Carter Roy (23:10)
After 24 year old Jonathan Schmitz confessed to shooting 32 year old Scott Amador. There was no doubt about what had happened or who had done it. On March 9, 1995, the same day of the shooting, John was arrested and charged with first degree murder. Given the severity of the charge, he was held without bail while he waited for a preliminary hearing scheduled for April. Right away, both the Schmitz family and the Amador family came to the same conclusion. The Jenny Jones show was largely responsible for what had happened. John's father, Alan Schmitz, called the talk show rotten and publicly blamed production for putting his son in a situation he believed never should have happened in the first place. John's grandfather went even further, saying that Jenny Jones had essentially been the trigger man in Scott's murder. Scott's family echoed that sentiment. His brother Frank said the murder never would have happened if the show hadn't used deeply personal revelations as entertainment. Four days after Scott's murder, his mom, Patricia Graves, spoke out too. She said that there'd been complete silence from the people who put her son on that stage. No one from the show had reached out to express any kind of sympathy. As always, they were more concerned about protecting their image than protecting their guests. Behind the scenes of the Jenny Jones show, producers quietly pulled the episode from the lineup. It would not air as planned in May. It took another week for Jenny Jones to even address Scott's murder. On March 15, six days after Scott was killed, Jones addressed the tragedy publicly for the first time. She recorded a statement that aired on her show expressing sympathy for Scott's family. While making one point unmistakably clear. She believed the responsibility for what had happened rested in entirely with Jonathan Schmitz. In other interviews around that time, Jones described herself as devastated by the news. But she was firm that her show had done nothing wrong. And she insisted that John had not been misled. She said he knew well in advance that his admirer could be either a man or a woman. So despite what people were saying, it wasn't an ambush show. She emphasized that producers had explained the premise multiple times before John was booked, after he arrived in Chicago and again before taping. She maintained there was documentation to back it up and that John had even been asked how he would react if the admirer turned out to be a man. Once Jones delivered her statement, the show moved on. It was back to the regularly scheduled programming. Next up, an episode about desperate women who wanted to get married. Unfortunately for Jones, the criticism didn't fade after her statement. If anything, it Only got more intense. Scott's family realized early on that this case was going to get a ton of media attention. They wanted a lawyer who understood spectacle and knew how to use it to their advantage. That's when they called Jeffrey Figar. Figar was already a well known attorney. He was loud, combative and deeply comfortable in front of cameras. According to Scott's brother, when he called Figar's office, the attorney answered the phone himself and said, quote, I wondered when you were going to call me. And it was a good thing the Amadors did call, because the trial that followed became exactly the media circus they feared it might be. News outlets covered every development. Court TV aired the proceedings gavel to gavel. Every witness, every argument, every emotional moment. Ratings surged and Court TV was raking in money. But here's the thing. Court TV was owned by Warner Brothers, which also owned the Denny Jones Show. Later, the Amador family would sue Warner Brothers in civil court. Those proceedings would also air on Court tv. It was yet another example of how the network was profiting from one family's tragedy. But for now, all eyes were on John's criminal trial, which started in late 1996. In their opening arguments, his defense didn't deny that he had killed Scott. Instead, they focused on why. They presented a portrait of a young man struggling with serious mental and physical health issues. Bipolar disorder, an autoimmune condition known as Graves disease, and suicidal thoughts. They said his upbringing had been harsh and often humiliating, pointing to times when his father had used physical punishments, like the time his dad once spanked John with a belt in front of his sixth grade class. Their main argument was something they referred to as the gay panic defense. John's attorneys claimed that the combination of mental illness and public humiliation had pushed him past a breaking point. Many gay rights advocates condemned the defense, arguing that it framed LGBTQ identity as something inherently threatening. They said it excused violence as a reasonable response to being perceived as gay. They argued that maybe the Jenny Jones show was manipulative. Gotcha TV. But that didn't excuse Jon's actions. In October of 1996, 50 year old Jenny Jones herself took the stand. She testified that she had very little involvement in planning individual episodes, including this one. She described the concept of secret crushes, same sex or otherwise, as playful and light hearted. In her view, there was nothing predatory or deceptive about the format. Jones also rejected the idea that the episode qualified as ambush television. She pointed out that the show had covered similar themes before, including episodes focused on same sex crushes. She even acknowledged that she personally enjoyed those topics, seeing them as a way to include gay people in daytime television. Observers noted that Jones looked subdued on the stand. This wasn't the high energy host audiences were used to seeing. She seemed serious, tired, and at times defensive. Over the course of two hours, the Amador's lawyer, Jeffrey Figar, pressed her. He asked whether shows like hers had any obligation to consider the real world consequences of what what they aired. Jones said no. Figar kept making the case for yes. On November 13, 1996, after about one day of deliberations, the jury reached a verdict. 26 year old Jonathan Schmitz was found guilty of second degree murder. The jury concluded that while John was responsible for Scott's death, the evidence didn't support the level of premeditation required for a first degree conviction under Michigan law. As a result, John was given 25 to 50 years in prison instead of a life sentence. But that wasn't the end of the story. John's conviction was later overturned on appeal due to errors in jury selection. By that point, he had already served two years behind bars. Even so, he remained incarcerated while prosecutors prepared for a retrial. In August of 1999, a new jury heard the case. This time they reached the same conclusion. John was convicted again of second degree murder and the original sentence was reinstated. Meanwhile, the Amador family had pursued a civil lawsuit against the Jenny Jones Show, Warner Brothers and other parties involved in the production. They argued that the show had acted negligently and that negligence had played a role in Scott's death. Initially, they won. A jury awarded the family $25 million in damages as a part of the trial. The unaired episode, the one Scott never lived to see broadcast, was shown publicly for the first time through Court TV's coverage. It clearly showed the role Jones and her producers had played in the segment. But the victory didn't last for the Amadors. Eventually, the verdict was overturned. On appeal, higher courts ruled that while the show's actions could be criticized, they were protected under the First Amendment. The Michigan Supreme Court declined to hear the family's appeal. So did the U.S. supreme Court. The Amadors never got their money. After the civil case came to a close, legal scholars who had nothing to do with the case weighed in. Alan Dershowitz, who was famous for his role in the O.J. simpson trial, argued that while the Constitution shielded the program from legal consequences, it didn't protect it from moral responsibility. Jennie Jones, for her part, rarely spoke about the case in the years that followed. But when she did. Her position never changed. In 1999, she repeated her belief that this was not a crime committed by a television show. It was a crime committed by Jonathan Schmitz. Her show continued until 2003, when it finally went off the air. Over time, shows like hers had lost their appeal. Some limped along as ratings dropped. Others, like Jerry Springer, became cultural punchlines. And in the background of it all was Scott Amador's murder. Although the Jenny Jones show wasn't found liable, other networks had to assess whether they were willing to take the same kind of risks. Some decided it was worth it, but in the end, it didn't really matter. The public was already starting to question the ethics of the genre, and eventually the format itself seemed to fall out of favor. In August of 2017, after serving 22 years in prison, Jonathan Schmitz was granted parole. He was 47 years old. An attorney for the Amador family acknowledged that John had served nearly his full sentence, which seemed appropriate. And the real sticking point was that the Jenny Jones show never suffered any consequences, even though the Amadors continued to believe the producers were equally responsible for Scott's death. Since his release, John has stayed out of the public eye, but his story hasn't faded. And nearly 30 years after Scott was killed, we're still asking the same question. Jonathan Schmitz pulled the trigger. That's not up for debate. But did his actions that day begin when he bought the gun or when Jenny Jones booked him? The answer depends on where you draw the line between entertainment and accountability. But one thing clear, once that line is crossed, it's very hard to draw it again. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Come back next time for the story of a new murder and all the people it affected. True Crime Stories is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media, rimehouse on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review and follow Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your Murder True Crime Stories listening experience, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. You'll get every episode ad free. We'll be back on Friday. True Crime Stories is hosted by me, Carter Roy and is a Crime House original. Powered by Pave Studios, this episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories TV team. Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro Alex Benidon, Natalie Pertofsky, Sarah Camp, Alex Burns, Nicolette Tavalero, Kaylee Pine, and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening.
