Eastern students made up most of the public who attended the Mertz pre-trial conference Aug. 29 in order to observe criminal justice proceedings surrounding the man accused of murdering Shannon McNamara. I attended along with many of my criminology students. With the exception of a Times-Courier journalist and Father Chris of the Newman Center, everyone unaffiliated with the criminal justice system stood with legs apart in order to be scrutinized by a hand-held metal detector. Each time the detector’s alarm went off, proof of innocence had to be supplied to the sheriff’s department regarding the offending item. Sunglasses with metal frames, eyeglasses, belt buckles, etc. had to be revealed.

When did Shannon’s mourners and supporters become suspect enough to require such surveillance at Mertz’ trial? As far as I could tell, the metal detector discovered no dangers or threats since no one was turned away from the courtroom (granted that those with evil intent may have opted out of attending the hearing by leaving the building to wreak havoc elsewhere in the community rather than go through such surveillance and get detected.)

Still, something seems amiss when Mertz can be the trigger to the surveillance of Eastern’s students and of at least one of Eastern’s professors in Coles County. The type of surveillance I observed at the courthouse resembles a Terry Stop (a stop and frisk or patdown). In order for a Terry Stop to be conducted legally, a law enforcement officer must have reasonable suspicion that a particular individual or individuals are about to commit a crime or that such identifiable individuals may pose a danger to the officer by concealing a weapon. So far, the Constitution has provided legal protection to gatherings of citizens (groups) from being stopped and frisked.

As we enter an age of surveillance where even Coles County plans to install equipment to scrutinize every citizen entering its county seat, whether that individual wishes to pay his or her property taxes or is participating in the criminal justice process, we must take this opportunity to critically reflect on the effectiveness of this surveillance and its impact on our democracy as well as on our community’s atmosphere. For example, has anyone assessed the evidence leading up to the decision to install such equipment? Has anyone questioned whether such surveillance sets a tone of overall distrust of others that will carry into the community? Does the criminal justice system at the courthouse so mistrust us that we, in turn, will come to mistrust ourselves, each other, and our system of justice? Basically, is such surveillance effective?

It seems to me that some individuals, like Mertz, provide clear and repeated signals that they are in need of surveillance and scrutiny while most of us do not emit the type of behavioral signal that could and should evoke professional scrutiny and surveillance. It also seems clear that effective surveillance would target specific individuals who call attention to themselves through actions that intimidate, threaten, and/or harm others, as Mertz did, rather than cast a wide surveillance net over the community with the indiscriminate hope that it falls upon one or two potential criminals regardless of the impact of such surveillance on the community, its citizens, and our democracy.

Diane Schaefer, Ph.D.

Sociology & anthropology professor