Being “innocent until proven guilty” is a vital principle of the American judicial system. Put in place to ensure a fair trial for defendants, it is a saving grace for the accused—when it is used properly. Throughout history, the application of innocent until proven guilty has been shakily applied. It has fallen short of preventing the prejudices and preconceptions of jury members from interfering in the rulings of cases. It has failed to sway verdicts that were harsher than the cases warranted. As time has progressed, it’s not necessarily accurate to say that this concept is no longer relevant; rather, historically, it has not proved to keep the innocent out of prison nor has it spurred prosecutors to uncover more credible evidence to prove the defendant’s guilt “beyond a reasonable doubt.” On top of this, in cases where true proof can no longer be found—in long past sexual assault trials, for example—ambiguity comes into play. Who decides what qualifies as proof enough to determine someone’s guilt?

    The biggest issue with this idea is that its interpretation leaves a lot up to the personal judgment of juries and judges and in no way guides their perception of cases. Take for example OJ Simpson’s case in 1995: the presumption of innocence threw jurors and the public for a loop as DNA evidence was piled against him, but holes in select pieces of evidence — an ill-fitting glove and a racist police officer- lead to Simpson’s acquittal. The public is still divided on his innocence with many people confident that he murdered his ex-wife and her friend. That being said, if the jury had been chosen even a little bit differently, Simpson could have been sentenced to life in prison. The presumption of innocence was very relevant, but for many people, their own hastily-found conclusions and in some cases, their racist inclinations quickly led them to conclusions that “innocent until proven guilty” would hardly have affected the case. Although in Simpson’s case, it prevented him from a life sentence, a less carefully picked jury would have exposed a fatal flaw in this principle: what may seem doubtful to one may be overwhelming proof for another — especially when prejudices resulting from gender and race are at play.

    In addition to the inconsistent application of the presumption of innocence, it is further misinterpreted by the masses as a guide to general accusations (when convenient, of course). Brett Kavanaugh’s fight against former high school classmate Christine Ford’s accusations of sexual assault brought anger from Republicans, who reminded the public and Democrats that “a man or woman must always be presumed innocent unless, and until, proven guilty.” However, Kavanaugh was not in a criminal trial with a jury in charge of his fate; Kavanaugh was being investigated for a job interview, and thus the judicial precedent of innocent until proven guilty does not apply to opinions about every occurrence in life, only to those formed in a criminal hearing.

    Innocent until proven guilty has its place as a guiding principle for criminal proceedings, but its usefulness is not to the extent that it will significantly shape cases — especially in trials that may come during the era of the #MeToo movement. Yes, it is important to review credible evidence before deciding a defendant’s fate, but it is also inevitable to form opinions based on what is given—whether it’s only victim or a witness’ testimony or DNA evidence. The ability of humans to make intelligent decisions and informed judgments is not going to be enhanced by this idea, and a simple, echoed phrase has little sway in combating the deeply inscribed judgments of everyday people that may appear on a jury. The presumption of innocence has fallen out of relevance slowly throughout history, and now is only an excessively-repeated phrase that lacks the weight to change one’s approach to a criminal trial.