Black Privilege?

Not so long ago, I didn't know who Jussie Smollett was. I wish I still didn't.

One of the most self-centered and unlikable celebrities ever to besmirch the city of Chicago, Smollett deemed it appropriate to utilize its overworked police force in a bid to extract a raise from his employer, the producers of Empire, after a homemade death threat failed to generate adequate concern for the attention-starved actor's financial well-being.

Deep in the me-first recesses of Smollett's brain, another scheme was hatched. Like any right-thinking American, he reasoned that if a death threat wouldn't land him a bigger paycheck, being the victim of a hate crime would.

The restless creative forces within Smollett were soon at work. He cast two forlorn brothers as his attackers and elected to stage the drama amid the upscale high-rises which populate the near-north neighborhood of Streeterville.

Then, on one of the coldest nights of the year, Smollett ventured out to visit an area Subway sandwich shop.

He never made it.

He was supposedly accosted by two men, who took exception to Smollett's seeking to satiate a nocturnal craving on such a chilly night. They bit, kicked and punched Smollett, shouted racial and homophobic slurs and poured an unknown liquid over him. Then they placed a noose around his neck.

Before I credit the two goon's diligence in keeping a liquid in liquid form in sub-zero weather (the temperature at the time of the attack was zero degrees, with sustained winds of fifteen to twenty miles an hour leading to a wind chill of twenty degrees below), I have to marvel at such a highly-personal attack happening on what Smollett maintains was a spontaneous, unplanned trip to grab a sandwich.

Is there a bookie in Vegas who could even lay odds on that?

Regardless, Smollett fought them off, ending up in an emergency room where he was later released in good condition. Despite the brutality of the two-on-one confrontation, Smollett had only a fine, horizontal scratch beneath his eye to show for the assault.

Within hours, the knee-jerk wheels of the social media court were in motion.

Poor, poor Jussie! Bad, bad Chicago! Among the most-commonly expressed sentiments was “Give that man a raise!”

Alas, as the mass of CPD detectives assigned to this high-profile case went to work, Smollett's contentions began to unravel like a sweater from K-Mart.

It being very, very late on a very cold Monday night, pedestrian traffic was, as you can imagine, light. Pedestrians armed with unidentified fluids and nooses were especially scarce. In fact, the area's network of public and private security cameras didn't detect them at all.

Despite maintaining that he had spoken with his manager on his cell phone just before the attack, Smollett refused to surrender his phone as evidence. Which was certainly curious for someone victimized to the extent Jussie claimed to be.

And then there was the $3,500 which had recently changed hands, and the footage of the Nigerian brothers buying the rope and ski masks used in the attack. It wasn't long before the unavoidable conclusion could no longer be avoided.

In the aftermath, Smollett was rightly charged with sixteen felony counts of filing a false police report. He was dumped from Empire. All seemed right with the world.

Until yesterday. Out of the blue, Illinois state prosecutors announced they were dropping all charges against Smollett. While they maintained this didn't amount to an exoneration, Smollett's record has nevertheless been expunged and the case files sealed.

Hmmm.

If your eyesight happens to be better than mine, could show me where the part about it not being an exoneration kicks in? Because I can't see it.

Somewhere, an uneaten Subway sandwich molders. And we are again left to wonder whether our traditional notion of justice belongs on the endangered species list.