ethics
Free-ish
Jan 12th
Sometimes I think that if it weren’t for Georgia and Justice Thomas, I wouldn’t have much to blog about. Having fulfilled the Thomas quota for the night, I now move on to that rotten peach of a state, which seems to be continually perplexed at the existence of the thing called “the indigent defendant” and completely at a loss to deal with them and their pesky “constitutional” rights.
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.
Ayyy!
Aug 16th
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:
Sanctioning misconduct
Aug 15th
In a system that is built on accountability, the punishment for violations of accepted standards is notoriously one-sided. Defendants, almost exclusively, are the ones penalized for failing to conform their behavior to the standardized and socially accepted norms. With good reason, obviously. But the criminal justice system isn’t a one-team sport: there are also judges and prosecutors. And all participants in this game are guilty of misconduct, albeit less frequently. Yet the ratio of transgressions to punishment is inexplicably lopsided when it comes to rule-breaking by officialdom. Courts that find “prosecutorial misconduct impropriety” rarely, if ever, impose punishment.
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.
A Cronic problem
Aug 1st
Lawyers, despite what some would have you believe, are people too. We eat, we breathe, we cry, we laugh and we sleep. And there’s nothing wrong with that and there shouldn’t be. Except that last one – sleep – specifically if a lawyer decides that the cross-examination of his client, in front of a jury, is the perfect opportunity to catch a few winks.
Sleeping lawyers have been mentioned on this space before [and elsewhere], so I would be remiss in not pointing out the latest escapade of one who allegedly decided to shut his eyes for a few minutes during that oh-so-unimportant part of a criminal trial. This one comes courtesy of the 6th Circuit (and via Volokh) in Muniz v. Smith [PDF], in which Muniz alleged through the sworn affidavit of a juror that his attorney was, in fact, asleep.
I won’t bother with the facts of the case or the outcome, because both are quite obvious: there is no presumed prejudice under Cronic because there is no record that the lawyer was asleep for a substantial portion of the trial and there is no Strickland violation because goshdarnit Muniz was overwhelmingly guilty.
But the Court’s perfunctory analysis of the issues raises a greater problem: what is it that we expect of lawyers in our criminal justice system? Why is it acceptable for a lawyer to be asleep for even as little as a minute during a criminal trial?
In Cronic, SCOTUS said:
Can you imagine if she’d been convicted?
Jul 19th
We all know by now that Casey Anthony was acquitted by a jury that understood the meaning of the burden of proof and held the prosecution to that burden. It seems like, of all the parties in that courtroom, they’re the only ones who truly understood and followed their role and responsibilities. The shenanigans on Jose Baez the defense attorney are well known – but whatever they may be, he convinced the jury to deliver what is looking more and more like the correct verdict.
I wonder about the prosecution, though. The prosecution that has the Constitutional obligation under Brady v. Maryland to disclose potentially exculpatory information, that – being lawyers – has the ethical obligation of candor to the tribunal and to immediately correct erroneous information presented to the court or the jury.
I haven’t paid much – if any – attention to the facts of the case. A girl went missing, the mom partied and didn’t report it, a body was found(?) but the cause of death couldn’t be pinpointed, Nancy Grace said she was guilty and Casey googled “chloroform” 84 times.
Wait, you mean she didn’t? Oh:
Assertions by the prosecution that Casey Anthony conducted extensive computer searches on the word “chloroform” were based on inaccurate data, a software designer who testified at the trial said Monday.
The designer [of the software that the police used to validate their conclusion], John Bradley, said Ms. Anthony had visited what the prosecution said was a crucial Web site only once, not 84 times, as prosecutors had asserted. He came to that conclusion after redesigning his software, and immediately alerted prosecutors and the police about the mistake, he said.
The finding of 84 visits was used repeatedly during the trial to suggest that Ms. Anthony had planned to murder her 2-year-old daughter, Caylee, who was found dead in 2008. Ms. Anthony, who could have faced the death penalty, was acquitted of the killing on July 5.
…
Mr. Bradley said he immediately alerted a prosecutor, Linda Drane Burdick, and Sgt. Kevin Stenger of the Sheriff’s Office in late June through e-mail and by telephone to tell them of his new findings. Mr. Bradley said he conducted a second analysis after discovering discrepancies that were never brought to his attention by prosecutors or the police.
And we all know that the prosecution and the police did nothing. The state’s already weak and nebulous case was actually weaker. And yet onward they pushed, to try and get the death penalty against a woman they “knew” in their hearts was guilty, just didn’t have that pesky “evidence” to back up. I can understand that if this information had come up pre-trial, the prosecution could’ve wiggled out of disclosing it by using the well-worn trope that in their opinion it wasn’t potentially exculpatory, but to let the court and jury continue under the false impression that evidence before it was accurate when it wasn’t is a serious violation of their ethical obligations. (See here for a prior post on the prosecutors’ obligations to pursue a prosecution they know they can’t prove).
Nothing will happen to the prosecutors, obviously, other than a few people shaking their heads and tut-tut-ing. It’s a good thing she was acquitted. Imagine if this came to light after a conviction?
For your eyes only: prosecutors really can’t look at privileged documents
Jul 17th
From the “Well, it’s good to know that at least some things are still sacred” files comes this very recent decision of the CT Supreme Court in State v. Lenarz, which held that yes, prosecutors really aren’t allowed to look at confidential communications between lawyers and defendants and then use that knowledge against the defendant at trial.
Just how egregious was this violation of the attorney-client privilege? Judge for yourself:
During its examination of the defendant’s computer, the state laboratory discovered voluminous written materials containing detailed discussions of the defendant’s trial strategy in the Granby cases. The state laboratory read and copied much of this material and transmitted it to the Simsbury police department along with its report. In turn, the Simsbury police department forwarded the materials and the report to the prosecutor. At a meeting between the prosecutor and defense counsel some time in September, 2005, the prosecutor provided defense counsel with a copy of the materials that he had received from the Simsbury police department. Defense counsel immediately requested a meeting with Judge Scheinblum in chambers, at which he advised the judge that the prosecutor had read materials that were subject to the attorney-client privilege.
This was after the judge had already entered orders that confidential materials on the computer were to “remain unpublished and unread”. But that’s not the end of this:
The state admitted that the prosecutor had read all of the materials and did not dispute that the documents contained trial strategy, but claimed that, because the prosecutor had not conducted any additional investigation and had not interviewed any additional witnesses as a result of reading the materials, the defendant had suffered no prejudice. In addition, the state claimed that the prosecutor had not wilfully violated the attorney-client privilege, but had obtained the privileged materials in good faith.
What were these documents, you ask, and just how is a prosecutor to know they’re privileged? I mean, it’s not like the documents said “TRIAL STRATEGY” or “Confidential” on th- :
Unethical beyond a reasonable doubt?
Nov 11th
Rule 3.8 of the Connecticut Rules of Professional Conduct (and the ABA Model Rules) provides, in relevant part:
Rule 3.8 Special Responsibilities of a Prosecutor
The prosecutor in a criminal case shall:
(1) Refrain from prosecuting a charge that the prosecutor knows is not supported by probable cause;
This Model Rule has been adopted by almost every state other than NY and CA. The United States Supreme Court has made it clear that:
In our system, so long as the prosecutor has probable cause to believe that the accused committed an offense defined by statute, the decision whether or not to prosecute, and what charge to file or bring before a grand jury, generally rests entirely in his discretion.
Bordenkircher v. Hayes. The Connecticut Supreme Court echoed much of the same in Massameno v. Statewide Grievance Committee:
Prosecutors have enormous discretion in deciding which citizens should be prosecuted and for what charges they are to be held accountable.
So it is undisputed that in order for a prosecutor to behave unethically, he would have to persist in a prosecution despite “knowing” that there is no probable cause. Is the corollary then true? That as long as a prosecutor knows that there is that bare minimum probable cause, persisting in an otherwise sure-to-be-doomed prosecution is ethical?
Extraordinary misconduct leads to extraordinary relief
Nov 2nd
Absolutely stunning news today from the state Supreme Court: only one day after hearing oral arguments in State v. Patrick Lenarz, the highest court in Connecticut issued a summary order directing his immediate release from custody. It will issue a decision on his appellate claims later on.
Folks, I cannot stress how absolutely incredible this is. This, if you will allow me the superlative, is unprecedented. Typically, defendants appeal to the Supreme Court and raise all sorts of issues. Depending on who writes the majority opinion, it takes months or years for the court to rule on the claims. Here, the very next day, the court ordered this man’s release from prison.
So what were his claims on appeal? That the prosecutor engaged in extraordinary misconduct (I refuse to employ the current “impropriety”) by reading documents seized from Lenarz’s computer, which the prosecutor agreed were confidential and protected by the attorney-client privilege:
[Lenarz's attorney] Ferry argued that Lenarz was denied his Sixth Amendment right to counsel because the prosecutor in the case, Christopher Parakilas, read five documents that Lenarz had prepared to help his attorney in defending him. Those documents were on Lenarz’s computer, which police had seized.
Those documents, Ferry argued to the court, were protected by attorney-client privilege. Ferry argued at the trial that the case against Lenarz should have been dismissed because the prosecutor read the documents, even after discovering that they were covered by attorney-client privilege. The trial judge, Judge Leslie I. Olear, agreed that the documents were privileged but declined to dismiss the charges.
After hearing the arguments Thursday, the state Supreme Court — in a highly unusual move — ordered Lenarz’s immediate release on a promise to appear in court.
“That order by the Supreme Court directing Mr. Lenarz be released loudly suggests that it believes Mr. Lenarz was a victim of a serious Sixth Amendment violation by the office of the state’s attorney,” Ferry said. The documents “outlined our entire trial strategy, how we were going to attack the credibility of the accusers,” Ferry said.
The documents gave the prosecution an advantage of “knowing our every move at trial,” he said.
This is astounding hubris on the part of the prosecutor and misconduct (yeah, fuck “impropriety”) of the most intolerable kind. To knowingly read something so sacrosanct as communications between the defendant and his lawyer, made in preparation for trial suggest callous disregard for the Constitution and the very basic principles that ensure fair play in our system of justice.
If a defendant is unable to write candidly and share his thoughts and opinions with the one person who is preparing to defend him, then it puts the very system at risk:
On numerous occasions we have reaffirmed the importance of the attorney-client privilege and have recognized the “long-standing, strong public policy of protecting attorney-client communications.” Metropolitan Life Ins. Co. v. Aetna Casualty & Surety Co., supra, 249 Conn. 48; see also Shew v. Freedom of Information Commission, 245 Conn. 149, 157 (1998) (discussing “well established legal principles governing 157*157 communications between attorney and client”). “In Connecticut, the attorney-client privilege protects both the confidential giving of professional advice by an attorney acting in the capacity of a legal advisor to those who can act on it, as well as the giving of information to the lawyer to enable counsel to give sound and informed advice.” Metropolitan Life Ins. Co. v. Aetna Casualty & Surety Co., supra, 52. The privilege fosters “`full and frank communications between attorneys and their clients and thereby promote [s] the broader public interests in the observation of law and [the] administration of justice.’” Id., 52, quoting Upjohn Co. v. United States, 449 U.S. 383, 389 (1981).
Olson v. Accessory Controls and Equipment Corporation, 254 Conn. 145, 156-7 (2000). I cannot even begin to fathom what lead the prosecutor to read these documents, knowing they were privileged communications. I’m glad the Connecticut Supreme Court sees it the same way.
The ideal ideal
Jul 27th
A few weeks ago, I had something akin to a job interview. There I sat, on one side of a metal table, in my favorite suit. He sat on the other. The questions came fast and furious: “How many cases have you tried?” I wasn’t expecting that, so I took my time. Too late. “How many have you won?”
“Well, what do you mean by won. That can mean many things” I sputtered the old refrain. “No, no,” he shook his head, “how many clients were found not guilty?” I obfuscated, because I don’t play that game and because I knew exactly what was coming next: “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you can handle this? I mean, this is my life on the line here.”
It’s times like these that I think it would be nice to be able to say that I’ve won every single case I’ve tried. To be able to boast of a perfect win-loss record (which, actually, I jokingly did after I won my first trial ever). But there are only three ways that any lawyer practicing criminal law can even hope to achieve that record: 1) by being a prosecutor, 2) by flat out lying about it and 3) by being a defense lawyer who picks his cases very carefully.
But as a wise man once said, criminal defense isn’t about picking winners. Picking winners is an idealistic business strategy, one that established lawyers may attempt as a product of their long standing reputation and the desire to build upon that reputation and create an aura. But, in the end, it is nothing more than an ego-boosting business plan.
Which has nothing to do with the reality of criminal defense. The two are at odds, for one shouldn’t become a criminal defense lawyer for the sake of their reputation or win-loss record or to pad their coffers (though that is a necessary by-product). There are some that argue otherwise:
‘Everyone is entitled to be represented by an attorney’ is the idealistic chant often recited by defense attorneys as justification for representing even the most vicious criminals in our society. The concept is unassailable, but idealism is rarely what motivates lawyers who represent guilty defendants. They take the work because trying cases is their livelihood, and they are ambitious to advance their careers. These motivations, while not improper, are clearly not idealistic.
True idealism would be involved in a hypothetical situation such as the following. Suppose a family is brutally murdered in a small town, and none of the six lawyers in town is willing to represent the suspect because the enraged citizens are all convinced of the suspect’s guilt and no lawyer wants to be ostracized in the community for attempting to get the suspect off. Finally, one attorney steps forward and says, ‘I don’t care what my friends at the Rotary Club and the First Baptist Church say. This is America, and everyone is entitled under the Sixth Amendment to our Constitution to be represented by an attorney.’
This, as Mark has already pointed out, is nothing more than the worship of a false God. An attempt to fit the nobler attempts of others into their own baser paradigms. As a public defender, I do not have the luxury of choosing the clients I represent, yet I do my job with no ambitious desire to “advance my career”. The only ambition I have is to become a better lawyer and represent my clients – especially the guilty ones – more effectively.
I may be in the minority here, but it is my opinion that it is easier to represent the obviously innocent client. It takes a much stronger constitution to represent those whose guilt has been presumed in they eyes of all others. It takes more than paying lip service to the greatest fear: that we defend the guilty as well as the innocent because we cannot fathom the horror of an innocent man going to jail.
Because the injustices of the system manifest themselves in more ways than the mere conviction of a man against whom there is little or no evidence. There are the guilty-of-something-lesser, the guilty-but-for-good-reason, those that are deserving of more than cursory process. The ideal is to stand side by side with a man who may well have committed terrible crimes and to say to him: I do not care whether you are guilty or innocent and I will fight to the last to ensure that society treats you with the process and respect that you, as an individual, deserve. Maybe I’m an odd duck, but I want this job because the territory mainly encompasses those that are guilty. To me, they are not the afterthought or the unpleasant tax of doing business.
Until you can truly believe that the guilt or innocence of a client makes no difference to the quality of representation that you provide, you are not a criminal defense lawyer. You are a businessman.
Indigent defense on trial
Jul 12th
The stereotype of the over-worked, under-paid public defender exists for a reason. Even though I’ve personally fought against the stereotype here on the blog and in real life, I must necessarily admit that in a lot of States, the caricature is not a caricature at all, but an accurate representation of the state of indigent defense. Often, the public defender is only as good as the resources and time available to her. The best lawyer may seem incompetent if overburdened and underfunded.
I noted a while ago that a battle was brewing on the state of indigent defense and two recent news items seem to validate that observation. First, via CrimProf, a troubling decision out of Florida, where the intermediate appellate court reversed a trial court’s ruling granting a public defender’s motion to withdraw from one particular case because he could not adequately represent the defendant due to his high caseload. Then, on July 7, the Third District Court of Appeal reversed the trial court, holding that the mere word of a public defender that he was unable to provide constitutionally adequate representation was not enough to establish that the defendant would suffer prejudice:
Our analysis of the record in this case, however, leads us to conclude that there was no evidence of actual or imminent prejudice to Bowens’ constitutional rights. If the trial court’s order stands, all that the PD11 must do to show prejudice is swear that he or she has too many cases or that the workload is so excessive as to prevent him or her from working on the client’s case prior to the scheduled trial, and that he or she will be forced to file for continuance, thereby waiving the client’s speedy trial rights. This “prejudice” is not the type of prejudice that this Court referred to in State v. Public Defender. Prejudice means there must be a real potential for damage to a constitutional right, such as effective assistance of counsel or the right to call a witness, or that a witness might be lost if not immediately investigated. And this is the critical fact — the PD11 has not made any showing of individualized prejudice or conflict separate from that which arises out of an excessive caseload.
This conclusion is on the back of Florida statute that explicitly prohibits public defenders from withdrawing from cases because of excessive caseloads or inadequate funding:
(d) In no case shall the court approve a withdrawal by the public defender or criminal conflict and civil regional counsel based solely upon inadequacy of funding or excess workload of the public defender or regional counsel.
Here’s a statute that so blatantly conflicts with the professional and ethical responsibility of a lawyer to withdraw from the representation of a client if he feels he is unable to provide adequate and competent representation. Court, making the determination of whether to permit counsel to withdraw, do so on a case-by-case basis, but to exclude a very real and prevalent reason for that inability to provide adequate representation seems to be problematic on many levels, not the least of which a violation of the separation of powers.
That bus is not for your client
Jun 8th
The internet has changed everything. Every fool with no money has a blog, every newspaper website caters to the lowest common denominator and every twit can Tweet for free. A percentage of these are former and current clients, both gruntled and dis.
Back in the old days, when you walked 20 miles to work, uphill, in blizzards, with no shoes, the only medium for clients to express their displeasure was filing a grievance with the state bar. Now, clients are able to air their grievances in a more public forum, with no restrictions that their complaints be made in good faith or sworn to.
And since you are what the internet says you are, how far can (or should) one go in response, asks Mike C:
What if a former client writes: “My lawyer was terrible. He never returned my calls or e-mails. I had a million-dollar case, and she blew it!”
Some prospective clients might read that blog entry, and thus never call the lawyer. Current clients might get nervous. Other lawyers might decline to refer a case to the bad lawyer.
Under the current Rules of Professional Conduct, it would certainly be unethical for the lawyer to write: “John Smith called me 5 times each day. He asked the same questions over and over again. After evaluating his case through discovery, we realized his case was marginal. We told him to settle the case for $25,000 – nuisance value. He refused. The trial court dismissed the case on summary judgment. Now he’s angry. By the way, you can read the case filings here, here, and here to decide for yourself whether we blew a huge case.”
Does that Rule make sense? A lawyer can lose business. Online reputation matters – not for a lawyer’s ego – but for his business. The law offers trademark protection. A brand matters. A lawyer is only as good as her name. Shouldn’t a lawyer be able to breach some aspects of the attorney-client privilege in order to protect her name?
First off, this really is nothing new, at least for those of us in the high-volume criminal defense business. I’ve had clients tell me they didn’t want me to represent them and wanted me to, in the same week, based on what their then-cellmates told them about me. You are as good as your current client’s former cellmate says you are.
Second, the differences between revealing confidences to defend against a disciplinary proceeding and responding to a blog post or newspaper comment are quite obvious. The grievance proceeding requires you to defend against the accusations, for failing to do so affects your livelihood.
But what of Mike’s point of the reputation of the lawyer in this age where more and more people are relying on the internet to secure representation? I have the wherewithal to explore any concerns I might have about a prospective lawyer with real people who know that lawyer and that lawyer’s work, but might a potential client? Why shouldn’t a lawyer have the ability to respond, albeit in a limited fashion to that Festivus tradition?
Scott’s take is similarly multi-faceted. He, too, recognizes the need to permit the attorney to have the ability to respond in some fashion, but cautions us that it is constrained in many ways by our continuing obligation to our clients:
[In response to Mike's hypothetical] I’m not entirely clear that’s accurate. Waiver of privilege is an all or nothing proposition. Once a client discloses confidential communications to others, it constitutes a waiver. It’s the client’s to waive, and there’s nothing to prevent her from doing so. It may be stupid and foolhardy, and the client may not realize the significance of disclosure and waiver, but it’s her right to let the world know what happened within the sanctity of the attorney/client relationship. Once waived, however, the privilege is extinguished. Like pregnancy, it’s not just a little waived. It’s waived. End of privilege.
Thus, while there may be no ethical or legal impediment to the use of privileged communications to fend off an attack, and while waiver means waiver, we nonetheless have a duty to disclose no more than is necessary to respond, and a duty to do no harm to the client in the process. While the best defense may be a good offense under other circumstances, we’re constrained to use the least harmful defense possible.
Clearly, the limits placed on our ability to lash back at those who might lash out at us puts lawyers at something of a disadvantage in a street fight, and certainly an attack on the internet can bear all the indicia of a street fight.
I don’t know much about the grievance process and the extent of confidential communications and privileged information that one can disclose in response to a grievance, but there is another area of the law in which confidences are routinely disclosed and that’s the post-conviction setting.
The blind leading the blind?
Jun 7th
We are counselors, which is a term that is broader than attorney or lawyer. Counseling implies so much more than merely representing someone in court in a criminal or civil matter. It is our job to counsel, to advise. We are not cheerleaders and we are not enablers. I often tell clients that they may not like what they hear from me, but that I will not lie to them or blow smoke up their ass, because it is my responsibility to give them all the information so that they make the best decision for them.
Flowing from that duty – and particularly important in criminal cases – is the ability to accurately assess the strengths and weaknesses of the State’s case against the client and analyzing the risks and benefits of going to trial. Everything we do leads up to that. Some others have written (Bennett I can remember for sure, but I can’t find the post) that their focus from the first court date is preparing for trial. It is through that preparation for an eventual trial that we as counselors can fully understand the intricacies of the matter. Investigate fully and discover that there exist no defenses? Your advice to the client reflects that. Realize that their witnesses are shaky and the evidence questionable but the offer is good enough to hedge against any “wild card” eventuality? The advice varies accordingly.
But a new paper [pdf] suggests that perhaps we’re all a little full of ourselves and overestimate the strength of our case.
Lawyers’ litigation forecasts play an integral role in the justice system. In the course of litigation, lawyers constantly make strategic decisions and/or advise their clients on the basis of their perceptions and predictions of case outcomes. The study investigated the realism in predictions by a sample of attorneys (n = 481) across the United States who specified a minimum goal to achieve in a case set for trial. They estimated their chances of meeting this goal by providing a confidence estimate. After the cases were resolved, case outcomes were compared with the predictions. Overall, lawyers were overconfident in their predictions, and calibration did not increase with years of legal experience. Female lawyers were slightly better calibrated than their male counterparts and showed evidence of less overconfidence. In an attempt to reduce overconfidence, some lawyers were asked to generate reasons why they might not achieve their stated goals. This manipulation did not improve calibration.
There’s no need for me to get into the paper in detail. You can read it for yourself; it isn’t very long. Striking is the fact that there wasn’t much of a difference between civil lawyers and criminal lawyers. Also notable is that attorneys were overconfident regardless of their experience. This sample tended to overestimate their chances of success at the same rate.
There is a cautionary tale here and something to be learned. No matter our desire to test the latest theory or try a new creative challenge or approach to the “type” of case we have before us, we must remember one thing: client’s cases are not grounds for experimentation. In our field, if we are wrong, someone goes to jail – and often for a very long time.
The client is, in a sense, blind. They rely on us to counsel them, to lay out the alternatives, the pitfalls and how best to navigate them. We are useless if we are blinded by overconfidence.
It is incumbent upon us to offer educated advice and only offer that when we are ready. If there’s one thing I’ve learned that I can deign to share with the rest of the world, it is that there is no such thing as a sure fire win in criminal law. If you don’t think you can lose, you will.
When relaying an offer, or advising a client to reject one, I ask myself: “would I do what I am recommending the client do?” Because if I can’t follow my own advice, I have no business suggesting it to someone else.
Of course, the client is free to do as he pleases. It’s his liberty on the line, after all.
Tonya Craft teaches us all
May 11th
Tonya Craft, a former kindergarten teacher, charged with 22 counts of various sexual offenses involving 3 minor girls, was acquitted today. You may or may not have heard of her. I wrote a post recently about the trial and some of the outrageous antics engaged in by the prosecutors.
She was represented by Demosthenes Lorandos, who apparently has made a habit of successfully defending child sex cases across the country, and who hilariously said at the post-verdict press conference: “I do not lose”.
The media has been all over this trial, bringing it much needed attention. At first, the attention focused on the misbehavior of the prosecutors [see this for some very questionable comments during closing] and later the complete lack of qualification and training of the so-called “child sex experts”.
Twitter was set ablaze today as the jury was deliberating and the tweets of joy were abundant when the verdict was announced. Parties have been planned, interviews being given on the news and Ms. Craft will now fight to regain custody of her children.
All’s well that ends well. But this is not a happy post, nor is it a merely celebratory one. While Ms. Craft has the opportunity to return to her life, there are lessons for all of us. A fellow defense lawyer asked on Twitter: “Who is #tonyacraft and why [is she] any different from all of our other human tragedies?”
She is not. There are hundreds of Tonya Crafts out there in the criminal justice system, every single day, pleading to charges to avoid lengthy sentences or attempting to fight the false allegations and losing.
Any criminal defense lawyer (like yours truly) saw a stream of familiarity in the continuing coverage by news reporters of the direct and cross-examinations of the witnesses. The dissection of the forensic interviews by the defense experts was a veritable checklist of the problems associated with such after-the-fact divining: repeated questions, leading questions, suggestive questions. Pressuring children to answer a certain way; the worst form of confirmation bias. The prosecutors attempting to cast the defendant in general terms as a bad person, a person of loose moral character, thus equating foibles in their character with child molestation.
This. Happens. Every. Day.
A witchhunt by men who molest the law
Apr 29th
[Update: She's been acquitted.] Raise your hand if you’ve never heard of Tonya Craft. I hadn’t either, until I stumbled across this post at change.org. Tonya Craft is the latest lightning rod in that modern day witch-hunt: the sex offender.
But, from all accounts, this isn’t a normal case. This is a shining example of the lengths people will go to, in order to brand someone a villain. The word sham is inadequate to describe the sheer rape of the law that is currently underway in Northwest Georgia at Craft’s trial.
There’s little doubt that a guilty verdict will fail on appeal. Yet Arnt and his fellow prosecutor Len Gregor seem intent on achieving one anyway, no matter the cost. They’ve badgered witnesses with questions about Craft’s exercise and lawn-mowing habits, of all things. They’ve asked whether Craft is a narcissist, and if Craft ever passed out in a girlfriend’s bed after a night of drinking. These so-called “sordid revelations” that the kind that only a puritan (or an unhinged prosecutor) would connect to evidence of child molestation.
The case has gotten weirder and weirder. One defense witness, who let Craft watch her children every day for almost two years without incident, testified that one of Craft’s accusers — who is also a child actress — was “worldly for her age.” “Does that mean she’s a slut?” asked Gregor. When the witness uncomfortably denied the charge, Gregor wondered whether the child might be a “pre-slut.”
While change.org has two posts on the subject, much of the coverage is being done by this man (and this newspaper). The transgressions of the prosecutors in this case are numerous: from claiming that they didn’t have to obey the law, to employing the worst “experts”, to seeking to introduce dubious “prior bad acts”. I could really go on, but that wouldn’t do the story any justice. Instead, follow the yellow brick road from the ridiculous:
Craft’s trial has also seen a parade of so-called forensics experts act as effective cheerleaders for the prosecution. One expert who made an appearance, Holly Nave Kittle of the Children’s Advocacy Center, was openly hostile to questions about her lack of credentials and was unfamiliar with any relevant child abuse literature. Neither did she help her credibility as a witness after she “liked” a public Facebook post by Arnt, in which he wondered “if Tonya Craft’s Defense [sic] lawyers are really insane of [sic] just trying to jack up her defense bill?” (Both Arnt and Kittle’s conduct likely violate Georgia’s ethical rules.)
Another prosecution “expert” involved, Suzie Thorne, lacks a college degree, and her testimony seems highly suspect. When Thorne interviewed one of the children involved during a videotaped session, she asked the girl a whopping 16 times whether “anything else happened.” Each time, the child said no. However, Thorne testified that after she shut off the camera, the child left the room and then returned — suddenly remembering that yes, Craft had sexually abused her.
Fair enough. But then why didn’t Thorne record this statement, or press the child for more information on camera?
to the “what the fuck are you talking about?”:
“Do you know anything about a time that Ms. Craft came to the door of her home dressed only in a towel to meet a first-time date?” “No, I do not,” said the witness.
Mr. Gregor asked, “Do you know any narcissists?” “No, I do not.”
“Would a good person molest a child?” “No.” “Would a good person insert a finger or thumb in a vagina or rectum?” “No.”
As Noah Arenstein at Change puts it: the prosecutors were becoming increasingly unhinged. At least until the media showed up. But that’s not the worst of it. The man who seems to have defiled the purity and sanctity of the law the most is the judge presiding over the trial: Judge Brian House. Starting with declining (without explanation) to recuse himself from the trial, despite having represented Craft’s ex-husband in his divorce from her, to permitting completely irrelevant testimony about the defendant’s alleged affairs with adults, to not permitting the defense to present any character evidence of the defendant, after permitting irrelevant character-assassination testimony from the prosecution.
We all are aware that allegations of child sexual abuse inflame the passions of most people. But when a woman is so horribly being railroaded in a trial, where the singular aim seems to be to obtain a conviction in the face of damning evidence suggesting the contrary, where all independent observes agree that even if a conviction is obtained, it is sure to be reversed on appeal, do we know that we’ve crossed the line from hysteria into madness.
Prosecutors so abusing their power and a judge sanctioning the farce is a damning indictment of the lengths we will go to to demonize those that may be innocent so long as a child is involved. Whether Tonya Craft is guilty or not is irrelevant. That the trial is being permitted to be conducted in such an egregious manner casts a dark pall over all of us that hold the criminal justice system here in such high regard.
While this is the first I’ve read about Tonya Craft, this won’t be the last. I hope it’s the same for you.
[You can follow coverage of the trial by reporters on Twitter and use the #TonyaCraft hashtag.]
How hard is too hard?
Apr 25th
In response to my previous post on lawyer misadvice, a longtime PD and friend of the blog asks: when does counseling end and coercion begin? How hard can you push the client to make a certain decision before it crosses the line? To be sure, it is an important question and a difficult one.
The choices that have to be made about all the “big stuff” – whether to take an offer, whether to testify, whether to waive a jury trial – are the client’s domain. We get to unilaterally handle the “other stuff” – what witnesses to call, what questions to ask, what tact to take.
The reality, however, is that most clients will do what their lawyers tell them to. Clients want this and lawyers recognize this: “Ultimately, you have to decide whether to take this deal or not, but…”
This is an awesome power in our hands – which is why I argue that we must exercise it with the greatest care and in the most informed manner possible – that can easily corrupt us and blur the lines between giving advice and making decisions.
There’s a reason that we wield this power: we are the ones trained in the ways of the system, we have the experience and most importantly, the client can never seem to get out of his own way.
So how hard do we push to convince the client to do A when he seems set on doing B, which is detrimental to him?
Clearly, the outer limits of the spectrum are set: one should not take a hands-off approach and merely lay out the alternatives for the client and one cannot make unilateral decisions on the client’s behalf, either by lying or obfuscating or keeping the client in the dark.
It’s the vast expanse in between that’s tricky. When does forceful and repeated advocacy cross the line into impermissible arm-twisting? In true lawyerspeak, I think the answer depends.
It depends on the client himself, the event that you’re counseling the client about and the level of confidence you have in the conclusion you’ve reached.
Take, for example, the decision to testify. It is indisputably the client’s. Yet, most lawyers will tell you that unless the client is compelling, it is usually a bad idea. Clients, on the other hand, will usually have very strong feelings about whether they want to testify. I’ve yet to encounter one who is ambivalent. They either are adamant that they have to take the stand and present their “side” of things, or are experienced enough to know that, in their case, it would be a terrible idea.
If their conclusion is the same as yours, great. If it isn’t, can you do anything to get the client to change his/her mind? Apprising them of the obvious downsides to testifying is a start: their record, lack of any concrete testimony, demeanor, etc. But what if the client is oblivious to these problems or chooses to ignore them? Do you persist? Do you try a different tact?
I don’t know the answer to that question. I believe that if I am convinced it would be a terrible idea for the client to testify, I would state it in no uncertain terms. I would probably have another lawyer in my office talk to the client to provide a second opinion. I may even do a mock direct/cross of the client to demonstrate the pitfalls. Is that pushing too hard? I don’t know. I don’t think so, but others may disagree.
If, after all of that, the client still persists, well, the only thing you can do is damage control.
Getting back to the original question in this post: how hard is too hard? Put another way, how do you know when to stop?
The answer, I think, is this: when you’re convinced that the client fully understands everything that you understand. Only when you are confident that you have explained all the things that led to you to the opposite conclusion, can you let the client make the “wrong” decision.
Again this depends on the client. For some, it may take one meeting. For others, it may take 5. But this is the only way I can put into words the elusive and shifting requirement of effective representation.
You may have a different view. Tell me about it in the comments.








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