The internet loathes Amber Heard. That's terrible for domestic violence victims.

A few years ago, I came to briefly know Amber Heard. The woman I met on the phone, then later in person, struck me as authentic and sincere as she spoke about her role as a Human Rights Champion of the United Nations Human Rights Office. I never imagined she'd one day become the singular focus of influencers and creators eager to mock and monetize her tears. But for the past few weeks, people have done exactly that, obsessively turning her testimony in a defamation lawsuit brought by her ex-husband Johnny Depp into a dystopian social media circus, with support from a surprising number of celebrities. 

The livestreamed trial is supposed to determine whether Heard defamed Depp when she wrote in an op-ed that she'd become a "public figure representing domestic abuse." Depp denies that he physically and sexually abused her while they were married. Instead, he accused Heard of abusing him and argued that the op-ed cost him a Pirates of the Caribbean film, though Heard's lawyer questioned the timing of his dismissal. Heard also launched her own counter-defamation suit against Depp. In 2020, Depp lost a libel case against a British newspaper that called him a "wife beater." The judge in that case wrote, "I accept that Mr. Depp put her in fear of her life."

Though I couldn't imagine it then, the clues that Heard would become an enduring target were there, back in 2018. While scouring her social media accounts prior to our phone interview, I quickly noticed the insults routinely lobbed at her by an army of Depp supporters. After that article was published, Twitter users who appeared to back Depp began tagging me in mentions that maligned Heard. A month later, when I interviewed her onstage at the Social Good Summit, an event co-sponsored by the United Nations Foundation, the United Nations Development Programme, the 92nd Street Y, and Mashable, similar accounts again attacked her. 

When I later commented on Twitter that I appreciated Heard's passion for human rights, someone who currently tweets regularly about Depp and the trial replied, "That's because she needs to do overtime to try to make people forget about the kind of person she really is." 

This narrative has driven much of the social commentary, including memes and videos, about the trial: Heard is a manipulative liar set on destroying a good man's name. We know this trope well because it has traditionally kept domestic violence victims silent. But now it's being weaponized by powerful celebrities and for profit by the creator economy, which should frighten anyone who cares about justice for survivors of intimate partner violence. 

The conviction that Heard is lying is underpinned by the notion that Depp is beloved by his fans and friends alike, who know him to be a decent human being. Based on that familiarity and personal experience, they insist he's incapable of abuse. I've written before about how dangerous and misguided these character witnesses can be. Acknowledging that someone you admire or consider a close friend may have also assaulted his partner, when you've never seen that side of him, is painful. It's much easier to act as a character witness vouching for the good character of the accused. 

"Even the most horrendous violent person is not violent toward everyone all the time," Jackie White, emerita professor of psychology at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, told me in 2016, when I asked her about why character witnesses insist on defending the accused based not on an objective reading of the evidence but the nature of their personal interactions. "It’s highly likely that there are going to be people in their lives for whom the relationship has been positive."

Such insistence may seem even more justified in cases without a so-called perfect victim. Heard admitted on the stand to striking Depp. An audio recording also captured her taunting and berating Depp, telling him that the world wouldn't believe a man who accused a woman of domestic violence. On the stand, Heard was remorseful about insulting him during their fights, acknowledging that she and Depp lashed out at each other often. 

We should take seriously any evidence that Heard abused Depp, because men can be victims of domestic violence, yet the trial's revelations don't prove Heard is being deceitful about allegations that Depp assaulted her. They reveal what is hard for most people to contemplate: A woman who says she's been terrorized by her partner can also, at times, inflict physical or emotional harm on him. But there's no room online to think deeply or speak with nuance about the complexity of violent relationships.

Instead, audiences see a man who's entertained them for years and a beautiful woman, decades his junior, who's punctured their fantasy of who he is when the cameras stop rolling. They may blame Heard for this disillusionment, but it was Depp's text messages, entered into evidence as part of the trial, that uncovered his musing about Heard ending up as a "rotting corpse" in the trunk of a Honda Civic. Some of Depp's personal messages to Heard also depict a man who deeply regrets his behavior during their fights, even if he is vague about what transpired. 

Depp's celebrity supporters somehow overlook these details and have helped fuel the discourse that Heard is lying. Podcaster Joe Rogan, whose own tangles with the truth are well-documented, called Heard a "crazy lady." In a recent standup routine, comedian Chris Rock reportedly joked, "Believe all women, believe all women…except Amber Heard." In a recent concert, Paul McCartney projected a video of Depp playing his song My Valentine, from a performance he directed a decade ago. 

If McCartney's gesture seems benign, consider that one notable person in the audience — Jill Vedder, wife of Pearl Jam frontman Eddie Vedder and a Global Citizen ambassador — decided to turn the moment into a social media post backing Depp. "And while I support women and the ME TOO movement / I also know some women who have destroyed the lives of innocent & good men," she wrote. Model Ireland Baldwin shared a similar sentiment in an Instagram story, commenting that she knows "women who are exactly like this" who "use their very womanhood to play victim and turn the world against the man."

Never mind that these misogynistic talking points sound a lot like men's rights activism; the public doesn't know these cases, can't judge their merits, and personal knowledge of them simply doesn't amount to proof that Heard is lying. 

At a Pearl Jam concert in Oakland last week, Eddie Vedder personally rattled off an anecdote about having partied with Depp and the Rolling Stones years ago, pausing to note that Depp had been a "complete gentleman." The arena, which has a capacity of more than 19,000, cheered with approval, a frightening spectacle given that it was effectively collective approval for labeling an alleged victim of domestic violence a liar. 

What's strange is that Vedder is one of few rock stars who's unapologetically outspoken about gender equality and women's rights. He even famously wrote an empathetic song about a woman in an unhealthy, perhaps abusive relationship. But maybe when it's your friend who's accused and the cause feels righteous, loyalty matters more. Standing stunned in the audience, with an N95 plastered to my face, I wondered: How many people here now feel that if a man they respect, known for his gender equality advocacy, can dismiss claims of domestic violence based on enjoyable experiences with the accused, they can, too? 

Celebrities may not understand or care about the depth of vitriol aimed at Heard every day, but they should know better than to give cover to fans eager to tear down a woman for sport or vengeance. Depp's famous friends offer no firsthand evidence of Heard's alleged deceit — just their testimony as character witnesses. It is a disturbing lesson to the public: If enough people say a man is good and decent, then the victim must be lying. The truth is often more complicated, and sometimes darker, than that.

Tragically, character witnesses can give anti-fans, who build an online identity and community around despising a famous person, exactly what they crave: a spark to further fuel their hatred. As the Atlantic recently noted, anti-fandoms feature "elements of a new paranoid style," and conspiracy theories can dominate as a result. Women in the public eye are commonly targets of anti-fandoms, and Heard is no exception. (One debunked theory about Heard's testimony is that she stole lines from The Talented Mr. Ripley to use as her own.) 

It's no leap to suggest non-famous domestic violence victims will be consequently subject to similar obsessive scrutiny in their own communities. What's to keep the average TikTok user defending an accused abuser from creating clips that insist the victim is lying? Depp vs. Heard has made that both profitable and permissible. 

Based on my personal experience, I cannot judge how Heard behaved with Depp. Clearly she and Depp had a volatile relationship. In a professional setting, I found her to be curious, genuine, and deeply caring, including when I wasn't taking notes. But I also understand that people are complex. I'd rather let the legal system prevail, with real evidence that's far more compelling than my impressions of her character. 

What I can say is that the public shouldn't cheer the digital abuse Heard has endured, nor the public mockery she's experiencing now. And if her haters and detractors, including Depp's celebrity friends, won't stop for her sake, perhaps they'll consider what their behavior will mean for domestic violence survivors whose names we'll never know. 

If you've experienced domestic or intimate partner violence, you can call the National Domestic Violence hotline at 1−800−799−7233. Additional resources are available on its website.