The Peril of the Police-Are-Right Theory

By Will Keys

Crime documentaries have long celebrated the police detective: a figure depicted as the embodiment of common sense, initiative, and sound leadership. These stories, underpinned by the traditions and protocols of generations past, present the detective as the linchpin of justice, guiding the case from chaos to resolution through steadfast adherence to investigative procedure.

A meticulously preserved crime scene, with every item marked and catalogued, is held up as the gold standard. Advances in DNA analysis and forensic science, now capable of scrutinising even microscopic traces, have enhanced the arsenal available to the modern detective. Cinematic portrayals showcase sophisticated specialists, all vying for the lead detective’s attention, as if to suggest that justice is a simple outcome of expertise and teamwork.

Yet, for all the reverence afforded to police leadership, reality often paints a less flattering picture. The nature of police work, while demanding honesty and a basic sense of integrity, does not always require exceptional intellect or creativity. Frequently, the officer at the centre of a high-profile case is an ordinary individual thrust into the glare of public scrutiny, suddenly wielding enormous influence over both the investigation and public opinion.

The media’s relentless appetite for sensation can amplify this effect. The public, hungry for a narrative, will latch onto whatever theory of the case the police present—especially if it involves a seemingly obvious suspect. Herein lies the danger: the initial theory, born out of the lead detective’s earliest impressions, rapidly becomes gospel. Press coverage cements these early assumptions, poisoning the jury pool and eroding the objectivity so critical to justice.

When groupthink takes hold, facts—especially those that are salacious or scandalous—are repeated and magnified until they acquire the sheen of truth. Investigative tunnel vision sets in, and the process intended as an exercise in deductive reasoning becomes, in effect, a psychological lynch mob. The accused may find themselves condemned in the court of public opinion before any evidence has been rigorously tested.

Police, being only human and not immune to ambition, have every incentive to promote themselves and their chosen theory. Prosecutors may follow suit, seeking the satisfaction of a conviction and the accolades that come with it. The judiciary is meant to act as a counterweight, maintaining impartiality and correcting errors through appeals, but even this safeguard sometimes comes too late.

The Quiet Cost of Ignored Alternatives

The real danger emerges when investigators and lawyers fail to ask: what if we are wrong? Consider a scenario, not unfamiliar in recent memory, in which a woman disappears from a suburban home. The subsequent investigation is vigorous, and the focus quickly narrows to a single suspect. Forensic evidence is interpreted almost exclusively through the lens of this police theory. Each scratch or drop of blood is noted for its significance, unless it lacks a clear explanation, in which case it is regarded as an anomaly instead of being further investigated.

Now suppose that, early in an investigation that took place in Australia, a witness reports almost running down a young woman late at night on a nearby road. This potentially exculpatory evidence, had it been fully explored and disclosed, might have led to a fundamentally different conclusion: that the missing woman was in fact the victim of a tragic accident—a hit-and-run, her body later moved and concealed by unknown parties.

Yet, when the narrative is set, and the alternative explanation is neglected, the defence is left in the impossible position of trying to account for every piece of evidence except perhaps one—such as a blood trace—while the machinery of justice rolls on. A verdict is reached not because every possibility has been examined, but because the prevailing story fits all but an inconvenient fact or two. The result is a system that may congratulate itself on closure, even as justice remains undone.

Such failures can never be dismissed as mere technicalities. When reasonable explanations are not given due consideration—when the possible is discarded for the convenient—the risk of wrongful conviction grows acute. True justice demands that investigations remain open to all possibilities, and that no potentially exonerating fact is ignored in the rush to judgment.

Recent Precedents: Lessons Not Yet Learned

History, sadly, offers too many examples of cases gone wrong due to investigative tunnel vision. The wrongful conviction of Lindy Chamberlain in the Azaria Chamberlain case remains a stark warning in Australian legal history. Chamberlain was convicted of murdering her own baby, largely because police became wedded to a theory and ignored evidence to the contrary—until years later, when new evidence exonerated her.

Internationally, the case of Steven Avery in the United States, as documented in “Making a Murderer,” demonstrates how police can fall prey to confirmation bias, shaping their investigation around their initial suspicions and disregarding contradictory evidence. In the UK, the Birmingham Six and Guildford Four suffered years of wrongful imprisonment after police forced confessions and ignored exculpatory evidence, all in service to a premature theory of guilt.

Recently, a panel of highly respected medical experts issued a report making it clear that in their view, after intensive investigation, they believe that the neonatal English nurse Lucy Letby, has been wrongly convicted of serial murders. Ms Letby is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole and there is mounting evidence of her innocence but in this case too, the police, the prosecution and a compliant media controlled the narrative and may well have tipped the scales of justice unfairly.

More recently, the case of Kathleen Folbigg in New South Wales has reignited debate. For years, Folbigg was branded Australia’s “worst female serial killer,” convicted of killing her four children. Only after persistent advocacy and new scientific understanding of rare genetic mutations was she pardoned, after spending 20 years in prison. Again, the danger of police and prosecution locking in a narrative too soon was exposed.

A Call for Caution and Humility

The lessons are clear. Justice demands humility from those who wield its power. The lead detective’s theory is a tool, not a conclusion; it should guide inquiry, not dictate it. The media, the public, and, most importantly, the police themselves must remain vigilant against the seductive certainty of early conclusions.

There is, too, a quieter obstacle that often impedes the re-examination of such contentious matters. Experienced legal professionals, even those with a lifetime of practice and a commitment to public service, may find themselves barred from offering insight or assistance simply because their formal credentials have lapsed. Procedural formalities—however well-intentioned—can frustrate the pursuit of truth, closing doors to those best placed to illuminate areas of doubt. It is a sobering reminder that, even beyond the courtroom, the quest for justice can be hindered by systems designed for convenience rather than conscience.

Courts remain essential safeguards, but true justice would be better served if objectivity and caution prevailed from the very outset of an investigation. In the end, justice is not measured by convictions, but by the relentless pursuit of truth, no matter how uncomfortable or inconvenient that truth may be.

By Will Keys