Why just yesterday, the Georgia Supreme Court heard oral argument in a case where the issue, as framed by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, was:

whether the state’s public defender system can ethically provide and — and also afford — conflict-free representation for thousands of indigent clients.

Go ahead, shed that tear. More, from the concisely named GeorgiaCriminalAppellateLawBlog (a LexBlog production, natch):

So, it came to pass that Michael Edwards, the leader of a circuit public defender’s office in South Georgia came to oral argument at the Supreme Court yesterday where he sat at the same table with an Assistant Attorney General, a prosecutor. Both the prosecutor and the the “public defender” appeared as co-counsel to argue against a bar rule regarding imputed conflicts in the representation of the poor.

What is this cataclysmic event that brought the two sides together? An ethics opinion [PDF], opining rather uncontroversially that:

Lawyers employed in the circuit public defender office in the same judicial circuit may not represent co-defendants when a single lawyer would have an impermissible conflict of interest in doing so.

In plain-speak-ese, if you – an individual lawyer – can’t represent co-defendants at the same time due to a conflict of interest, then neither can anyone else from your office. Not groundbreaking, not so far beyond the pale that it required the unholy union of a public defender and an attorney general.

The United States Supreme Court has long maintained that “a criminal defendant is entitled to be represented by an attorney free from conflicts of interest”. Wood v. Georgia, Strickland v. Washington, Cuyler v. Sullivan…I could go on and on. In fact, I can’t think of an ethical duty that is more important for the criminal defense attorney than this one to provide conflict-free representation. Just as the prosecutor’s duty is to seek justice (go ahead, chortle), ours is to our client and only to our client.

Yet it is this very duty that seems to give defense attorneys the most trouble. It is this unambiguous, bright line, don’t-touch-with-someone-else’s-10-foot-pole duty that somehow turns into a jumbled, confusing incomprehensible mess when it works its way through the neurons of public defender officials. It was this precise issue that the Connecticut Appellate Court considered last October (albeit erroneously concluding there wasn’t a conflict).

How then, given the Constitutional right and the ethical obligation, could the public defender’s office argue that it shouldn’t be required to provide this conflict-free resolution? The answer, as always, is money.

Stunningly, the explanation from the Georgia public defender isn’t that the right doesn’t exist, but that he can’t afford to provide it:

Mr. Edwards pointed out that he can’t afford to engage in egg-headed “philosophical” or “academic” discussions as a GPDSC bureaucrat. He has to be pragmatic about all this. We can’t afford to get off on this business about right and wrong. If you want conflict-free representation, then either stop getting accused of crime or stop being poor.

He didn’t say that last bit, but he might as well have. Public defenders have enough of a PR problem as it is. Siding with the state on whether to provide our clients conflict-free representation isn’t really helping our cause.

Look, I get it. There is only so much money and there are only so many resources. The answer, however, isn’t to capitulate and argue that our clients should be entitled to conflict-free-ish representation, but instead to do what we’re supposed to: stand up for our clients and demand the State to adequately fund the prosecutions they seem so happy to initiate. If, in this no-brainer of a situation, we public defenders take positions that are clearly contrary to our clients’ interests, then is it any wonder that they refuse to trust us and call us pawns of the prosecution?

The duty isn’t ambiguous or predicated on the availability of funds. Free isn’t free-ish.

The study is remarkable in its breadth and scope; it analyzed 4686 murder cases spanning 34 years to see whether the application of the death penalty was arbitrary in any fashion. The results are telling and a sizeable slap across the face of The Constitution State. The NYT sums up the numbers nicely:

Of those [4686 murders], 205 were death-eligible cases that resulted in some kind of conviction, either through a plea bargain or conviction at trial. The arbitrariness started at the charging level: nearly a third of these death-eligible cases were not charged as capital offenses as they could have been, but as lesser crimes. Sixty-six defendants were convicted of capital murder, 29 went to a hearing for a death sentence, nine death sentences were sustained and one person was executed.

In order to evaluate the arbitrariness of the imposition of the death penalty, Prof. Donohue devised an egregiousness scale and applied it to each case:

It considered four factors: victim suffering (like duration of pain); victim characteristics (like age, vulnerability); defendant’s culpability (motive, intoxication or premeditation); and the number of victims. He enlisted students from two law schools to rate each case (based on fact summaries without revealing the case’s outcome or the race of the defendant or victim) on a scale from 1 to 3 (most egregious) for each of the four factors. The raters also gave each case an overall subjective assessment of egregiousness, from 1 (low) to 5 (high), to ensure that more general reactions could be captured.

The results are either stunning or completely unsurprising, depending on your point of view or naivete. For example, the study completely undermines the most often repeated defense of the death penalty in CT and elsewhere: that it’s reserved for only the “worst of the worst”. As this NYT graphic demonstrates, the study found that only one of the 32 “most egregious” crimes in CT resulted in the imposition of the death penalty. Further, the study found no real disparity in the “egregiousness” of the crimes that resulted in a sentence of LWPOR and the death sentence, thus further underscoring the idea that the death penalty was nothing but arbitrary.

It even supported the vast geographic disparity in Connecticut: a murder in the death penalty capital of CT – Waterbury – was seven times more likely to result in a death sentence than in any other jurisdiction in the State. If the chances of an individual getting a death sentence increase by 700% merely because of the physical location of that crime, then that is the very definition of arbitrary.

The study’s findings also supported those of other nationwide studies that the race of the defendant and the victim play a major role in determining whether the death penalty is imposed:

not only are minority on white murders getting harsher treatment controlling for all of the factors specified above, but this harsher treatment is substantial.  Minority on white murders are charged as capital felonies at a roughly 21 or 22 percentage point higher rate (see columns 2, 3, 5, and 6 in row 2 of Table 22) and receive death sentences at a roughly 4 to 8 percentage point higher rate (see columns 2, 3, 5, and 6 in row 2 of Table 23).  A sense of the importance of these estimated effects can be gained by comparing these effects against the overall charging and sentencing rates.

For instance, the overall rate of capital charging from the data set of 205 death-eligible cases is roughly 67 percent (as indicated in Table 21). Clearly, a 21 or 22 percentage point increase in charging for a racially defined class of crimes is a notably large number.  Similarly, when the overall death sentencing rate in the sample is only 4.4 percent (see Table 21), an elevated death sentencing rate for minority on white crimes on the order of magnitude of 4 to 8 percent is obviously sizeable.

Indeed, the harsher sentencing of minority defendants who kill whites is even greater (proportionally) than the increase in the capital charging rates experienced by this same group.  The proportionally greater death sentencing rate suggests that minority on white murders receive harsher treatment not only by virtue of initial prosecutorial decisions to charge death-eligible cases as capital felonies, although this is clearly one component, but also because of subsequent racially biased decisions of prosecutors and/or judges and juries subsequent to the initial charging decision.

The study is also a delightful read because it takes the counter-study of the State’s expert and rips it to shreds. It cuts through the “rhetoric and unfounded speculations” made by the State’s expert and presents the findings of that study as following:

1.  There are enormous and unexplained geographic disparities.
2.  Death sentences are not confined to the worst murders.
3.  There is gender bias in death sentencing.
4.  There is racial bias in capital outcomes.
5.  There is arbitrariness in the key charging and sentencing decisions of the Connecticut
death penalty system.

That sounds awfully like the State’s expert agrees with the defense expert.

The report concludes as one would expect: with a plea to the court and the legislature to take into account the findings of the study and to do something to fix the problem (or, in my opinion, do away with it entirely). If you read the entire report, it will leave you with no doubt that the death penalty as it stands is unworkable and geographically and racially disparate and that its application is nothing but arbitrary, a clear violation of Furman and the Eight Amendment to the Constitution of the United States. As the legislature heads into its short session in February, it would be wise to look at this report and address the concerns raised by it. Now that that trial is over, perhaps we will talk honestly about the problems created by the death penalty in Connecticut and look seriously to abolition.

the land of steady racism

Almost exactly one year ago, I wrote about the town of East Haven, CT hurtling towards “sundown town” status, caused largely by alleged institutional racism and bias towards minorities – lately specifically Latinos. In that post, I mentioned that there was a federal civil rights lawsuit pending and that the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice had opened an investigation into these alleged discriminatory practices of the East Haven Police Department. This past week, the DOJ issued its report in the form of a letter [PDF] sent to the East Haven mayor and boy is it damning (media coverage here).

Some of its key findings:

• The East Haven Police Department (EHPD) conducted disproportionate traffic stops of Latinos. Latinos accounted for 24.8% of the stops in the 4pm-12am shift, which is typically the busiest. The numbers for the other shifts were 17.8% and 14.7%.
• However, comparing the percentage of Latinos stopped to the percentage of Latinos in the population reveals a starker difference. Latinos accounted for 19.9% of all traffic stops, but make up only 8.3% of East Haven drivers (and 15.5% of East Haven and surrounding towns).

In making these stops, the DOJ found that the EHPD targets Latino drivers and employs tactics not used against non-Latinos:

• Officers heavily patrol known Latino areas, lying in wait for people leaving predominantly Latino-oriented businesses.
• Other methods use include following cars until a traffic violation occurs, out-of-state license plates known to be “forged”, citing speeding but writing little to no information about the speeding on the ticket itself.
• Latinos face harsher treatment after being stopped: they are more likely to be arrested and have their cars towed for traffic violations than non-Latinos.

The DOJ further charges that the EHPD haphazardly employes immigration policies against Latino drivers and points out that the EHPD and East Haven have had a long standing problem with policing of minorities, citing a recently concluded federal lawsuit which alleged discrimination against African Americans (Jones v. Town of East Haven, et. al.).

The most shocking thing about all of this (or the least surprising, depending on how naive you are) is that the DOJ got all the above information from the EHPD itself: from 2 years’ worth of police reports and interviews with officers and community members.

The institutional coddling of these discriminatory practices is mind-blowing. From the news report:

East Haven may be unique, if only because of a tangle of politics and the close friendship between East Haven’s Republican mayor, Joseph Maturo Jr. and his chief of police, Leonard Gallo.

Maturo was originally mayor from 1997 to 2007 and he hired Gallo as chief in 1998. But Gallo was put on administrative leave by Maturo’s Democratic successor as mayor, April Capone, in 2010, a result of the allegations of racial profiling and excessive use of force by East Haven Police.

After Maturo won in the November elections, he almost immediately returned Gallo to full duty as chief — an astounding move given the ongoing civil rights and grand jury investigations into police actions during Gallo’s tenure.

And more:

The 23-page report released Monday by the U.S. Department of Justice Civil Rights Division cited top police officers for “creating and condoning a hostile and intimidating environment for anyone seeking to provide relevant information in this investigation.”

“We also learned that Chief Gallo had warned staff that the Department of Justice had agreed to provide him with the names of individuals who cooperated with the investigation,” according to the civil rights report. And that, federal officials insisted, was completely and utterly untrue.

How bizarre is this institutional protection? EHPD officers told DOJ officials (that’s the fucking Federal Department of Justice Civil Rights Division, in case we were unclear) that the DOJ officials’ safety could not be guaranteed by the EHPD when they went on ride-alongs. Ponder that for a second.

The DOJ found an abject lack of any internal policing mechanisms and that the EHPD hadn’t ever bothered to compile the statistics to see if racial profiling existed with its department, something that’s required by C.G.S. 54-1m. In addition, the DOJ noted that a large number of entries into the EHPD’s database seemed to be missing ethnicity data or the data seemed to be misreported.

EHPD is at a crossroads: either admit that there are problems and work toward fixing them or deny it all and face lengthy and costly lawsuits brought not only by civilians, but also the Department of Justice. As a new year dawns, one can only hope that concern for the safety of officers and the constitutional rights of its residents rises above deep-seated racism and pride.

Until a caller called in with a comment toward the end of the show (which you can listen to in its entirety here). The caller “Wayne” offered a personal anecdote, which I paraphrase below:

I’m a cab driver in New Haven and back in 1979, I had transported an individual, who it turned out had just committed a murder. So, as a witness, I was called to testify at the trial and identify him. Now, when I had transported him, he was a thin fellow, riddled with a drug addiction, unkempt, mousy and had that lean and hungry look. After getting 3 squares a day, regular sleep and no sunlight for a year at the taxpayer’s expense, he looked like a different man. He’d put on weight, had grown hair and was looking well-fed. I couldn’t recognize him at all. I couldn’t see the person I had transported a year earlier, so when asked to identify the passenger, I figured, heck, it has to be that guy sitting next to the defense attorney, looking quite out of place in a suit. So I pointed in that direction. Luckily, there was other evidence and he was convicted.

Read it again if you’re sitting here thinking “well, what’s the problem?”. The problem is that this witness admitted that he had no idea whether the defendant was indeed the same person who he had transported a year ago, but pointed at the guy sitting in the courtroom anyway, thereby making an in-court identification that jurors could – and would – rely upon to convict him.

Putting aside the desire that witnesses be honest and forthcoming about their inability to recall the defendant as the perpetrator – they rarely are – this highlights a recurring problem for which there may be no solution. In most criminal trials, there is one person sitting across from the jury who just doesn’t belong to the scene. There is one person who best resembles a Microsoft photoshop faux pas: the defendant. Either he isn’t wearing a suit, or wearing one that’s ill-fitting or is wearing the same shirt that the juror saw him wear during voir dire, or he’s just…sitting there. Looking out of place. Uncomfortable.

And everyone can see it. Even the witness. And that makes identifications in court essentially meaningless. Because, when asked to identify the perpetrator, who else is the witness going to pick out? The prosecutor who’s just been asking him questions? The defense attorney who’s been objecting? The judge? Don’t be silly.

I’ve been thinking about this all day and I’m not sure that there’s a solution. But there is a problem. And the problem is that it turns bad memories into good ones. It turns hunches into convictions. It’s the same problem with juries: the defendant’s here, he’s arrested, he must be guilty. Innocent people don’t just end up in trial for no reason. If the system has got him, it’s got the right guy.

We can control this to some extent during pretrial hearings on the suppression of identifications, but in trial, there’s no apparent remedy. It’s yet another failing that we have to live with and work to overcome.

[We] have a fundamental belief in fairness and justice – in swift and certain justice. The death penalty as practiced [here] is neither fair nor just; and it is  not swift or certain. It is not applied equally to all. It is a perversion of justice that the single best indicator of who will and will not be executed has nothing to  do with the circumstances of a crime or the findings of a jury. The only factor that determines whether someone sentenced to death [here] is actually executed is that they volunteer. The hard truth is that in the [40 odd] years since [we] reinstated the death penalty, it has only been carried out on [one] volunteer who waived [his] right to appeal.

In the years since [then], many judges, district attorneys, legislators, death penalty proponents and opponents, and victims and their families have agreed that [our] system is broken.

But we have done nothing. We have avoided the question.

And during that time, a growing number of states have reconsidered their approach to capital punishment given public concern, evidence of wrongful convictions, the unequal application of the law, the expense of the process and other issues.

It goes on and on. Sadly, while the debates and the struggles and the arguments are the same, the State is not Connecticut, but rather Oregon, and the above is not an excerpt from a speech of Governor Malloy, but rather from a remarkable statement [PDF] made by Governor Kitzhaber in explaining his decision to impose a moratorium on executions in Oregon. Compare the solemn eloquence of Kitzhaber’s statement with the barbaric vengeance that spewed forth from the mouth of Edith Prague. The former is replete with compassion and realism, while the latter is devoid of any intellectual honesty.

Is there any wonder that we still seek and pursue the death penalty here in Connecticut? What more could highlight the arbitrariness of the death penalty when the same argument is utilized by Kitzhaber to justify his moratorium and by the Connecticut Supreme Court to continue to sanction this ghastly punishment [PDF]:

And while it may be convenient to blame lengthy and expensive death penalty trials and appeals on inmates “working the system,” the truth is courts (and  society) continue to reinterpret when, how and under what circumstances it is acceptable for the state to kill someone. Over time, those options are narrowing.  Courts are applying stricter standards and continually raising the bar for prosecuting death penalty cases. Consider that it was only six years ago  that the U.S. Supreme Court reversed itself and held that it is unconstitutional to impose capital punishment on those under the age of 18. For a state intent on maintaining a death penalty, the inevitable result will be bigger questions, fewer options and higher costs.

versus:

We recognize that imposition of new death sentences also has declined substantially over the past decade, from 224 in 2000 to 112 in 2010. Death Penalty  Information Center, ‘‘Facts about the Death Penalty,’’ supra, p. 3. Various reasons have been posited for the decline, however, including: the high costs of the  death penalty at a time when state budgets are strained from a weak economy; publicity about convictions overturned due to DNA evidence; a significant drop in rates of violent crime and murder; improved legal representation for capital defendants, including the greater use of mitigation specialists; and the increasingly available option for prosecutors to seek life sentences without the possibility of parole.

Although some of these explanations suggest declining public support for the death penalty because it offends contemporary standards of decency and  morality, others decidedly do not. Because of the ambiguity underlying the decline in new death sentences, that circumstance does not provide compelling  support for abandoning our decisions in Ross and Webb.

The courts and the legislature in Connecticut are engaged in a silly game of kickball and avoidance. We hide behind the cutesy nickname, “the land of steady habits”, when in reality, we are the only state in the entire Northeast to still sanction this punishment. Steady we are, I suppose. Steadily vengeful and regressive.

Says Kitzhaber:

Fourteen years ago, I struggled with the decision to allow an execution to proceed. Over the years I have thought if faced with the same set of circumstances I  would make a different decision. That time has come.

The time has come. Who will have the courage to utter these words and take a different approach?

wait, does that count as Arson?

Look, I dislike guns. I dislike them a lot. I don’t believe that people kill people, rather that guns – the objects from which projectiles are discharged at a high rate of velocity, thereby permitting them to enter the bodies of individuals, causing fatal damage to bodily organs – kill people. I’d rather there weren’t any, or at the very least, we had stringent gun control laws.

But do you know what I dislike more? Stupid laws and even stupider interpretation of laws that criminalize perfectly legal conduct. Somehow, despite my strict personal opposition to guns, it is still legal to carry a licensed firearm in Connecticut. In public. Openly.

Yet, for some reason, the state’s “top criminal justice official” – a made up title if I ever heard one – wouldn’t recommend it. Why, you might logically ask, is it not a good idea? For the same reason that photographers across the country are being arrested for videotaping police encounters with civilians: because no one knows the law (see also this post by Balko on an issue similar to the one in the instant post).

I’m not making this shit up.

Mike Lawlor, already featured in one post today for his sage legal prognostications, offers up another:

“In almost every situation you can imagine this happening in, it qualifies as breach of peace,” he said. “If you walk into a restaurant with a gun it’s almost by definition a breach of peace.”

That results in an arrest and sets in motion a chain of events that usually results in the revocation of an issued pistol permit, he said. And that’s the way it should be, Lawlor said. Anyone who walks into a McDonalds plainly carrying a firearm either intends to alarm people or is irresponsible, he said.

“Almost by definition”? Oh, really? Challenge Accepted! Here‘s the relevant Breach of Peace statute:

(a) A person is guilty of breach of the peace in the second degree when, with intent to cause inconvenience, annoyance or alarm, or recklessly creating a risk thereof, such person: (1) Engages in fighting or in violent, tumultuous or threatening behavior in a public place; or (2) assaults or strikes another; or (3) threatens to commit any crime against another person or such other person’s property; or (4) publicly exhibits, distributes, posts up or advertises any offensive, indecent or abusive matter concerning any person; or (5) in a public place, uses abusive or obscene language or makes an obscene gesture; or (6) creates a public and hazardous or physically offensive condition by any act which such person is not licensed or privileged to do. For purposes of this section, “public place” means any area that is used or held out for use by the public whether owned or operated by public or private interests.

Openly carrying a licensed weapon into a public place doesn’t fit subsections (1), (2), (3), (4), (5) or (6). You know what that means? It’s not, by definition, a breach of peace. But maybe he was tired from all that prognostication and encountered a “slip of the tongue”. Maybe what he meant was “Creating a Public Disturbance”. Contrived Challenge Accepted! Here‘s the statute:

(a) A person is guilty of creating a public disturbance when, with intent to cause inconvenience, annoyance or alarm, or recklessly creating a risk thereof, he (1) engages in fighting or in violent, tumultuous or threatening behavior; or (2) annoys or interferes with another person by offensive conduct; or (3) makes unreasonable noise.

I’m no legal scholar, but I see three strikes there. Yerrrrout! (I don’t…just…don’t ask.)

What Lawlor is essentially saying is that one shouldn’t legally carry a legal, licensed firearm in public, which one legally can do, because cops are stupid and don’t know that law and you’ll get falsely arrested for perfectly legal activity. So he’s doing you a public service, really. It’s like telling people not to walk around with large, brown plastic glasses and a 70s pornstar mustache because people may mistake you for a child molester and then you’ll get arrested and whatnot.

But, you might protest, it’s only Lawlor, a former legislator and now a bureaucrat. That’s not evidence of anyth-:

When asked in a phone interview last week if people are allowed to openly carry firearms with a permit, state police spokesman Lt. J. Paul Vance said, “Good question.”

“Does it frighten people? Yes,” he said. “There is no standard quick answer to this question.”

-Oh. Notice how he quickly answers the question “yes” and then says there’s no standard quick answer. This is dangerous because it’s indicative of a “winging it” style of policing. “Arrest first; find crime later” seems to be the motto. And we all know what happens once you get trapped in the quagmire that is the criminal justice system.

The simple solution, of course, is to make it illegal to openly carry a weapon in public:

Lawlor, a former lawmaker, said that personally he was no fan of guns but said he wasn’t inclined to have a discussion in the legislature over changing the law. It would be a difficult sell for gun rights activists, who he conceded raise some valid points. If taking out a gun is illegal under any circumstances, why would people carry them, he asked.

He said he prefers the way the law is written now, where it is on the gun owner to behave responsibly.

“You want to have a gun? Fine, but you have to accept the responsibility that goes with it.”

Funny that he exhorts gun owners to behave responsibly, but doesn’t care about the illegality of the arrests that ensue from that responsible, legal, behavior.

making impropriety cool since 1974

It’s prosecutorial misconduct week here at “a public defender” and I’ve finally come across a decision that invokes no other reaction than the aforementioned Fonzie “ayyy!”. In fact, it’s how I imagine the three judges who signed on to the opinion reacting when faced with all the instances of egregious misconduct and yet rendering a decision that – yet again – condoned and sanctioned the behavior.

This time, in State v. Albino, the Appellate Court cannot but agree that the numerous instances of unacceptable behavior, that they gingerly call “improper”, crossed the bounds of acceptable lawyering, yet somehow they find a way to affirm, because the defendant was convicted of murder, after all and he was really, really guilty.

Here’s but a sampling of the key misconduct. From referring to the decedent as a victim and the crime as murder:

The defendant first contends that the prosecutor acted improperly when he ‘‘repeatedly commented on the guilt of [the] defendant and attempted to influence the jury by his persistent use of the terms ‘victim,’ ‘murder,’ and ‘murder weapon’ throughout the trial …’’ The defendant contends that the prosecutor referred to Rivera as the ‘‘victim’’ thirty-one times, referred to his death as ‘‘murder’’ five times, and referred to the firearm as the ‘‘murder weapon’’ eight times during closing argument. He directs us to similar occurrences during the prosecutor’s questioning of trial witnesses where he alleges that the prosecutor referred to Rivera as the ‘‘victim’’ twenty-seven times, referred to his death as ‘‘murder’’ twelve times, and referred to the firearm as the ‘‘murder weapon’’ six times. We agree that in a case such as this, where the defendant has asserted a self-defense claim, it is improper for the prosecutor repeatedly to use the words victim, murder and murder weapon throughout the trial.

To arguing that in order to believe the defendant, the jury would have to find all the witnesses were lying:

The defendant next contends that the prosecutor violated State v. Singh, supra, 259 Conn. 693, when he argued that in order to acquit the defendant, the jury would have to find that every other witness ‘‘was wrong.’’ He argues that there is ‘‘no distinction between a prosecutor using the word ‘wrong’ or ‘mistaken’ instead of ‘lying’—all are equally improper.’’ The state argues that there is a distinction when such words are used during closing argument. We agree with the defendant.

To improper attempts to bolster the credibility of witnesses:

First, the defendant claims that the prosecutor improperly asked several of the state’s witnesses on direct examination and on redirect examination if they were telling the truth or if they were prepared to tell the truth. This, he argues, was an attempt by the prose-cutor to bolster or rehabilitate the credibility of these witnesses before the witnesses were impeached. The state argues that each of the witnesses had testified that they had pending criminal cases and that they did not want to testify in the present case. The questions posed relating to their truthfulness, it argues, merely were attempts to confirm that despite their reluctance to testify, they still were prepared to tell the truth. We conclude that the questions posed on direct examination were improper attempts at bolstering the witnesses.

and finally to finding that these instances were “central to the critical issues of the case”:

We next consider the fourth Williams factor, the centrality of the improprieties to the critical issues in the case. See id. The defendant argues that ‘‘the prosecutor attempted to obtain a conviction by having the jury consider not the evidence and the charge, but instead, by persistently characterizing [the] defendant’s actions as murder and Rivera as a victim, by bringing in sympathy for Rivera and [by] inflaming the jurors’ passions, by repeatedly emphasizing that his witnesses were credible, by denigrating defense counsel and by arguing that every single witness was lying if [the] defendant was innocent.’’ The state concedes that ‘‘the alleged improprieties affected the central issue in this case, which was whether the defendant murdered the victim or acted in self-defense, but not significantly so.’’ We conclude that the improprieties were central to the critical issues of the case.

And yet, these improprieties didn’t deprive the defendant of his right to a fair trial bec-ayyy! Of course, the Court doesn’t bother to name the offending prosecutor, nor does the Court either impose sanctions or refer the matter to the Grievance Committee for sanctions for this conduct it finds to be improper. The lesson here? Go ahead and do all this stuff we said was improper, because in the end, criminals are criminals and we aren’t going to do anything other than mildly chastise you in a way that will preclude anyone from ever connecting you to this behavior and really, you put a really bad guy away, so we should be giving you a damn award.

Ayyy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_Y0gT-ab90

The Constitution requires that criminal defendants be provided with a fair trial, not merely a “good faith” try at a fair trial. Respondent here, by what may have been nothing more than police ineptitude, was denied the opportunity to present a full defense. That ineptitude, however, deprived respondent of his guaranteed right to due process of law.

Those, of course, are the (somewhat) famous opening lines to Justice Blackmun‘s dissent in Arizona v. Youngblood, which held that in order to affect due process of law, law enforcement’s actions in destroying potentially exculpatory evidence must be caused by some “bad faith”. The Court, of course, never explains “bad faith”, which results in a race to the bottom to designate all police misconduct as “incompetence” and “inadvertence”, thereby circumventing the Fourteenth Amendment.

Consider, for your entertainment, the very recent case of Martin v. The State of (Where Else?) Texas. In Martin, the defendant was pulled over by Deputy Fife Jennings for failing to signal a left turn. Upon approaching the vehicle, the Deputy smelled “marihuana” and then observed a furtive gesture which led to a patdown, which led to the Deputy feel something like a razor blade (wait for it) which led to the discovery of marihuana methamphetamine (don’t even ask). Martin, within two weeks of his arrest, sent a subpoena to the police department, asking them preserve the video of the dashboard camera. A year later, at the suppression hearing, there obviously was no video, or I wouldn’t be writing this post. Here’s a summary of the police procedure and operation of the dashcam:

The dashcam is automatically activated when an officer turns on his emergency lights. Department policy states that all video must automatically be saved for thirty days. Jennings could not say whether his machine was operating that night, but he would have noted either at the beginning or end of the shift if the device had not been functional. Jennings stated that the only way to know for sure if the video had been taken would have been if he had preserved the video.

And why did no one know if there was video and why did Jennings not preserve it to find out if the incident had been videotaped? I’ll let him tell you:

Q: And why was it not preserved?
A: Since I didn’t put it in my report it wasn’t preserved because I didn’t believe it had any type of evidential value.
…
Q: But, apparently, your opinion is . . . that if you feel that it doesn’t have evidentiary value, you don’t have to turn it in or you don’t have to preserve it, or whatever, correct?
A: Yes, sir, that was my understanding at the time.
Q: So it’s very possible that . . . you just decided in your mind that it didn’t have any evidential value, that . . . you didn’t preserve the video?
A: Yes, sir.
Q: And the only way to know if there was a video that properly recorded the events of that evening would be if you had preserved that video, correct?
A: Yes, sir.

Is your head spinning? It should be. He didn’t know what was on the video, yet determined that there was no evidentiary value, so he destroyed the tape and thus the only method of determining if it did, indeed, have evidentiary value. All in violation of department policy.

As for that subpoena? Well, Jennings says he never received it, even though it was served at his department and by golly we damn well take his word for it:

The district court could have reasonably inferred from this testimony that there is a department policy giving officers discretion to determine whether the tapes have evidentiary value and that Jennings did not violate that procedure by determining that the videotape in this case did not.

Finally, Martin argues that bad faith can be inferred from the failure of the department to comply with either the subpoenas that were issued or the letter that Martin wrote requesting preservation of the evidence. Regarding the letter, the district court would not have abused its discretion in crediting Jennings’s testimony that he had not seen it prior to the suppression hearing[...]

Well, I’m glad that we have so much faith in an incompetent, bungling, apparently clairvoyant police department. Because, really, it would be too much to ask of Deputy Fife to just possibly walk the videotape over to the evidence room. Poor guy has his hands full deciding whether something smells like pot or feels like a razor blade when it’s in fact meth. We shouldn’t tax him much more.

Now, of course, that was in Texas and not in Connecticut, which roundly rejected Youngblood‘s “bad faith” rule in State v. Morales. In Connecticut, you can get a jury instruction telling the jury to draw an adverse inference from the police’s failure to preserve potentially useful evidence:

Fairness dictates that when a person’s liberty is at stake, the sole fact of whether the police or another state official acted in good or bad faith in failing to preserve evidence cannot be determinative of whether the criminal defendant has received due process of law. Rather, our constitution imposes certain obligations on the state to ensure that the criminal trial is “a search for truth, not an adversary game.” United States v. Perry, 471 F.2d 1057, 1063 (D.C. Cir. 1972); State v. Wright, 87 Wash. 2d 783, 786, 557 P.2d 1 (1976).

That’s authored by Justice Berdon, with whom I want to have babies.

H/T: Radley “A link is worth a thousand pageviews” Balko.

Here’s an alternate image to the one above:

insert uncomfortable laugh track

I wrote almost a month ago about the CT Supreme Court’s extraordinary decision in State v. Patrick Lenarz, in whose case the prosecutor received, read and utilized at trial confidential documents from the defendant to his attorney. The Lenarz case is remarkable not only for the strong language in the decision, but the fact that the Court was so troubled by the actions of the prosecutor that it ordered Lenarz released back in November, after oral argument. In fact, the Court found that the violation by the prosecutor was so egregious that it ordered that the prosecution be dismissed.

But still, this is a prosecutor we’re talking about. The Court doesn’t bother to name the offending prosecutor in its decision, but if you know how to read CT appellate opinions, you know that the last prosecutor listed in the “credits” is usually the prosecutor who handled the matter at the trial court. It is a rather tiresome feature of our appellate courts that they will not hesitate to name defense counsel when evaluating claims of ineffective assistance of counsel, but when it comes to conduct by a prosecutor that is “extremely troubling”, they still cannot bring themselves to put the name down in print, even though the significance of the prosecuting arm of the state using illegal and unethical measures to secure convictions against the citizenry is something far more egregious and dangerous.

But I digress.

As if this coddling and protection of prosecutors wasn’t infuriating enough, the laissez faire attitude toward such impropriety gets even worse with the complete failure of any entity to impose sanctions on that prosecutor. It is a common refrain heard around the criminal justice system that prosecutors are rarely – if ever – held accountable for their “extremely troubling” acts of misconduct. I mean, c’mon, if a court isn’t even going to name them, then do you think there’s ever be any sanctions imposed?

That’s the subject of a powerful article in the CT Law Tribune by former Chief Disciplinary Counsel Mark Dubois, who comments on Lenarz and the failure of courts to correct this misbehavior:

One part of the decision troubled me though. In Lenarz, the majority noted that it was “extremely troubled” by the conduct of the state’s attorney because the communications were clearly of an attorney/client nature, even being noted that at the top of some of the pages. Yet despite being troubled, the court imposed no discipline on the prosecutor.

Professor (I took one of his classes once, so he’ll always be “Professor” to me) Dubois then points out something that I was unaware of, that’s rather surprising:

Practice Book 2-32(a)(2)(F) allows the Grievance Committee to screen out and dismiss any case where the alleged conduct occurred in a court, “and the court has been made aware of the allegations of misconduct and has rendered a decision finding misconduct” or has either determined that no misconduct has occurred or has declined to refer the matter to the Grievance Committee. Yes, “or” can be used conjunctively—“would you like cream or sugar in your coffee?” — but the common use of the word is as a disjunctive. The use of “or” instead of “and” in the rule seems to suggest a presumption that if a court finds misconduct, it will impose discipline. The Grievance Committee, being only an “arm of the court,” cannot act where a court has already taken jurisdiction and found misconduct, even if no discipline is imposed.

Here’s the relevant Practice Book section:

(a) Any person, including disciplinary counsel, or a grievance panel on its own motion, may file a written complaint, executed under penalties of false statement, alleging attorney misconduct whether or not such alleged misconduct occurred in the actual presence of the court. Complaints against attorneys shall be filed with the statewide bar counsel. Within seven days of the receipt of a complaint the statewide bar counsel shall review the complaint and process it in accordance with subdivisions (1), (2) or (3) of this subsection as follows:

(2) refer the complaint to the chair of the statewide grievance committee or an attorney designee of the chair and to a nonattorney member of the committee, and the statewide bar counsel in conjunction with the chair or attorney designee and the nonattorney member, shall if deemed appropriate, dismiss the complaint on one or more of the following grounds:

(F) the complaint alleges misconduct occurring in a superior court, appellate court or supreme court action and the court has been made aware of the allegations of misconduct and has rendered a decision finding misconduct or finding that either no misconduct has occurred or that the allegations should not be referred to the statewide grievance committee;

Prof. Dubois interprets that to mean that once a court has found misconduct and imposed no sanction, the Grievance Committee must not take further action against the prosecutor. But I don’t see where in the rule it says that the Committee cannot proceed with disciplinary proceedings against the prosecutor based on the record created by the appellate decision. I’m assuming the professor knows more than I do in this area, so I invite him to correct my mistake.

Even if that is the case, it certainly does not divest the court of its authority to refer the matter to the Grievance Committee for disciplinary proceedings. And we all know that never happens:

A quick Westlaw search reveals many cases where courts have found misconduct by prosecutors, ranging from Brady violations to evidence destruction to calling defendants “fiends” and “rats.” While some of the misconduct has been sufficient to warrant new trials or dismissals, none if it that I can think of has resulted in discipline of the lawyers involved. Perhaps the appellate courts think that the Grievance Committee will clean up that loose end. But it never happens. And as prosecutors are immunized from civil liability, the conduct goes unpunished.

This indifference approach to ethical violations in the most grievous of settings is another symptom of a system that places finality above all else, that condones the erosion of individual rights and liberties in favor of a more authoritarian society. With the legislature unable to act, it will be up to the Courts – well populated with former prosecutors – to bring accountability in an impartial way. If the Chief Justice is indeed serious about restoring faith and integrity in our justice system, she might want to go further than characterizing the conduct as “extremely troubl[ing]” and actually hold those people who undermine that same integrity responsible.

Don’t hold your breath.

obscene

Finally, my favorite subject: pornography. Everyone has to have heard of Justice Potter Stewart’s words which form the title of this post, written in a concurrence in Jacobellis v. Ohio, on the issue of “obscene” videos. And almost no one knows what it means. After a flurry of decisions in the 1960s and 70s (Stanley v. GA, Smith v. CA, Miller v. CA, Jenkins v. GA) attempting to define exactly what is obscene and what is protected and just who can be prosecuted with and ending up with a mess of a Constitutional doctrine, the Supreme Court – and the general American public – seem to have given up on pornography altogether. No one really cares anymore and there’s hardly ever a prosecution for the production, sale and possession of adult pornography.

Unless you’re a sex offender on probation, of course. Enter Robert Stephens. Stephens was convicted of possession of child pornography and as part of his sentence, was placed on probation. Some of his conditions were as follows:

One of the seven special conditions was that the defendant’s access to any computer must be approved by the office of adult probation. Among the special  sex offender conditions were that the defendant (1) not possess, or subscribe to, any sexually stimulating material deemed inappropriate by a probation  officer, (2) not possess a camera, DVD player, camcorder, videocassette recorder or other similar equipment without the approval of a probation officer, and  (3) submit to an examination and search of his computer or other similar equipment to verify that it was not being utilized in violation of his probation or  treatment.

Note that the condition isn’t “obscene” material, but rather “sexually stimulating material deemed inappropriate by a probation officer”. More on that later.

As is the natural course of events for sex offenders, he was found in violation of his probation for having a few nude photographs of his ex girlfriend and duly sentenced to 42 months in prison. He appealed, claiming that the condition:

was unconstitutionally overbroad and vague on its face and unconstitutionally vague as applied to him, and that the evidence was insufficient to support the  trial court’s finding that he had violated the condition.

The Court summarily dismisses his overbreadth argument, citing a long line of SCOTUS decisions (see Virginia v. Hicks) holding that such an analysis is appropriate only if First Amendment rights are implicated. And there’s the puzzling thing. In its decision, the Court takes great pains to point out – over and over again – that Stephens is not making a First Amendment challenge to the special condition of probation barring his possession of adult pornography. The only challenges made are under the Constitutional right to privacy, which are just as easily dispensed with:

For statutes that do not implicate the especially sensitive concerns embodied in the first amendment, we determine the constitutionality of a statute under attack for vagueness by considering its applicability to the particular facts at issue. . . . [T]o prevail on his claim, the defendant must demonstrate beyond a  reasonable doubt that the statute, as applied to him, deprived him of adequate notice of what conduct the statute proscribed or that he fell victim to arbitrary and discriminatory enforcement.

The Court finds – as it should – that possessing nude photographs constitutes possessing sexually explicit material, but there is an important – and useful – holding when it comes to the second prong. Although the Court holds that the materials possessed by Stephens fall squarely within core meaning of the special condition, and thus there was no violation of his right to privacy, the condition itself may not pass constitutional muster in a different case:

[When] a statute provides insufficient general guidance, an as-applied vagueness challenge may nonetheless fail if the statute’s meaning has a clear core. . . . In that case the inquiry will involve determining whether the conduct at issue falls so squarely in the core of what is prohibited by the law that there is no  substantial concern about arbitrary enforcement because no reasonable enforcing officer could doubt the law’s application in the circumstances.’’ (Citations  omitted; internal quotation marks omitted.) Farrell v. Burke, 449 F.3d 470, 493–94 (2d Cir. 2006). Under the foregoing standard, we cannot conclude that the  special condition prohibiting the defendant from possessing ‘‘sexually stimulating material deemed inappropriate by a [p]robation [o]fficer’’ provided  sufficient, general guidance for law enforcement purposes.

Given the jurisprudence in this area and the Court’s proper application of it, it really bothers me that a First Amendment challenge was no raised, especially given the holding of Stanley v. Georgia:

He is asserting the right to read or observe what he pleases—the right to satisfy his intellectual and emotional needs in the privacy of his own home. He is asserting the right to be free from state inquiry into the contents of his library. Georgia contends that appellant does not have these rights, that there are certain types of materials that the individual may not read or even possess. Georgia justifies this assertion by arguing that the films in the present case are obscene. But we think that mere categorization of these films as “obscene” is insufficient justification for such a drastic invasion of personal liberties guaranteed by the First and Fourteenth Amendments. Whatever may be the justifications for other statutes regulating obscenity, we do not think they reach into the privacy of one’s own home. If the First Amendment means anything, it means that a State has no business telling a man, sitting alone in his own house, what books he may read or what films he may watch. Our whole constitutional heritage rebels at the thought of giving government the power to control men’s minds.

…

We hold that the First and Fourteenth Amendments prohibit making mere private possession of obscene material a crime.

Without this First Amendment challenge, it is Connecticut law that conditions of probation that prohibit the mere possession of adult pornography by an adult are valid. And the materials don’t even have to be obscene.

Putting aside the Constitutional aspects of this case, it is worth pondering whether such conditions really have any value or are counter-productive? Would we rather have an adult male relieving his sexual tension while viewing adult pornography, or would we rather that this tension bottle up and percolate and perhaps dangerously spill over into action that may endanger those around him?

Are we at the point where we’re approving any and all restrictions on these modern-day witches without rational thought and forethought? There are legitimate reasons – whether you’re on probation or not – to prohibit the creation, possession and dissemination of child pornography. I can see that. The possession of adult pornography, in the words of Justice Stewart, is not that.

Whew. Made it through a porn post without a single mention of 2 Girls 1 Cu-dammit. Don’t Google that. It’s for your own good.