In 1975, when my students were kidnapped by rebels, I was accused of hiding instead of trying to save them, and of not giving enough money for their ransom. I wasn't believed.

Blame finds its target before truth

When something terrible happens, we often need someone to blame—and it's rarely the actual criminals. Goodall's experience reveals how quickly public judgment can turn on someone trying to do the right thing, especially when outcomes don't match our narrative of what a "good person" should do. She didn't hide out of cowardice; she was operating under expert advice. She didn't withhold ransom out of greed; she was following what negotiators recommended. But none of that mattered once people had already decided she was guilty.

This happens everywhere today, just in smaller ways. A parent is criticized for not "trying hard enough" when their child struggles in school. A friend is accused of not caring when they set a boundary. We construct simple stories about what people should have done differently, and we're often resistant to the messier truth that good intentions and expert guidance can still lead to outcomes we hate. What Goodall's story really shows is how vulnerable we all are to being misunderstood when circumstances are desperate and emotions run high. The gap between what we actually do and what people believe we did can be impossibly wide.