SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, the tale of a heroic FBI agent on the trail of a brutal serial killer, was one of the biggest movie hits of 1991. It gripped viewers' hearts and kept them on the edges of their seats, all the while making millions of dollars for its sponsors. The stars, Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins, received their share of the profits, as did Thomas Harris, the author of the book on which the film was based.

This should come as no surprise; it is typical for authors to gain royalties from their work. But what if the author of such a story was not a professional writer, but rather a convicted murderer? Should criminals be allowed to profit from books or movies based on their misdeeds?

That is the question the Supreme Court will consider in a trial set to begin this Tuesday. Simon & Schuster, one of the country's largest publishing firms, brought the case on the behalf of Henry Hill, whose career in organized crime was chronicled in the novel Wiseguy and the hit movie GoodFellas.

Simon & Schuster is challenging a New York law requiring that all royalties due a criminal for his story be put in an escrow fund for his victims. The law--known as the "Son of Sam" law in reference to the alias used by serial killer David Berkowitz--is the oldest such statute in the nation. More than 40 states have similar laws, and all are in jeopardy of being ruled unconstitutional by the Court in the Hill case.

The publishers claim the statue is a violation of Hill's First Amendment rights, and the publisher is not alone in its battle. Arthur Eisenberg, a lawyer for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), states, "Under the First Amendment, you cannot punish speech just because you don't like the speaker, which this law does. Henry Hill wouldn't have told his story if he didn't hope to get paid; it would have been a significant loss to our society if his account hadn't been told." The ACLU filed a brief in support of Simon & Schuster.

Opposition to the law is far from universal, however. "I think the public believes that if just one David Berkowitz or Henry Hill makes piles of money retelling his crime, it's one too many," Everett Mayhew, senior attorney for New York State's Crime Victims Board, told the Wall Street Journal.

Opponents to the law claim the law is ineffectual, and cite the figures: Only three payments, worth about $75,000, have been made since the law was passed in 1977. But what they fail to recognize is that the principle behind the law is more significant than the compensation victims receive.

It is, in the words of New York attorney Joel Ziegler, "the sense they [the victims] have the power to strike back at someone who caused them so much pain."

SIMON & SCHUSTER'S claim is ridiculous. The "violation of rights" argument holds little validity. Even if one ignores the obvious and very important fact that criminals deprive their victims of the rights to life or property, the fact remains that criminals do not have the same rights and obligations as the population at large.

A convicted criminal cannot vote in elections, nor is he eligible to be drafted into the armed forces. If, by committing a felony, criminals forfeit these rights, it is hardly illogical to deprive them of the right to profit from the story of their crimes.

The political argument is not even the most important point in favor of the law. To allow a murderer like Jeffrey Dahmer to profit from telling the story of why, and, even more grotesquely, how he murdered his victims does not send a message that society considers such acts despicable; indeed, it almost seems as if the government is making a deal with the convict: "You do the time, and if you write a book in prison, it's fine with us if you make a ton of cash to spend when you get out."

The American legal system is based largely on the principal of deterrence, and such an allowance hardly serves to deter potential criminals. In fact it rewards deranged criminals who commit crimes so monstrous that they both repulse the American public and appeal to a sick fascination with the horrific.

The promise of royalties, of course, provides an incentive for criminals to publish their stories, which, contrary to Eisenberg's assertions, is not necessarily desirable. Some convicts' stories may be valuable for society to know--though their omission would hardly be the "significant loss" which Eisenberg describes.

More importantly, however, publication of a novel or production of a film about a crime serves simply to reopen the wounds of the victim or the victim's survivors. They have suffered more than enough, and to force them to confront not only the facts of the crime but also the criminal's own sick motives and misguided logic is far too cruel.

Silence of the Lambs and similar movies are wildly popular for their suspense and their portrayal of psychotic villains, and perhaps it is a sad commentary on modern society that so many people are fascinated by evil and death. However, no matter how evil Hannibal Lector and his brethren may be, the fact remains that in real life they never killed anyone. Criminals like Hill and Dahmer did. Though some may find their stories gripping, society--and the Supreme Court--should not provide an incentive for people who have caused so much pain to publish, and profit from, the tales of their evil.

Killers should not be able to profit from the stories of their misdeeds...

...The Court should deny criminals the right to book and movie royalties.