It's entirely likely that Lamar Burgess had been helping Anderton the whole time to facilitate his own agenda of publicly vindicating Precrime, all at Anderton's expense. This might have included reprogramming the Precrime database to accept Anderton's new eyes, although Burgess may have failed to fully appreciate how Anderton might use this access (which, by the way, would be somewhat humorous given the movie's premise; the film displays a certain wry, dark humour throughout). So I didn't have a problem with that. As a viewer of a science fiction film, in which at least some honest effort may be required by the audience to dispel disbelief (Heaven forbid anyone be expected to make a grander effort than dragging their fat, self-entitled posteriors into a movie theatre), I could overlook such seeming discrepancies, since, in science fiction, everything can be explained away. No, my problem is the warm fuzzy ending.
In a world where freedom (or at least its perception) seems to becoming chancier and chancier, is it reasonable to assume that, after declaring free will non-existent (by the very existence of Precrime), an act by which this society's government has essentially criminalized free thought, imprisoning its most outstanding citizens for crimes the government claims they are about to commit, would the citizenry sit still after the entire thing collapsed after it was demonstrated free will does, in fact, exist. We live in a POST-holocaust society, and understand graphically how the path to Hell may be paved with good intentions. Thus the defense that 'it was in the best interests of society' doesn't work here, and the members of that government would likely face the wrath of a vengeful citizenry, and face ruinous lawsuits, and likely incarceration. That would include our friend Anderton, who, his late change of mind notwithstanding, as a co-architect of Precrime, would be front and center for litigation, and prosecution.
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