If You Can't Argue the Facts...

Having abjectly failed to keep the report buried, the county then tried to prevent the plaintiffs' lawyers from using its findings. After the plaintiffs' lawyers included it in an appendix to their suit, Figari & Davenport filed a motion asking the court to restore the privileged nature of the jail study and prevent the plaintiffs from referring to it. On Friday, July 22, Lynch argued in federal court that the jail study was the "work product" of the county. Work product is a legal term that refers to the research, opinions and strategy of a lawyer or party in a lawsuit that is exempt from discovery. The jail study should remain confidential, Lynch argued, because it was prepared in response to the looming Mims case.

"It was clearly done in anticipation of the litigation that brings us here today," said the 36-year-old Lynch. That's an odd claim since the jail report makes no mention of the Mims case. Lynch also argued that even though the News posted the report on its Web site, the county did everything it could to keep it confidential.

One problem, however, is that since that hearing, Lynch's own clients have seemed to refute his point. In an interview with the Dallas Observer, County Judge Margaret Keliher, who initiated the report, says flat-out that it was done "in anticipation of litigation, not just the Mims case." In other words, the commissioners weren't just worried about the Mims case, but other lawsuits that have befallen the jail for years. That's not a fine point--if the origins of the report are more general in nature, it's tough to argue that it should be privileged for a specific case.

Then there's Commissioner Mike Cantrell. He says the commissioners mandated the report because former Sheriff Jim Bowles and the jail's medical provider, the University of Texas Medical Branch at Galveston, were not exactly the best source on how the jail was being run. "We had a sheriff who would not allow us access to the jail, and we had a vendor who could not disclose information because of [patient privacy] rules," he says. "So how else were we going to get information about the jail?"

He may be right, but that's the same exact argument opposing attorneys made. Interestingly, when I left a voicemail for Commissioner Maurine Dickey asking about conditions at the Dallas County jail, she encouraged me to read the report on The Dallas Morning News Web site. So how is this report confidential?

Judge Kaplan couldn't figure it out either. On Friday, a week after he heard the motion, he rejected the county's plea and placed the commissioners and their legal counsel in the unenviable position of having to argue the facts in the case. --Matt Pulle

Every Picture Tells a Story

Rogelio Santillan's latest project doesn't look like much at first, just a utilitarian mockup of a student dorm room occupying one corner of a warehouse down the street from Love Field. But Santillan, editor of El Sol de Texas, a 20,000-circulation Spanish-language weekly, hopes to revive a Latino pop art medium seldom seen north of the Mexican border: the fotonovela.

In form, fotonovelas are essentially comic books that use photos instead of drawings. In content, they closely resemble their better-known TV counterparts, telenovelas, Latino soap operas known for exquisitely coiffed actors and excruciatingly pregnant pauses. Unlike telenovelas, however, fotonovelas have declined in popularity in Latin America and are all but unknown in the United States.

Yet Santillan believes that his script, combining classic romantic intrigue with modern Latino characters living in America, could revive interest in the medium. In his view, a successful homegrown fotonovela could be seen as a coming-of-age of sorts for Dallas' Latino community. "We have had a mentality that we have to make do with what culture there is here," he says. "This is an opportunity to create something that is uniquely ours."

But not all of the fotonovela's Latino roots are healthy. The format's popularity, which peaked in the 1970s, was based partially on Latin America's historically low education levels. "It's a very good medium for people who have weak literacy skills," says John Comings, a Harvard professor who has studied and produced fotonovelas. The relatively low production cost of photography was another advantage in countries with little capital to invest in locally produced entertainment, and it kept the price low for poor consumers.

These factors help explain the fotonovela's limited development in the United States. Few, if any, have been produced here purely for entertainment, but they are an increasingly popular means for government agencies or nonprofit groups to deliver information to immigrant communities. Typical topics include prenatal care and STD prevention. But with his fotonovela, Santillan is determined to escape such pedestrian roots. "We are aiming for a sophisticated product, one with a high cultural level," he says.