SUB-HEADING ‘After ‘Making a Murderer’ and ‘The Keepers,’ Netflix’s reign over the true-crime genre continues with ‘The Confession Tapes.’
GIST: (SPOILERS WARNING - but maybe not so relevant in a documentary. HL;):  "That
 anyone would actually admit to a crime they didn’t commit—to police, 
and on the record—is a notion that naturally inspires more than a bit of
 skepticism. No matter the situation of the individual being questioned,
 or the pressure placed upon them by outside forces, the idea that 
someone would throw away their life over something they had nothing to 
do with—and which may have been a tragedy for them as well—seems so 
implausible that to convince people that such a thing has occurred 
becomes an immediate uphill battle. Yet in six stories 
told over the course of seven episodes, each bolstered by copious 
footage of the police interrogations that led individuals to point the 
fingers at themselves (thus earning them life sentences behind bars), 
The Confession Tapes makes
 a cogent, compelling argument that, under the right circumstances, a 
declaration of guilt isn’t worth more than the videotape on which it’s 
recorded. “Say
 it and be done with it,” an investigator tells Buddy Woodall—a man 
thought to have been involved with the execution of his uncle and 
another man—in Episode 6 (“The Labor Day Murders”) of 
The Confession Tapes. It’s a plea found, in one form or another, in all of the cases addressed by Loudenberg’s show. The
 pattern quickly becomes obvious: Law enforcement officials decide, 
early on, upon their main suspects; home in on them at the expense of 
exhaustively following up other leads and theories; and then 
psychologically wear them down through 5-10 hour interrogations. In
 those marathon sessions, detectives and polygraph experts employ all 
sorts of mind games designed to elicit an “I did it.” They present 
possible scenarios for how the crimes may have played out, and repeat 
them ad nauseam. They claim that they have (non-existent) evidence 
implicating the accused. They intimate that the crimes may have been 
committed in a subconscious-driven dream state, thus making the 
“killers” unaware of their own actions. And they depict themselves as 
their targets’ only hope for a lighter sentence, or at least for relief 
from moral anguish—and, of course, from the misery of the interrogations
 themselves.
 The Confession Tapes’
 various tales feature recordings of men and women denying 
responsibility for hours on end, only to eventually succumb to the 
narratives fed to them by cops. That, in almost every instance, there’s 
no corroborating evidence to back up these statements—save for 
circumstantial tidbits that hardly rise to a “reasonable doubt” 
standard—means that these people have been put away for crimes based 
solely on their own admissions. It’s a portrait of dubious law 
enforcement methods resulting in legal railroading, and one whose 
outrageousness is amplified by the fact that, after the verdict, there’s
 very little recourse to be undertaken on behalf of the convicted. Loudenberg’s
 first two episodes (“True East”) concentrate on Atif Rafay and 
Sebastian Burns, two friends from Bellevue, Washington, who were pinned 
for the 1994 slaughter of Atif’s father, mother, and mentally disabled 
sister. Though they had strong alibis and little motive, they found 
themselves in the crosshairs of both domestic police and—because Atif 
and Sebastian were both Canadian citizens—the Royal Canadian Mounted 
Police. The latter elicited a confession from the duo after executing a 
ruse known as “Mr. Big”—in which undercover agents pretended to be 
gangsters eager to help the suspects—that’s illegal here in the States 
(and now also in Canada, thanks to a recent Supreme Court ruling). In 
surreptitious tapings of Sebastian and Atif’s meetings with these 
faux-mobsters, we see the teens struggle mightily to concoct lucid 
admissions. Meanwhile, law enforcement diligently ignores a conflicting,
 far-from-unbelievable theory: The Rafay clan was assassinated by a 
terrorist Muslim group that disliked Dr. Rafay’s public proclamations of
 his belief that mosques were having members pray toward Mecca in the 
wrong direction. A similar picture emerges in later 
episodes, which tackle a man who confesses to setting his girlfriend on 
fire in a bar while black-out drunk; a mother who agrees that she burned
 her daughter alive during a waking dream; a group of young 
African-African men coaxed into impugning each other for a heinous 
rape-murder that was probably committed by a local sadist; and a father 
who comes to believe that a “demon” drove him to drive his car into a 
Detroit-area river, killing his four children, rather than it being the 
result of an automotive malfunction.
 The Confession Tapes’ 
horror stories are distinct, and yet tethered together by the same 
threads: poor, minimally educated individuals; little to no evidence to 
support confessions; competing hypotheses that are largely discarded by 
investigators and prosecutors; multi-hour interrogations conducted 
without a lawyer present, in which the accused eventually succumb to 
rigorous pressure to say what police want to hear; and, ultimately, 
guilty verdicts. To recount these cases, Loudenberg 
marries her grainy VHS confession tapes to archival footage, new 
interviews with primary players and evocative dramatic imagery (a tour 
through a crime-scene garage, close-ups of broken glass, a bloody dollar
 bill, and a polygraph machine scribbling lines on a piece of paper). 
It’s a style that diligently follows the 
Errol Morris book of true-crime filmmaking,
 and yet its lack of formal adventurousness is offset by the precision 
of the director’s technique, as well as by an overarching air of 
despair. Even though it raises as many questions as it provides 
definitive answers—and, in one account, falters a bit in suggesting a 
person’s innocence—
The Confession Tapes is a bracing 
compendium of injustices, at once indignant over the way in which these 
subjects were manipulated into damning themselves, and sorrowful over 
their subsequent powerlessness to right a clear wrong."
The entire story can be found at: 
http://www.thedailybeast.com/netflixs-the-confession-tapes-your-new-true-crime-tv-obsession
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: I am monitoring this case/issue. Keep your eye on the 
Charles Smith Blog for reports on developments. The Toronto Star, my 
previous employer for more than twenty incredible years, has put 
considerable effort into exposing the harm caused by Dr. Charles Smith 
and his protectors - and into pushing for reform of Ontario's forensic 
pediatric pathology system. The Star has a "topic" section which focuses
 on recent stories related to Dr. Charles Smith. It can be found at: http://www.thestar.com/topic/charlessmith. Information on "The Charles Smith Blog Award"- and its nomination process - can be found at: http://smithforensic.blogspot.com/2011/05/charles-smith-blog-award-nominations.html Please
 send any comments or information on other cases and issues of interest 
to the readers of this blog to: hlevy15@gmail.com. Harold Levy; 
Publisher; The Charles Smith Blog.