On the day last week that Kelly Flinn accepted a general discharge from the Air Force, she didn’t meet the press to talk about her fate. Her mother, Mary, did it for her.
It was Mary Flinn, mother of the nation’s first female B-52 bomber pilot, who stood in front of the pens and lights and mikes and said, “I feel a great injustice has been done to Kelly Flinn.”
It was Mary Flinn, along with Kelly Flinn’s brother, who earlier had talked to the “Today” show about Flinn’s impending court martial on adultery and related charges. It was Mary Flinn, along with Kelly Flinn’s father, who appeared on “60 Minutes” to bang the drums of parental pride for their beloved, besieged daughter.
Those of us who watched “The Scarlet Bomber” from the bleachers saw as much of the family as we did of the flier, and the sight and sound of them helped us see Flinn not as a cartoon vixen but as a woman with roots and relatives, a woman of flesh and blood.
Flinn’s case is a good example of a common phenomenon: Trouble often turns into a family affair, particularly when the trouble plays out on the front page and in prime time. A person may commit a misdeed solo, but once the deed’s made public, the family is towed into the mud and the spotlight. Brothers, sisters, parents, spouses and kids are catapulted into public jobs as apologists and psychologists, expected to explain the criminal and the crime.
Some volunteer for the duty. Others are not allowed the choice. Either way, in performing their public task, they illuminate the complexity and tenacity of family love and loyalty.
The federal government would have had a harder time trying to nail Timothy McVeigh for the bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City without the testimony of his sister, Jennifer.
On the stand recently, Jennifer, her brother’s closest confidant, described ominous anti-government letters he’d sent her, an incriminating file he left in her computer, a traffic accident he had while driving a car packed with explosives.
And yet, not long ago, the same Jennifer who testified against her brother in exchange for immunity from prosecution, said: “I love my brother to death, and I want nothing more than to support him. He’s not some inhuman monster. He’s a normal person like you and me.”
Family bonds, as she makes clear, can withstand the acid of the most awful evidence.
Consider David Kaczynski. He led the authorities to his brother, Theodore, after discovering eerie similarities between the Unabomber’s screeds and his brother’s letters. But he and his mother, while expressing sympathy for the victims and their families, issued a statement that said, “Our hearts are with Ted.”
David Kaczynski pleaded with the federal government not to press for the death penalty, arguing that his brother had been mentally disturbed since childhood. He and his family reportedly were devastated last week by the news that the government would deny them that one mercy.
In the normal course of life, members of many families stab each other in the back or bankbook, or sell each other out for fun and profit. Witness the sniveling tell-all just written by the brother of actress Jodie Foster.
And yet, just as often, when the chips are down, families circle the wagons, fly the family flag, nurse the wounded body. And in general, family members make good public relations agents for the accused.
When you see the mother, the brother, the sister, you can see the kid inside the miscreant. Surround someone with relatives and the portrait broadens, softens.
The fact that O.J. Simpson’s mother claimed to believe he didn’t kill his wife may not have convinced everyone he was innocent, but it reminded us he was loved. The fact that Andrew Cunanan’s mother prays for him doesn’t make his alleged killing spree less gruesome, but it reminds us that even the worst of villains is somebody’s son.
On the other hand, relatives are not always reliable, informed sources. Just because your brother knows your preference in toothpastes, or your sister knows how you loop your “l’s,” or your mother knows about that little birthmark in a funny place doesn’t mean they understand the mechanics of your soul.But it’s interesting to imagine what they would say if dragged into the limelight and asked.
