Folks who know me know that among my many faults is a tendency to give artists more moral latitude than I do the rabble -- among whose ranks I count myself. When friends -- including my very irritated wife -- asked how I could continue to patronize Woody Allen's films after he ran off with his longtime lover's oldest daughter, I had a simple mantra: "Annie Hall," "Manhattan," "Love and Death."

Because Soon-Yi Previn was 21 when the director, 56 at the time, seduced her, I held fast to the distinction between what was morally dubious and what was illegal. "Hey, it's not like he's Roman Polanski or anything," I used to say.

But those who were clever enough to probe the quip's underlying logic quickly discovered that I had soft spot for Roman Polanski, too. Still, I can't remember anyone ever suggesting a boycott of the man who directed "Chinatown," "Repulsion," "Tess" or "Rosemary's Baby" just because he was on the lam from American justice for the 1977 rape of a 13-year-old girl.

When "The Pianist" came out in 2002, even folks who swore they would never see another Woody Allen film went to see Roman Polanski's award-winning Holocaust drama. Somehow, Mr. Polanski's reputation transcended the tawdriness and violence of his crime. (After giving the girl champagne and the sedative quaalude, he forced her into intercourse and sodomy.) Who could hate the brilliant artist living in France with his wife and two children? He had even reached an undisclosed financial settlement with his victim. She had forgiven him years earlier and had moved on with her life. Today, she's married and has children of her own.

Suddenly, his awful crime had become an abstraction. To mention Roman Polanski and rape in the same sentence seemed moralistic, not moral. Why shouldn't a man that had suffered great tragedies in his personal life -- including the murder of his wife and unborn child by the Manson cult and the loss of a parent to the Holocaust -- be allowed to live out the rest of his days attending film festivals and basking in the adulation of his peers in the private chalets of Europe? After all, he had already spent 42 days in jail for copping to "unlawful sex with a minor."

In other words, I didn't think about Roman Polanski much. When he was pinched by the Swiss on an outstanding American warrant on Saturday, I knew the days of thinking of Mr. Polanski and his crime in the abstract were over. I had to decide whether justice should have two tiers -- one for celebrities, politicians, global bankers and riot police -- and one for the rest of us.

Two days ago, several petitions made the rounds in New York and Hollywood demanding that Mr. Polanski be freed. His fellow directors, including Martin Scorsese, Mike Nichols, David Lynch, Jonathan Demme and that scamp Woody Allen were among hundreds of luminaries who expressed their outrage about Mr. Polanski's arrest and possible extradition to America to face justice that has already tarried for 32 years. They forgive him for fleeing the country when he thought more time would be imposed on the 42 days he'd already done.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming wrongness of a petition circulating among the rich and powerful to get one of their buddies off that finally pushed me into that lonely camp occupied by the likes of Sherri Shepherd from "The View" and Kirstie Alley, the former star of "Cheers" and "Fat Actress."

Ms. Alley and Ms. Shepherd have not done themselves any favors by criticizing the petitions and the knee-jerk defense of Roman Polanski by the Harvey Weinsteins and Diane von Furstenbergs of the world. The actresses refuse to minimize the rape because decades have passed and the perpetrator happens to be one of the most beloved directors of all time. They are genuinely offended by the amorality of their colleagues who dismiss the legitimacy of the complaint against Roman Polanski.

"I don't believe it was rape-rape," said Whoopi Goldberg on "The View." "[Polanski] went to jail [for 42 days of psychiatric evaluation] and when they let him out he was like, 'you know what, this [judge] is going to give me a hundred years in jail. I'm not staying." Ms. Goldberg pretty much nailed the Hollywood cognoscenti's take on the issue. Lost in the fog of showbiz relativism is any acknowledgment that Roman Polanski should be held to a standard not negotiated by the Directors Guild of America.

When Israel snatches an old Nazi war criminal from some Argentinean cafe, I have no problem with it. When the DA of a sleepy American town puts an old Klansman on trial for a lynching committed 40 years ago, I'm the first to pop the champagne. Pedophile priests should be prosecuted even if they're close to death.

If Roman Polanski is exempt from justice, then we all should be exempt.

That doesn't mean I give up the right to love his past and future films. Some of the best art is created by criminals.

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