Archive for June, 2010
Life without possibility of redemption
Jun 17th
I sat in a prison cell yesterday. And not your regular bullpen where they cram in 4 people who’re waiting to go to court. The real deal. Where our clients sleep at night (and often during the day). That of the 60 square foot variety.
There was a bed – a small bed – that was the length of the room. At the foot of the bed a metal toilet, with no cover. Just beyond that the heavy metal door, with a slit for a window. The door was maybe 3 feet wide, if that. At the head of the bed, if you were laying on your right side, you’d be about half a foot away from an ugly metal desk with holes that pretended to be drawers. This could not have been more than a foot long. The bed was flush with one wall. The desk with the opposite.
The bed looked hard, cold and dirty. And that’s it. This particular cell happened to have a window at the head of the bed. A window looking out onto nothing. Any future inhabitant of this particular cell would have it good. It was a single. Across the narrow passageway from this cell was another, identical in every respect except two: it was a double cell and there was no window. (Here’s a post I wrote a while ago about a different take on prisons in a foreign country.)
I didn’t have the courage to ask my escort to have them close the cell door for a minute, locking me in. It was nauseating and claustrophobic enough as it is. Maybe I was having a panic attack, or maybe the air in there was dead, like the spirits of the men that inhabit these cells, but I thought I was going to faint.
I willed myself to stand there, though, for a minute. To look around at the bare walls, the bare desk, the dirty toilet and imagine someone “living” there.
I even briefly closed my eyes and tried to picture myself there, day in and day out, for months, which turned into years, which turned into decades.
Revamped – again
Jun 13th
As you can see, the layout and design has been revamped. It’s still a little buggy, so bear with me as I try to figure it out. As always, if I can’t, I’ll just go back to the old design. Kthxbai.
Change blindness and the fallacy of the all-remembering cop
Jun 13th
Change blindness is a visual perception phenomenon in which the human mind fails to detect pretty significant changes in our surroundings and distorts our memory.
The most recent famous example of change blindness and its relative, inattentional blindness, is the “count the passes” experiment, which I’m sure everyone’s heard of by now (read the NYT review of their book on the subject). What that illustrates is that when our mind is focused on one task, we zero in on it at the expense of most things around it. For the criminal defense lawyer and the criminal justice system, this is a particularly troublesome issue.
Eyewitness misidentification has become the number one cause of false convictions and it’s easy to “see” how. During a particularly stressful event, when combined with weapons focus, the human mind zeroes in on one thing and pretends to see the others. It fills in the gaps as it were and it is on this peripheral vision that faces are remembered and convictions are obtained.
But there’s a problem with remembering faces. Look at this video:
Rell vetoes sentencing commission
Jun 8th
Rell, intent on breaking the world record for vetoes and dumbass moves as Governor before she leaves office this year (can that day come soon enough? I say no), vetoed yet another important criminal justice bill yesterday. The bill, which would have created a sentencing commission to evaluate the state’s statutes and sentencing practices and analyze them for disparity – including those of the racial kind – apparently carried a very hefty price tag, which is what prompted her veto.
The gargantuan sum of $130,000 a year easily dwarfed the $150,000 price tag for each of the 9 new judges that she nominated, that the State didn’t need, but were eventually confirmed.
“While I appreciate the need for review of our sentencing statutes and practices, given our State’s ongoing economic challenges, this is simply the wrong time to create yet another state entity,” Rell said. “I have spent much of the last year examining our state budget to find ways to save money so that we would not have to increase the burden borne by our already struggling taxpayers. Some of the cuts we have made were painful; none were easy.”
She said. I rolled my eyes.
That bus is not for your client
Jun 8th
The internet has changed everything. Every fool with no money has a blog, every newspaper website caters to the lowest common denominator and every twit can Tweet for free. A percentage of these are former and current clients, both gruntled and dis.
Back in the old days, when you walked 20 miles to work, uphill, in blizzards, with no shoes, the only medium for clients to express their displeasure was filing a grievance with the state bar. Now, clients are able to air their grievances in a more public forum, with no restrictions that their complaints be made in good faith or sworn to.
And since you are what the internet says you are, how far can (or should) one go in response, asks Mike C:
What if a former client writes: “My lawyer was terrible. He never returned my calls or e-mails. I had a million-dollar case, and she blew it!”
Some prospective clients might read that blog entry, and thus never call the lawyer. Current clients might get nervous. Other lawyers might decline to refer a case to the bad lawyer.
Under the current Rules of Professional Conduct, it would certainly be unethical for the lawyer to write: “John Smith called me 5 times each day. He asked the same questions over and over again. After evaluating his case through discovery, we realized his case was marginal. We told him to settle the case for $25,000 – nuisance value. He refused. The trial court dismissed the case on summary judgment. Now he’s angry. By the way, you can read the case filings here, here, and here to decide for yourself whether we blew a huge case.”
Does that Rule make sense? A lawyer can lose business. Online reputation matters – not for a lawyer’s ego – but for his business. The law offers trademark protection. A brand matters. A lawyer is only as good as her name. Shouldn’t a lawyer be able to breach some aspects of the attorney-client privilege in order to protect her name?
First off, this really is nothing new, at least for those of us in the high-volume criminal defense business. I’ve had clients tell me they didn’t want me to represent them and wanted me to, in the same week, based on what their then-cellmates told them about me. You are as good as your current client’s former cellmate says you are.
Second, the differences between revealing confidences to defend against a disciplinary proceeding and responding to a blog post or newspaper comment are quite obvious. The grievance proceeding requires you to defend against the accusations, for failing to do so affects your livelihood.
But what of Mike’s point of the reputation of the lawyer in this age where more and more people are relying on the internet to secure representation? I have the wherewithal to explore any concerns I might have about a prospective lawyer with real people who know that lawyer and that lawyer’s work, but might a potential client? Why shouldn’t a lawyer have the ability to respond, albeit in a limited fashion to that Festivus tradition?
Scott’s take is similarly multi-faceted. He, too, recognizes the need to permit the attorney to have the ability to respond in some fashion, but cautions us that it is constrained in many ways by our continuing obligation to our clients:
[In response to Mike's hypothetical] I’m not entirely clear that’s accurate. Waiver of privilege is an all or nothing proposition. Once a client discloses confidential communications to others, it constitutes a waiver. It’s the client’s to waive, and there’s nothing to prevent her from doing so. It may be stupid and foolhardy, and the client may not realize the significance of disclosure and waiver, but it’s her right to let the world know what happened within the sanctity of the attorney/client relationship. Once waived, however, the privilege is extinguished. Like pregnancy, it’s not just a little waived. It’s waived. End of privilege.
Thus, while there may be no ethical or legal impediment to the use of privileged communications to fend off an attack, and while waiver means waiver, we nonetheless have a duty to disclose no more than is necessary to respond, and a duty to do no harm to the client in the process. While the best defense may be a good offense under other circumstances, we’re constrained to use the least harmful defense possible.
Clearly, the limits placed on our ability to lash back at those who might lash out at us puts lawyers at something of a disadvantage in a street fight, and certainly an attack on the internet can bear all the indicia of a street fight.
I don’t know much about the grievance process and the extent of confidential communications and privileged information that one can disclose in response to a grievance, but there is another area of the law in which confidences are routinely disclosed and that’s the post-conviction setting.
Racial ridicule in Connecticut
Jun 7th
is apparently a crime. C.G.S 53-37 provides:
Any person who, by his advertisement, ridicules or holds up to contempt any person or class of persons, on account of the creed, religion, color, denomination, nationality or race of such person or class of persons, shall be fined not more than fifty dollars or imprisoned not more than thirty days or both.
Volokh notes that the statute has resulted in 79 convictions since 1995, not a large number by any stretch, but still troubling considering the First Amendment implications:
This strikes me as pretty clearly unconstitutional, because it suppresses speech based on its content (and viewpoint), and because there’s no First Amendment exception that covers such speech. Yet the statute seems to be pretty commonly enforced; the Connecticut criminal records database on Westlaw uncovers 79 convictions since 1995. Do any of you know more details on how the statute is enforced, whether there’s some narrowing construction that has been imposed on it (though my Westlaw search reveals no cases doing so), whether it’s been challenged, and so on? Even if it’s limited to race– or religion-based fighting words, that would be unconstitutional under R.A.V. v. City of St. Paul; but in any event, at this point I’d just like to know how the statute is actually being used.
UPDATE: I noticed, by the way, that the statute is listed in various Connecticut government documents — alongside many other statutes — under the “affirmative action” category, for instance see this Affirmative Action Policy Statement and this Affirmative Action — Laws List. I also noticed that the 1999 “Hate Speech on the Internet” report from the Connecticut legislature’s Office of Legislative Research has noted that the statute’s “constitutionality is questionable under the U.S. Supreme Court’s rulings.” But I’d still like to know just how it’s being applied.
Yes. So would I. I’d also add that the statute was enacted in 1949 and hasn’t been amended since. A quick Lexis search reveals only one hit for that statute, and that too in a footnote:
As noted, Section 53a-183 is directly relevant to the issue in this case and provides, in and of itself, a basis for determining that a clear, well-defined and dominant public policy exists prohibiting the kind of conduct which is at issue here. It is worth remembering that there are other state statutes which recognize the particular harm that racially motivated criminal conduct inflicts on society. These statutes include Section 46a-58, which criminalizes cross burning under specified circumstances; 53-37, which criminalizes holding persons up to ridicule on account of race, creed or color; 53-37a, which prohibits the wearing of a mask or hood under certain circumstances; 53a-40a, persistent offenders; and 53-181b, intimidation based on bigotry or bias. Related federal statutes exist as well.
State v. Local 387 of Council 4 AFSCME, 1999 Conn. Super. LEXIS 437 (1999) (which is an interesting case that involves the appeal of a decision to reinstate a corrections employee who was terminated after he called a state Senator and left a message calling him an n-word, after the Senator allegedly referred to corrections employees as criminals).
Anyone? Bueller?
The blind leading the blind?
Jun 7th
We are counselors, which is a term that is broader than attorney or lawyer. Counseling implies so much more than merely representing someone in court in a criminal or civil matter. It is our job to counsel, to advise. We are not cheerleaders and we are not enablers. I often tell clients that they may not like what they hear from me, but that I will not lie to them or blow smoke up their ass, because it is my responsibility to give them all the information so that they make the best decision for them.
Flowing from that duty – and particularly important in criminal cases – is the ability to accurately assess the strengths and weaknesses of the State’s case against the client and analyzing the risks and benefits of going to trial. Everything we do leads up to that. Some others have written (Bennett I can remember for sure, but I can’t find the post) that their focus from the first court date is preparing for trial. It is through that preparation for an eventual trial that we as counselors can fully understand the intricacies of the matter. Investigate fully and discover that there exist no defenses? Your advice to the client reflects that. Realize that their witnesses are shaky and the evidence questionable but the offer is good enough to hedge against any “wild card” eventuality? The advice varies accordingly.
But a new paper [pdf] suggests that perhaps we’re all a little full of ourselves and overestimate the strength of our case.
Lawyers’ litigation forecasts play an integral role in the justice system. In the course of litigation, lawyers constantly make strategic decisions and/or advise their clients on the basis of their perceptions and predictions of case outcomes. The study investigated the realism in predictions by a sample of attorneys (n = 481) across the United States who specified a minimum goal to achieve in a case set for trial. They estimated their chances of meeting this goal by providing a confidence estimate. After the cases were resolved, case outcomes were compared with the predictions. Overall, lawyers were overconfident in their predictions, and calibration did not increase with years of legal experience. Female lawyers were slightly better calibrated than their male counterparts and showed evidence of less overconfidence. In an attempt to reduce overconfidence, some lawyers were asked to generate reasons why they might not achieve their stated goals. This manipulation did not improve calibration.
There’s no need for me to get into the paper in detail. You can read it for yourself; it isn’t very long. Striking is the fact that there wasn’t much of a difference between civil lawyers and criminal lawyers. Also notable is that attorneys were overconfident regardless of their experience. This sample tended to overestimate their chances of success at the same rate.
There is a cautionary tale here and something to be learned. No matter our desire to test the latest theory or try a new creative challenge or approach to the “type” of case we have before us, we must remember one thing: client’s cases are not grounds for experimentation. In our field, if we are wrong, someone goes to jail – and often for a very long time.
The client is, in a sense, blind. They rely on us to counsel them, to lay out the alternatives, the pitfalls and how best to navigate them. We are useless if we are blinded by overconfidence.
It is incumbent upon us to offer educated advice and only offer that when we are ready. If there’s one thing I’ve learned that I can deign to share with the rest of the world, it is that there is no such thing as a sure fire win in criminal law. If you don’t think you can lose, you will.
When relaying an offer, or advising a client to reject one, I ask myself: “would I do what I am recommending the client do?” Because if I can’t follow my own advice, I have no business suggesting it to someone else.
Of course, the client is free to do as he pleases. It’s his liberty on the line, after all.
You’re not a criminal defense lawyer if
Jun 4th
you haven’t fantasized about doing this (for those who don’t want to click on the link just yet: a pd choked a prosecutor as a result of a case-related dispute). I know I have. And, just as in the story, it’s always been motivated by the law, not any personal animus. I find that the desire to choke a prosecutor rises particularly sharply during oral argument.
Being a non-violent person and all, my frustration is expressed solely in this way:
Is Tim Curry going to have to choke a b*tch?
If you’re not ready, neither is your client
Jun 3rd
War stories are a great way of passing time. It’s a slow day in the office and you end up in a long conversation with a colleague who’s been there and seen that. While mostly entertaining, the stories are also useful for one other thing: they’re a training tool. A veritable what’s what of what not to do.
I won’t bother you with this particular story, but there’s something to share, something that seems so obvious yet is often neglected by lawyers either because they don’t give a damn or don’t have the damn time.
If you’re not ready to plead, neither is your client.
Simple, isn’t it? Yet in the high-volume courts across the country, offers are routinely made and accepted or rejected on initial court dates or before investigation can be started or before you have the time to learn your client’s name and tell him from a hole in the wall.
If you wouldn’t know enough to take the offer, your client doesn’t either.
It’s difficult to do, resisting the tide that builds up, demanding swift disposition. It gets embarrassing, asking for continuance after continuance because the investigation isn’t complete. The caseload keeps piling up, the numbers look astronomical and ugly. I get it. There just isn’t enough time.
But this is non-negotiable, folks. Would you listen to a lawyer who said: “take this offer. I’m sure it’s a good one, but I can’t tell you why because I don’t know enough”? Obviously not. Yet we ask our clients to place their trust in us, to rely on our judgment and our opinion. The least we can do is take the time to make sure that we are in a position to recommend acceptance or rejection of that offer.
I’ve said it on occasion: “Sorry, judge. I need more time. I’m not ready to convey this offer to my client.” If I haven’t been dilatory in my handling of the case, what’s the judge going to say? After all, no one likes a habeas.
More than that, no one likes a client who’s forced into doing something because his lawyer didn’t take the time to make sure it was the right thing to do.
So the next time you’re being pushed into conveying an offer to a client or have a client who’s being rushed into accepting or rejecting, ask yourself: do you want to become a war story of the instructional kind?
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