<p><span>Last Thursday, the Memphis Police Department announced that it was firing five police officers who beat a man named Tyre Nichols to death during a traffic stop. Shortly afterward, all five officers were jailed and charged with murder. Then the police department released body-camera and surveillance-camera footage of the incident. In the days that followed, the footage, and the question of whether or not to watch it, became the object of public preoccupation, superseding the violence it captured. Doreen St. Félix is a staff writer at </span><i><span>The New Yorker</span></i><span>. She joins Tyler Foggatt to discuss police-brutality videos as cultural objects—and the police as a </span><a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-memphis-police-are-not-bystanders-to-the-death-of-tyre-nichols"><span>storytelling apparatus</span></a><span>.</span></p>
Last Thursday, the Memphis Police Department announced that it was firing five police officers who beat a man named Tyre Nichols to death during a traffic stop. Shortly afterward, all five officers were jailed and charged with murder. Then the police department released body-camera and surveillance-camera footage of the incident. In the days that followed, the footage, and the question of whether or not to watch it, became the object of public preoccupation, superseding the violence it captured. Doreen St. Félix is a staff writer at The New Yorker. She joins Tyler Foggatt to discuss police-brutality videos as cultural objects—and the police as a storytelling apparatus.