criminal law principles

Expanding Graham

In the other criminal justice opinion issued by SCOTUS today, a 6-3 court held in Graham v. Florida that life without parole for juveniles convicted of non-homicide crimes violates the Constitution’s ban on Cruel and Unusual Punishments.  The decision is a beautiful thing, for sure. Combined with Roper, the Supreme Court has now categorically banned the death penalty for juveniles and LWOP for those juveniles convicted of non-homicide crimes.

This, however, has left a gap in the juvenile jurisprudence, one that is sure to be addressed sooner rather than later. What of LWOP for those juveniles who have committed some sort of homicide?

I believe the issue is ripe for pickin’ and there may be enough votes on the Court to hold that such a sentence would violate the Eighth Amendment.

Consider the following quotes. First, the Court sets up the framework under which this claim is to be analyzed:

The present case involves an issue the Court has not considered previously: a categorical challenge to a term-of-years sentence. The approach in cases such as Harmelin and Ewing is suited for considering a gross proportionality challenge to a particular defendant’s sentence, but here a sentencing practice itself is in question. This case implicates a particular type of sentence as it applies to an entire class of offenders who have committed a range of crimes. As a result, a threshold comparison between the severity of the penalty and the gravity of the crime does not advance the analysis. Here, in addressing the question presented, the appropriate analysis is the one used in cases that involved the categorical approach, specifically Atkins, Roper, and Kennedy.

Shunning the case-by-case approach in favor of the “bright line” approach is a trend on the Court and certainly works in favor of those arguing that LWOP for all juveniles is cruel and unusual.

Twice in jeopardy, 40 years apart

Back in 2007, when the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania announced its intent to prosecute William Barnes for the death of officer Walter Barclay, eyebrows were raised. Barnes, you see, had already been tried for the 1966 shooting of Barclay and had been found guilty of attempted murder. Why was he not charged with murder at the first trial? Because Barclay wasn’t dead yet.

He died in 2007, more than 40 years after the shooting. The Commonwealth, already having exacted 26 years from Barnes, now 74,  for the attempted murder, now seeks to exact some more for the eventual death of Ofc. Barclay.

Barnes’ second trial for the act of shooting Barclay began today in Philadelphia. The Commonwealth will attempt to prove that the gunshot wound suffered by Barclay in ’66 – which left him wheelchair bound – caused the urinary tract infection in 2006 that ultimately killed him.

The defense will seek to show the jury that the Commonwealth cannot prove the causal link, relying in part on the fact that Barclay, despite being confined to a wheelchair:

was able to drive a specialized car, walk with braces, earn a college degree, marry and divorce three times and perform sexually, had been in three car accidents and had fallen out of his motorized wheel chair twice during the 41 years that he lived after being shot

Mark Bennett, in a comment to Scott’s post above, asked in 2007:

I must be missing something, because those articles don’t even discuss this question: How does a conviction for attempted murder not jeopardy-bar a prosecution for murder when the victim dies?

The defendant’s right to trial by jury

Article III, Section 2, Clause 3 of the Constitution of the United States states:

The trial of all crimes, except in cases of impeachment, shall be by jury; and such trial shall be held in the State where the said crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the trial shall be at such place or places as the Congress may by law have directed.

The Sixth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States provides:

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury . . .

The Sixth Amendment was made applicable to the various states through the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States. The Connecticut Constitution, in Article I, Section 8 states:

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall have a right … in all prosecutions by indictment or information, to a speedy, public trial by an impartial jury.

This is further codified in Connecticut law in both the practice book and the general statutes. C.G.S. 54-82b provides:

(a) The party accused in a criminal action in the Superior Court may demand a trial by jury of issues which are triable of right by a jury. [...]

(b) In criminal proceedings the judge shall advise the accused of his right to trial by jury at the time he is put to plea and, if the accused does not then claim a jury, his right thereto shall be deemed waived, but if a judge acting on motion made by the accused within ten days after judgment finds that such waiver was made when the accused was not fully cognizant of his rights or when, in the opinion of the judge, the proper administration of justice requires it, the judge shall vacate the judgment and cause the proceeding to be set for jury trial.

Practice Book Section 42-1 provides:

The defendant in a criminal action may demand a trial by jury of issues which are triable of right by jury. If at the time the defendant is put to plea, he or she elects a trial by the court, the judicial authority shall advise the defendant  of his or her right to a trial by jury and that a failure to elect a jury trial at that time may constitute a waiver of that right. If the defendant does not then elect a jury trial, the defendant’s right thereto may be deemed to have been  waived.

The reason I mention all of this is that the other day, I was reading Mark Bennett’s series of interesting posts on jury selection in Texas. He was in the courtroom, not as a participant in the process, and reported the entire voir dire conducted by the prosecutor and pro-se defendant. In his final post, I noted this (which is Mark’s narration of the pro-se defendant speaking to the venirepersons):

AP [prosecutor] is new here, and I had agreed to have case before the judge (objection overruled). I was comfortable with the court system. The court called me a week later . . . (objection sustained). (State refused to waive jury? WTF, AP?)

That got me thinking. As evidenced by the Constitutional provisions listed above, I’ve always believed that the right to trial by jury is the defendant’s and defendant’s alone. Was I mistaken? So I tried to locate the relevant jury waiver provision in Texas’ criminal code. This is what I found:

Art. 1.13. WAIVER OF TRIAL BY JURY.  (a) The defendant in a criminal prosecution for any offense other than a capital felony case in which the State notifies the court and the defendant that it will seek the death penalty shall have the right, upon entering a plea, to waive the right of trial by jury, conditioned, however, that such waiver must be made in person by the defendant in writing in open court with the consent and approval of the court, and the attorney representing the State. The consent and approval by the court shall be entered of record on the minutes of the court, and the consent and approval of the attorney representing the State shall be in writing, signed by him, and filed in the papers of the cause before the defendant enters his plea.

(b) In a capital felony case in which the attorney representing the State notifies the court and the defendant that it will not seek the death penalty, the defendant may waive the right to trial by jury but only if the attorney representing the State, in writing and in open court, consents to the waiver.

That’s certainly a little strange. What confounds the matter further is the very next provision:

Art. 1.14. WAIVER OF RIGHTS.  (a) The defendant in a criminal prosecution for any offense may waive any rights secured him by law except that a defendant in a capital felony case may waive the right of trial by jury only in the manner permitted by Article 1.13(b) of this code.

But what of Article 1.13(a), which lays out the procedure for waiving a jury in a non-capital case? All the language I could find in constitutional jurisprudence assigned the right to a trial by jury to the defendant only. Take, for example, Patton v. United States, a case in which the defense and prosecution agreed to have the defendant tried by 11 instead of 12, after one juror fell sick. Justice Sutherland, for the majority, wrote:

We come, then, to the crucial inquiry: Is the effect of the constitutional provisions in respect of trial by jury to establish a tribunal as a part of the frame of government, or only to guaranty to the accused the right to such a trial? If the former, the question certified by the lower court must, without more, be answered in the negative.

In the light of the foregoing it is reasonable to conclude that the framers of the Constitution simply were intent upon preserving the right of trial by jury primarily for the protection of the accused. If not, and their intention went beyond this and included the purpose of establishing the jury for the trial of crimes as an integral and inseparable part of the court, instead of one of its instrumentalities, it is strange that nothing to that effect appears in contemporaneous literature or in any of the debates or innumerable discussions of the time. This is all the more remarkable when we recall the minute scrutiny to which every provision of the proposed Constitution was subjected. The reasonable inference is that the concern of the framers of the Constitution was to make clear that the right of trial by jury should remain inviolable, to which end no language was deemed too imperative. That this was the purpose of the Third Article is rendered highly probable by a consideration of the form of expression used in the Sixth Amendment.

The Court then concludes:

Upon this view of the constitutional provisions we conclude that Article III, Section 2, is not jurisdictional, but was meant to confer a right upon the accused which he may forego at his election. To deny his power to do so, is to convert a privilege into an imperative requirement.

Lending further support to the argument that the right is the defendant’s alone is the court’s discussion of the ability of the defendant to waive any damn right he pleases:

A defendant is supposed to understand his rights, and may be aided, if he so desires, by counsel to advise him. There are many legal provisions for his security and benefit which he may dispense with absolutely, as, for instance, his right to plead guilty and submit to sentence without any trial whatsoever.

So how does one square this core Constitutional right, which by all accounts, seems to be confer the benefit solely on the defendant along with the ability to waive this right if he so chooses, with what appears to be a prohibition in Texas on the waiver of this right without the permission of the State? Have I misread Texas’ statute? Perhaps Mark can chime in here and clarify things. Do other states have a similar requirement?

[Note: I know that caselaw establishes there is no fundamental right to trial by jury where the punishment does not exceed six months and yes, death is different and in capital cases, the consent of all parties is required to waive a jury.]

[Note 2: If nothing else, the Patton case and State v. Gannon - a 1902 Connecticut case  - make for fascinating reading. They both explore the deep and rich history of the Constitution and their underpinnings of the right to a jury trial and the process by which that right came to be recognized.]

The Constitution is a wet blanket

The Constitution was intended to be many things: a guide, a charter, founding principles and at the very least a set of instructions for those that sought to build a just and fair country from the ashes of rebellion.

What it was never intended to be was a blanket, and a wet one at that. Unfortunately, state Sen. Tim Burchett, R-Knoxville, TN (hey! stop rolling your eyes) didn’t get that particular memo.

So, in his Tennesseean way, he has introduced a bill making it a felony for criminal defense lawyers to make “unproven insinuations” about crime victims during the course of a trial.

Lawmakers said it isn’t fair for attorneys to try to make criminals out of victims during a trial. However, some attorneys believe this notion is unconstitutional.

The discussion for the new law came about after a couple in Knoxville was tortured and killed in 2007. The parents of Channon Christian listened to the graphic details in court last year and said defense attorneys insinuated their daughter used drugs.

“They criminalize the victims. They are in the grave. They have no defense,” said state Sen. Tim Burchett, a Republican from Knoxville.

Reconfiguring terms

It really grinds my gears when I hear lay people (read: tv and movie writers, newscasters, media, your mother, my mother) use the term technicality to describe a violation of some Constitutional right. As in: “The judge threw out the case because of a bad search or something”, “The guy kills a cop and he gets off on some technicality?” or “He was so guilty, but his lawyer got him off on some technicality”.

So here’s my proposal. Let’s start replacing real phrases for the meaningless and incendiary “technicality”. For example, a search that violates the 4th Amendment protection against unreasonable searches and seizures shall henceforth be called “police misconduct”.

A conviction that’s reversed because the prosecutor “forgot” to turn over potentially exculpatory information should be called “prosecutorial dishonesty”.

A case that’s dismissed for lack of probable cause should be called “fabrication of evidence” or “prosecutorial bloodlust”.

“The judge threw out the case because of police misconduct” sure has a better, more truthful ring to it.

Any more ideas?

A conjoined criminal enterprise

nocaptionthistime

If a conjoined twin commits a crime, does his counterpart get punished too? That’s the question posed to Slate’s Explainer and in classic lawyer fashion, the answer is: who the hell knows.

At first blush, it would seem terribly unfair and unconstitutional: you punish the guilty and seek to avoid punishing the innocent. Assuming that we know which one of the twins committed the crime, would it be feasible to punish that person – via incarceration in this hypothetical – and not the other? It would, of course, be physically impossible to do so.

The brilliant minds at work across the internets who have been wrestling with this question since Slate’s piece was published offer some ways to also convict the innocent twin: accessory, co-conspirator, violation of a good samaritan law, so as to justify the inevitable imprisonment of that originally innocent person.

The objection’s on the other foot

An interesting and ironic-chuckle-inducing opinion from the Colorado Court of Appeals (via Volokh), where the trial court granted a mistrial in a criminal case. The defendant had been charged with assaulting his estranged wife and one of her friends, with threatening the wife, and with disturbing the peace.

As some of these prosecutions go, there was a defense. The defense was basically that the wife was a liar and would do anything to gain leverage in a contentious custody battle involving the couple’s infant son.

At the beginning and again at the end of opening statement, defense counsel told the jury of the defense contention that the wife would “do anything,” including making false claims against defendant, to keep custody.

The wife was the first witness against defendant. Defense counsel began cross-examination by asking several questions about the then-ongoing marriage dissolution and child custody proceedings. The prosecution objected – stating “we’re here on a criminal trial not on the divorce case” – but the court overruled the objection and allowed this line of questioning to continue. While allowing defense counsel “a little bit of latitude” in this area, the court did urge counsel to “cut to the chase.”

Further questioning established that the wife had taken the couple’s son when she left defendant (before the nightclub incident) and the courts were deciding custody. Two questions followed:

Q. You know that [defendant] is from Africa?

A. Yes.

Q. You know that if he is found guilty of this he’ll be deported? The prosecution objected before the second question was answered, stating it was “completely improper to bring that up in this proceeding.” The court promptly ordered a recess.

Outside the jury’s presence, the prosecutor moved for a mistrial. He argued the jury had been “irrevocably tainted” by questioning that was “a ploy to invoke sympathy for the defendant” and amounted to “probably the worst violation [he had] ever seen.” Defense counsel responded that the question went to the “heart of our defense” and defendant was constitutionally entitled to ask it. Counsel proffered that she had spoken with defendant’s immigration attorney, that this assault conviction would lead to deportation, and that the wife “knows all of that.”

The trial court then granted the prosecutor’s motion for mistrial (yes, I did not type that incorrectly), while “vehemently disagreeing” with defense counsel (seems that this judge has learned from my tips for objections).

Between a void and a hard place

You are Paul Clarke. You live in a small town in England. You’ve had a run-in or two with the law, but nothing serious. One day, you find a black bag a the end of the garden. You think it’s a bag of rubbish (garbage, for you non-Brits). You open it and inside find a shotgun. Being civic minded (plus a little lazy), you take the gun to the police a few days later and turn it in.

Fast forward a number of months. Where do you think you are now, Paul?

Awaiting sentencing for possession of a shotgun Sentenced to 12 months suspended, that’s where. An offence which carries a mandatory-minimum penalty of 5 years. Jack of Kent, a British blougger, has written extensively on this case and it’s well worth the read (via the deadly Charon). As with all strict liability crimes and crimes that involve mandatory-minimum sentences, the befuddling question here is the exercise of discretion to prosecute Mr. Clarke. While the police were unwilling to comment on the case, Jack of Kent was able to enter into a lengthy e-mail exchange with the Crown Prosecution Service, who explained their decision to prosecute thusly:

Paul Clarke claimed that he found the shot gun in his garden and decided to bring it to the police station. Evidence showed that he was in possession of the gun and the cartridges for some days earlier and that at that time he did not try to contact the police, for them to collect the weapon. He could not explain why he waited some days before bringing the gun to the police station and why he did not contacted the police for them to come and collect the gun.

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