Popular Culture and the Forensic Female Gaze: Women Detectives in Unbelievable

by: Devaleena Kundu , June 14, 2021

Introduction

Ever since the publication of Andrew Forrester’s The Female Detective in 1864, the genre of investigative fiction has increasingly incorporated women in the role of the lead investigator. Be it Miss Marple, Nancy Drew, Clarice Starling, or Olivia Benson, the female detective is seen tracking down criminals and offenders through careful observation and deductive reasoning. Yet, from the days of its inception, mystery fiction has been a gendered territory that continues to hail overtly masculine values. In foregrounding rational solutions, wherein the rational is seen as superior to the emotional, and physical actions, in the form of fights, battles, and even verbal violence, mystery fiction has traditionally depicted investigation as a field suited for men. (Klein 1995: 11) The detectives in pulp fiction, stereotypically male, were seen donning overcoats and hats, smoking and downing cheap whiskey while the women were ‘universally sensual, universally devious, universally virginal non-human entities who need[ed] to be protected, saved, worshipped, vilified’. (Roberts et.al. 1992: 5) Media representations are not much different. Popular cultural depictions of detectives and investigating officers frequently associate male detectives with professionalism, chivalry, at times even violent heroism, implying that they are therefore more suited to solving crime. And, while this overarching binary has come to be erased, with more women being cast in the role of detective, the female detective is frequently depicted in a more glamourised and sexualised avatar that calls for her to be seen and scrutinised primarily through a male gaze.

The patriarchal social construct identifies women within a virgin/vamp binary. (Benedict 1993: 18-9) Women are seen either as ‘good,’ emotional and passive, or as femmes fatales, who use their sexual appeal to entice innocent males. Lind Mizejewski notes that in the traditional detective story, the woman was always seen in the form of a body—the body of the victim or that of the suspect/seductress. (Mizejewski 2004: 13) As the genre began incorporating women in its lead roles, it was forced to reimagine the representation of sexuality, gender, and bodies for its readers and audiences. (Mizejewski 2004) However, this transition from a male-dominated space to a woman-inclusive domain was not devoid of glamour and sexual fantasy. In her portrayal, the female detective was first noticed for her sexual charm. Her brilliance at solving crimes was complemented by her power to entice men. She was seen paired with a handsome male colleague, one who challenged her and with whom she ultimately developed a romantic relationship. The female detective was also mysterious. Very little was known of her tragic, grim past which was often cited as the reason for her choice of profession. Detective Kate Beckett in Castle, Marcella Backland in Marcella, Detective Chloe Decker in Lucifer, Jessica Jones in Marvel’s Jessica Jones are some prominent examples that show how the female detective is tailored to fit a certain trope. The female detective, thus, came to be the gorgeously dangerous, woman, fighting crime in high-heeled shoes. 

The female detectives discussed in this paper, however, squash such stereotypical representations. Detectives Karen Duvall of Golden PD and Grace Rasmussen of Westminster PD, who feature in Netflix’s mini-series Unbelievable (2019), are not coded as objects of male fantasy. They are smart, independent, and empowered women who execute their professional roles with utmost dedication. Unbelievable, write D. Özkan and D. Hardt, ‘not only features strong female leads but also treats femininity as a valuable and positive trait’. (Çiçekoğlu et. al. 2020: 167) Through this paper, my aim is to analyse the role these women investigators play in redefining professional codes of conduct by dismantling the overarching binaries of the professional/personal and the emotional/intellectual. By analysing the discursive framework of police interviews, the paper understands how the nature of police response to a horrific crime impacts victim participation and the dispensation of justice. 

Rape Crimes and the Criminal Justice System

In most parts of the world, rape and other sexual assaults carry socio-cultural stigma. A hegemonic patriarchal social order that sees women as subservient to men not only validates sexual coercion, but it also discredits sexual violence while shaming and disgracing those who have been assaulted. (Ward 1995) Victims are blamed for having provoked the assault, put to shame, and ostracised. By tolerating abuse, such a culture normalises sexual violence as an expression of desire rather than an assertion of power and dominance. In fact, rape culture, as Linda Martín Alcoff points out, 

produce[s] a discursive formation in which the intelligibility of claims is organised not by logical argument or evidence, but by frames that set out who can be victimised, who can be accused, which are plausible narratives, and in what contexts rape may be spoken about, even in private spaces. (Alcoff 2018)

A rape culture also promotes rape myths—biased notions and stereotypes like ‘no woman can be raped against her will,’ ‘all women want to be raped,’ and ‘she was asking for it’—in order to justify the violence and stigmatise the victim. (Brownmiller 1975; Ward 1995; Shaw et al. 2009) Konrad Szczesniak elucidates that ‘rape stigma’ commonly takes three forms: self-stigma, family stigma, and social stigma. (Smith, 2004: 243) The stigmatisation of victims is so widespread that victims are often reluctant to report such crimes or seek medical assistance. They are silenced into resuming their day-to-day existence without having recovered from the trauma, while the perpetrators continue to roam free, rarely held responsible for their actions. Even when victims do come forward, their reports are at times met with denials, and rape described as consensual sex. The behavioural and sexual history of the victim is also brought up to determine if the woman even qualifies as ‘rapeable.’ Sadly then, in speaking up, victims risk being blamed, humiliated, dismissed, threatened, and even physically harmed. (Rich 2014; Alcoff 2018) Therefore, when a case of rape is reported, it is critical for law enforcement officers to work closely with the victim to effectively understand and respond to the crime. 

In First Response to Victims of Crime, Timothy O. Woods notes that when dealing with a case of sexual assault, law enforcement officers have three primary responsibilities: first and foremost, they need to protect, interview, and support the victim; second, they need to collect and preserve all possible evidence that will assist in arresting and prosecuting the offender; and last, they must thoroughly investigate the crime and apprehend the offender. (Woods 2010: 43) Woods emphasises that since in most cases of sexual assault the victim happens to be the only eyewitness, victim participation is important to the investigation. This is why the approach of the investigating officer towards the victim is crucial in determining the degree of victim participation. Victims need to be able to trust the officer(s) for them to share the details of the traumatic experience. Thus, officers are advised to be ‘unconditionally supportive’ of the victim, while also ensuring that they interact with the victims in a calm, professional manner. (Woods 2010: 44-5) Although, the ultimate aim of the investigation is to catch the perpetrator and dole out justice, the conduct of the investigation can prove significant in helping victims to process the trauma. As such, officers are instructed along the following lines: 1) to interview victims with utmost sensitivity; 2) to conduct an immediate preliminary interview, later followed by a more detailed one; 3) to ensure a thorough forensic evaluation after the preliminary interview; 4) to expect gaps in victim recounts; 5) to avoid interpreting the victim’s emotional reaction to the assault; 6) to be attentive of the victim’s sense of personal dignity; 7) to avoid being overprotective, or patronising; 8) to offer to contact victim services, counsellors, or medical care facilities (particularly one with a forensic examiner or a sexual assault nurse examiner); and 9) to offer further assistance. (Woods 2010:44-7) 

Unfortunately, police forces have been criticised time and again for their deeply insensitive handling of rape investigations, resulting in miscarriages of justice. The police have been accused of being harsh to women reporting sexual assaults and for doubting, even dismissing, such allegations as false. Cases where victims failed to display physical injuries, reported the incident after 48 hours, engaged in extramarital sex, or confirmed prior association with the assailant were usually deemed to be ‘false’. (Feldman-Summers and Palmer 1980; Ward 1995) Jeanne Gregory and Sue Lees note that amongst the officers they interviewed in Britain, many even offered ‘hypothetical examples’ when questioned about false sexual allegations. (Gregory & Lees 1999: 61) Several of the officers described rape reporters as ‘the woman who had had an argument with her boyfriend,’ or ‘the prostitute who had not been paid,’ or ‘the maverick woman,’ or ‘even the young, pregnant woman who did not wish to incur the wrath of her parents,’ labels that immediately conveyed their dismissal of such reports. (Gregory & Lees 1999: 61) In fact, many officers expected victims to look and behave a certain way in order to corroborate the ‘truth’ of the crime. If the complainant’s behaviour did not align with the investigating officer’s idea of a ‘real victim’—either because the complainant appeared unperturbed, completely unemotional, or overtly emotional—the credibility of the allegation was immediately brought into question. (Freckelton 1998; Aiken et al. 1999; Jordan 2004) As a result, there is a huge under-reporting of assault cases, with most women having little faith in the police to extend any support.

Research shows that even when cases were reported and filed, the victims felt revictimised at the hands of the officers and at trial. The procedural questioning became an ordeal that repeatedly forced them to recount and revisit the traumatic experience. A recent study published in the Human Rights Watch (2013) that involved victims who reported to officers at the Metropolitan Police Department, Washington, D.C. showed that, during the interrogations, victims felt revictimised as they were asked victim-blaming questions, threatened with prosecution if their allegations were found to be untruthful, and ignored when they sought updates abouts their cases. (Human Rights Watch 2013; Maier 2014) What is noteworthy is that the study, in revealing the inherent bias of law enforcement officers, also points out how the language of investigation can obscure the seriousness of the allegations, thereby causing further humiliation of the victim. It is imperative, then, to recognise how language and its enactment can affect matters of social justice. 

Unbelievable: An Overview

The onscreen adaptation of T. Christian Miller and Ken Armstrong’s Pulitzer Prize winning article, ‘A False Report: A True Story of Rape in America,’ Unbelievable tells a story wherein the justice system fails to effectively respond to a horrifying instance of rape. The series begins with the case of eighteen-year-old Marie Adler, whose account of being raped was dismissed after the initial police investigations on the grounds that she had made a false report. The series then expands its focus to include several other instances of rape, and goes on to show how two female investigative officers, in their determination to deliver justice, realise that not only were the individual accounts of rape they were working on connected, but that the perpetrator they were after was a serial rapist. Besides being a story of delayed justice, Unbelievable is a story that reveals how the nature of police response to a horrific crime impacts victim participation. Sarah Timberman, the show’s executive producer, described the narrative as a story where in one case ‘there was a real miscarriage of justice and one case where two cops who happen to be women got it right.’ The story is as much about the victims as it is about the two investigators’ fight for justice. 

Based on real life police detectives, Stacy Galbraith and Edna Hendershot, the characters of detectives Duvall and Rasmussen are unlike the female detectives one commonly sees on prime-time television. Karen Duvall, played by Merritt Wever, is married and has two little girls. She is a devout Christian who is a regular at church. The short verse from the Book of Isaiah, ‘Lord, here I am. Send me!’ (Isaiah 6:8) stuck on her dashboard is what defines Duvall’s character. She sees herself as someone who is doing the work of the Lord. From her introductory scene onwards, the audience is told that Duvall knows how to balance her personal and professional lives. She is calm and composed, and she impresses the viewer as an unassuming, sensitive individual. In talking to the BUILD about Duvall, Wever says, ‘[Duvall] is not a therapist, not a counsellor. She is doing a very specific kind of a job,’ and the fact that her job demands a certain degree of sensitivity and restraint is something that Duvall’s character completely understands. Although relatively new to the force—she was made a detective only six years ago—she is intuitive, thorough, and relentless.

In contrast to Duvall, Grace Rasmussen comes across as a far more formidable character. Toni Collette, who plays the part, describes her character as a ‘lone wolf,’ one who has built a ‘brick wall’ around herself. Rasmussen is evidently tough and intimidating. Duvall calls her ‘impressive’. (E 3) She is foul-mouthed, sarcastic, and curt, and in the first instance does not come across as particularly friendly, an attribute of which she is well aware. When it comes to her department and her cases, Rasmussen is territorial. She is also practical, and having been on the force for significantly longer, she is no stranger to the gendered dynamics of the task force. She knows that the justice system has its own biases, and that cops do not always execute their tasks efficiently. A lot of her aggression and outrage stem from having seen the discrepancies and negligence prevalent in the task force; she has thus developed her own ways of negotiating with, and surviving in, a predominantly male establishment. 

Duvall and Rasmussen are not the conventionally heterosexual duo of the investigative world. Despite their vastly different personalities, what brings these two characters together is their unceasing dedication to their jobs. They are not unconventional individuals. What is unconventional about them is their approach to their jobs. As Collette claims in a conversation with Ricky Camilleri, ‘[Duvall and Rasmussen] are committed to their professional lives to a point of being ‘consumed’ by it’. By the time they meet, each has investigated several sexual assault crimes in their respective jurisdictions, and so is aware that the traumas suffered by the victims of sexual assault are manifold, and that the victims need the support of the responders. As they come together to solve yet another case of rape, they increasingly realise how often the justice system treats instances of sexual violence as less deserving of time and effort, thereby denying justice to the victims. 

Rape Investigations and Victim-Survivor Interviews in Unbelievable

Unbelievable presents two kinds of rape investigation. The first one, the case of eighteen-year-old Marie Adler, is telling in the ways in which sexual assault reports are mishandled by the police. The second, which begins with the case of twenty-two-year-old Amber Stevenson, and eventually gets tied up with several other assault crimes including that of Marie, is representative of how officers need to approach such investigations to ensure that they are conducted in a professional and respectful manner. 

Marie’s case is led by two male investigators, Detective Parker and Detective Pruitt. Even before their arrival at the scene of crime, a junior investigator, Officer Curran, can be seen questioning Marie for an initial statement. Curran approaches Marie in a standardised manner. He jumps straight to the questioning in a matter-of-fact tone. Marie’s words, ‘I was raped,’ are met with an un-empathic ‘okay’ from him, and he quickly moves on to the next question about the details of the incident. He does not intimate a change of topic to Marie. His questions are direct and closed. At times, he interrupts the victim to pose new questions. In an attempt to gather every possible detail, he keeps asking ‘and then?’ heedless to the fact that he is forcing Marie to relive the assault. Curran also sceptically repeats some of the responses that Marie provides in a way as if to ensure that she is telling the truth, or getting the details right. For instance, when Marie mentions that the attacker had snapped a picture of her, Curran immediately asks, ‘you were still blindfolded? How’d you know he was taking a picture of you?’ (E 1) Curran’s questioning is immediately followed by a second round of quizzing by Detective Parker. His questions repeat the same pattern as those of Curran. Most of Marie’s responses are met with clinical responses that lack empathy from the investigators. Like Curran, Parker can be seen interrupting the victim to ascertain the correctness of her account. The foundational principle in the Achieving Best Evidence (ABE) is the establishment of trust and rapport between the lead investigator and the witness which would aid the witness to communicate without distress. (Ministry of Justice UK 2011: 70) However, in Marie’s case, the questions, despite being intended from the perspective of forensic efficacy, the need to establish the nature of the crime and identify the perpetrator, risk threatening her emotional frame. In fact, the mode of questioning implicitly suggests that the victim-survivor’s narrative is not entirely to be trusted. 

At no point during these rounds of probing is Marie asked if she is comfortable continuing with the procedure, if she would prefer to be interviewed by a female officer, or even if she needed some immediate medical assistance. Even when the victim is informed of the need to undergo a forensic examination, the news is delivered in the form of a directive, rather than as a form of medical care and support that would aid the victim and the investigation. Parker’s statement, ‘but right now, you need to go to the hospital. They’ll have to examine you. You’ll need a change of clothes,’ stems from a position of authority. (E 1) The use of ‘you,’ ‘right now,’ ‘examine,’ and ‘need’ reflects a power hierarchy where the police, as upholders of law and order, see themselves as ranking above the victim who is in need of sanctuary and support. 

Such an approach with the victim-survivor not only impedes her sense of autonomy, but also hinders her from presenting and/or justifying her own perspective. In order to establish the truth of her statement, the detectives force Marie to relive the incident multiple times. This not only adds to her emotional and psychological distress, but also results in further inconsistencies in her responses. The use of repetitive questions lead to a decline in accuracy and consistency in interviewee responses. In Marie’s case, one notices her hesitating, appearing confused, even fumbling, and ultimately, providing a false statement that was in direct contradiction to her first account. The detectives not only pose bad, closed questions to Marie—for instance, they repeatedly prod her on whether she dialled the phone with her toes or with her hands, or whether she sought help after cutting herself free or before that—they also engage in suggestive summaries and inappropriate prompts. Their approach to Marie is distinctly prejudiced. It is coloured by the views of third-party members, like Marie’s foster parents and their feelings, her background, her pre-assault behaviour, etc. Parker is particularly influenced by the accounts of Marie’s foster mother, Judith, who reports her post-assault behaviour to be inconsistent with the nature of her trauma. ‘To not act like a ‘real’ victim,’ Jan Jordan states, ‘may result in being viewed as a non-victim. More sinisterly, it may promote the redefinition of the victim as the offender, as one who falsely maligns and impugns the reputations of men’. (Jordan 2004: 73) The interviews with Marie that ensue are thus directed in a manner that ultimately brands her account as dubious.

The interviews fail to adhere to the ABE protocol of criminal proceedings which emphasises the need to communicate empathy to the witness. (Ministry of Justice UK 2011: 66) Instead, Marie is made to feel shame and guilt about the assault. 

The high-angle shots used in the interview sequences capture Marie’s vulnerability, and help create the up/down power dynamic between her and the investigating officers, both thematically and physically. For instance, towards the end of episode 1, when Marie is once again interviewed by both Parker and Pruitt, Marie is shown looking up at the detectives, then down, and then away, before returning her gaze to them. Her shifting gaze is reflective of her emotional angst and frustration. Each time her eyeline meets that of the detectives, one notices a clear hierarchy in the setup: to match Marie’s eyeline, the detectives can be seen looking down at her. The low angle shot used to capture their downward view is reflective of their positions as authority figures, and it creates a privileged point of view (POV) within a frame. There is also a distinct change in body language when detective Parker can be seen pushing Marie’s case file towards her and moving forward in his chair to adopt a much more challenging stance of cross-examination. This is in conjunction with his effort to press forward the idea that Marie lied in her statement. In an interview with David Phillips, cinematographer Quyen Tran stated that when shooting the events centring Marie’s assault, the team carefully chose to use a blue palette. The blue, according to Tran, captured the moment of the assault (since the rape happens in the early morning hours when the light is blue and very cool) and the events that unfolded thereafter. Thus, the interiors of the room where Marie is questioned by the detectives also bear a distinct bluish hue, since what one witnesses here is harassment at the hands of law enforcement officers. 

In the end, the gradual erasure of objectivity leads to victim shaming, with Pruitt telling Marie that although they didn’t think she was a ‘bad person,’ she had lied to them about the assault. The questions and concerns posed by the detectives are encoded in the patriarchal discourse that situates the women within the good/bad binary. Parker, for example, quite elaborately articulates that, ‘a young woman, been through a ton of bad stuff, on her own for the first time, just broke up with her boyfriend, feeling isolated, lonely, might on the spur of the moment, come up with something, without thinking it through, that would get her the attention she needs’. (E 1) The ambiguity indicated through ‘might on the spur of the moment,’ and ‘would get her the attention she needs’ paints the image of an unstable, untrustworthy woman. Similarly, Pruitt’s statement, ‘You’ve told us four different versions. At this point, regardless of what the truth is, the only thing we know for sure is that you have told us at least three lies’ underlines how they have already decided to label Marie’s case as baseless. ‘Truth’ becomes secondary in their concerted effort to establish their ‘version’ as the correct one. 

The detectives’ lexical choices plainly reflect their gendered assumptions, and they highlight the hegemonic order of the criminal justice system, where the complainant is situated in a position that is visibly disempowering. The confrontation with the detectives, thus, completely destroys the trust that Marie had in the investigating officers, her friends and associates, and by extension, the criminal justice system. She is not only forced to take back her initial statement, but she is also later charged with false reporting by the State. 

In sharp contrast to Detectives Parker and Pruitt, Episode 2 presents Detective Duvall, and from the moment she arrives at the scene of crime, we see her as someone who seeks out the victim and extends her support. Duvall’s engagement with Amber, the victim-survivor, involves active listening. Her gestures—be it holding the car door open for Amber or her consistent nods during the conversation—show concern and responsiveness to each of Amber’s statements. She is almost always in a listening position. Her approach is non-threatening. Unlike the low angle and high angle shots used in the sequences involving Marie’s interview, here the angle of action is predominantly neutral. In the sequence where Duvall is interviewing Amber in her car, for example, the camera angle and height capture both the characters around the same height; as a result, any sense of hierarchy between the investigator and the interviewee is removed. Neither of their POVs is presented as privileged. 

Instead of jumping straight to the questions, she first ensures that Amber is physically comfortable and willing to talk. In addressing the victim, Duvall is observant of the victim’s emotional make-up. The repetition of the second-person pronoun ‘you’ in her initial questions—’how are you?’ ‘are you injured physically?’ ‘would you like to see a paramedic?’—also ensures that the subjectivity of the victim is maintained. Given that cases of sexual assault involve non-consensual violation, victims often find it challenging to restore their sense of personhood and agency. Under such circumstances, even the smallest instances of support can help them regain their sense of power and control by degrees. It is worth noting, therefore, that before shifting the location of the interview to her car, Duvall seeks Amber’s consent, and in so doing, she also takes Amber into her confidence. As Shana L. Maier points out, ‘[c]onducting the interview away from a possibly intimidating police station or sterile hospital emergency room may also make victims feel more comfortable’. (Maier 2014) Thus, by changing the location of the interview away from the immediate scene of the crime, Duvall warrants greater victim participation in the investigation. 

Throughout, the interview, Duvall maintains a calm and supportive tone. She does not rush Amber into recalling the horrific details, and constantly acknowledges every piece of information Amber shares. When Amber tells her that she had not informed anyone else but 911 about the assault, Duvall does not question her decision. Instead, she assures Amber that there was no need for her to explain herself: ‘who you choose to tell, when you choose to tell them, that is entirely your decision’. (E 2) Again, the emphasis on the use of ‘you’ is important, as it reveals a conscious effort on Duvall’s part to help Amber take back control of her life, through decision-making. It also alleviates the sense of embarrassment and stigma that is associated with the crime. In most cases, victims are embarrassed to inform others of an assault, as they fear being judged and humiliated. Duvall’s words, thus, help reassure and empower the victim. Additionally, Duvall’s statement can be interpreted as a criticism of the prevalent practice of questioning the credibility of the victim when reporting a rape after 48 hours of the assault. In the United States, several state laws insist on the timely reporting (usually between the window of 48-72 hours) of rape crimes by the victim. In the states of Arkansas and Indiana, victims reporting the crime and seeking medical assistance within the first 48 hours are also reimbursed for their medical expenses. (Martin 2013) While such measures can encourage victims to come forward sooner, they can also discourage victims who have passed that window of time from reporting the case. Thus, when Duvall tells Amber that choosing to talk about the assault was her decision, her statement shows an awareness of the fact that victims need their own time to process the trauma and speak about it. Besides interviewing Amber with extreme sensitivity, she also preps her for the medical examination by letting her know what to expect, and how Amber’s cooperation is crucial for gathering all the forensic evidence required to proceed with the investigation. Not only does she accompany her to the hospital, but she also drops her off at her friend’s place afterwards, making sure that Amber has the right support system to help her through the post-assault period. Interestingly, the empathy and sensitivity that Duvall’s character brings to the narrative is also reflected through the golden, brighter hues of the colour scheme used in the episode, as opposed to the bluish tint of episode 1. 

In investigating the case, Duvall contextualises the problem and sets it within the larger discourse of sexual assault and trauma. Her depiction sets her apart from the longstanding tradition of representing female detectives either as love interests of the male detectives, or as narrative props to take the plot forward. As the lead investigator in the case, Duvall sees to it that her team is thorough and timely with their work. She is methodical in her approach. She treats the crime scene and the account of the witness as evidentiary. A significant portion of the series, therefore, is dedicated to her acquiring evidence and following it up with double, even triple checks to ultimately arrive at the forensic truth. This is important, because unlike her male colleagues, she identifies rape as violence against women. Her investigation is a gendered protest against the abuse and victimisation of women. It is also a fight against a male-dominated system of justice that marginalises the female experience of trauma. Her approach to the investigation emphasises the complex nature of justice itself, especially in cases of sexual assault. Although justice is primarily sought through a judicial framework, cases of sexual assault necessitate alternative avenues of justice that help recognise the need of each victim-survivor. (Powell et al. 2015: 4-5)

When Duvall begins working with Rasmussen, one does notice that despite their immediate differences of demeanour, they both share the same sensitivity and professionalism in handling cases of sexual assault. Despite the obstacles, they relentlessly pursue the investigation to nab the offender. In the process, they also negotiate with and expose the gendered bias inherent in a law enforcement system that not only affects the female victims, but also the female staff. Duvall and Rasmussen’s work in the police department requires them to occupy a male-dominated space. Their narratives and outbursts expose women’s experience at the hands of a patriarchal social set-up. While the male detectives investigating Marie’s case attend to it as yet another case of sexual assault, Duvall and Rasmussen see rape as a societal problem. As female investigators investigating sexual assault, they can identify with the crime in more personal ways. Their investigative gaze cannot be separated from their female identities. Their gender is not seen to be a weakness. Rather, it is what gives them their agency and sense of authority. It is what pushes them to question and challenge the gaze and attitude of the male investigators. They represent the voice of resistance as they undercut the masculinist approach to victim-survivors of sexual assault. The female forensic gaze is, therefore, rooted in the politics of gender. While the series establishes the male investigator’s gaze to be narrow and gendered, the female investigator’s gaze is shown to be much more comprehensive and detailed. The female forensic gaze is also objective. Neither Duvall nor Rasmussen engage in any unwarranted interactions with the victim-survivor, nor allow their knowledge of the gendered bias inherent in the system to affect the witness statement. In contrast to the male detectives, who have an intimidating disposition (they engage in tough talk and low-key threats, and use their authority to coerce the victim-survivor), Duvall and Rasmussen can be seen orienting themselves to the emotional make-up of their victim-survivor. For instance, during their interview with Doris Laird, they do not ask her to re-narrate the entire incident. Instead, they clarify at the start that what they are after is any detail or new piece of information that might have come back to her since her last interaction with the police. This approach ensures that the victim-survivor does not relive the trauma of the incident. Thus, if the male forensic gaze in Unbelievable comes across as punitive, the female forensic gaze is instead rehabilitative.

The emphasis drawn on ‘lady cops,’ ‘we,’ and ‘our’ in the conversations between Rasmussen and Duvall shows that in the criminal justice system, sexual assault is a subject that affects the women on the force more than the men, and that there is a general sentiment of female cops being antagonistic to their male co-workers. Rasmussen underlines the fact that women officers are measured against certain male standards of professionalism, one that equates professionalism in the force with daring, aggression, and a lack of emotions, and that women must work doubly hard, and be more discreet, while proceeding with their investigations to avoid being persecuted by the system. Together, Rasmussen and Duvall make for a tenacious pair of cops and yet they are not represented as ‘the ultimate female dick, the woman as a man, the phallic woman’. (Mizejewski 2004: 49) They are not the hypermasculine females who present a threat to their male colleagues. Interestingly, Unbelievable does not do away with the culturally constructed aspects of femininity. Duvall and Rasmussen’s characters are deeply emotional, sensitive, and empathetic. Their vulnerability is perhaps most visible in the context of their domestic set-ups. Unlike the male investigators, the female detectives are depicted in their private spaces. In their homes, they are free to express their anger, fears, worries, and joys. And although on occasions their case-related frustrations seem to affect their marital bliss, both Duvall and Rasmussen work through those rough patches along with their supportive partners. Their emotional upheavals are never perceived as signs of weakness or a reinforcement of their feminine sexuality. Rather, their emotional wins and losses are what make them all the more empathic and human. D. Özkan and D. Hardt write,

[i]n Unbelievable, women are resourceful: the two detectives are organizers, bosses, they self-confidently command a team that investigates the crimes. They are powerful, autonomous female subjects that can handle professionalism and feminine compassion simultaneously. They do not need to turn into ‘badasses’ to do their job’. (Çiçekoğlu et. al. 2020: 175)

The series undercuts any notion that there could possibly be a singular way to be a female cop. In their body types, Duvall and Rasmussen differ vastly from the stereotypically uber-sexy, charming, high-heeled cops of prime-time television, whose professional commitment and expertise is often understood as being secondary to their physical appeal. While Rasmussen has an athletic build—she is shown taking her dogs out for a run—Duvall, once a sprinter, now a mother of two, is comparatively heavier. Their non-glamourised representations in the show suggest how women in popular culture need not always fit a certain objectified mould suited for the male gaze. Except in two of the scenes from episode 6, one where Rasmussen is seen chatting a suspect up at a bar and the other where Duvall recalls Rasmussen’s ‘dope-queen’ undercover outfit from a drug-bust some years back, to which Rasmussen exclaims, ‘that was an excellent outfit,’ the narrative pays little to no attention to their appearance or the way they dress. In fact, later in the episode as they wait on watch outside the suspect’s property, Duvall shares that for someone who did not hail from a cop family, she did initially take some time ‘figuring out how to dress and how to act.’ However, seeing Rasmussen play the part of an undercover agent back then made her realise that she did not have to ‘defer or second-guess,’ and that what was important in her job was to ‘just show up and get the job done.’ The ‘dressing up,’ then, is put across as something that the job might require one to do, but not something that is paramount. Detectives Duvall and Rasmussen, therefore, just happen to be two fiercely efficient female cops in a system that is essentially gendered. In their roles as detectives, they are not indulging in a performance of femininity, neither through their modes of dress nor their language. They are more focused on doing their jobs of investigating and ensuring law and order. 

Conclusion

Unbelievable, insists Susannah Grant one of its co-creators, was not intended as a feminist project. It was intended to show how cops treat rape crime cases based on how well they are trained to handle and understand sexual assault. And although the narrative does ask its audience to rethink their definitions of good and bad cops, Unbelievable definitely allows its women investigators—not just the protagonists, Duvall and Rasmussen, but also the minor characters, Mia and Rosemarie—to break free of the stereotypical representations of women detectives in popular culture. The series also establishes that the role of the investigating officer, irrespective of gender, extends beyond the immediate tasks of investigating, nabbing the perpetrators (if any), and ensuring legal justice. Investigating officers along with medical practitioners, counsellors, and other support groups, are key in determining how effectively crime victims process their trauma. The manner in which officers approach victims also affects the way victims and their families perceive the justice system. A breach of trust between law enforcement personnel and the victim, like the one in the case of Marie Adler or Lilly Darrow, can go a long way in calling into question the effectiveness of the entire criminal justice system. At the same time, it can perpetually hinder the victim’s journey of reintegration. As Karen Duvall says, sexual assault is ‘not something people get over. [It] is something they carry with them forever, like a bullet in the spine’. (E 3) Thus, in its representation of strong, analytic, and relentless female investigators, Unbelievable resists the misogynistic stereotyping of female detectives and female victims, and questions the fallibility of the criminal justice system.