Jean-Xavier de Lestrade made the Oscar-winning documentary Murder on a Sunday Morning, the story of a 15-year-old African-American wrongly accused of killing a white woman. He spoke to us from Paris about making his new series about American justice, Death on the Staircase.

BBC Four: After Murder on a Sunday Morning, what made you decide to take on the story of Death on the Staircase?
Jean-Xavier de Lestrade: All of my films look at specific themes, such as death, incest or tolerance. In Murder on a Sunday Morning, I tried to show how a rather 'ordinary' type of racism could lead policemen to arrest a young African-American just because he happened to be walking down the street 50 or so yards from a crime scene. Death on the Staircase is also a story of exclusion, of segregation, but of another kind. It is obvious that if the wealthy, famous, white writer Michael Peterson hadn't been bisexual, the case would never have come to court. But when the policemen sent to the Peterson house that night looked at the home computer, they discovered gay pornographic photos and emails. From that moment on - and this in spite of the medical examiner's on-site assessment that the death was due to an accident - law enforcement and the prosecution could only imagine one scenario: that Kathleen had discovered her husband's bisexuality that night, that they had a fight over it, and that he hit her and killed her. The 'wheels of justice' were set in motion.

BBC Four: The film also paints a portrait of an America divided in two, two halves that coexist but never meet. Do you see some sort of allegory of the US presidential campaign?
JDL: It is obvious to me that the values the prosecution upholds mirror those defended by George W Bush. They are the values of an intolerant, close-minded America that can only see things in black or white, good or evil. If we don't meet the standards of good, then we can only be evil. That part of America cannot allow chaos or absurdity in life; it cannot accept flukes or coincidences. Everything must be orderly and reasonable. You can understand how someone as complex and cultivated as Michael Peterson could not fit into this view of the world. He and his way of life had to be destroyed.

BBC Four: Michael Peterson opens up his private life and intimate thoughts to you with unbelievable ease and simplicity. How were you able to make your camera so invisible?
JDL: My first task was to define how much distance I needed to keep between us, and what kind of relationship we could have. We were, after all, going to be filming in the house of a man who may have killed his wife. It's a very difficult question, something you must deal with clearly. So I made a deal with him, in exchange for his hospitality:

I said to him, "I don't know if you are guilty, but I'm not convinced of your innocence either. All I know for now is that nothing in the District Attorney's case shows me that you committed this crime. If anything does come along during the trial to change my mind, we will have to have a talk." Thanks to the

Michael Peterson on trial

trust-based relationship we established, I wasn't forced into the role of a voyeur, or a thief. The same thing went for my crew; my camera operator Isabelle Razavet, sound man Yves Grasso and I were perfectly able to integrate into this family that was falling apart. The mother dead, the father charged with her murder. We were no longer seen as the documentary crew, but rather as friends standing by in dramatic, hard times.

BBC Four: You brought back 650 hours of footage after 18 months of shooting, and ended up with only six in the end. How did you get through that selection process?
JDL: My first challenge was to tell a complex story without the use of any exterior narration, without a voice-over to explain it all. That eliminated a fair amount of material right off the bat. Beyond that, we needed to show why it was that we wanted to tell this tale, beyond the simple question of whether or not he killed her; I wanted the film to make the viewer think about his or her views of couples, love, desire, and sexual ambiguity. In short, it should ask each of us to reflect on our conception of existence.

BBC Four: Did the verdict weigh heavily on the editing process?
JDL: Honestly, I don't think so. Very little, in any case. For him to be found guilty or not guilty didn't change anything for me. What counted was to show how the wheels of justice turn, complete with its certainties and its blind spots.

BBC Four: Michael Peterson says what a unique place Durham is, even compared to other cities in North Carolina. Did you agree?
JDL: That's a tough question. When you're from the outside it's quite difficult to be really aware if it is so different. It is a very strange place because until the 1960s the tobacco industry meant it was one of the richest cities in the United States. But with the civil rights movement the city centre became exclusively black as all of the whites left. The city has now been run by African-Americans for the last 25 years or so.

Michael Peterson complains in the series that it's a quite a corrupt city and that's true to some extent. In 1999 Michael Peterson campaigned to be mayor of Durham, supporting black communities. But the black people who were running the city were against him because they were tied with the white upper class community. The word corruption is perhaps a little too harsh, but there is a definite 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' arrangement. Michael Peterson put his nose in the middle of that and exposed it in his newspaper columns. So of course he had a lot of enemies on both sides. He was one of the richest people in Durham and was viewed as a traitor to his own community.

BBC Four: You obviously weren't the only crew filming the trial and the news media become a key part of the series. What were your impressions of the US media's coverage of the case?
JDL: It was really terrible to see how they were working. They don't have the same logic at all. We had a confidentiality agreement with all the parties we filmed that nothing would be shown until the end of the trial.

In contrast Court TV was live in the court room six hours a day. Each day they tried to make a story out of nothing. Many times they fooled the viewers because they had to make it as entertaining as possible. Ratings were more important than what was really happening inside. That's a very commercial logic.

David Rudolf talks to the media

Even the correspondents who were following the trial for the local TV stations were live four times a day outside the court house, and every time they had to have a new story to tell. It was also very biased. Because Michael Peterson and his family did not really talk to the media, the media went to Kathleen's sisters Candace and Lori. So the media was much closer to the part of the family that were supporting the accusation.

BBC Four: It looks certain that we're going to see cameras in UK courts before too long. Would you welcome trials being filmed in France?
JDL: We are having the same discussions in France at the moment. I would welcome it but with some very strong conditions. It certainly shouldn't be anything like Court TV where the trial is broadcast live. The danger of that is that it can prejudice the trial. In the Peterson case it was difficult because Court TV and local media coverage may have changed the view of the jurors, because every day they were going back home and talking to friends and families who were watching the trial on live TV. But with some trials which are very much in the public interest, it might be important to see them on television after the trial is completely over.

BBC Four: Beyond the Michael Peterson case itself, what lessons did you learn in this experience?
JDL: One thing that struck me in particular was that the jury made its decision based not on a well-founded reflection, but rather on a collection of irrational and personal elements. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that that is always the case, both here and everywhere else. In France, for example, what could be more irrational than the concept of 'intimate conviction'? In fact, everyone makes judgment based on his or her own personal experience, culture, or history, making the whole process rather difficult, if not impossible.

The second thing that I take away from this is a lesson in modesty. I was convinced at the beginning of the shoot that once I had spent several months with Michael Peterson, I would end up knowing the truth. Undoubtedly, thinking that was an expression of some form of pride. Documentary filmmakers feel some kind of power; we think we have a certain gift for sounding people out, and that we will learn things that nobody else knows. It often does work out that way. But there are also moments when everything comes to a halt and you can't go any further. In every human being, there is something intimate and insurmountable, a part that can only truly be known by the person him or herself. You must be humble enough to accept that, to know you can't get any closer. That is a major life lesson.

 DEATH ON THE STAIRCASE HOMEPAGE