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.

fruit of the poisono---oh nevermind

We at this blog, and as a consequence you as an observant reader, have known for quite some time now that false confessions are an underrated scourge in the world of wrongful convictions. Some 15-20% of all exonerations have seen the original convictions brought about by these false confessions. The causes of false confessions have been explored before: mental acuity, extremely long interrogations, psychological manipulation and outright lies.

A new paper soon to be published by Saul Kassin – one of the leading experts on false confessions – and others does a tremendous job of highlighting the history of the law on confessions, their admissibility and challenges to these confessions in US and UK courts. The paper is notable for three reasons: 1) It lays out this legal history, the current state of the research and the history of the development of this research in detail, 2) It offers some reform proposals and most interestingly 3) it posits that a false confession can have an adverse effect on how the jury perceives the remaining evidence in a case. For all of these reasons, it is an absolute must read for all criminal defense lawyers and even those prosecutors who are driven by the interests of justice.

What I want to do in this (extremely lengthy) post is to highlight some of the important and relevant points of the paper, but let me assure you: nothing I write here will be an adequate substitute for you actually reading the paper. It is that good and that important.

The problem with confessions using our current models starts at the beginning: with police interrogation. As opposed to the UK, which uses a “fact-finding” model of interviewing suspects, US police departments for the most part use the “confession” model. The goal of most interrogations in the US is to confirm the suspicion of the interrogator by obtaining a confession. These “trained” interviewers rely essentially on hunches, which are based on flawed beliefs of body language:

Often, however, it is based on a clinical hunch formed during a preinterrogation interview in which special ‘‘behavior-provoking’’ questions are asked (e.g., ‘‘What do you think should happen to the person who committed this crime?’’) and changes are observed in aspects of the suspect’s behavior that allegedly betray lying (e.g., gaze aversion, frozen posture, and fidgety movements). Yet in laboratories all over the world, research  has consistently shown that most commonsense behavioral cues are not diagnostic of truth and deception (DePaulo et al., 2003). Hence, it is not surprising as an empirical matter that laypeople on average are only 54% accurate at distinguishing truth and deception; that training does not  produce reliable improvement; and that police investigators, judges, customs inspectors, and other professionals perform only slightly better, if at all—albeit with high levels of confidence (for reviews, see Bond & DePaulo, 2006; Meissner & Kassin, 2002; Vrij, 2008).

The most famous of police interrogation techniques is the Reid Nine-step:

A nine-step process then ensues in which an interrogator employs both negative and positive incentives. On one hand, the interrogator confronts  the suspect with accusations of guilt, assertions that may be bolstered by evidence, real or manufactured, and refuses to accept alibis and denials.  On the other hand, the interrogator offers sympathy and moral justification, introducing ‘‘themes’’ that minimize the crime and lead suspects to see confession as an expedient means of escape.

Compounding the problem of these questionable police interrogation techniques is the apparent contradiction in US courts’ treatment of confessions in the criminal justice system: on one hand, courts recognize the awesome power of a confession and yet on the other seem indifferent to the voluminous research that tends to show that most techniques are coercive and unreliable. Originally governed by the corpus delicti rule, confessions are now viewed through the lens of the “trustworthiness” rule, after Opper v. United States (for a CT discussion see State v. Hafford). This rule is intended to permit the admission of only those confessions that can be independently corroborated. However, in practice, the rule doesn’t provide the benefits it seeks to:

In practice, however, the rule has not worked to screen out false confessions. Because investigators sometimes suggest and incorporate crime  details into a suspect’s confession, whether deliberately or inadvertently, many false confessions appear highly credible to the secondhand observer. Without an electronic recording of the entire interrogation process, courts are thus left to decide a swearing contest between the suspect  and the detective over the source of the details contained within the confession. Moreover, the quantum of corroboration in most jurisdictions that  apply the trustworthiness doctrine is very low, allowing many unreliable confessions to go before the jury (Leo et al., 2006).

In addition, while courts have taken a hard line stance condemning physically abusive tactics during interrogations, their rulings in the area of psychologically abusive tactics can be best seen as condoning the methods. The psychologically abusive tactics can be briefly categorized as: maximization and minimization, false-evidence ploy and other forms of deception (most notably not objected to in Frazier v. Cupp).

When dealing with a case that involves confessions, it is important to know the different types of false confessions and how they are induced. This paper classifies them into three types (drawing on an earlier taxonomy by Kassin): voluntary, coerced-compliant, and coerced-internalized.

Voluntary false confessions

This is where the subject intentionally confesses to a crime he did not commit. The reasons are varied: notoriety, a breakdown in reality monitoring and most frequently to protect the real perpetrator.

Compliant false confessions

These are the types of false confessions one most frequently associates with this concept. Think of it as acquiescing to the color of authority. This is the kind of false confession that also poses the greatest problem for both defense attorneys and jurors. The prevalent thinking is that one would never confess to a crime they did not commit, no matter how persuasive the interrogator and thus if there is a confession, it must be true. Yet the psychology of the human mind stands at odds with this assumption.

Demonstrating the form of influence observed in classic studies of social influence (e.g., Asch, 1956; Milgram, 1974), this type of confession is an act of mere public compliance by a suspect who knows that he or she is innocent  but bows to social pressure, often coming to believe that the short-term benefits of confession relative to denial outweigh the long-term costs. Based on a review of a number of cases, Gudjonsson (2003) identified some very specific incentives for this type of compliance—such as being allowed to sleep, eat, make a phone call, go home, or, in the case of drug addicts, feed a drug habit. The desire to bring the interview to an end and avoid additional  confinement may be particularly pressing for people who are young, desperate, socially dependent, or phobic of being locked up in a police station. The pages of legal history are filled with stories of compliant false confessions.

Internalized false confessions

This is third type, where not only does the suspect confess, but also starts to believe that he or she has actually committed the crime in question.

So what causes people to falsely confess? As I mentioned above, it seems incongruous to you and me that a person who knows that he is innocent would nevertheless confess to a crime. The answer begins with basic human psychology: we are highly responsive to reinforcement and subject to the laws of conditioning and of course our behavior is influenced by our perceptions of short-term rather than long-term consequences.

A voluminous body of research has shown that people make choices that they think will maximize their well-being given the constraints they face, making the best of the situation they are in—what Herrnstein has called the ‘‘matching law’’ (Herrnstein, Rachlin, & Laibson, 1997). With respect to a suspect’s response to interrogation, studies on the discounting of rewards and costs show that people tend to be impulsive in their orientation, preferring outcomes that are immediate rather than delayed, with delayed outcomes depreciating over time in their subjective value (Rachlin, 2000).

In addition to the intrinsic factors of human psychology that lead to false confessions, one must also be on the lookout for the external circumstances that can result in these confessions. Kassin breaks them down into two parts, each with subparts: the situational risk factors and the dispositional risk factors.

Situational risk factors include interrogation time, false evidence and minimization. Interrogation time, obviously, is the length of time that a suspect is interrogated. Some fun facts: the average interrogation lasts anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. Interestingly in a 2004 study of 125 proven false confessions,

in cases in which interrogation time was recorded, that 34% lasted 6– 12 hours, that 39% lasted 12–24 hours, and that the mean was 16.3 hours.

When you get into those kinds of numbers, it’s easy to see why one should heed the red flags. Sleep deprivation can lead people to do – and say – almost anything.

False evidence

Once the interrogation has begun, the interrogator will try to convey to the suspect that resistance is futile. Basic psychology tells us that once people see an outcome as inevitable, cognitive and motivational forces conspire to lead people to accept, comply with and even endorse the outcome. Over the years, across a range of subdisciplines, basic research has revealed that misinformation renders people vulnerable to manipulation.

The forensic literature on confessions reinforces and extends this classic point, indicating that presentations of false evidence can lead people to confess to crimes they did not commit

…

That this tactic appears in proven false confession cases makes sense. In self-report studies, actual suspects state that the reason they confessed is that they perceived themselves to be trapped by the weight of evidence  (Gudjonsson & Sigurdsson, 1999; Moston, Stephenson, & Williamson, 1992).

Here’s an example via a study conducted by Kassin:

In one study, Kassin and Kiechel (1996) accused college students typing on a keyboard of causing the computer to crash by pressing a key they were instructed to avoid. Despite their innocence and initial denials, subjects were  asked to sign a confession. In some sessions but not others, a confederate said she witnessed the subject hit the forbidden key. This false evidence nearly doubled the number of students who signed a written confession, from 48 to  94%.

The most famous real-life example of such a confession is that of Marty Tankleff.

Minimization

The final situational risk factor is one we’ve all seen during interrogations: the officer convinces the suspect that confessing is in his best interest. That he is the suspect’s friend and that he can help him if he just confesses; that the judge and prosecutor will understand why he committed the crime, etc. The ultimately exonerated defendants in the Central Park jogger rape case reported feeling that they would be allowed to go home if they just confessed to the crime. Two core psychological phenomena underlie this factor: us being susceptible to reinforcement and and our eschewing long-term consequences in favor of short-term benefits.

Taken together, basic research showing that people are highly influenced by perceived reinforcements and that people process the pragmatic implications of a communication suggests the possibility that suspects infer leniency  in treatment from minimizing remarks that depict the crime as spontaneous, accidental, pressured by others, or otherwise excusable—even in the absence of an explicit promise.

Dispositional risk factors are those that are defendant specific, such as the age and maturity level, the mental and cognitive abilities of a particular defendant and whether the defendant suffers from any psychological disorders. You can easily imagine how any of these (or all) would play a significant role in inducing false confessions.

Interestingly, this paper notes another new and perhaps surprising risk factor: innocence. Yes, it does seem counter intuitive, but apparently recent studies have shown that innocence is a factor that can lead people to falsely confess. This is the “I did nothing wrong, I have nothing to hide” problem which leads innocent people to waive the rights and speak with police, subjecting themselves to the coercive interrogation techniques.

The[...] findings suggest that people have a naive faith in the power of innocence to set them free. This phenomenology was evident in the classic case of Peter Reilly, an 18-year-old who falsely confessed to the murder of his mother. When asked years later why he did not invoke his Miranda rights, Reilly said, ‘‘My state of mind was that I hadn’t done anything wrong and I felt that only a criminal really needed an attorney, and this was all going to  come out in the wash’’ (Connery, 1996, p. 93).

The consequences of false confessions are pretty obvious, starting with police inaction. Once the police obtain a confession from someone they already strongly believe to the be the culprit, they close the investigation, don’t follow up on other leads and ignore exculpatory evidence even if the confession is internally inconsistent, contradicted by external evidence, or the product of coercive interrogation. This, the studies seem to show, spill over onto prosecutors as well, who refuse to accept the idea of false confessions.

But there’s another consequence that is even more troubling for you and I. And that is the effect that a confession has on people’s perception of the remainder of the evidence even when told that the confession was coercively obtained and false! The results of studies in this area are extremely frightening and must be given a lot of though going forward:

In a second study, Hasel and Kassin (2009) staged a theft and took photographic identification decisions from a large number of eyewitnesses who were present. One week later, individual witnesses were told that the person they  had identified denied guilt, or that he  confessed, or that a specific other lineup member confessed. Influenced by this information, many witnesses went on to change their identification decisions, selecting the confessor with  confidence, when given the opportunity to do so.

Mock jury studies show essentially the same results. The fact of a confession may be the single most powerful piece of evidence introduced in a trial to begin with. We learn that people (jurors) may not even fully discount the confession if told that it was coerced (going back to the “why would anyone confess if they didn’t do it, so there must be some reliability or some morsel of truth in it” problem).

For example, Kassin and Sukel (1997) presented mock jurors with one of three versions of a murder trial transcript. In a low-pressure version, the defendant was said to have confessed to police immediately upon questioning. In  a high-pressure version, participants read that the suspect was in pain and interrogated aggressively by a detective who waved his gun in a menacing manner. A control version contained no confession in evidence. Presented with the high-pressure confession, participants appeared to respond in the legally prescribed manner. They judged the statement to be involuntary and said it did not influence their decisions. Yet when it came to the all-important verdict measure, this confession significantly increased the conviction rate. This increase occurred even in a condition in which subjects were specifically admonished to disregard confessions they found to be coerced.

There are several reasons for this – three, primarily:

1. that people still have a hard time believing that even coercive techniques result in false confessions because they are more likely to take behavior at face value than to account for situational factors;
2. that people are terrible at deception detection: both cops and laypeople exhibit accuracy rates that range between 42 and 64% – no better than chance.
3. that confessions often include content cues presumed to be associated with truthfulness.

As Kassin concludes: Uninformed, however, this spectator mistakes illusion for reality, not realizing that the taped confession is scripted by the police theory of the case, rehearsed during hours of unrecorded questioning,  directed by the questioner, and ultimately enacted on paper, tape, or camera by the suspect.

So what is the solution? How do we prevent false confessions from occurring, from being entered into evidence and from jurors continuing to be deceived  by them? The single most important reform is videotaping of all custodial interrogations (which I’ve argued for before). Videotaping not only permits an entirely accurate record of everything to be maintained, it permits the jury to see how the confession was obtained, not just the content of the confession itself. It also deters interrogators from using the most blatant and obvious methods of coercion.

While initially meeting with resistance, the police departments whose jurisdictions have adopted videotaping are now strongly in support of it:

Among the collateral benefits they often cited were that recording permitted detectives to focus on the suspect rather than take copious notes, increased accountability, provided an instant replay of the suspect’s statement that  sometimes revealed incriminating comments that were initially overlooked, reduced the amount of time detectives spent in court defending their interrogation practices, and increased public trust in law enforcement.

In addition to the videotaping of interrogations, Kassin proposes several others reforms in the method of interrogations: limiting the time of such interrogations, a ban on fabricated evidence but not false assertions (as a compromise), moving from a “confession” model to a “fact finding” model of interviewing suspects and eliminating the use of legal consequence minimization in interrogations.

But the bulwark against false confessions remains the recording of interrogations. While most states do not require the videotaping (only 2 do), several others have lately indicated that such videotaping would be a good idea. In addition to Alaska (Stephan v. State, 1985) and Minnesota (State v. Scales, 1994), seven additional jurisdictions—Illinois, Maine, New Mexico, New Jersey, Wisconsin, North Carolina, and the District of Columbia— have joined in  requiring recordings of custodial interrogations in some circumstances (Robertson, 2007; Sullivan, 2004). In several other states, supreme courts have stopped short of requiring recording but either have issued strongly  worded opinions endorsing recording—e.g., New Hampshire (State v. Barnett, 2002) and Iowa (State v. Hajtic, 2007)—or, in the case of Massachusetts, held that where law enforcement officers have no excuse for the failure to  record interrogation, defendants are entitled to a strongly worded instruction admonishing jurors to treat unrecorded confessions with caution (Commonwealth v. DiGiambattista, 2004).

In Connecticut, however, there is no such requirement. Our Supreme Court recently heard oral argument in State v. Julian Lockhart, in which it is being asked to hold that videotaping interrogations is required under the State constitution. I’m not holding my breath.

In the meantime, however, I strongly urge you to read the entire paper by Kassin and every time you have a case that involves a confession, look closely for the presence of these risk factors. I might even go so far as to say that one should make it a practice to consult with an expert in cases involving confessions.

“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.]

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:

“We don’t think the defense has shown anything wrong with the verdict,” Mr. Dwyer [the chief assistant Manhattan district attorney] said.

I’m not sure what world Mr. Dwyer lives in that 5 recantations don’t imply something wrong with a verdict, but wherever it is, I don’t want to live there.

What cases like these ought to do is put more focus on SCOTUS’ upcoming decision in Pottawattamie County v. McGhee [oral argument transcript here; scotusblog recap here]. The issue in Pottawattamie is whether prosecutors should enjoy immunity for intentionally coercing false testimony in the investigation phase of a prosecution and then introducing that same testimony at a trial that leads to conviction. In that case:

In 1978, Curtis McGhee and Terry Harrington were convicted of murdering a retired police officer in Pottawattamie County, Iowa and sentenced to life in prison. Twenty-five years later, the release of new files in the cases revealed that prosecutors had fabricated the testimony of a lead witness at their trials and failed to disclose evidence about an alternative suspect to the defense. The Iowa Supreme Court vacated Harrington’s sentence, and McGhee pleaded guilty to a lesser charge in exchange for time served. Both prisoners were freed.

The oral argument in Pottawattamie is something to read. It shocks the mind that something so simple as intentionally framing an innocent person is a phrase never once uttered by any party (not that I remember anyway). Some of the justices were more concerned with the chilling effect on prosecutors. Look, we all acknowledge that most prosecutors try to do their jobs fairly and very, very few of them wouldn’t be bothered by a wrongful conviction on their conscience. But how does removing immunity for intentionally framing someone produce a “chilling” effect on their prosecutorial function? It seems bass-ackwards. If anything, wouldn’t it make prosecutors more careful in whom they pursue and whom they charge? Would  removing such immunity not provide the very result which we seek: no wrongful convictions and certainly none that are obtained by intentional falsification of the evidence? [Listen to NPR's Morning Edition's coverage of this case last week, which includes listener calls from prosecutors and public defenders.]

For me, the answer in Pottawattamie is simple: If you’re a prosecutor who intentionally frames an individual, you should be sued. Not only should you be sued, but you should be disbarred. The latter is less likely to happen than I am to become the next Chuck Norris, but the former should be a real threat. The power of a prosecutor is awesome and that power should be wielded with great care and never with malice or dishonesty.

Had police and prosecutors not pressured 5 people into falsely identifying Mr. Bermudez, he probably wouldn’t have spent 17 years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. That’s the real moral of this story, not the legal fiction of “opening floodgates” or “chilling effects”. Anyone who gives any weight to such an argument needs to spend 17 years in jail in his place.

And because it’s a Sunday night, I give you this little joke:

Get it?

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.

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):

All other aspects of the circumstances surrounding this interview indicate that Morton’s statements were voluntarily made. She was a 40-year-old, college-educated woman who had been involved in a criminal investigation in this very matter. There was nothing coercive about the manner and duration of the interview, and there is no evidence she was deprived of contact with the outside world during the interview. In fact, she was explicitly told she did not have to answer any questions, she could stop the interview at any time, and she was free to leave at any time.

However, Morton had an attorney who had represented her during this criminal investigation concerning the trailers and it was her intent and desire to have the benefit of the advice and presence of counsel in this criminal investigation. Had she known Agent Pontius was conducting a criminal investigation, she would not have agreed to the interview without the advice and presence of counsel. We consider this in conjunction with the facts that Morton believed the criminal investigation had ended and the agent’s status as a criminal investigator was not patently apparent. Under these circumstances, by reason of the agent’s conduct, Morton’s participation in the interview and the statements given therein were not the product of her free and independent will. Accordingly, Morton’s statements were involuntary and, thus, inadmissible.

SCOTUS has long held that mere lies and coercion by police do not render a confession involuntary. There has to be a causal relationship between the coercive tactic and the confession. The ultimate test remains:

Is the confession the product of an essentially free and unconstrained choice by its maker? If it is, if he has willed to confess, it may be used against him. If it is not, if his will has been overborne and his capacity for self-determination critically impaired, the use of his confession offends due process.

Of course, the State bears the burden of proving, by a mere propenderance, that the confession is voluntary. That’s not very difficult. And neither is proving that the “he has willed to confess”. In fact, it’s almost impossible to prove otherwise. Consider the cases in CT, which has essentially adopted the same test.

In State v. Lapointe [pdf], the officer lied to the defendant and told him that his fingerprints were found on the murder weapon. No problem. The supreme court writes, albeit in a footnote:

Although we find no causal relationship between the defendant’s confession and the police conduct under the facts of this case, we note that “even where there is causal connection between police misconduct and a defendant’s confession, it does not automatically follow that there has been a violation of the Due Process Clause. See, e.g., Frazier v. Cupp, [supra, 394 U.S. 731, 739].” Colorado v. Connelly, supra, 479 U.S. 164 n.2. For instance, in Frazier, even if the defendant would not have confessed but for the police statement about his associate’s inculpatory remarks, the confession was not thereby rendered involuntary. The inquiry is not merely whether the defendant would have confessed ‘but for” the police conduct, but rather whether the particular defendant’s capacity to resist the police pressure was overborne. See State v. DeAngelis, 200 Conn. 224, 232-33 (1986) (coercive police conduct must overbear defendant’s “will to resist and bring about confessions not freely self-determined” [internal quotation marks omitted]). If the police conduct is insufficient to overcome the defendant’s capacity to resist but the defendant still elects to confess, due process is not offended.

I will give 100 Italian Lire to anyone who can decode that for me. (A footnote in Lapointe and DeAngelis is that the length of an interrogation means nothing. Lapointe was interrogated for over 8 hours and DeAngelis for 10 1/2. Awesome.) The most recent treatment of voluntariness in CT (that I found) was in State v. Pinder [pdf]. In Pinder, the police stat[ed] falsely that the polygraph results would be used against him in court; present[ed] a fictitious Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) profile of the killer that included the view that the killer knew the victim; stat[ed] that the victim’s parents had a right to know the circumstances of their son’s death; and emphasiz[ed] that the defendant would be better off if he told the truth to the examiner.

It’s all okay. Doesn’t matter. Because the defendant had “the will to confess”. So the bottom line is that the totality of circumstances will almost always militate toward a finding of voluntariness. Short of a mentally retarded (is it okay to say that in the legal context?) defendant (and even then…State v. Toste, 198 Conn. 584 (confessions of mildly retarded defendant with IQ in 68 to 71 range held voluntary)), it is near impossible to prove an involuntary confession. The Court in Pinder did provide some guidance:

Factors that may be taken into account, ‘upon a proper factual showing, include: the youth of the accused; his lack of education; his intelligence;  the lack of any advice as to his constitutional rights; the length of detention; the repeated and prolonged nature of the questioning; and the  use of physical punishment, such as the deprivation of food and sleep.’ . . . [State v. Madera, 210 Conn. 22, 41 (1989)]; see also State  v. Shifflett, [199 Conn. 718, 728 (1986)].

So, um…torture?

Now, it is worth pointing out that Pinder was in 1999 and I haven’t found a case since then that re-examined this issue (if there is one, I’m sure some loyal reader will send me an e-mail). Given the greater attention paid to wrongful convictions and forced confessions in recent years, defendants might receive more favorable results if scientific evidence is presented at the motions in limine or during the trial itself. All defense lawyers would be well-served by retaining or consulting a false confession expert these days. There is plenty of scientific evidence available and numerous studies have been conducted. I would love to see appellate court tackle this issue again.

Back to Morton. As the brief in opposition points out, the facts in Morton are very, very unlikely to occur again. I would be surprised if SCOTUS granted cert., and frankly, somewhat worried. It isn’t a case that they need to decide.

An interesting footnote in the Morton cert. petition is that the Respondent (the defendant Morton) filed the brief in opposition herself. While it is clearly written by a non-lawyer, it is actually rather well written for a pro-se party.

So what does this teach us? That you should never, ever confess. Ask unequivocally for a lawyer and keep your mouth shut. If you do confess, your chances at suppressing that confession are slim to none unless you were waterboarded. Except if you consult an expert on false confessions, in which case your chances go solidly into the “slim” column.

Merry Christmas!

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.

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:

Dr. Solomon Fulero, the defense expert, testified about – among other things – the Reid Nine Step [Liar, Liar: Norm].

Fulero said police across America, including in New Haven, regularly use psychological techniques to elicit confessions by suspects, true and false.

“The goal is to get somebody to the place where (they believe that) for them to say they did something is better for them than to say they didn’t,” Fulero testified, “even if they didn’t do it.” Fulero said police use “the evidence ploy” in which a suspect is falsely told of evidence against him. “This makes the person think his situation is hopeless and denials will be useless.”

Fulero also said studies show juveniles are more vulnerable to giving false confessions.

The almost-fight:

When Johnson came to Superior Court last Thursday as a prosecution witness, he and Assistant State’s Attorney James Clark became embroiled in increasingly tense question-and-answer exchanges.

After Johnson turned to Judge Bruce Thompson and muttered he couldn’t take much more of Clark and added, “I’m about to hit him,” Clark quickly took several steps toward Johnson and said, “Go ahead, I’m here.”

Thompson immediately asked jurors to leave the room. When they returned, Johnson’s testimony resumed without Thompson saying anything to the jury about what had occurred.

Defense attorney Diane Polan asked for a mistrial, but the judge declined, instead issuing a curative instruction.

The embattled cop:

Former police Detective Clarence Willoughby’s alleged aggressive interrogation techniques were described in Superior Court testimony Tuesday, but he again won the right not to be forced to testify in the trial of Kwame Wells-Jordan.

[Judge] Thompson had previously ruled Willoughby is entitled to use Fifth Amendment protection, but Polan wanted jurors to at least see him exercise that right. The judge agreed with Willoughby’s lead attorney, Norman A. Pattis, that Willoughby’s testimony could jeopardize his own legal case. He is charged with forgery, larceny and making a false statement after allegedly stealing from a fund for confidential informants. He has pleaded not guilty.

The judge sided with Willoughby.

In the end, Attorney Polan’s argument was simple: She told jurors in her closing argument that police didn’t bother to “connect the dots” leading to the real perpetrators because they already had the teenagers’ statements. This is now becoming a familiar refrain, with New Haven Public Defender Tom Ullmann’s charge a few weeks ago.

I bet Law and Order couldn’t come up with a storyline this good.