Darius Clark Monroe was a straight-A honors student at a Houston high school until the morning in 1997 when, along with two companions, Pierre Murphy and Leroy “Trei” Callier III, he held up a Bank of America in nearby Stafford, Texas. Brandishing an unloaded shotgun, and disguised with Halloween masks, the neophyte bandits made off with $140,000 in cash. But Monroe didn’t get to enjoy his ill-gotten gain for every long. Four weeks after the crime, he was arrested.
He was 16 years old at the time.
Artfully entwining dramatic re-creations, archival photos and footage, blunt-spoken narration, and interviews with many participants (ranging from Monroe’s mother and stepfather to the assistant D.A. who prosecuted his case) in this real-life tale of crime and punishment, Monroe has fashioned a uniquely fascinating and pitilessly self-critical film that serves as both a cautionary object lesson and a heartfelt plea for forgiveness. (We actually see Monroe tracking down people who were in the bank that day, and attempting to apologize for the terror he caused them.)
But, hey, don’t take my word for it: Writing in The New Yorker, critic Richard Brody hailed “Evolution of a Criminal” as “a great film” that signals “the birth of an artist.” Alan Scherstuhl of The Village Voice agreed: “Vital, thoughtful, and deeply personal, first-timer Darius Clark Monroe’s autobiographical doc stands as a testament to the power of movies to stir empathy.”
Monroe was tried as an adult, and served three years of a five-year sentence. After that? Well, to paraphrase one of Strother Martin’s more colorful lines from “Cool Hand Luke,” he got his mind right. He graduated with honors from University of Houston, then went on to attend film school at New York University – where he studied under Spike Lee
, who served as an executive producer for “Evolution of a Criminal.”
Spike and I were on hand to cheer our former student when the documentary had its world premiere last spring at the SXSW
Film Festival in Austin. Three days after the screening, I sat down with Monroe to talk about what he did, what he’s doing – and what he hopes to do next.
OK, as bad as the bank robbery turned out for you – and I would say having to serve three years in prison, and picking cotton out in the hot Texas sun, is pretty damn bad — there are two ways this could have turned out much worse for you. One, somebody in the bank could have been packing heat, and shot you very dead. In Texas, let’s face it, that’s a very real possibility.
Darius Clark Monroe: Absolutely.
The other way it could have been a lot worse is — you could have gotten away with it. You ever spend a lot of time thinking about those two possibilities?
Monroe: The third possibility is someone else — Pierre or someone — could have got shot as well. I have thought about all three, especially the first one you just mentioned. When I think back about the fact that we walked in there — it’s almost frightening. Because I could never do it now, at 33. We were sitting ducks. The fact that somebody was not shot and killed… wow. Had a customer or had an undercover cop been inside the bank and shot and killed myself or Pierre, they would have had the right to. They would have had the absolute right to.
They wouldn’t have known the shotgun wasn’t loaded.
Monroe: They would not have known it. They would not have known it. That response would have been warranted. That sits with me the most because it’s not uncommon for that to happen, for somebody who’s already in there having a concealed weapon ‑‑ especially in the state of Texas. There’s something about youth and being reckless, I guess. Reckless abandonment. Because I have no idea how we thought it would be safe to just walk in, run in. We tried to rationalize it, but it haunts me to this day. I feel very fortunate that I am alive, and that everyone inside the bank is alive, that no one was physically harmed. Because the odds of that happening were astronomical.
I believe that something in the universe, something much greater than me, was in charge that day for whatever reason. [Laughs] I think about that all the time. All of the time.
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