So, Quinlan (a cop) has been planting evidence to make it easier to convict the people that his “hunches” tell him have committed murder. All of these people, we find out, have protested their innocence all the way to the electric chair. In the film itself, we see him plant evidence to frame Sanchez for the murder of Sanchez’s girlfriend’s father and the father’s mistress. At the very end of the film, after Quinlan has been killed, another police officer tells our protagonist that Sanchez, the alleged murder, has confessed.
“So it turns out Quinlan was right after all,” he says.
Buh?!
OK, even assuming that Sanchez really is guilty, this line and its delivery seems to imply that Quinlan was right in general about who he sent to jail— but if that’s the case, why is Sanchez the very first, in thirty years, to confess?
And, more importantly, why does everyone assume Sanchez’s confession was truthful?!
I mean, let’s picture it. You’re Sanchez. You’re a Mexican shoe clerk in a 1950s American border town where Mexicans are pretty openly hated. Your white girlfriend’s incredibly rich father has just been killed. A posse of cops show up at your house and shout at you and insult you. You’re told not to “speak Mexican” but when someone asks you a question in Spanish, you respond in Spanish; Quinlan slaps you in the face for failing to speak English. You might suspect a little bias in the enforcement of the law! You probably do not think this bias is in your favor!
THEN, the cops plant evidence in your house! You know it is planted, because it is your goddamn house, and it didn’t have any dynamite in it ten minutes ago! You ask, “What are you trying to do?” and Quinlan answers, “We’re trying to strap you to the electric chair, boy.” At this point you probably also suspect that the police are unlikely to follow the appropriate procedures to determine your guilt! You probably think they are going to get you sentenced to death with absolutely no regard to evidence! This is because they have outright stated this fact, several times, in front of you!
They cart you off to jail, where one cop is designated to Yelling At You duty. He insists that you are lying, and demands that you confess. He continues to do this for around 24 hours.
Is it not possible that, in this situation, you might falsely confess in a desperate bid to avoid the death penalty? I know that I, personally, wouldn’t really trust any testimony extracted under those circumstances. I would expect you to say whatever you thought would shut me up and save your life.
I think it is downright wrong to claim that the existence of a confession, in and of itself, proves that “Quinlan was right after all.”
I think it proves the opposite. I think Vargas is right.
Quinlan: Our friend Vargas has some very special ideas about police procedure. He seems to think it don’t matter whether killers hang or not, so long as we obey the fine print.
Vargas: Captain, I don’t think a policeman should work like a dog catcher in putting criminals behind bars. No! In any free country, a policeman is supposed to enforce the law, and the law protects the guilty as well as the innocent.
Quinlan: Our job is tough enough.
Vargas: It’s supposed to be. It has to be tough. A policeman’s job is only easy in a police state. That’s the whole point, Captain - who’s the boss, the cop or the law?
Contemplating a world, or a person, that can approve of Quinlan… it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Kind of like the movie itself.
But oh well, I watched it for cinematography class, and I only have to write about the images— and those are certainly excellent! I wish noir wasn’t all about “gritty” cops and 1950s prejudice; noir films have some of the most exciting cinematography. I wish I could like them, even a little bit, in addition to admiring them.
