Sandra Bland documentary makes her more than a grim statistic
Filmmakers Kate Davis and David Heilbroner have built an awards-studded career, often making documentaries about cracks in the criminal justice system where lives can slip through unseen.
From “The Newburgh Sting,” about four men swept up in an FBI operation in an upstate New York Muslim community, to “The Cheshire Murders,” which dug into the investigative missteps in a gruesome Connecticut home invasion, they’re attracted to stories of struggle against civic authority.
So it’s no surprise that the case of Sandra Bland, the 28year-old African-American woman who was found hanging in her cell while in police custody in Waller County after a confrontational traffic stop with Texas state trooper Brian Encinia, snagged their attention when it hit the headlines in July 2015. That interest mushroomed into their latest project, “Say Her Name: The Life and Death of Sandra Bland,” debuting at 9 p.m. Monday on HBO.
Bland’s death, which authorities designated a suicide while Bland’s family and their supporters raised the specter of racism, foul play, botched oversight and possible homicide, came at a time when the issue of African-Americans dying at the hands of the police was at the top of the news — with fallout from the fatal shootings of Mi-
chael Brown in St. Louis, Eric Garner in New York City, Walter Scott in North Charleston, S.C., and Tamir Rice in Cleveland, among others, still reverberating through the media.
But something about Bland’s case jumped out to Davis and Heilbroner: She was a woman.
“There has been a systemic gender bias,” Davis says in a phone interview, regarding media coverage. “There have been women who have fallen at the hands of the police or in police custody. So, yes, that added a certain importance to me, to the story.
“There are other elements, too. There was a mystery enshrouding what the heck happened. All we really knew at the time was that she was brutalized at the roadside by a cop and, strangely and seriously, three days later, was found in her jail cell, so the authorities said. That led to so many questions.”
Both sides of the story
Davis and Heilbroner, himself a former prosecutor in the Manhattan District Attorney’s office, managed to get incredible access, not only to the Bland family — particularly her grief-stricken mother and sisters — but to jailhouse photos, videos and autopsy evidence. They also devote a significant portion of the film to letting both the Blands as well as Waller County Sheriff R. Glenn Smith and District Attorney Elton Mathis tell their side of the story.
It took nearly two years for the film to be completed, as the filmmakers had to convince everyone to participate and wait for the case to be settled. In 2016, the Bland family received $1.9 million and changes in Waller County jail procedures from their wrongful-death suit. Subsequently, the Texas Senate passed the Sandra Bland Act, which was designed to force local jails to increase mental-health supervision of their charges and suicide-prevention training for employees.
“I think the family could see that we really care about humanizing people who are pawns in a larger scheme … and they knew this project would have the muscle of HBO, which is really something I never take for granted,” Davis says. “In terms of law enforcement, they couldn’t talk to us for a long time because they were in the middle of gathering evidence and presenting their case. … We held back and approached them once the case was settled … I think the sheriff and the DA took this as an opportunity to have their voice heard because they felt so attacked and vilified.
“We said, ‘Look, tell us what you think happened. What mistakes may have been made. Speak for yourself, otherwise you get people speaking for you.’ Another part of it is my partner was a prosecutor in Manhattan. I think that helped … that he would give law enforcement a fair shake, and let the audience think what they wish.”
It’s an even-handed approach that has been criticized in some quarters, such as in a Los Angeles Times review, where they say the filmmakers should have offered more pushback on some of the claims made. Davis waves away such comments.
“We put (Smith and Mathis) in the hot seat on really critical issues, like the falsifying of the jail records,” she says, referring to the guards who admitted to entering incorrect information on log entries to make it seem as if they had checked on Bland when he hadn’t. “That’s an egregious error on their part, and we did push them on camera to say that. … We allow the public to see firsthand that both the sheriff and the DA admit fault, serious fault.
“If the jailers weren’t checking on Sandy, at the very least, it’s negligence. … Had they done their job, they could have saved her life, potentially. … The sheriff admits that he feels that the Waller County Jail is morally responsible for Sandy’s death. That’s the closest thing the family’s ever gotten to an apology.
“If we had so-called ‘push farther,’ they would’ve walked out,” she continues. “We’d never hear from them at all. (Then) we could just sit in our bubble and fill in the blanks, but it’s not fair reporting. I don’t think it gives the audience, really, a chance to think for themselves and get to know these guys.
“Whether you like them or not, whether you think they’re lying through their teeth, whether you think they’re playing to the audience — there are many ways to read what they’re saying — I think it’s the ethical way to go. … It’s not a gotcha film.”
On the other side, at least one critic — the Hollywood Reporter’s John DeFore — has also noted that they don’t talk to Alexandria Pyle, the inmate in a cell adjacent to Bland’s who communicated with her and has said that she might have been distraught enough to kill herself, as authorities have maintained.
“We actually tried to reach her,” says Davis. “She was skittish and avoiding (us). We did try.”
Getting to know Bland
One of the most striking elements about “Say Her Name” is how much of Bland’s personality percolates throughout. It opens and closes with clips from Bland’s “Sandy Speaks” YouTube channel in which she talks about police abuse and racism but also the need for blacks and whites to find common ground in this contentious time.
When the directors discovered the videos, they knew they had to use them to help flesh out Bland’s personality and life, showing that she was more than just another victim and grim statistic.
“It’s eerie. It’s as if she speaks from the grave,” Davis says. “She speaks for so many of the fallen whose faces we’ll never know. … We don’t get to know Eric Garner and Michael Brown the same way because it’s so astonishingly rare … to find that kind of legacy of video blogs where the very person whose life was lost speaks to the issues that brought them down.”
Davis concedes that it may never be known with absolute certainty what happened to Bland within the walls of the Waller County Jail. “There are some terrifying lapses or gaps of knowledge that will keep everyone wondering,” she said. “Then the question becomes why was she there in the first place, what other mistakes we know were made, and what can we learn from them. The Sandra Bland Act was one step toward change so that maybe somebody else won’t go through the same thing.”
Finding uplift
After dealing with so many heavy issues of death and injustice in many of their movies, Davis and Heilbroner are taking a detour with their next film, “Born Into the Gig,” a look at the children of celebrity rock ’n’ roll parents.
“I’m an amateur musician myself, and it is nice to explore something that’s life-affirming,” Davis says. “On the other hand, I’ve got to say that Sandy’s own spirit did keep me going through (‘Say Her Name’). As dark as this is, I think it’s something that surprises audiences. … Some people just come up and go, ‘Wow, this is about Sandy, this amazing woman who we get to know and sort of love, with her humor and her many different moods and messages.’ ”