The Case That Shook America Still Demands Justice

The Justice System Failed Brendan Dassey. It Still Has Time to Make It Right.

It’s been nearly 20 years since Brendan Dassey, then a shy, highly suggestible 16-year-old with a tangle of learning disabilities, was pulled into one of the most infamous wrongful conviction cases in recent American history. Coerced into a false confession, extracted without the presence of a lawyer or parent, this confession became the linchpin in the case against him, ultimately leading to his conviction for the 2005 murder of 25-year-old Wisconsin photographer Teresa Halbach.

Since the release of cultural phenomenon Making a Murderer in 2015, Brendan’s story has reached millions, igniting widespread public outrage and exposing the deep flaws in the American justice system, particularly when it comes to the interrogation and prosecution of vulnerable individuals like minors and people with intellectual disabilities, investigative tactics used by law enforcement, and introducing viewers to false confessions and the devastating consequences of systemic inertia.

And yet, after all this time, after a federal judge deemed that his confession was involuntary, after his case was catapulted into the international spotlight by the Netflix documentary Making a Murderer, and after legal advocates and experts have spent years educating the world about the dangers of false confessions, Brendan Dassey remains behind bars.

Brendan, who was just 16 at the time of his arrest, was subjected to hours of coercive, suggestive fact-feeding and manipulation by investigators, with no lawyer or guardian present. He was interrogated four times in a 48-hour period. His interrogations and trial transcripts, consumed by millions around the globe, created a moment where, en masse, we became the third investigator in the Two Rivers Police Department and Mishicot High School interrogation rooms, the back of O’Neill’s car in Crivitz, and a silent observer in the secrecy shrouding Fox Hills. The result? A confession riddled with guess and inconsistencies, which raises fundamental questions about the voluntariness and reliability of Brendan’s confession. It was a archetypal example of a false confession and highlighted the dangers of coercion and the integrity of confessions extracted under duress.

In the wake of the public’s response to Making a Murderer, lawyers, activists, and organisations mobilised. Experts in false confessions, like Brendan’s post-conviction attorneys Laura Nirider and Steven Drizin, took to global stages, educating the public, training law enforcement, and advocating for policy change. Their mission: to prevent future cases like Brendan’s. And progress has been made. Across the U.S., legislation has been introduced or passed in various states to mandate the recording of all interrogations and to bar deceptive tactics when questioning minors.

But while the system is slowly shifting, Brendan Dassey stands still.

Brendan’s continued incarceration is not just a legal failure; it is a moral one. He was a vulnerable child when he was fed details by interrogators, when he said what he thought they wanted to hear, hoping he could return to school in time for sixth class. Forensic evidence did not place him at the scene. His confession contradicted itself repeatedly. It was a textbook false confession, something experts in interrogation, child psychology, and criminal law have said repeatedly.

It’s coming on nine years since U.S. Magistrate Judge for the Eastern District of Wisconsin, William E. Duffin, granted Brendan’s habeas petition. Now, the legal landscape appears barren, the voices of those once prominent have quietened, and supporters feel helpless, desperate to not untether, communing across social platforms with heavy heart and gut, fighting to keep Brendan’s case front of mind. The last legal manoeuvre was in October 2019, when his legal team filed a clemency petition with Wisconsin Governor Tony Evers, pleading for compassion, mercy, and justice.

There was no compassion or mercy offered. Brendan waits. And we wait with him.

While political chaos consumes headlines and national discourse, it’s easy to forget individuals like Brendan, lost in the margins. But Brendan Dassey cannot become another forgotten name, buried under the weight of bureaucracy and a justice system too proud to correct its own errors. The turmoil of political division, institutional collapse, and overwhelming injustice can feel paralysing. But it is precisely because of that chaos that we must not let Brendan’s case fade into the background. In a system that so often forgets the most vulnerable, we cannot forget Brendan Dassey.

Brendan’s case is not a mystery. The injustice has been laid bare, again and again, in courtrooms, media, and classrooms around the country. As Laura Nirider said, “There was no physical evidence. There was no forensic evidence. There was no eyewitness evidence. There was no confession. There was nothing but words. Words and words only.”¹

There is one question that demands an answer: Why is Brendan Dassey still in prison?

Making a Murderer skilfully forced a re-examination of the integrity of the criminal justice system as a cultural tide of reformation was turning. The portrayal of apparent biases, errors, and unethical practices within the investigation and trial led many to question the fairness of the system. The case became a touchstone for broader discussions about police and prosecutorial misconduct, the limitations of forensic science, the harrowing clarity of false confessions and the potential for wrongful convictions. But Brendan is not just a symbol, nor a martyr of a broken system. He is a human being, now in his mid-30s, who has spent his entire adult life in prison for a crime he did not commit. His case continues to be one of the most well-documented examples of a false confession, and yet he remains trapped, unseen by a system that won’t admit its failures.

But Brendan Dassey’s life is not a footnote.

Governor Evers, who campaigned on values of fairness and compassion, has the power to act. Clemency isn’t about legal loopholes. It’s about mercy. It’s about acknowledging that the system failed someone and pursuing every available avenue to redress and make it right. Brendan deserves that acknowledgment.

Now is the time. Above the noise of government dysfunction and the dismantling of justice across the globe, we must raise our voices louder. The fight for Brendan’s freedom is far from over. It is urgent. It requires our voices, our energy, and our outrage. We must demand Brendan’s freedom, not someday, but today.

Justice delayed is justice denied. And Brendan Dassey has waited long enough.

¹Source: PBS program Frontline, 2016

© Tracy Keogh 2025