CinematicJurisprudenceTrueDetective

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Destin Tisher
FILM 290B
Professor Rattner
April 26, 2014
The Cinematic Jurisprudence of True Detective
The universality of law is evident in that it provides order to society and defines
both individual and collective identity. All people exist within its structures and share
equal status under the law, but no single jurisprudential viewpoint, or particular
philosophy of law, can be found in all members across any society. There is not, nor will
there ever be, consensus regarding the question of what law is, whether practically or
ideally. Despite the innumerable philosophical understandings of the law, people form
their own ideas from common sources. Legal texts and court rulings are obvious
examples of such, but one of the most important, and certainly one of the most
overlooked, sources is film.
The art of the moving image is a rare cultural artifact in that it rivals the concept
of law in terms of universal presence. Virtually all American households have a
television and/or access to a local movie theater, and the same claim holds true for the
vast majority of other nations with advanced legal systems. Beyond the universal nature
of both film and law, scholar Orit Kamir claims that they share their status as “two of
contemporary society’s dominant cultural formations . . . through which society narrates
and creates itself” (256). This functional similarity may initially seem farfetched, but
consider the activity within the legal sphere as a reaction to reality. From this lens,
legislation and court rulings tell the story of past events while also bringing about a new

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reality. One of many examples is the Voting Rights Act. In prohibiting voter
discrimination, it conveyed the idea that suppressing the votes of individuals was an issue
and changed the practices of some states. Likewise, cinematic works can give narrative
structure to the world but also have the ability to shift social values and create concrete
results.
Many films send explicit messages to their audiences in regard to issues such as
racism, sexism, and justice, but content alone does not determine a work’s jurisprudential
importance. Kamir states that understanding films as legal texts is also critical because of
their powerful influence upon viewers (272). This impact is constructed not only
through the sheer numbers of individuals that view a film or television show, but also by
the way in which the piece engages the spectator. A well-crafted work has the potential
to combine cinematic elements in a way that ceases to feel artificial. Such skillful
creations inspire heartfelt emotions, foster imagination beyond current realities, and can
create lasting changes in one’s judgment. Furthermore, television shows and films are
typically viewed as simply entertainment, but this actually strengthens their impact,
according to Kamir. She argues that the claims and values of a work may “be uncritically
embraced” because the audience does not usually think of the medium as active
jurisprudential commentary (272). Though this phenomenon increases the influence of
films and television shows, it also reveals the need for considering such works from a
film-and-law perspective. Doing so serves to enhance our understanding of the ways in
which cinematic works may change people’s minds and the real world effects that follow
such shifts in popular thought.

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Many films and television shows craft claims in subtle ways and may not even
make a conscious attempt to challenge the viewer with any content or to present ideas for
the audience to ponder and judge, but this is not the case for HBO’s recent anthology
series True Detective. While the general narrative of the show could be characterized as a
murder mystery, this is by no means the crux of the work. Like many other modern
police dramas, it features the pursuit of criminals while complicating the boundaries of
right and wrong, but True Detective separates itself in that its central focus is philosophy.
The audience is tasked with interpreting and considering the presented ways of thinking
more so than figuring out the identity of any perpetrators. The crimes are disturbingly
memorable and the trajectory of solving the case is enthralling, but the show constantly
speaks in terms beyond its immediate environment. While conveying a narrative
centered upon an intricate string of murders and the following investigations, it provides
insight into various jurisprudential schools of thought, particularly through the musings
of Matthew McConaughey’s character, Detective Rust Cohle. His speeches and actions,
along with several other aspects of True Detective, have much to say regarding the nature
of the law, and the show may be read as valuable commentary upon three of the most
popular schools of jurisprudential thought: legal positivism, critical legal theory, and
natural law.
The first, legal positivism, centers upon the concept of law being a social
construction. This means that a law’s presence is not based upon its merits. Rather, its
existence is determined by the source of the law, and the authority of such sources is a
product of standards within a given society (Green). Therefore, laws have the potential to
be official and enforceable yet lack a moral component or, possibly, be outright immoral.

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This divide requires that laws be discussed in terms of both “systematic validity” and
“moral validity” (Green). If a law is only systematically valid, then the breaking of that
law might be considered just. It would sensibly follow that the refusal to enforce a law
that is divorced from morality could be justified, as well.
Cohle does exactly that multiple times throughout the series, one example being
his interaction with Annette and Lucy, two prostitutes at the trucker bar in the first
episode. Rather than criminalizing their commercialized sex acts or their drug use, he
uses information from them to pursue Dora Lange’s murderer. Cohle directly proclaims,
“I wouldn’t bust somebody for hooking or drugs”, and this statement reveals that his
disinterest in enforcing laws regarding such behavior is not limited to this single instance.
Philosophically, he grants moral validity to the prohibition of murder and thus enforces it,
yet he seems to view the illegality of prostitution and drug use as only systematically
valid. Such a viewpoint requires the acknowledgement of law as a social construction,
but Cohle does not stop there. He employs his own ideas of what the law should be and
gives authority to his own internally constructed legal system over the law of the land.
When the two are in disagreement, he sides with himself, as demonstrated through his
drug use, violence, and theft.
Initially, it may seem that such actions stem not from a different jurisprudential
viewpoint but rather from simple lawlessness. While Cohle does commit a multitude of
crimes throughout the series, it would be incorrect to claim that he has no regard for the
law. His position as a homicide detective allows him to track down individuals who have
violated both his legal code and that of the state. In pursuit of such criminals who have
committed the ultimate transgression, Cohle feels free to push the limits of the law or

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outright break it. In the third episode, Woody Harrelson’s character, Detective Marty
Hart, asks Cohle, “Do you think, do you wonder ever, if you’re a bad man?” He
responds, “No, I don’t wonder, Marty. The world needs bad men. We keep the other bad
men from the door.” What separates Cohle from the criminals of True Detective is that
despite his actions that society may deem wrong, he is genuine in his pursuit of justice.
Furthermore, while Hart continuously desires that others see him as “good”, Cohle has no
concern for such. He knows himself to be a man of faults and vices, yet he devotes
himself to a moral cause that benefits the society from which he initially appears to be so
separate.
This detachment is imposed by Cohle himself, and he offers a steady stream of
societal critiques to justify his stance. He makes incessant accusations against those in
positions of power, including the Tuttle family and the police force. For Cohle, no one
inhabits a high enough office to be above suspicion of wrongdoing, and precisely because
these individuals possess roles of authority, they are able harm others without
consequences. This theme of the show perfectly exemplifies the viewpoint of critical
legal theory.
Also known as critical legal studies, the central ideas of this perspective are
succinctly presented by the statement, “The law exists to support the interests of the party
or class that forms it and is merely a collection of beliefs and prejudices that legitimize
the injustices of society” (“Critical Legal Theory”). Furthermore, those with money
and/or power use the law to control others and remain on the top of the sociopolitical
hierarchy (“Critical Legal Theory”). Throughout the series, this phenomenon is depicted
numerous times, and Cohle makes statements that demonstrate his acceptance of this

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view. When he is buying Quaaludes from Lucy in the second episode, she says to him,
“You’re kind of strange, like you might be dangerous.” Cohle responds, “Of course I’m
dangerous. I’m police. I can do terrible things to people, with impunity.” He is fully
aware of the power inherent within his occupation and recognizes that it is often used to
benefit those who possess it rather than establish justice across society.
At the beginning of episode seven, Hart urges Cohle to “shoot straight” with the
police to prove his innocence, but Cohle asks, “Since when did guilt and innocence
define the state PD, huh?” He implies that the force serves its own interests, and this is
especially problematic in this case because of the “sprawl” of those involved with the
crimes and the individuals related to the perpetrators. The Tuttle family, of which
multiple criminals belong, includes the Governor of Louisiana turned U.S. Senator, a
prominent philanthropic reverend, and the sheriff of Vermilion Parish at the time of Marie
Fontenot’s disappearance. These influential roles enable the crimes to continue for years
and years, for making accusations against those with authority is career suicide. Cohle,
however, values justice over his personal well-being and is willing to make a stand
against those who abuse their power to do evil without consequence.
Evidence in support of critical legal theory can also be seen beyond the core
crimes of the show. In episode two, Hart and Cohle’s investigation takes them to a rural
brothel that was once home to Dora Lange. After Cohle refers to it as a “hillbilly bunny
ranch”, the owner suggests that he consult Sheriff Bilson before making accusations.
Hart then meets a prostitute named Beth there, who is underage at the time, and becomes
angered at the owner and the sheriff, who he claims “has got a stake in this place, too.”

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Though unproven, it is heavily insinuated that the local sheriff is using his authority to
profit from criminal activity.
Another instance of the abuse of power is Steve Geraci, a former detective in the
Criminal Investigations Division with Hart and Cohle and current sheriff of Iberia Parish.
While it does not appear that he made a conscious attempt to cover up the disappearance
of Marie Fontenot or had any direct involvement in the occult murders, he does exploit
others for material purposes. In the seventh episode, Hart plays a round of golf with
Geraci to gain information, and as they exit the clubhouse, Geraci shows off his new
silver Maserati. “You like that?” he asks. “Seized if off a good ol’ boy, had a quarter-bag
of weed.” “Oooh,” hoots Hart. “You gotta love this country.” The car, of course, was not
Geraci’s to take, but he used the law to trample others and benefit himself. Furthermore,
Hart’s comment is meaningful because it acknowledges that this act is not an isolated
event of self-interest. Across the nation, those with legal power pervert it to their own
advantage. Once again, Cohle is aware of this reality, too, and the harm he does to
Geraci’s Maserati in the final episode is more meaningful when considering it as a
symbol for injustice.
While the majority of the episodes of True Detective focus upon the
aforementioned jurisprudential viewpoints, an undercurrent of natural law theory may be
observed throughout the series, and it finally comes to the surface in the show’s final two
episodes. Natural law is an expansive concept that has a different meaning in relation to
each topic with which it is being discussed, but it may be generally defined here as the
idea “that some laws are basic and fundamental to human nature and are discoverable by
human reason without reference to specific legislative enactments or judicial decisions”

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(“Natural Law”). In other words, natural law is dependent upon the existence of an
intrinsic morality in humankind. Furthermore, a central figure of natural law theory, 13th
century priest Thomas Aquinas, declared that natural law is an aspect of divine
providence given by God to humankind (Murphy). Such claims are in direct opposition
to the philosophy of Cohle that is present throughout much of True Detective, but when
he shifts his mental framework late in the series, he begins to incorporate elements of this
jurisprudential perspective.
Cohle and Hart travel to the temporary location of a tent revival church called
“Friends of Christ” in the third episode and stand in the back discussing their opinions on
religion as the preacher gives his sermon. Cohle is critical of the congregation, pointing
out their obesity and poverty and assuming that they are gullible and unintelligent. Hart
defends them, stating that they are just enjoying “community, the common good”, and
asks Cohle, “Can you imagine if people didn’t believe, things they’d get up to?” “Exact
same thing they do now,” Cohle responds, “just out in the open.” With this statement, he
demonstrates his disbelief in any God-given morality in people and instead asserts that
individuals publicly act in a way that is morally righteous and privately do as they please.
Cohle goes on to claim that people are worthless if they govern their actions and attempt
to be morally upright solely because of their expectation of a heavenly reward. This line
of thinking, therefore, defines morality both by the action itself and by the lack of self-
interest in the actor.
Despite Cohle’s clear resistance in this instance to natural law theory, other parts
of the series and his own conflicting opinions complicate True Detective’s relationship to
natural law. An example of such may be found in Hart’s daughters. In the second

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episode, Hart argues his wife, Maggie, whom he accuses of having “a penchant for self-
pity”, and asks if she wants him to bring information about the horrors of his work into
their home so she will stop feeling sorry for herself. He then goes to his daughters’ room
to collect them for dinner, and as he walks down the hallway toward them, their muffled
voices can faintly be heard, saying, “You don’t have a Mommy or a Daddy anymore.
Yours just died in an accident.” When he arrives at their room, he notices dolls in the
floor arranged in a manner that resembles a crime scene investigation. A naked Barbie
lies on her back while five male figures encircle and peer at her. Hart’s efforts to keep
separation between his work and family have failed, and the barriers he built between his
personal life and family life crumble likewise in the following episode. At the same time
that he begins acting unfaithfully to Maggie, his oldest daughter, Audrey, gets in trouble
for making pornographic drawings for her friends at school. Hart is thus unable to keep
the dark realities of the world, and his own actions, from corrupting the innocence of his
daughters.
The second episode features Cohle discussing his daughter and conveys a similar
but more explicit message. He expresses gratitude that she died “painlessly, as a happy
child” before she suffered the damages of growing up in the world. “Think of the hubris
it must take,” he muses, “to yank a soul out of nonexistence into this meat, to force a life
into this thresher. As for my daughter, she spared me the sin of being a father.” While
Cohle’s statement seems horribly bleak, it and the corruption of Hart’s daughters do not
simply demonstrate the evil of the world. They imply the existence of an intrinsic good.
Though it is often weakened over time by external forces, this spark is present in

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humanity and especially prominent in children who have not yet been confronted by
worldly issues and surrendered to hopelessness.
Cohle’s comments above may seem perplexing in relation to his personal beliefs
in that they use terms such as “soul” and “sin”, which are typically found within the
religious sphere. This is not, however, the only time in which his character is entwined
with religion in unexpected ways. After seeing the aftermath of the murder in the first
episode, Hart presses Cohle about his beliefs and he responds with a speech, saying, “I
think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in human evolution. We became too self-
aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that
should not exist by natural law. . . I think the honorable thing for our species to do is
deny our programming, stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last
midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.”
First, it is necessary to clarify that the “natural law” about which he speaks is
biological and concerned with wholly separate issues from the “natural law” as discussed
within this paper, which deals with legal and ethical domains. Cohle’s statement seems
to be contrary to all popular religious beliefs, yet, interestingly, he meditates on the
actions of Jesus in relation to this idea. A wooden cross hangs above his bed in his
apartment, and he claims that he uses it to meditate on what it would be like to allow
one’s own crucifixion. Once again, he expresses antagonism toward self-interest and
idealizes the sacrifice of oneself. The act of self-sacrifice, however, implies putting the
good of others before personal benefits, and such an action makes little sense if he truly
believes his claim that “everybody’s nobody”.

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An additional link between Cohle and religion is present in the second episode.
When recounting his history to Detectives Gilbough and Papania, the two men
interviewing Hart and Cohle throughout the series, he mentions that he requested to be
placed into a position where he could investigate homicides. When asked why, he
loosely quotes a passage from 1 Corinthians that he read while in a psychiatric hospital.
“The body is not one member but many,” he recites. “Now, are they many but of one
body.” When asked what it means, Cohle simply replies, “I was just trying to stay part of
the body, man.” This “body” is humanity, and Cohle admits to his desire to be included.
This makes sense only if he accepts, on some level, the idea that natural law binds people
together and creates commonality. His perspective is so different from that of most
members of the society in which he exists, yet he can acknowledge the injustice of
homicide without any consideration for written laws. By working in this capacity, he is
able to unite with humanity. Furthermore, the crimes upon which the show centers are so
sinister, Cohle is eventually able to make absolute moral judgments. After seeing the
video of Marie Fontenot’s murder, Hart tells Cohle he should not have that videotape.
“No one should have this,” he responds. This claim is not made in reference to the laws
of the land, but rather is dependent upon natural law.
One of the biggest shifts in Cohle is his relationship to catharsis. At the tent
revival in the third episode, he defines it as “transference of fear and self-loathing to an
authoritarian vessel.” He makes use of his understanding of it in the interrogation room
and becomes the best in the state at extracting confessions. An example is his interaction
with Guy Francis in episode five. Knowing he must build up fear and self-hatred but also
make him believe there is a way out, he first gets Francis to admit he is scared. Cohle

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then recounts the events of the crime, a double murder to obtain pharmaceutical drugs,
and asks Francis if he wants forgiveness. When he states that he does, Cohle tells him
that he has confessed to the crime. Therefore, he serves as the “authoritarian vessel” and
encourages offenders to engage in catharsis and have peace and forgiveness by confiding
in him, only to entrap them.
In the final episode of the show, however, Cohle does not manipulate someone
through a cathartic narrative, but rather experiences catharsis himself. Upon waking
from his coma, he leaves behind his old philosophies and chooses to be honest and
unfiltered with Hart, sharing his innermost self. He confides that he felt his father and
daughter in the darkness of the coma and nothing but their love, but then awoke. No
longer are human beings mistakes of nature, no longer are people mere mounds of flesh,
and no longer can Cohle hold on to his previous concepts of life and selfhood. He has
felt love when all else is gone, and it must therefore be the core of human existence.
Additionally, Cohle decides to embrace a singular truth, claiming that the universe and all
life within it is “just one story, the oldest. . . Light versus dark.”
True Detective does not fully adopt any specific jurisprudential viewpoint, but it
does demonstrate that legal positivism, critical legal theory, and natural law are each
valid and valuable ways of thinking. The laws that govern society are made by humans
and are therefore imperfect. They may be immoral in terms of whom and what they
criminalize, and their creation and enforcement may benefit those who have power.
However, this does not mean that the law is incapable of being a force of good. After
Cohle states that everything is a battle of light versus dark, Hart looks at the night sky and
declares that the dark has a lot more territory. Cohle agrees, but after a moment he

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changes his mind. “You’re looking at it wrong, the sky thing.” “How’s that?” asks Hart.
“Well, once there was only dark. You ask me, the light’s winning.”
The laws of humankind are never static, and there is always the opportunity for
change. When legislators, judges, and law enforcement officials act in accordance with
morality, more and more light is present to dispel darkness from the world. There are no
solutions that will completely eliminate acts of evil, but every step that law takes toward
morality is a victory of good. True Detective takes its vast audience into a grim world
that seems irreparably damaged but offers a glimmer of hope. If humankind is willing to
consider the challenging philosophies and hybrid jurisprudential theory of the show, the
world of reality looks less like a lost cause and more like fertile ground for progressive
legal change.

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Works Cited
“Critical Legal Theory.” Legal Information Institute of Cornell University Law School.
Web. 10 Mar. 2014
Green, Leslie. “Legal Positivism.” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. 10 Aug.
2009. Web. 10 Mar. 2014.
Kamir, Orit. “Why ‘Law-and-Film’ and What Does it Actually Mean? A Perspective.”
Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 19.2 (2005): 255-278. 20 Jan.
2014.
Murphy, Mark. “The Natural Law Tradition in Ethics.” The Stanford Encyclopedia of
Philosophy. 27 Sep. 2011. Web. 10 Mar. 2014.
“Natural Law.” Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia. 2000. Web. 24 Apr. 2014.
True Detective. Dir. Cary Fukunaga. Home Box Office, 2014. Web.

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