In the Globe conference room, the female vice president turned to the head of publicity.
The publicity chief shook his head. "We've got our media allies blasting coverage linking the shooting to Joker. As for results, it'll take time to see. But lately, Warner and Meyers Entertainment's outlets have been pushing back, steering the narrative elsewhere."
"Then ramp it up. We need everyone knowing Joker peddles toxic values."
Quentin Tarantino and Brad Pitt exchanged glances, silently exhaling in relief.
With Joker's momentum hitting this backlash, audiences might think twice before flocking to it like before, right?
No need to sway everyone—just enough to make a dent.
Over at Warner's conference room.
"No, we don't need to waste time and energy suppressing the bad press. In special cases , negativity can be its own kind of hype…"
Martin laid it out plainly:
"I've lined up authoritative experts to speak for us. Our job is to console the victims' families and visit the injured—I'll handle that personally.
"We have to show the public our sense of responsibility. Even though the shooting isn't Joker's fault, we'll shoulder some blame anyway. Make people see how we're being wronged. That'll draw in folks who weren't even interested before."
Back at Globe's conference room.
After the meeting wrapped.
Quentin Tarantino and Brad Pitt walked side by side to the parking lot.
"What do you think?" Quentin asked.
"I don't know. Hoping for the best," Brad replied, shaking his head.
Quentin pondered, then said gravely, "We'd better prepare for the worst. For promo, Brad, you'll have to hustle—hit more spots, especially Europe. You know North American crowds aren't exactly rolling out the red carpet for you these days."
Brad forced a wry smile. "Yeah, I know."
Just then, Brad's phone buzzed.
He checked it, his smile turning even more strained. "It's her. Gotta go."
Quentin blinked, then got it, shaking his head. He clapped Brad on the shoulder. "Go on, then."
Watching Brad's retreating figure, Quentin thought: Man, that guy's got it rough.
Harvard psychology professor Jeffrey Swanson argued: "We shouldn't rush to conclusions about the shooter's motives, let alone absurdly blame a movie. Sure, mass shooters are often young men with reclusive tendencies—the problem is, that describes thousands of people who've never done anything .
"The perpetrator might be a serial failure seeking to resolve his issues through slaughter. I suspect police efforts to uncover his motives could be futile. Better to focus on preventing such crimes in the first place."
FBI criminal psychologist Michael Werner told the media: "Looking at past U.S. mass shootings, the perpetrators fit a profile: antisocial, highly paranoid, aiming to make an impact through killing. This has nothing to do with a movie. No film could trigger such behavior—it's the result of chronic mental issues.
"Tragedies stem largely from the suspect's own psychological instability, sparked by some emotional trigger. When exposed to violent, graphic scenes, he can't distinguish fiction from reality.
"From reports, James rarely interacted with the outside world, had no friends, but was obsessed with computers and role-playing online games. I haven't seen details on his family, but records show his parents didn't live with him, and contact was minimal.
"Isolated from society, he couldn't attract attention, couldn't get love from family, friends, or a partner. He was drowning in lonely misery.
"The more isolated he felt, the deeper he dove into role-playing. When he tried applying those personas to real life, the pressure mounted, creating a vicious cycle.
"So, through the shooting, he achieved notoriety and found a twisted sense of purpose."
Duke University professor Jeffrey Swanson, who studies violence and mental illness, invoked Alfred Adler (founder of individual psychology): "Criminality and so-called normalcy coexist in every person. Adler believed inferiority complexes lurk in all of us.
"For individuals, inferiority can drive success or failure. It motivates progress, but some, lacking proper upbringing, can't handle it.
"They can't collaborate, focusing only on self-interest and quick gains in work and life. They shun effort, craving instant rewards, leading them to crime—what we call going dark.
"They can't form deep bonds or understand cooperation; they feel society owes them.
"They believe they're capable, yet unrecognized. No soulmate, childhood trauma from family.
"Instead of positive striving, they veer off course. Feeling inferior, they fear defeat, opting for the simplest win: preemptively crushing others. And what's simpler than killing?
"Nothing. Hence the shooting.
"What we should discuss isn't Joker, but whether our systems help these people avoid crime; whether guns are too easily obtained by them—or anyone.
"This is a societal issue, not something to pin on one film."
Martin's Harvard Law classmate, Victor Garber, senior partner at Kirkland & Ellis, weighed in: "Legally, Joker and its producers bear no responsibility.
"Subjectively, the filmmakers and suspect shared no intent to harm. Objectively, the producers took no harmful actions. The victims' injuries resulted directly from the suspect's deeds. There's no causal link under the law, so no liability."