Perhaps the best essay I read in the run-up to the election of President Barack Obama was "The Triumph of Culture over Politics" by Lee Siegel in The Wall Street Journal. It was a masterful job of synthesizing a lot of complicated campaign undercurrents. "Liberals always think that there is something broken in politics," wrote Siegel. "Conservatives always think that there is something wrong with the culture."
    There are aspects of this essay that are moot now that the Democrats have racked up a convincing national victory and, in hindsight, it's easy to say Siegel gave the Republicans too much credit, but his theme is still ripe for debate. Here's a sample: "Liberals segregate culture from ordinary existence. They will 'do' culture and then 'do' the rest of life -- gaze at a Vermeer, say, and then work on finding the perfect daycare center. But for conservatives, raising children, using the discipline of faith to endure illness or setback, cherishing life at its conception are cultural tasks and values inseparable from the challenges of everyday living."
    Check it out if you've got 20 minutes to spare.

  This has happened before; just when I'm considering letting my subscription to National Geographic lapse, a new issue shows up with a startling piece of work, the kind of journalism that reminds me why I love this craft, and why I  respect the people who really do it well. I'm talking about the cover story for the April '08 issue, "Lost in the Sahel," by Paul Salopek.
    The Sahel is an arrid zone at the southern edge of the Sahara desert, a strip of land that runs the entire width of Africa. During his journey through the Sahel for NatGeo, Salopek ran into several horrendous situations, including finding himself, his driver and his interpreter arrested in Darfur, thrown into jail for five weeks, and beaten for having illegally crossed the border from Chad into Sudan. That part of the story is harrowing enough, but the strength of the piece relies chiefly on the quality of Salopek's writing and attention to detail. The Sudanese guerillas who capture our correspondent (and trade him to government soldiers for a carton of uniforms) proudly show off their mobile phones, which display photos of the burning towers of the World Trade Center. When he goes on a hunger strike, his captors threaten to force feed him "like Guantanamo." Then there's the refugee he meets from Darfur, a Muslim himself, whose fervent hope is that his infant son will grow up to be a killer of Arabs.
    Salopek also tells stories of gentle, generous people in the Sahel, and there's a wealth of surprising information, such as the fact that global warming has resulted in more rainfall in the region, meaning more vegetation and a welcome revival of local agriculture. This is a fine piece of reporting.

   Here are updates on two articles in this journal that were originally published a few years ago:
   My essay "Presumption of Uncertainty" was published in The American Lawyer magazine in 2003. For more recent updates on the case, conduct a Google search on "Central Park Jogger" and you'll find a wealth of material. One of the best pieces I've read about the verdicts being overturned was Sydney Schanberg's analysis in The Village Voice. Also among the items a search will turn up is a documentary in the American Justice series on A&E called "The Central Park Jogger Case: What Went Wrong?"
    I wrote "A Matter of Life and Death" for Court TV's website in 1997, during jury selection in the Terry Nichols trial. Nichols was convicted of conspiracy to blow up the Murrah Building and eight counts of manslaughter, but was acquitted of 168 murder charges, and the jury declined to impose a death sentence. A Google search for "Terry Nichols" will get you updates from his subsequent state murder trial, and his more recent allegations of the FBI's prior knowledge of the Oklahoma City bombing. Court TV's archive from the federal trial is also still available online.

    There comes a time in most of the trials I cover as a reporter when a slight chill brushes the back of my neck, and I hear an inner voice ask, "What if this defendant really is not guilty?"
    In a big case, like those concerning the Oklahoma City bombing, the siege at Waco, and the rape of the Central Park jogger, it's a frightening moment. Frightening because we in the press corps know that convictions are virtually inevitable in such cases and, therefore, we also know that if the defense team's denials are based in truth, a huge injustice is about to take place.
    The recent vacating of rape and assault convictions in the case of the Central Park jogger suggests that such an injustice may have needlessly cost each of five New York City men more than seven years of liberty (one served more than 12 years). I say the ruling "suggests" as much because, even after a fresh, exhaustive investigation into startling new evidence, it is still not entirely clear that the original defendants were wrongly convicted.

    At one point during jury selection for the trial of Terry Nichols, the second accused Oklahoma City bomber, Judge Richard Matsch told the lawyers, “There is no precedent for the challenge we face here.”
    It’s unlikely that Michael Tigar, leader of the Nichols defense team, had to be reminded of that fact. He knows only too well the daunting task he and his colleagues face. It’s their job to find jurors who believe in the propriety of the death penalty, yet who—if they first convict Nichols of the most bloody mass murder in American history—would be willing, for some reason as yet unknown to them, to spare his life.
    Among defenders and prosecutors alike, Tigar has earned a reputation as one of the most skilled trial lawyers in the business. To watch him conduct jury selection in the Nichols case is to understand why.
    The chess game that is jury selection in a capital case begins with a ground rule that gives the prosecution a distinct advantage. That rule is called “death qualification.” It means that only people who are capable of imposing a death sentence can be considered for service on the jury; those who are opposed to the death penalty as a matter of principle are excluded