What Is Renee Good’s Story?
Several of my colleagues have written about today’s controversy: the shooting, at point-blank range, of Renee Good. They are just a few participants in a nationwide argument over what her death means—and, more precisely, who bears responsibility for it. Our vice president has explained that Renee Good was a “deranged leftist”; our president has explained that Renee Good “violently, willfully, and viciously ran over the ICE officer.” The head of the Department of Homeland Security, Kristi Noem, has explained that Renee Good had been “stalking and impeding” law enforcement officers throughout the day and that she tried to “weaponize her vehicle” by trying to run over one of them, adding that the ICE agent fired “defensive shots” at someone who appeared to be perpetrating “an attempt to kill or to cause bodily harm to agents, an act of domestic terrorism.”
In fairness, when questioned by CBS News, federal border czar Tom Homan was (at least initially) much more responsible: “The investigation has just started. I’m not gonna make a judgment call on one video when there’s a hundred videos out there.… It’d be unprofessional to comment on what I think happened in that situation. Let the investigation play out and hold people accountable based on the investigation.… What good is it to do right now to prejudge the facts of what happened without giving law enforcement professionals, whether it’s the FBI or the local police there, give them time to look at all the videos, talk to all of the witnesses, talk to the officers, and make an educated decision on what occurred today?”
To expand on Homan’s point, here is the way it is supposed to work: The facts are supposed to drive our beliefs and our actions. That is, first, we perceive facts; second, because of what we perceive, we then form beliefs and decide on actions.
But it doesn’t always work that way. I wish the facts were always in the saddle. Instead, as Cass Sunstein recently wrote, our beliefs and actions are often driven by “the immense power of narrative, and in particular the immense power of narratives in constitutional and political life.” Sunstein was describing the way that narratives drive Supreme Court jurisprudence, but his point has broader application.
I have many “friends” on social media who are eager to contribute to, or shape, the narrative of Renee Good’s death. It is a conversational maelstrom. One might describe it as an argument over what conclusions we might draw from the evidence we have. One might describe it more accurately as an argument between many people, where everyone wants, very badly, the narrative they describe to be true. This is so whether that narrative describes (for instance) a good cop defending himself from a murderous driver who deserved to be punished for her refusal to submit to lawful authority or (for instance) a woman fleeing from masked gunmen who assaulted her and then shot at her repeatedly through the side window of her car.
Many of the participants in this many-sided argument do not seem to be letting facts determine their account of things; instead, it appears that they start with a narrative and then hunt for facts and theories that support it. (Some of them do, anyway: when Secretary Noem decries the violence directed against ICE officers and then explains that publicly videotaping their work is one such species of violence, I worry that she believes that citizens who want to make a record of what they see in public should be discouraged from doing so.) In short, Cass Sunstein has identified something important here: the propagation of narratives is a central part of political life.
So what should we say about what really happened? Perhaps the wisest course, at this point, is to exercise a bit of humility. As the adults in the room remind us, caution is in order: Sometimes law enforcement authorities will propagate untruths that portray the victim as the attacker; if government higher-ups are smearing the victim as the bad actor in this case, it wouldn’t be the first time. There is a good argument that we are without sufficient grounds for having strong confidence in the opinions we have about what happened on that terrible day in Minneapolis. It may even be true that we will not have good reason for strong confidence in our opinions about the events in question until the crucible of the adversary process burns away propositions and theories that have little objective justification.
Perhaps the courtroom will illuminate some details that are now shrouded in darkness. That is one reason why it should be a matter of grave concern when the officials at the top of our federal government—just after they learn that a woman has been shot dead by law enforcement—reflexively tell us that, in reality, she was the one at fault. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that our representatives have decided that they must produce a narrative first—and that they can look up the arguments later. When that is the norm, it makes Lily Tomlin look prescient, as she famously said: “No matter how cynical you get, you can’t keep up.”
Todd Snider told cops he’s ‘not a bad person’ while being arrested at Salt Lake City hospital
Police body camera footage shows interviews with hospital staff and the musician telling officers to “please have mercy.”
(Salt Lake City Police Department) Body-worn camera footage shows the arrest of musician Todd Snider in Salt Lake City on Sunday, Nov. 2, 2025.
| Nov. 8, 2025, 4:34 a.m.
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Police video capturing the arrest of singer-songwriter Todd Snider shows the disheveled and disoriented musician being handcuffed and taken to jail while telling officers he had been mugged the previous night, was sick and in pain and begging to be allowed into the hospital.
Snider’s public relations team posted on social media that the Americana musician had been violently assaulted before a show at The Commonwealth Room on Saturday night. That show, along with the rest of Snider’s tour, was canceled, his team said.
South Salt Lake City police have said they were called to a reported assault but “limited information was obtained” and the location and other details surrounding the incident were “unclear.”
Salt Lake City police, however, said that they were called Sunday afternoon to 245 S. State Street after Snider had flagged someone down and had them call officers, saying he needed a place to stay and wanted to go to the hospital.
They refused to take him to the hospital, according to a police spokesperson, and a few hours later, Snider arrived at Common Spirit-Holy Cross Hospital.
Snider was told to leave the hospital but refused, according to court records. He then allegedly yelled at staff and threatened to beat them up.
(Salt Lake City Police Department) Body-worn camera footage shows the arrest of musician Todd Snider in Salt Lake City on Sunday, Nov. 2, 2025.
The police body camera video picks up as Snider is being escorted from the hospital, carrying his passport and other papers.
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“See the staples in my head?” Snider told the officers, his speech noticeably slurred. “I got mugged. I got turned away by the hospital.”
The officer pointed out that if they put staples in his head, they didn’t turn him away. The officers handcuffed the musician and put him in the back of the police car.
“Compassion is just stupid,” Snider said.
The video then goes to a nurse who explains that Snider had been assaulted the night before and seen at two different hospitals before showing up Sunday at Holy Cross Hospital.
“He just said his whole body hurts and then he said he wanted a place to sleep overnight,” the nurse said. When he was told he couldn’t stay there, “that’s when everything escalated.”
Snider started cursing and calling people names, the nurse says on the video. A security guard said Snider was knocking on neighbors’ doors when the nurse chased him down to give him back his debit card. The security guard said that Snider said he would “kick your ass” and that “he’s richer than me and I’ll never be anything.”
When officers returned to the police car, Snider said his neck and back were in pain. The officer read him his Miranda rights, and Snider said that “I need to be in a hospital, not in jail, please. … I need a bed. I’m sick.”
“I’m not homeless,” Snider said. “I live in Nashville. I have a band. I’m famous. My band ditched me. I need my lawyer here. I’m not a bad person, I promise.”
The officer asked when Snider last slept and he said it had “been so long” because he had been in so much pain.
“I can’t go to jail,” he said. “I don’t have my medicine.”
Snider said he didn’t threaten anyone. “I promise I’m a good man,” he said.
“Sir, I am sick. Please let me go to the hospital. Please give me one more chance,” Snider pleaded. “I am begging you for mercy. … Please have mercy.”
The video then shows the officer driving Snider to the Salt Lake County jail, where he was booked Sunday night and released without bail Monday morning.
Snider is an Americana singer-songwriter and storyteller who has been recording for the past three decades. He is best known for songs like “Alright Guy,” “Beer Run” and “I Can’t Complain.” His most recent album, “High, Lonesome and Then Some,” was released Oct. 17.
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