(FORTUNE Magazine) – It was abundantly clear at the three-second mark that CBS News was going to give no quarter to Dr. Milton Avol. For those who missed this 108-second morality play the other evening, Avol was ''the slumlord surgeon'' (as Dan Rather identified him in the introduction), also known as ''the ratlord'' (a label allegedly applied to the doc by his tenants and sonorously intoned in his opening remarks by Los Angeles correspondent John Blackstone). The story was to be played sans nuance, the ratlord was the heavy, his tenants were the innocent victims, and the socko theme was poetic justice: Judge Veronica Simmons-McBeth had sent Avol to jail with -- here's the best part -- some ) portion of the 60-day sentence to be served in one of his own rodential slum units, far from the Beverly Hills home where the aforesaid affluent neurosurgeon normally hangs his top hat. Solomonic, eh? However, some fascinating questions were left unanswered. One was whether Veronica would be collecting any royalties from L.A. Law. (This high-rated serial runs Thursdays on NBC in prime time.) Here we allude to an episode in the series that was shown last season -- before Avol went to jail but well after his sentence was first announced. The plot featured an upscale professional who owns some property in the slums, suddenly discovers that his houses have been deemed violative of the building code, and as a result of various implausible plot twists is forced to serve time in the same, where he is cheek by jowl with disgusting folks down around the poverty level. Yes, friends, everybody around L.A. knows a good story line when he hears it. CBS News obviously went to some lengths to make sure its audience understood the advanced technology that makes home detention possible these days. The Ratherites devoted 14 valuable seconds to demonstrating and enthusing over the electronic ''leash'' that was to be fastened around Avol's ankle. The leash, plugged by a spokesman for Trax Monitoring Inc., ensures that the cops can keep tabs on the perpetrator's location and certify that he is not sneaking over to the Beverly Wilshire for lunch. Somewhat less attention was paid to certain sociological problems associated with investments in deteriorated inner-city property. A fellow could get the impression from the Rather-Blackstone axis that complying with the L.A. building code is nothing but a matter of cuddly good will. In fact, the code is written so that it is more or less impossible to be in steady compliance if you own property in a slum area with problem tenants. The city, it happens, features a ''strict liability'' system under which, no matter what the reason, the landlord is an instant lawbreaker any time the exit sign in a stairwell is obliterated, or the brass caps are missing from the standpipes, or the fire hoses are unraveled. ''Those brass caps were repeatedly stolen,'' recalls lawyer Scott Furstman, who earlier represented Avol. ''I know he even tried painting them so they would not appear to be brass, and they were stolen anyway. I saw myself that one day all would be in order, and the next day it would not. Fire doors would be kicked in within hours of being repaired. There was constant vandalism.'' The strict liability system, which was recently challenged in the California courts but upheld on appeal, is great for the local politicians (who have near-absolute power over the landlords), great for the media (which evidently can't get enough of slumlord exposes), somewhat daunting for anybody thinking of investing his capital in deteriorated property (Avol says he will now be disinvesting), and therefore also not too great for the people who live in such properties. To be sure, that's a lot of complication to deal with in 108 seconds.