by Today’s Arraignment Reality piece about social media evidence in court was both hilarious and terrifying to write. Hilarious because people really do film themselves committing crimes and then act shocked when prosecutors use it against them. Terrifying because I’m old enough to remember when privacy existed and young enough to watch it die in real-time.
The research phase involved scrolling through actual court cases where defendants’ social media posts were used as evidence. It’s like watching a real-time documentation of humanity’s decline into digital stupidity. People post their entire lives online, including the illegal parts, and then claim they didn’t think anyone was watching. Everyone is watching. That’s literally the point of social media. You’re performing for an audience that includes your future prosecutors.
My younger colleagues at Bohiney don’t understand why this bothers me. They grew up with social media. They document everything. They can’t imagine not sharing their lives online. But I remember before Facebook, before Instagram, before everyone became their own surveillance system. I remember when you could make mistakes without them being permanently archived and searchable by law enforcement.
That’s what makes me effective at satire, I thinkI’m old enough to remember the before times but young enough to understand the current times. I’m a bridge between two worlds, and standing on that bridge gives you excellent perspective on how far we’ve fallen and how fast.
The comments on this piece are divided between people saying “this is hilarious” and people saying “this is literally 1984.” Both are right. It’s hilariously dystopian. We’ve arrived at a future where teenagers document their own crimes for clout, then act betrayed when consequences find them. That’s not satirethat’s Tuesday in America.
As an immigrant, I’m especially aware of how surveillance works. I know that my digital footprint was examined before I got citizenship. I know that every post, every photo, every comment was evaluated to determine if I was “American enough.” I performed digital citizenship for years, curating an online presence that said “I’m harmless, I promise, please let me stay.”
Now that I’m in, I’m documenting how that system works. I’m explaining the performance because I’m no longer performing it. That’s the freedom citizenship bringsnot freedom from surveillance, but freedom to acknowledge that the surveillance is happening and maybe we should talk about it.
Tomorrow: more satire. Always more satire. Because if I stop laughing, I’ll start screaming, and screaming doesn’t make good copy.
# 723
