Scott’s latest novel, LIMITATIONS, among other things, looks broadly and critically at the moral basis that underlies placing a limitation on the time period in which a claim can be filed or a criminal prosecution can commence. The idea behind a statute of limitation, in criminal and civil cases, is that after a certain period of time, depending upon the particular statute, evidence grows stale and potential defendants are thereby given a reprieve from future prosecution.
But the moral question is: Should truth ever be time-barred? Should a crime go unpunsihed simply because of the passage of time? Do unpunished criminals deserve to be able to go on with their lives–no longer fearing that they will be discovered–simply because their accusers did not act in a timely fashion? The problem is, while evidence may grow stale, the crime itself remains vivid and fresh in the minds of victims, families, and communities.
LIMITATIONS does not seek to answer these questions, but it does present them in a way that creates a great deal of internal debate among its readers.
Statutes of limitations cannot be reduced to a moral question because they operate as a practical mechanism. Turow seemed to be saying that they have valid practical uses. When Rosenbaum asked whether truth should ever be time-barred, he sets up the answer to be “No.” It’s un-p.c. to say we should close off opportunities to hear the truth. But the debate is more about the circumstances in which the story loses relevance, or whether the story that is time-barred at some point becomes overshadowed by other “truths,” or whether the story ever contained any greater truth we want to pay attention to even after the passage of time.
truth shouldn’t be “time barred.” but over time the “truth” of a matter changes. it becomes fuzzy or idealized. the factual truth separates from the emotional truth. the memory might not change, but what it means to the people who hold the memory can change. in some cases, after a while, nobody cares about that truth anymore. everyone moves on.
There is a time-stamp on truth, and it’s not just because there are statutes of limitations, and it is a very short one. That is why statutes of limitations are set for periods that are too long.
If the point is to make sure everyone is still telling the truth, then statutes of limitations should be within a short time frame to the event, because people forget things quickly and they don’t admit their forgetfulness or the way time changes their first reaction. It’s like in 12 Angry Men when the jurors figured out that the way the old man and the old woman who were witnesses said things went could not have been true. The old man wanted to be important, so he didn’t admit that he changed the truth a little. The old woman thought she could be more positive in what she saw than was possible with the trains. She didn’t admit that she could not know the truth.
Is it true that a crime or a bad experience always remains vivid in the mind of the person who experienced it? And does that mean that it shouldn’t be time -barred? It seems like the memory of bad things gets smaller over time, that’s why people can forgive ther person who did it.
The memory of a trauma, especially one that leaves a deep scar such as a violent crime or terrible betrayal, like adultery, changes over time, but the need to address the violation does not diminsh. The related emotions might become less painful or transform in some way, but the desire to have a trauma acknowledged and repaired; the desire for apologies and promises to do the same action again; the desire to direct the way that repair is made–these all remain fresh for the one who has been violated. The crime victim’s desire for justice does not fade. And forgiveness does not come until all of these things are complete.
Re: the last comment — that, of course, is assuming that we are all working with the same definition of “forgiveness,” which is a highly problematic term.