Police Procedural

The mystery as a literary form has grown out of the detective novel. Among the early practitioners of the art, Arthur Conan Doyle is perhaps the most famous. The infinitely perceptive Sherlock Holmes could sniff out a suspect from the residue of cigarette smoke on the drapes, exotic chemicals in the victim’s blood or the nervous tic of a guest at his cluttered Baker Street digs.

All these elements are familiar to fans of police procedurals. This mystery form follows the sleuth, often a police detective, as they methodically examine the crime scene, the backgrounds of the victim and the usual suspects. As with Sherlock Holmes, the case often hinges on some obscure fact that is either insignificant when first noted, or unveiled late in the investigation. Only the detective’s dogged determination can bring the case to closure.

These days, procedurals fall into three broad categories.

Crime Scene Investigations have surged in popularity with the CSI variants on TV. These include NCIS and Bones. In book form, Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta and Kathy Reichs’ Temperance Brennan are among the most popular practitioners of the craft. The stories often swirl around gruesome crime scenes and too-vivid autopsies. All you people who were too squeamish to dissect a frog in 9^th grade biology, how can you watch this stuff?

All these variants are direct heirs of Sherlock. Only the tools have changed. When you have a mass spectrometer, why do you need to go around sniffing drapes?

Another major group of police procedurals center around the dogged detective. Agatha Christie’s Inspector Poirot is an archetype, but much modern crime fiction uses this stock character. Inspector Morse? Colombo? Kurt Wallander? Harry Hole? Jesse Stone? They are all cut from the same cloth. They battle long odds, an unsupportive management, wily criminals and their own demons. Mostly, they plod along, but always get their man.

The main difference between these characters and the PI is the force of law. The state has a monopoly on violence, so police can compel people in ways the PI cannot. These days, police are also hamstrung by niggling inconveniences like Miranda rights and rules of evidence, which often complicate these stores. Detectives often skirt the edges of the law, but in the end, justice triumphs.

Finally, I include trial fiction in this category, because the rule of law extends to the courtroom. Among the most famous of these stories is 12 Angry Men, but there are several present masters of the form, including Scott Turow and John Grisham. The interesting thing about courtroom dramas is that truth is often the first victim. The jury hears only what the lawyers feed them, and often jurors can be a law unto themselves.

Why do we care?

Police procedurals are intricate puzzles where all the pieces must fit together. We, as readers and viewers, are as much judges as the characters in the story. 

We, too, need to walk away feeling as though justice has been served.