confessions

The child abuse exception to [privilege]

If the law were a series of Hollywood blockbusters, undoubtedly the highest grossing series of movies of all time would be the ones that featured the exceptions carved out in long-standing law to accommodate the prosecution of alleged child abusers. You’d start with the original, “The Child Abuse Exception to Confrontation”, with which the writers judges hit a goldmine. Then I’d recommend moving to “The Child Abuse Exception to Prior Bad Acts”, and by now with a well-worn formula that keeps the entire plot intact but simply changes the name, a la The Hangover 2, The Child Abuse Exception to Privilege. There’s a rumor that there is a madlibs game in the works “The Child Abuse Exception to _____”. Ultimately, the plan is to release a director’s cut box set compendium under the title “The Child Abuse Exception to The Law”.

This most recent iteration, which can be viewed on a screen near you, is also known by its working title of State v. Mark R., in which the court goes to great lengths to explain why it is perfectly legal for a psychiatric counselor to not only disclose suspected child abuse to authorities – as a mandated reporter – but also to testify as to the private communications between the counselor and patient.

The relevant facts are thusly: Man allegedly fondles step-daughter. Step-daughter and mother confront man with assistance of priest in priest’s office. Man reluctantly admits said fondling, apologizes. Priest then informs mother that either she or he will have to report said abuse to law enforcement within 24 hours, as he is also a mandated reporter (gotcha!).

Two weeks later, suffering emotional stress from the step-daughter’s accusations and impending criminal prosecution, the man goes to seek counseling at a clinic. During a confidential intake interview, man again (yes, I know) admits said fondling. Counselor has to report said suspected child abuse.

Both priest and counselor testify at man’s trial about his confessions. Man is convicted and spends many years in jail; appeal follows.

In Connecticut, the privilege statute is 52-146s, which states:

(b) Except as provided in subsection (c) of this section, a professional counselor shall not disclose any such communications unless the person or the authorized representative of such person consents to waive the privilege and allow such disclosure. The person or the authorized representative of such person may withdraw any consent given under the provisions of this section at any time in writing addressed to the individual with whom or the office in which the original consent was filed. The withdrawal of consent shall not affect communications disclosed prior to notice of the withdrawal.

(c) Consent of the person shall not be required for the disclosure of such person’s communications:

(6) If child abuse, abuse of an elderly individual or abuse of an individual who is disabled or incompetent is known or in good faith suspected;

So it is pretty clear that the counselor is permitted to violate the privilege in order to report the suspected child abuse. The question then becomes, does the privilege continue to not exist once the disclosure has been made? The court says yes:

Once a client makes such an admission to a counselor, there is no indication, in either the text of the statute or its legislative history, that the counselor must obtain his consent  for any subsequent disclosures.

The defendant in the present case contends that Orr controls the result here. He argues that, as with the social worker statute, the professional counselor statute only  contemplates an initial disclosure of a client’s admissions of child abuse, and only to the extent required by law and necessary to secure the safety of the child, and therefore  the statute does not permit a counselor subsequently to testify against her client at trial. We disagree.

The court then goes into a somewhat limited analysis of why they disagree, mostly revolving around the fact that some other statutes mention that reporters shall be immune from criminal prosecution and that their names shall be disclosed to all necessary parties in said prosecution. Thus, it concludes:

Taken together, these provisions demonstrate a clear legislative intent that any mandatory report of child sexual abuse be channeled simultaneously into: (1) a child protection  investigation, spearheaded by the department, to prevent future abuse; and (2) a criminal investigation, spearheaded by local law enforcement, to address past abuse. Unlike  the imminent risk exception in § 52-146q (c) (2), the child abuse exception contained in § 52-146s (c) (6) is in part remedial. Accordingly, we discern no basis for reading into §  52-146s an implied distinction between disclosure of confidential communications for purposes of child protection and criminal prosecution.

The court also dismisses the argument that this decision will have a chilling effect on people seeking therapeutic treatment because any disclosure results in a criminal investigation, so the prospect of having his statement admitted through his counselor isn’t much of a deterrent. I suppose it’s been a long time since any of the justices practiced in a criminal court – if at all – but I’d like to take this opportunity to remind them that the number one factor leading to convictions is a confession.

In addition, I think there’s a significant distinction between this case and any other hypothetical case involving the disclosure to a psychiatric counselor: the fact that the suspected child abuse had already been disclosed a few weeks prior, by the priest.

The reason he went to the clinic and spoke to the counselor in the first place was the stress he experienced following the accusations made against him by the step-daughter. I understand that we need to protect children and that is the main goal, but a subsidiary one has to be the rehabilitation of people who commit these crimes and the first step in that process starts with therapy.

Imagine the therapy session that starts: “I must warn you that I can’t help you unless you talk freely and honestly about what you did and why, but if you do that, I will have to report you and testify against you in court”.

Yeah, no chilling effect, for sure.

The fallacy of the good-hearted informant

An all too common scene in trials when a jailhouse snitch testifies is the elaborate song and dance performed by said snitch and the prosecutor to convince everyone (a bit too loudly) that there is no quid pro quo.

“Did you talk to anyone from the prosecutor’s office before coming forward with [insert damning piece of evidence]?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did anyone from the prosecutor’s office promise you anything in exchange for your testimony?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“Have you been told you’d get a reduction in your sentence for co-operating truthfully?”

“I wish I had, but no one has been so kind.”

“Is everything you’ve said been the truth?”

“Do I look like a liar?”

“So why did you come to us with this information?”

“Out of the goodness of my heart.”

That is what I shall henceforth call “the fallacy of the good-hearted informant”. You can picture it now, can’t you? The prosecutor winking, the informant nodding, the defendant eye-rolling, the judge snickering. The jury? Well, that’s the important question.

Does a jury buy this? Does anyone seriously believe that an inmate would testify without any expectation of a reward? Is there any inmate foolish enough to testify without an expectation?

Consider this: information is power in the criminal justice system. Not the truth. Information. When an inmate obtains information, there is but one thought on his mind: how do I use this to my advantage? How do I translate this into a lower sentence?

Sure, the prosecutor and the inmate may never actually utter the words “sentence modification”, but it is an unwritten understanding. That’s part of the game. The State knows it, the inmate knows it. If he cooperates, he will get some consideration. No one wants to be in jail, whether it is for 6 months or 60 years, and any little advantage that can be obtained, will be used. And the State has an incentive to offer modifications, too. If they really do stiff an informant and don’t reduce his sentence, the next guy will hear about it and will be more hesitant to come forward.

Confession is king and a confession to someone who is not law enforcement is even better. So you can bet every penny left in your 401K that three weeks after a conviction in this hypothetical trial, a motion for modification of sentence will be filed and the sentence of the informant will be reduced.

A chilling confession to a heinous crime is worth its weight in years. So, the next time you’re a juror in a criminal case and an informant testifies that he has no expectation of a reduction in his sentence, join the defendant in rolling your eyes and then tell the rest of the panel that he’s full of it during deliberations.

As for the defense attorneys (and in an effort to make this post more than just stating the obvious), what tricks do you find work best in countering this charade? Maybe someone should start keeping track of every time an informant has received a reduction in his/her sentence after testifying in a particular courthouse or with the blessings of a particular prosecutor’s office.

[For more posts on other fallacies and legal fictions, click here.]

Another conviction reversed: Exhibit n for no prosecutorial immunity

In what is becoming routine, another conviction was reversed this past week in New York, this one too based on the eyewitness testimony of 5 individuals. This, though, isn’t the usual case of mistaken ID nor is it a DNA exoneration.

Convicted of murder in 1992, Fernando Bermudez has wrongly been in jail for 17 years. Interestingly, it took only a year from his conviction for the eyewitnesses to recant citing police and prosecutorial pressure and manipulation:

A year after Mr. Bermudez’s 1992 conviction, five witnesses who had identified him as the killer at trial recanted, saying in sworn affidavits that, they were coerced or manipulated by the police and prosecutors to identify Mr. Bermudez as the killer. Several of those witnesses reiterated their recantations in September at a hearing before Justice Cataldo.

Not only that, but all 5 testified at the most recent hearing that they viewed his mugshot as a group and discussed his likeness to the killer: a big no-no in photo array identifications. All the science in this field shows that we have a tendency to compare pictures to each other and to what we think the suspect looks like and pick the one that most closely resembles the person sought to be identified, instead of picking the person who actually is. If you don’t believe me, try this simple test from expert Gary Wells‘ website.

In his 79-page decision, Justice Cataldo wrote that Mr. Bermudez’s rights were violated because the police had allowed prosecution witnesses to view Mr. Bermudez’s mug shot as a group and to discuss his resemblance to the killer. Justice Cataldo also found that the prosecution should have known before sentencing that one of its cooperating witnesses, Efraim Lopez — a teenager whom Mr. Blount had punched at the club — had given false testimony.

But that doesn’t deter prosecutors. In fact, they’re so wedded to the notion that once a conviction is obtained it must be defended at all costs – and certainly one where the reversal is based in part on misbehavior by one of their own – that they utter nonsense like the following:

Fifth Amendment Right to Counsel

After reading the oral argument transcript of Montejo v. Louisiana today, I decided to refresh my memory of the Fifth Amendment Right to Counsel (starting with Miranda). In particular, I was curious to see if anyone had written a paper about the evolution (if any) of this right to counsel. I haven’t come across anything yet, but I did stumble across this.

It is an FBI law enforcement bulletin from 2002, which describes in some depth the 5th and 6th Amendment Rights to Counsel and their respective scopes. It’s a good refresher, if nothing else. Though you do have to wade through the “tips to law enforcement”.

Enjoy.

When does police coercion make a confession involuntary?

interrogation

We're gonna get what we want, see?

Here’s the quick answer: almost never. If you’re still interested, read the rest of the post. Be warned, though. It is long.

I realize this is a slightly heavy topic for Christmas Day, but such are the conversations I have over lunch. What precipitated this line of thought is this Kansas Supreme Court decision, up for cert. before SCOTUS in the coming weeks.

In Morton, the Kansas Supreme Court held that the [police officer]‘s deliberate misleading of the defendant led to her confession being involuntary. The officer lied to Morton about her need for an attorney during the interrogation and lead her to believe that all he had were clarifying questions. The KS Supreme Court held thusly (more on Morton and CT law after the jump):

Cops lie and people die

Grits for Breakfast points us to this important and disturbing story published in the L.A. Times a few days ago. It is a report on the murder of 16-year old Martha Puebla, whose name the police used while fabricating an identification.

They were trying to get her boyfriend for an unrelated murder and during their interrogation of him, they showed him a photo array (already a source of many problems) where they forged a circle around his picture with Martha’s initials and an “identification” beneath it.

To drive home his point, [police officer] Pinner laid down a “six-pack” — an array of mug shots that detectives often show to witnesses or victims of crimes. On it, [suspect] Ledesma’s photo was circled, and the initials “M.P.” were written below it. “Those is the guy that shot my friends boyfriend” was scrawled along the margin, followed by Puebla’s signature.

“I don’t even know a Martha,” Ledesma lied.

Police deceit during investigations and interrogations has long been tolerated (see, e.g. Illinios v. Perkins), but this may be one of those instances of the disconnect between theory and reality. In this case, it lead to Puebla’s death:

The next night, Ledesma reached for a pay phone outside his cell. “Cokester,” he said into the receiver, calling his friend Javier Covarrubias by one of his gang monikers, “do you know the slut that lives there by . . . my house? Her name starts with an M . . . I need her to disappear. She is dropping dimes.”

To the gang, Puebla was a snitch and needed to be dealt with.

“Uh huh, like that,” Ledesma told Covarrubias, using a mix of Spanish and English. “But [keep a] low-pro[file]. ..Stay on your toes, homie. And don’t get caught.”

Of course, this is also a product of the anti-snitching culture that has garnered much attention. But the fact remains that as a result of the deceit on the part of these law enforcement officers, a young girl is dead.

Cases like Illinois above have given cops free reign of the interrogation room – everyone’s heard of good cop, bad cop – and license to lie about almost anything, resulting in false confessions.

While I recognize the arguments supporting lying to suspects during interrogations, there has to be some sort of oversight and limits placed on the extent of permissible deceit. Certainly, endangering the life of someone who is innocent and whom the cops should know would be in danger of losing his/her life as a result of their lie should be outside those limits.

The responsibility of law enforcement is to protect citizens and ensure their safety, not to endanger them while engaged in a tunnel-visioned pursuit of “catching a criminal”.

So what is the line? When is deceit okay, if at all? Should it hinge on waiver of Miranda rights? I’ll expound on those thoughts in a later post.

Forced confession results in acquittal

The Kwame Wells-Jordan trial in New Haven has had it all: false confessions, recanting co-defendants, a near-fight between the state’s star witness and the prosecutor, a cop who has since retired amidst scandal and expert testimony on false confessions.

In the end, it looks like the system worked. A jury returned not guilty verdicts yesterday on all counts. Wells-Jordan was charged with being an accessory to assault, robbery in the first degree and conspiracy to commit robbery. The victim, Herbert Fields, was shot dead during this robbery by another man, who plead guilty to murder.

The recantation and coercion:

But when Johnson [the co-d] testified during the Wells-Jordan trial, he recanted his police statement. Michael Holmes, who police believed was the third person involved in the robbery but was not charged, also contradicted his taped statement.

Wells-Jordan did not testify on his own behalf, but his aunt and legal guardian, Julia Sykes, testified she and her nephew underwent lengthy, high-pressure interrogations in September 2006 and two months later, the day he was arrested.

Skyes, Johnson and Holmes said [now retired, but still embroiled in scandal police officer] Willoughby told the three teenagers a lie in an effort to get them to confess: that their handprints were on Fields’ car. That handprint really belonged to [someone else].

There were two interviews between Wells-Jordan, his aunt and the police, the latter resulting in the false confession. The circumstances surrounding the confessions involved the usual “we know what’s best for you, so if you tell us you did it, you won’t be a defendant” spiel.

The expert:

Related Posts with Thumbnails