William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe

Kunstler took on the Chicago 8 case in 1968 because he believed the charges against them were unjust. The group was accused of inciting riots during the 1968 Democratic National Convention protests against the Vietnam War. Kunstler saw the trial as an opportunity to challenge the government's prosecution and put the Vietnam War and American racism on trial. This case marked his transition from a conventional estate and divorce lawyer to a nationally known civil rights attorney willing to risk his career for controversial defendants.

Earlier in his career, Kunstler had grown dissatisfied with the limitations of practicing standard family law and felt compelled to address broader societal injustices.

In 1971, Kunstler went to Attica Prison as an observer during the inmate rebellion, where prisoners demanded better conditions and human treatment. The state violently cracked down, resulting in 29 inmates and 9 hostages dead, with hundreds injured. This experience profoundly changed Kunstler. He witnessed the brutal reality of state violence and came to see the law not as a tool for justice but as a mechanism by which those in power maintain control over marginalized people. Some credited him with saving lives, while others argued he fueled unrealistic hopes of amnesty among the inmates.

The Chicago 8 trial had already begun shaping Kunstler's skepticism of the judicial system as a neutral force.

Kunstler believed that everyone deserved a legal defense, regardless of how heinous the accusations against them. He argued that the legal system often convicts innocent people through so-called legal proceedings, pointing to instances like the Holocaust, Sacco and Vanzetti, and racist Southern trials as examples. To him, defending those society deemed monstrous was precisely when a lawyer was most needed. His philosophy prioritized justice over public opinion, though this approach increasingly isolated him from his daughters and the broader public.

His experience at Attica hardened his view that the law could be used as a tool of oppression.

Kunstler defended Yusef Salaam, a Black teenager wrongfully accused in a notorious gang rape case. The media heavily criticized Kunstler for taking the case, branding him a monster for representing Salaam. However, years later, DNA evidence exonerated Salaam, proving his innocence and vindicating Kunstler's decision to defend him. The case became an example of how public outrage and media bias could lead to wrongful convictions, and why Kunstler believed controversial defenses were sometimes most necessary.

Earlier in his career, Kunstler had already faced intense public criticism for defending the Chicago 8.

Emily and Sarah Kunstler created this documentary because they struggled to reconcile the father they knew, a controversial, often absent figure who defended people society vilified, with the legendary civil rights lawyer remembered by the public. By the time he died in 1995, they felt he had strayed from the ideals worth fighting for. The film was their attempt to understand his choices, examine his complex legacy, and present him as a multidimensional human being rather than either a hero or a villain.

Their concerns about his reputation were evident when they urged him not to defend Yusef Salaam.

During the Chicago 8 trial, Kunstler argued that the legal system has been used throughout history to legitimize oppression. He cited examples like the Holocaust in Europe, the execution of Sacco and Vanzetti, and countless racist death penalty sentences in the American South, all carried out through legal procedures. His point was that tyranny often operates more effectively through seemingly legitimate courts than through naked violence, making the pursuit of actual justice different from mere adherence to legal processes.

This philosophy crystallized after his experiences defending protesters and witnessing the Attica rebellion.

In 1973, when Native Americans occupied Wounded Knee in South Dakota to protest federal policies and demand better treatment, they sought Kunstler as their legal defender. He represented them against federal authorities during this historic confrontation. This case further established his reputation as a lawyer willing to take on marginalized groups fighting against government power, joining his earlier work with civil rights activists and his later defense of the Chicago 8.

His involvement in the civil rights movement had positioned him as a go-to lawyer for groups facing federal opposition.

By the time Kunstler's daughters were born in the late 1970s, his public image had shifted significantly from the celebrated civil rights hero. One particularly damaging moment was when he was photographed kissing a Mafia client, a visual that contradicted the noble image his daughters had expected from a civil rights champion. This image, along with his defense of clients like an Islamic fundamentalist charged with killing a rabbi and a terrorist in the World Trade Center bombing, contributed to his transformation in public perception from hero to a more controversial and isolated figure.

This incident occurred during the period when Kunstler's legal philosophy had shifted toward defending anyone he believed needed advocacy most.

Early in his career, Kunstler viewed the law as a tool for achieving justice. However, his experiences, especially defending the Chicago 8 and witnessing the Attica rebellion, fundamentally changed this perspective. He came to see legal systems as instruments that powerful interests use to maintain control over marginalized populations. This shift enabled him to represent clients others considered indefensible, as he believed the real injustice often lay in the system itself rather than in the individuals charged.

His decision to defend the Chicago 8 was the pivotal moment that began this transformation.

Kunstler's controversial career created significant tension with his daughters Emily and Sarah. They grew up watching their father defend people the media demonized, and they often worried about his reputation. At one point, they directly urged him not to defend Yusef Salaam, hoping to protect his legacy. Their relationship was complicated by his absence and the moral complexity of his choices. The documentary itself represents their attempt to understand and ultimately forgive the father they both loved and struggled to comprehend.

The documentary's creation was driven by the daughters' need to reconcile their personal memories with their father's public life.