Reversible Errors by Scott Turow

Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of American Literature, Revised Edition

First published: 2002

Type of work: Novel

The Work

Reversible Errors draws on Scott Turow’s pro bono death penalty defense work to show how even well-meaning prosecutors can cause justice to miscarry. Corporate attorney Arthur Raven has been assigned the final appeal in a notorious murder, the killing of a popular restaurateur. A ne’er-do-well named Rommy Gandolph has been convicted on circumstantial evidence and a confession evoked under pressure, and since he is both marginally retarded and disagreeable, his fated end has not provoked much sympathy. Raven, however, becomes convinced of Gandolph’s innocence and does battle with the two key figures in the prosecution: detective Larry Starczek, who elicited Gandolph’s confession, and Muriel Wynn, the prosecutor. Starczek and Wynn were once lovers, and since their attraction endures, their professional relationship is complicated by their residual feelings. Both are competent and ambitious, unwilling to simply admit error, especially given Gandolph’s confession and the absence of any other credible suspects. Their debates about the correct response to Raven shows that prosecutorial intransigence can be more than simple stubbornness, for their motives include skepticism about the defense, a righteous regard for justice and the victim’s family, a yearning for closure, and a justifiable pride in what they regard as a job well done.

Raven is aided in his defense by Gillian Sullivan, the former judge who sentenced Gandolph, now disgraced after serving prison time for taking bribes. Raven consults her about the case, and they begin an affair, two lost souls united by Raven’s newfound belief in himself and his professional obligation. By setting up his prosecution and defense teams as two couples in the midst of affairs, Turow shows the human side of a process ordinarily considered dry and professional: Both Wynn and Raven are influenced by their personal and emotional states. For example, since she knows the detective as a lover, Wynn allows Starczek great leeway in his investigative conduct, a leeway not permitted a relative stranger. Raven’s zeal in defense of Gandolph is at least in part fueled by his desire to demonstrate his forceful masculinity before his new lover.

As is customary in Turow’s novels, the resolution of the plot is unexpected and even startling: The true culprit and motive were off the radar screen of the original investigation. As with Presumed Innocent, human behavior and motive are complex and murky, colored in shades of gray rather than in the black-and-white categories of guilty and innocent that the law demands. Even at the end, readers cannot be truly sure about the precise behavior of all the participants in the crime, and that is Turow’s point: After ten years and the best efforts of highly competent and basically honorable people, one remains unsure. How can capital punishment be justified in the face of such doubt? While many errors, both legal and otherwise, can be reversed, the death penalty cannot. Rommy Gandolph’s close call with execution—convicted on circumstantial evidence, he is exonerated only because of a series of random happenstances, such as the illness of the true culprit—is Turow’s case against capital punishment.

Sources for Further Study

Booklist 99 (September 1, 2002): 8.

Library Journal 127 (September 15, 2002): 94.

Los Angeles Times Book Review, December 15, 2002, p. 13.

The New York Times Book Review 107 (November 3, 2002): 8.

Publishers Weekly 249 (August 19, 2002): 64.