Summer of Karla

On the eve of her release from prison Karla Homolka, Canada's most notorious serial killer accomplice, is asking for a publication ban on her whereabouts. According to reports:

The injunction would prevent media from taking photos of her and from trying to obtain any information about her, including her address, her telephone number, her movements and her relationships.

It also targets any such information on the Internet.

Good freaking luck. I wrote about this back when the Robert Pickton case started, and that was before the mainstreaming of citizen journalism. Right or wrong, the reality is that information moves faster than the legal instruments that might contain it.

Unlike Pickton, though, Homolka's life could be threatened by widespread knowledge of something as simple as the community she lives in. Does Homolka's right to personal safety outweigh the public interest? I do think there's a public interest here, but it's a bit hard to watch the media--practically salivating over this story already--stand up for it by opposing the publication ban. I mean, talk about disingenuous. (On the other hand, you have to wonder if asking for the ban--a longshot, I'd think--is a kind of hail mary ploy to gain Homolka some pre-release public sympathy.)

Call me a cynic, but I think the arguments against this publication ban are less philosophical than economic. The ban is only relevant to the big Canadian media, and it stops them from covering the story while handing foreign blogs and publishers a competitive advantage. Like the Pickton case, the Canadian media will be left reporting that the details of Homolka's release are widely available from American websites. I wouldn't want to be stuck with that.

And, at the risk of sounding like I have Harry Knowles disease, the problem is that Summer of Karla is this season's sure-fire blockbuster. The kind of can't-miss stalkathon that sells lots of papers and advertising.

The ethical quandaries can be traced right down to the media consumer. Is following the story in my local paper essentially a vote for this kind of public interest (but still salacious and morbid and creepy) journalism? If Homolka is killed, am I somehow complicit? Despite my better judgement, this is a case where I'm not completely against judicious vigilante-ism. But I sure don't want my hands dirty, even with ink.