Via Howard, I've been following the news about a Virginia death row inmate, Brandon Wayne Hedrick (how many killers have the middle name Wayne?), who was put to death tonight in the electric chair. They didn't use lethal injection because Virginia gives inmates a choice between the chair and the needle; if the inmate declines to choose, lethal injection is the default. Hedrick chose electrocution.

What struck me as particularly interesting is how that choice is made. Apparently, prison officials simply stroll over to the inmate's cell about a week before the scheduled execution date and just ask. Hedrick's lawyers complained a bit that they weren't allowed to be present when Hedrick had to make his choice. So, that got me wondering whether that issue could be yet another ground for death penalty litigation. Does the right to counsel apply when the inmate has to choose the method of execution?

On the one hand, the argument would be that litigation opportunies can be lost when the choice is made, and a lawyer's advice is necessary to avoid losing those chances. And, although the lawyers here aren't accusing the prison officials of anything unseemly, there's the chance that the jailer and guards could exert some influence over the choice. Indeed, Hedrick was apparently "spooked" by the description of the injection process. It's not hard to imagine that those descriptions could influence the choice, especially when the inmate has diminished mental capacity.

On the other hand, courts would probably say that a lawyer has a duty to advise the client well before the moment of decision arrives. After all, they can't claim they didn't know the choice would have to be made. Perhaps at a time when things are less imminent, the lawyer should discuss the procedures and learn what the inmate wants. That's especially true if the lawyer needs to prepare a suit challenging the method of execution.

The analogy that comes to mind is a line-up at the police station. The Sixth Amendment right to counsel applies to line-ups. (Further reading here, here, and here. Note to bar-exam-takers: the exception -- that the right to counsel applies only after the initiation of formal adversary proceedings like arraignment or indictment -- is a classic trick question.)

The idea behind this rule is that the presence of counsel is a protection against the risk of (intentional or unintentional) police misconduct. Line-ups are notoriously subject to subtle police influence; defense attorneys are there to ensure everything is on the up-and-up and to make a record if it isn't. Similarly, if counsel is present when a condemned inmate has to make the one decision bigger than what his last words will be, there's less chance that something fishy will happen. Certainly, if counsel had discussed the choice with the inmate, and is then surprised to learn of the choice later, the attorney can suggest the inmate's will was overborne. But it's easier to prevent that contemporaneously.

Perhaps the best idea is simply to send the inmate a letter and have him make the choice on paper. This would avoid any shenanigans or lectures or horror stories, and create a paper trial. Naturally, it's foolish to expect all warden-inmate contact to be on paper or through counsel; the prison has a legitimate business in smooth operation and we don't need to litigate every little guard-inmate interaction. But the choice of method of execution is so consequential that I think it would be preferable to have counsel present.

So I was reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, and one of the letters to the editor caught my eye. The writer mentioned a recent EW article on the new Superman movie and griped "I'm tired of all the speculation about how much money a film will make. Why is that the eternal question? What happened to films as interpretations of life or love? Your story about Superman Returns primarily asked whether a profit can be made with such a bloated budget -- only as a side note did you mention potential audience reaction. Why must the media that covers the world of film focus on money?"

I think that's a fair question, but I have a few responses. EW doesn't purport to be the Hollywood Reporter or Variety -- serious insider reporting largely directed at those in the industry. But its coverage of the business side of Hollywood isn't the same as you'd see in an industry mag; it's aimed more at the moviegoing public. Even if the public doesn't always base its choices on a movie's budget, I think moviegoers like to know that information. Maybe they use it as a proxy for quality. Maybe they want to know how desperate Hollywood is for their dollar, or how bombarded they'll be with the advertising blitz. Maybe they like the schadenfreude when a film flops. In any event, it's just another piece of celebrity semi-trivia to tide them over until Vince and Jennifer make "Vaughniston" official.

Also, the letter-writer apparently doesn't get that the purpose of EW's feature stories isn't to review the films. It has a whole separate section for that. The review is where we can discuss the merits of the film (EW gave it a B). In this sense, EW faces the same problem as a lot of media outlets. For example, ESPN reporters cover Barry Bonds while its entertainment division creates a reality show starring him. More obviously, papers like the Washington Post and the New York Times attempt to balance objective reporting in one section with editorial judgments in another. Big Five accounting firms got in trouble for letting consulting commissions shade into accounting assessments. It's fair to ask if magazines like EW buy access with favorable reviews. (My sense is that EW reviews are sufficiently critical and discerning, but I haven't undertaken an empirical study.) But, even given this concern, the letter-writer should have drawn a distinction between News and Reviews.

To again compare EW to political media, I think part of the reason it talks aboue movie money is that it's easier to write "process stories." (Note: The Note believes there's a media "bias towards process stories.") In the same way that political reporters write about the presidential horse race and committee machinations instead of telling us who's full of crap, movie reporters write about deals and budgets and the significance of release dates. Most notably, if movie reporters were forbidden from writing about the weekly box office numbers, they'd starve. (And like political reporting of, say, primary results, those numbers are portrayed as relative to expectations, which is a classic aspect of the process story.) I know I just argued that people want to have this kind of information, and I still think that. After all, political junkies like the process stories, too. But it shouldn't be the only kind of movie "news" we can get, other than fluff interview pieces. Look at this list of stories on CNN's movies page and tell me how many are actual news stories versus how many are about box office or mere p.r. from some star's agent. I actually think EW offers some genuinely informative entertainment news, but it also has plenty of process stories. And, clearly, that bleeds over into other coverage: everything is seen in the marquee lights of the box office.

Relatedly, there's a more basic reason a straight news story about a movie might be focused on money. It's not a film's success in its "interpretations of life or love" that studio execs pay attention to. Money decides what films are made, what films get a chance to move a viewer in the first place. Slate had an interesting piece up recently about why a Tim Burton movie about the "Ripley's Believe It or Not" guy starring Jim Carrey was shelved. It simply got too pricey. I saw (in EW) that Disney has signed Chow Yun-Fat for its third Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Now, maybe there's some artistic reason why the film's writers need an Asian pirate in the plot. Or maybe the producers recognize that Chow is a solid action-adventure star. But it can't hurt that he is a megastar in Asia, and as expensive as Pirates III will be, the studio will need lots of international box office bucks to make a profit. When money is such a significant factor in absolutely every aspect of a major Hollywood release, I think it's reasonable to discuss it in a feature story on a movie like Superman Returns. At the very least, I don't see why, as the letter-writer apparently wishes, the reporter should pretend it isn't the issue.

That's a lot more than I planned on writing about a short letter in a magazine. I'm not expecting boffo numbers, so my back-end points are going to be worthless, but maybe I can make it up when I release the BTQ dvd.

(Source of this post's title. E. McPan's not the only one who can make Python references.)

I saw that Food Network personality Rachael Ray is getting her own syndicated talk show. I passed this item on to Fitz-Hume with the question, "Oprah's successor?" His response: "God, I hope not."

The linked story mentioned that Oprah's production company is involved in Ray's new show, and it seems it will be a lead-in to Oprah's show in many markets. That can't hurt. Ask Dr. Phil how much it helps to be taken under Ms. Winfrey's wing. Like all great leaders, Oprah will one day have to choose someone to take up her mantle and carry on. Maybe that day is coming sooner, or maybe it's coming later. But maybe this is Rachael Ray's audition to be the next Oprah.

Even if Ray never reaches that stratosphere (and really, how could she?), I think this is just the start of bigger and bigger things for Ray. I've never watched her Food Network shows, and I've never read her cookbooks. But even a non-foodie like me can tell that she is too big a fish to stay in the basic cable pond forever. Whatever "it" is, Rachael Ray has it. Just like George Clooney was too big for "E.R." and Eddie Murphy was too big to stay on "SNL" and Bill Clinton was too big for Little Rock, Rachael Ray is bigger than the Food Network.

Certainly some foodies like Fitz hate Ray. I'm not the one to mediate that rift; I'm not foodie enough to know the lingo or the reasons for the bitterness. I'll note that the general food-eating population seems to like Ray: one of her cookbooks is in Amazon's top fifty overall sellers, and three of its top fifteen food books are hers. I don't know whether the hatred for Ray is due more to her supposed sins against cuisine or her personality or that she may be a bad tipper. (I won't address sexism, but it doesn't seem outside the realm of possibility here, at least as one factor.)

But, a couple of points. First, the fact that she inspires such strong sentiment is a sign of her pop culture immersion. Second, to the extent the Ray-haters' complaints are food-related, her new show will be broader than her Food Network shows. People who don't care for the way Ray cooks might be willing to sit through a celebrity interview or a segment on dating advice for the elderly. Plus, I get the sense that some of the foodies dislike that Ray doesn't seem to worship at the high altar of Cooking as Religion. And, to the extent the complaints are based on Ray's personality, her attitude seems to me more suited for the daytime talk show than perhaps anything else. I think she'll be a natural.

I'm sure there were some who criticized the meteorological acumen of David Letterman back when he was doing the weather in Indiana. And I'm sure some people doubted Oprah's journalistic bona fides when she was a news anchor in Nashville (as we're seeing with Katie Couric now). Similarly, some people are going to take their criticism of Ray's culinary skills and assume she can't be a superstar in a broader field. Feel free to come up with a tasty and simple recipe for crow for me to eat in case her show ends up cancelled in a year. But my prediction is that Rachael Ray's talk show will be a success.