnet 87 is also quite interesting. The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing seems to imply there was something about Southampton that prevented his being killed. So thy great gift, on misprision growing/Comes home again, on better judgement making is straightforward to interpret: Misprision is a lesser form of treason in which the accused has not actually committed treason but has neglected to report the treason of others.

We don’t know if this was the “better judgement” that saved Southampton’s life nor do we know what the “charter of thy worth” was (Essex’s rank didn’t save him) but again, if we are interpreting these sonnets correctly, only someone very high up with an unusual amount of insider knowledge could have written them.

Although Sonnets 27, 28, 35, and 87 are not nearly as easy to interpret as the marriage sonnets, there is no doubt at all about the meaning of the celebratory sonnet 107.

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control, 
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage;
Incertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time,
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,
Since, spite of him, I’ll live in this poor rhyme,
While he insults o’er dull and speechless tribes:
And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants’ crests and tombs of brass are spent.

Queen Elizabeth (the mortal moon) had died, and Southampton, “supposed as forfeit to a confined doom,” has been miraculously released while the royal succession, so frightening in its uncertainty, has proceeded peacefully and James I is securely on the throne. Shakespeare the author is overflowing with joy at the release of his great love, Southampton, and exults in the knowledge that his poetry will allow him to give Death itself a run for its money.

Shakespeare of Stratford, the commoner businessman whose wife and children were illiterate (maybe he didn’t have time to teach his two daughters to read), that amazing man who died without ever having written a letter and without ever having received a letter (maybe they were simply lost), that man of two worlds whose long detailed will did not mention a single book (maybe his library was taken care of separately) CANNOT, no matter how many “maybes” one employs, have been in a position to visit Southampton in prison, to forgive him for committing treason, to lobby behind the scenes on his behalf, or to have any knowledge whatsoever of the secret judgment that saved his life.

Unfortunately, even today we don’t know what led to the commutation of Southampton’s death sentence. It could have been a new judgment of misprision of treason or simply an order from the Queen: “don’t kill him.” We’ll probably never know. Shakespeare’s sonnets are as close as we’ll ever get to the truth and we’re lucky to have them. After they were published in 1609, they disappeared only to resurface decades later. They were not included in the famous First Folio of 1623 in which 36 Shakespeare plays were compiled (including 18 that had never been published) and they could easily have been lost permanently.

What About Hard Evidence?

If Shakespeare didn’t write Shakespeare, it means that James I would have had to order a hoax. Hints had to be dropped when the First Folio was published in 1623 and Shakespeare’s gravesite had to be altered to make it appear he was an author rather than the semi-literate, lawsuit-happy, grain hoarder we know from the paper trail that seems so at odds with the bylines on the plays and poems that began to be published in London in the early 1590’s.

I think the sonnets were written from a place of passion that could not possibly have been simulated by a writer who had been handed a bag of gold by some nobleman: “write me some sonnets for my kid.” Even a genius like Shakespeare couldn’t have done it. Great poetry comes from the heart — it always has and it always will. And I don’t buy the official, “Well, technically, we don’t know for sure that Southampton is the subject of the sonnets.” Of course he’s the subject: only a fool or someone with an axe to grind would think otherwise.

But these are just opinions. Even if you read the sonnets for yourself and ultimately agree with me, that makes two people who don’t have any hard evidence for their beliefs. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.

Fortunately, there is some. We have Thomas Thorpe. He was there, after all. He held the original sonnet manuscript in his trembling hands, that priceless sheaf of Shakespeare’s handwriting, now lost. Until then, only Shakespeare’s “private friends” had seen the sonnets. But now they would be published and Mr. Thorpe would be immortalized.

Thorpe wished “Mr. W. H.”  — could be Henry Wriothesley, I suppose — “all happiness and that eternitie promised by our ever-living poet.” The “ever-living” comment is straight out of Shakespeare. It’s from the eulogy in Henry the VI: “. . . our scarce-cold conqueror/That ever-living man of memory/Henry the Fifth.”

So Thorpe quoted Shakespeare in the dedication and eulogized him as “our ever-living poet.” All the maybes and it’s possibles and we don’t really knows in the world can’t change a simple, hard fact: the author of the sonnets was dead when they were published in 1609. Thorpe said so and he was there.

If you were alive in 1609, you didn’t write the sonnets. Shakespeare had the right name but he had the wrong life and, more to the point, he had the wrong death. William Shakespeare, the businessman from Stratford, died in 1616, seven years too late to be considered as a possible author of the sonnets.

There’s one more piece of hard evidence: the 18 plays that lay unpublished for ten plus years until they were finally, suddenly published in 1623 when the First Folio was compiled. Macbeth, Taming of the Shrew and 16 other works of art were not published while the businessman named Shakespeare lived. Why weren’t they published for 10 years or more? Who had held the manuscripts for all those years?

Edward de Vere died in 1604, Mr. Shakespeare in 1616. Seven years later, 18 manuscripts miraculously turned up and were compiled with 18 other plays to form the famous First Folio. The First Folio just happened to be dedicated to de Vere’s son-in-law, the Earl of Montgomery and also to Montgomery’s brother, the “incomparable brethren” who had undoubtedly bankrolled the project.

Commoners in England in 1610 don’t hold onto original Shakespeare manuscripts for 10 years or more and elect not to have them published because they don’t need the money right now and maybe in 10 years it will be a good time to publish.  This theory, the official, orthodox theory, is absurd. Shakespeare plays were extremely famous and lucrative the moment they were performed. Only nobility would hold the manuscripts for a decade or more. The Countess of Montgomery, Edward de Vere’s daughter, Susan, apparently had inherited the manuscripts and eventually arranged for their publication to preserve her late father’s art.

From Beauty’s Rose to a Never-Ending Mystery

There is no single, definitive argument (although “our ever-living poet” comes close), but the totality of the evidence makes the hoax seem rather lame to my eyes. From the first two lines of the first sonnet, “From fairest creatures we desire increase/That thereby beauty’s Rose might never die” to the publication of the First Folio by de Vere’s relatives, we have clear indications that all of Shakespeare’s work, especially the sonnets, was too sensitive for the true author to allow his name to be bandied about publicly.

We know de Vere slept with the Queen, we know he was given by the Queen an unusually large stipend of 1000 pounds a year, we know his daughter was the chosen wife for Southampton, we know Southampton refused to marry Elizabeth Vere and later committed treason and was spared while his comrades were executed, we know “Shakespeare” tried to convince Southampton to marry and later exulted at his release from prison, and we know the Tudor Rose dynasty ended when Queen Elizabeth died in 1603.

Shakespeare’s “sugar’d sonnets” that circulated only among his “private friends” until 1609 may have simply been too hot to handle.

Even the plays are full of inside baseball. Hamlet famously makes fun of the powerful Lord Burghley who is mercilessly lampooned as Polonius. Characters in other plays such as Malvolio in Twelfth Night are also obvious caricatures of Court figures. Either Shakespeare was the most well-connected commoner in England AND the most brilliant father of illiterate children anyone could possibly imagine AND the only thirty-year-old in history to ever complain about “bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang” OR he wasn’t the real author.

Whoever Shakespeare was, he and Henry Wriothesley, the 3rd Earl of Southampton, were about as close as it is possible for two people to be. We can only guess about the exact nature of their relationship: but it was very, very close. A commoner from Stratford nine years older than H. W.? Really?

You decide, your honor.