Columbo and a case of autism?

I am a fan of the old Columbo murder mysteries. Even now, because they are wonderfully low in stimuli. Not like most modern crime series, where handheld camera shots are commonplace, complemented with fast pace editing and harsh or extremely depressing lighting. Though technically often of a much higher quality than the Columbo episodes, those are wonderful to watch when you’re autistic.

Recently the British What Remains short series reverted to slow camera movement, if any, and long scenes. But they made it intricate by messing up the timeline, so you were guessing quite a bit whether what you were watching was what was happening, what had happened some time before, or even quite some time before. None of that with Columbo. And even if you already know how Columbo solves the murder, the episodes are a joy to watch. That’s the added bonus of a crime series that spills who’s the murderer within the First ten minutes of the show. You don’t need that kind of surprise in order to enjoy the way he goes about uncovering the plot.

When I want to watch television but need to unwind from the horrors displayed on television today, I still like to play one or two episodes of Columbo. Only now I find that what passes as the clinching evidence, wouldn’t really stand up in court. And sometimes Columbo concludes something from the killer’s behavior that would not apply to someone with autism.

Like in Murder Under Glass. The murdered Paul Gerard comes to meet lieutenant Columbo at his request, as soon as he can get there. At the end of the episode Columbo explains that he suspected Gerard of the murder because of that, within two minutes of his arrival. The murder had been committed by poison administered during the course of a meal. And since Paul Gerard, having been informed of this, did not go to a hospital or had asked to have his stomach pumped but instead came directly to where Columbo was, the lieutenant concluded that he must have known that he never was in any danger, because he was the murderer.

I heard him explain this for the twentieth time, and now I knew why this never persuaded me as a forceful piece of circumstantial evidence. You see: I would have gone straight to the police too, even when I did not know I wasn’t in any danger of having been poisoned. I would worry about my health tremendously and already get angry at the police for the possible danger to my health that would come from going to them instead of the hospital, but still I would do as I was asked.

I may be wrong, but this sounds a bit like an autistic quality. At least it is one I encounter far too often in my life. Even if I do know better, I comply with a request. Somehow there is the belief that the person in question might know what he’s doing, even if I’m not convinced.

Yes, this is a problem. You bet. A huge one. And I wrestle with it often enough. But there it is.

Of course, in Columbo’s days there was no such thing as autism in adults with at least average intelligence. So who knows, it might have stood up in court. But nowadays I hope lawyers are intelligent enough to know that you actually can get persons to do something they really don’t want to do. And you don’t even have to be autistic for it.