Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

If you think about it, there are certain types of characters that we see in a lot of crime novels. And the fact is, some of them are hard done by in fiction. What if these characters got fed up with the situation and got themselves lawyers? What if they insisted on better treatment? It might help those characters, and it would certainly change the genre. If you’ll invite your disbelief to settle in with a good book and a snack, let’s look at what happens…

When Characters Get Lawyers

The scene is a modern-looking business office. The frosted glass door is emblazoned with the words: Crime Novel Manufacturing Company. A middle-aged woman in a navy suit enters the office and tells the receptionist that she has an appointment with the head of manufacturing. A moment later, a man of about the same age, wearing a charcoal suit, comes out to greet her.

‘My name is Ben Barnes. It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you, too. I’m Laura Ladner, with Majors, Ladner, and Syke.’
‘Let’s go back to my office.’

They are soon seated in Ben’s office, a minimalist office with sleek, modern furnishings, bookshelves, and a large, light blue area rug.

‘Now, how can I help you?’
‘As I said on the phone, I’m here on behalf of large group of clients who are very upset with your treatment of them.’
‘And who are these people?’
‘Unidentified women.’

Ben shakes his head in confusion. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘Let me spell it out for you. My clients are all unidentified women who are found dead in the novels you create. They end up in marshes, empty apartments, and anywhere else you can think of. And quite frankly, they’re tired of it. Why do all of your victims have to be unidentified women?’
‘Well, they do get the reader’s attention. Besides, there are real-life cases of unidentified women whose bodies are discovered.’
‘That may be, but my clients feel that you are being very unfair to their group. You’re making them out to be victims and putting them through a lot. I’m here to request that you stop.’

Ben pauses for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose I could consider that. It will mean a loss of sales. Readers do like unidentified female victims.’
‘We’re going to insist. Otherwise, we may have to take action.’

Ben is just ushering Laura to the door when his next appointment arrives.

‘Ben Barnes? I’m Jay Jarvis, with Jarvis & Associates.’
‘Oh, yes, come right back.’

Once they’re seated in Ben’s office, Jay begins.

‘Thank you for seeing me. I’m here representing a group of maids and other domestic servants who are extremely upset by the way they’re depicted in the novels you manufacture.’

Ben leans back slightly. ‘And what are they unhappy about? Very often, they have important information on mysteries. And some of them are witty, too. Some are even amateur sleuths.’
‘But think about it. They’re often victims. How many maids get killed because of what they know or have seen? And they’re frequently blamed for murder. A number of them even discover bodies. Do you know how traumatic that is?’
‘So what do your clients want?’
‘They want you to stop making them victims. Let someone else find the bodies. And they want raises, too.’
‘Raises? Well, about that…’
‘Look, we can talk about raises. But at the very least, not one more maid gets killed. I’ll have to insist, or we may have to take this further.’

Ben finishes his business with Jay, and is just getting a cup of coffee when the receptionist tells him his next visitor is waiting. Ben goes to the waiting area and shakes hands with the new arrival, a young, harried-looking woman in a dark pantsuit.

‘You’re Sarah Sterne?’
‘That’s right. With Marshall and Powers. Thanks for seeing me.’

Once in Ben’s office, Sarah takes a seat, puts her briefcase on the floor next to her, and begins. Ben sips his coffee as she explains her visit.

‘I represent a varied group of drinkers and occasional drug users who have filed a complaint with our office. My clients believe that you are maligning them in your books.’
‘In what way?’
‘Think about how many times your characters go out drinking and then wake up to discover a body. As if a hangover wasn’t enough! And some of them end up being victims themselves. We even have incidents where our clients end up accused of murder.’
‘But, drinking – well, it does make a person vulnerable. Anything can happen.’
‘Just because someone has a few too many is no reason to make life even harder for them. I mean, who hasn’t had more than they should?’
‘I can’t force my characters to teetotal.’
‘Fair enough, but stop making them constantly discover bodies or be victims or patsies. If you don’t, we’ll take further action.’

Ben agrees to look over upcoming novels, and ushers Sarah to the door. As she is leaving, another appointment comes in – a young man with close-cropped blond hair and a dark brown suit.

‘Are you Ben Barnes?’
‘Yes I am. You must be Chet Chessman.’
‘That’s right. With the Haroldsen group.’
‘Come on back.’

Five minutes later, the two men are seated in Ben’s office.

‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’m here on behalf of a group of police lieutenants, chief inspectors, and other supervisors. To be frank, they’re tired of the way you portray them.’
‘What, specifically, are they upset about?’
‘For one thing, far too many of them are shown as bitter, even malicious, and out to get the protagonist cop. They refuse to listen to the protagonist’s ideas, and instead, take that person off the case. It happens all the time, and my clients are very unhappy about it.’
‘So your clients don’t want to be antagonists?’
‘Can you blame them? They’re always seen as obstacles. Some even turn out to be the bad guys. And let me remind you, not all police supervisors are like that. Many are decent, hard-working people who take care of their own.’
‘Fair enough. But there are police who are the exact opposite.’
‘Yes, but too many of my clients are not portrayed as decent people. You’ll need to stop maligning them unless you want to face further action on our part.’

Chet gets up a bit abruptly, as if to punctuate what he’s said. He’s just left when the last visitor of the morning comes in. Ben greets her in the waiting area.

‘Mallory Manning?’
‘That’s right. I’m from Penning and Penning.’
‘Nice to meet you.’

The two shake hands and go into Ben’s office. When they’re seated, Mallory pulls a piece of paper from her briefcase, puts on a pair of glasses, and begins.

‘I’m here to represent a group of serial killers who have complained to us about your treatment of them in your books.’
‘They’re serial killers. Serial killers kill.’
‘Yes, but you’re leaning on them far too often as antagonists. You know, serial killing is a specialty sort of murdering. Not many real-life people are serial killers, but you wouldn’t know that from your books. Every other killer leaves a string of bodies behind, takes trophies, the whole thing.’
‘But some fictional serial killers have been excellent, well-developed characters.’
‘The majority of them, though, are not shown that way, and my clients are unhappy about that. They want you to stop using them as easy ways to create a murderer. If there must be a serial killer, they want you to develop that character just as you would any other character. Is that so much to ask?’

Ben thinks for a moment. He is exhausted from all these meetings and just wants to get rid of this last person.

‘I’ll certainly consider what your clients want.’
‘You’ll need to do more than consider. My clients will be watching carefully, and if you persist in portraying them the way you do, they will take things further.’

Ben assures Mallory that he will take her warning seriously and sees her out. When he gets back to his desk, he quietly opens a desk drawer where he keeps a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It’s been a long morning.

Which sorts of characters do you think should get legal advice?