evidence

Connickally yours

Jan 11th

The problem with Brady v. Maryland, as many have argued, is that its effectiveness depends entirely on the charity and goodwill of prosecutors who are tasked with enforcing it. The only sword hanging over prosecutors’ head, forcing them to do “the right thing” is one that brings as its punishment obscure and vague references to the office they work in, buried deep in mildly reproachful appellate decisions. A vague notion called the “interests of justice” and pithy phrases reminding them that their job isn’t to “seek convictions” do little encourage them to fulfill their Constitutional obligation.

The only incentive – financial loss – was vilely struck down by SCOTUS in a decision (Harry “I’m the singer’s father” Connick v. Thompson) authored by Justice Thomas (who, in the words of one commentator, just doesn’t give a fuck). And Thomas seems to have a 20 year love affair with the crooner’s father, as evidenced by his joining the dissent in Kyles v. Whitley, another case highlighting the failure of Connick’s office to turn over exculpatory material, the aforementioned Connick v. Thompson, and his lone dissent in yesterday’s Smith v. Cain [PDF] – another Connick special.

Smith was about the prosecutor’s failure to turn over police notes that significantly undermined the testimony of the only witness against Smith. From this Slate article:

notes from the detective stating that the eyewitness said on the night of the murder that he “could not … supply a description of the perpetrators other then [sic] they were black males.” Again, five days after the crime, the ostensible eyewitness said he “could not ID anyone because [he] couldn’t see faces” and “would not know them if [he] saw them.” The detective wrote these statements down—and then wrote down “Could not ID.” It’s understandable that the eyewitness was, as he later said, “too scared to look at anybody” under the circumstances. But usually police know that a person who didn’t see a face is not an eyewitness at all.

And this was a “witness” who went on to testify with absolute conviction that Smith was, indeed, the perpetrator and he’d seen him face to face. Perhaps recognizing, albeit not acknowledging, that there may be such a thing as a Connick special, SCOTUS took cert. soon after Thompson and in brief, terse and matter-of-fact 4 page 8-1 opinion summarily reversed Smith’s conviction.

8-1. A lone dissent. Thomas authored a 17 page dissent extolling the virtues of eyewitness testimony and the jury’s function of determining the reliability of that testimony. Garbage. He knows it, I know it, his four conservative colleagues on the bench know it and don’t you fall for it. A jury can, I suppose, effectively evaluate the reliability and believability of a witness’ testimony, but only if that jury has all the relevant information before it from which to reach that conclusion. Hiding the fact that the only witness had several times claimed that he could not ID anyone hardly seems non-material.

That Thomas continues to ply this nonsense is not a testament – nor should it be – to the decline of the value of The Court, but rather a telling indictment of his abandonment of any modicum of intellectual honesty. In other words, he just doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Unfortunately, in doing so, he is fast making his presence on the Court a joke and, in the process, devaluing the institution.

————-

A day after the Court issued Smith, it issued Perry v. New Hampshire [PDF], a case that had incorrectly been called the next step in the development of eyewitness identification jurisprudence. The issue in Perry was far more limited and not a review of lineup procedures in of themselves. Here‘s a nice article by the same fellow who wrote the Slate piece above on the juxtaposition of the two cases.

The Barney Fife exception: all in good faith

Aug 15th

Posted by Gideon in cops

2 comments

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:

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

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

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Conviction by cuteness

Aug 10th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

3 comments

Back in 2009, when I first stumbled across the website (and service) Courthouse Dogs, I was merely amused, thinking in my ’09 naivete that this was such a silly preposterous proposition that it wouldn’t have any legs (let alone 4) and would go away without as much as a woof. Boy, did I bark up the wrong tree (you’re permitted to groan now).

It turns out that this is now a growing trend of sorts and is about to receive its first serious legal challenge in the Empire State:

Rosie, the first judicially approved courtroom dog in New York, was in the witness box here nuzzling a 15-year-old girl who was testifying that her father had raped and impregnated her. Rosie sat by the teenager’s feet. At particularly bad moments, she leaned in.

…

The new role for dogs as testimony enablers can, however, raise thorny legal questions. Defense lawyers argue that the dogs may unfairly sway jurors with their cuteness and the natural empathy they attract, whether a witness is telling the truth or not, and some prosecutors insist that the courtroom dogs can be a crucial comfort to those enduring the ordeal of testifying, especially children.

The new witness-stand role for dogs in several states began in 2003, when the prosecution won permission for a dog named Jeeter with a beige button nose to help in a sexual assault case in Seattle. “Sometimes the dog means the difference between a conviction and an acquittal,” said Ellen O’Neill-Stephens, a prosecutor there who has become a campaigner for the dog-in-court cause.

There are Confrontation Clause implications, to be sure: the dog’s “nudging” the reluctant witness at key moments seems to give the witnesses testimony an added air of credibility and evoke lord knows how much sympathy in the jury for the complainant:

His lawyers, David S. Martin and Steven W. Levine of the public defender’s office, have raised a series of objections that they say seems likely to land the case in New York’s highest court. They argue that as a therapy dog, Rosie responds to people under stress by comforting them, whether the stress comes from confronting a guilty defendant or lying under oath.

But they say jurors are likely to conclude that the dog is helping victims expose the truth. “Every time she stroked the dog,” Mr. Martin said in an interview, “it sent an unconscious message to the jury that she was under stress because she was telling the truth.”

“There was no way for me to cross-examine the dog,” Mr. Martin added.

Ah, but if Mr. Martin had bothered to check the website for Courthouse Dogs, he’d have found this:

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

Avoid using the term “therapy dog” because the use of this term may create grounds for a mistrial or raise an issue on appeal. This term originated in the medical and psychiatric fields and connotes that the recipient of the dog’s attention is in need of physical or psychiatric therapy. A defense attorney could argue that the use of the term “therapy dog” by the judge or the prosecutor implies to the jury that the witness is in fact a victim in need of therapy and could be construed as a comment on the evidence. It is up to the jury to decide if the witness was victimized by the defendant. You don’t want to retry a case and put the witness/victim through this ordeal a second time.

Martin hits it right on the head, by the way. Anytime the proponent of a new technique strongly (the above paragraph is in bold on their website) advises you to avoid the use of a term so that it can be admitted in court, you can safely bet that the discouraged description fits precisely.

The trial judge, in permitting the use of this therapy dog, draws an analogy to the use of a doll by a child witness by testifying. The analogy rings hollow, to me. A doll is inanimate and moves only when the person holding the doll gives it energy to move. A dog, on the other hand, has its own motives and moves on its own, in all its doggy wisdom. How do we ask the dog why it chose that precise moment to nudge the witness or nuzzle up against it?

Scott, in his post on this, highlights the problems with dog-aided-testimony:

The point of confrontation is to confront, to make the witness uncomfortable, to challenge their finely-honed direct testimony so that the narrative can be tested and, if false or mistaken, shown to be wrong so that an innocent person isn’t convicted. Of course we feel sorry for the putative victim, though whether the person on the stand is a victim is often at the heart of the question.

But we must feel similarly bad for the person convicted on erroneous testimony. We should no more want a wrongful conviction than a traumatized child-witness, and when the comfort of a dog alleviates the normal stress of giving testimony, a significant part of the system is compromised. Witnesses should feel stress. Witness words and demeanor under cross are critical to the determination of truthfulness and accuracy.

…

As wonderful as it may be to have a dog like Rosie sit at the feet of a young lady who endured the rape and impregnation of a sick and disgusting father, the next child-witness may be accusing her parent of being a witch in Salem. We cannot presume that the child isn’t wrong, or isn’t lying, and that the real victim in the courtroom isn’t the defendant.

Defendants, on the other hand, are only permitted completely shaved cats.

no self-respecting dog would nuzzle up to him

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The obscenity of risk of injury

Sep 6th

Posted by Gideon in ct legal news

2 comments

Connecticut General Statute 53-21 states, in relevant part:

a) Any person who (1) wilfully or unlawfully causes or permits any child under the age of sixteen years to be placed in such a situation that the life or limb of such child is endangered, the health of such child is likely to be injured or the morals of such child are likely to be impaired, or does any act likely to impair the health or morals of any such child, or (2) has contact with the intimate parts, as defined in section 53a-65, of a child under the age of sixteen years or subjects a child under sixteen years of age to contact with the intimate parts of such person, in a sexual and indecent manner likely to impair the health or morals of such child

is guilty of “Risk of Injury to a Minor”. A conviction under subsection (1) is a Class C felony carrying a maximum prison term of 10 years and a conviction under subsection (2) is a Class B felony, carrying a maximum prison term of 20 years.

The motivation behind the enacting of this statute is noble:

The general purpose of § 53-21 is to protect the physical and psychological well-being of children from the potentially harmful conduct of adults.

State v. Payne, 240 Conn. 766. Yet the statute is so poorly worded and generally vague, that it has required years upon years of judicial interpretation and gloss to enable it to pass Constitutional muster:

We then proceeded to review the general features of § 53-21, noting that, “on its face, § 53-21 fails to articulate a definite standard for determining whether the conduct of [Schriver was] permitted or prohibited. ‘Any act’ may violate the statute so long as it is ‘likely to impair’ a minor’s health or morals. Standing alone, the phrase ‘any act’ provides no guidance to potential violators, police officers or juries, particularly because specific intent is not an element of the offense as charged in this case. . . . Nor is the focus of the statute measurably narrowed by the phrase ‘likely to impair.’ In its ordinary meaning, this phrase would seem to authorize police officers and jurors to determine culpability subjectively, on an ad hoc basis. Rather than providing objective certainty, this phrase compounds the vagueness of the statute because it invites jurors to base criminal liability on their own moral [predilections] and personal predictions of likely harm.” (Citations omitted.) Id., 461-62. After observing that other jurisdictions had deemed similar statutes unconstitutional, we concluded that, “in like fashion, § 53-21 fails to manifest minimal guidelines by which innocent acts can be objectively and foreseeably distinguished from conduct that violates the statute. . . . [Consequently], the constitutionality of § 53-21 depends upon a determination of the extent to which prior decisions of this court have supplied sufficient guidelines to save the statute from its facial invalidity.” (Citation omitted.) Id., 462.

Although the risk of injury statute was amended in 1995 to forbid expressly the sexual and indecent touching of intimate parts, the more general statutory language that proscribes an “act likely to impair the health or morals of . . . [a] child,” in subdivision (1) of § 53-21, has remained unchanged since this court’s decision in Schriver. Compare General Statutes § 53-21 (a) (1) with General Statutes (Rev. to 1987) § 53-21. The passage of time alone has not cured the facial vagueness of § 53-21 (1), nor has it altered the need to adhere to constitutional principles of due process of law in the application and enforcement of that statute. Cf. State v. Schriver, supra, 207 Conn. 459-61. Thus, the constitutionality of § 53-21 (1), as that statute is applied in any given case, continues to depend predominantly “upon a determination of the extent to which prior decisions of this court have supplied sufficient guidelines to save the statute from its facial invalidity.” Id., 462. In order to render § 53-21 (1) constitutionally viable, the decisions of this court must state with reasonable particularity the conduct that is proscribed by that statute.

State v. Robert H. The extent to which the Connecticut Supreme Court has gone to save an admittedly infirm statute is staggering. A statute that, upon fair reading, gives notice that a very limited set of actions are proscribed, has been judicially expanded to cover every perceived slight against a minor that a prosecutor with an infertile imagination can be counted upon to summon.

But that’s not my particular peeve with this statute and its judicially emboldened meaning. My grudge lies with the (lack of) meaning of the all-too-important phrase “likely to impair”.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

For something that forms the crux of the criminality of actions in this statute, there is precious little guidance on the legal meaning of that phrase and the evidence that is required to sustain proof beyond a reasonable doubt on that element. The only explanation of “likely to impair” is as follows:

The term “likely” and the phrase “likely to impair” are defined neither in § 53-21 (a), nor in any related provision of our General Statutes. In the absence of statutory guidance as to the meaning of a particular term, it is appropriate to look to its dictionary definition in order to discern its meaning in a given context. Lombardo’s Ravioli Kitchen, Inc. v. Ryan, 268 Conn. 222, 232, 842 A.2d 1089 (2004). Our review of such sources reveals that, depending on the context, the term “likely” most commonly is understood as an adjective that denotes when particular subject matter will probably come to be or when its chances of realization are more probable than not. Oxford English Dictionary (2d Ed. 1989) (defining “likely” as something “that looks as if it [will] happen, be realized, or prove to be what is alleged or suggested”); The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (3d Ed. 1992) (defining “likely” as “possessing or displaying the qualities or characteristics that make something probable”).

In contrast, dictionary sources indicate that the term “possible,” again, depending on the context, primarily has a lower degree of probability or certitude of realization. Oxford English Dictionary, supra (defining “possible” as “that may be [i.e. is capable of being]; that may or can exist, be done, or happen”); The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, supra (defining “possible” as something that is “capable of happening, existing or being true” [emphasis added]). The common understanding of the term “likely” therefore ordinarily conveys a degree of certitude as to realization that is in conformity with a definition of “probable,” but that counsels against an understanding of its meaning as merely “possible.” Indeed, at oral argument before this court, the state conceded that it would be “hard-pressed” to contend that the term “likely” reasonably may be understood as meaning “possible.” Accordingly, with no persuasive argument to the contrary, the trial court’s jury instructions that the term “likely” was to be understood as meaning “in all probability or possibility” and “possible or probable,” were improper.

State v. Romero. Got that? Likely to impair means “more probable than not” and (heh) more likely than possible. And yet there is precious little on exactly how the State is to go about the business of proving that an act or situation is likely or more probable than not to impair the morals of a child. There, of course, is no requirement that the morals be actually impaired, merely the probability that they might be. This results in nothing more than that which the Supreme Court said it was avoiding in Robert H. above:

In its ordinary meaning, this phrase would seem to authorize police officers and jurors to determine culpability subjectively, on an ad hoc basis. Rather than providing objective certainty, this phrase compounds the vagueness of the statute because it invites jurors to base criminal liability on their own moral [predilections] and personal predictions of likely harm.

Take the court’s reasoning for its rejection of the defendant’s claims in Romero (and repeated verbatim in subsequent opinions):

Once the jury determined that the anal intercourse and mutual sexual touching took place, as described by D, it is difficult to imagine a finding that this conduct could not be deemed likely–in the context of probably–to impair D’s morals. Put another way, the defendant has made no claim, and we can conceive of no justification for one, that the defendant’s conduct in relation to his abuse of D, conduct which the jury found to have occurred, is not conduct that is “likely to impair” the health or morals of a child.

Leaving aside the obvious examples quoted involving “acts” as opposed to “situations” (for no one should reasonably argue that it should be legal to force a minor into sexual intercourse), consider the slightly more nuanced scenario where a defendant is charged with showing pornography to a 2 year old child, and thus is said to have violated the Risk of Injury statute. How can one, beyond a reasonable doubt, prove that such an act is likely to impair the morals of a minor? Isn’t this essentially taking for granted that any act involving sexual conduct or placing a child in any situation which has a hint of sexual innuendo is always likely to impair the morals?

What is the functional difference between my example of the 2-year old being exposed to pornography and an 8-year old who walks into his parents’ bedroom while they are engaged in intercourse? To those of you who’ve had the misfortune of experiencing the latter, would you say your morals were impaired?

My point isn’t that we should show pornography to 2-year olds, but rather that the State should be put to its burden of proving beyond a reasonable doubt that such acts or situations are likely to impair the morals, rather than simply taking it for granted.

Sex offenders and sex offenses aren’t popular people and crimes and we’re all a bit squeamish about the topics and the ideas. But this is the top of the very, very, slippery slope. If we can’t confront the inadequacies in the state of the law in this area, then how soon is it before the burden starts slipping in other areas of the law?

Or perhaps it is time to revisit the actual statute itself and rewrite it such that it doesn’t require 20-odd years of judicial gloss to make it Constitutionally acceptable.

And doesn’t this all oddly reek of the same logical fallacies underlying the obscenity laws? You’ll know when your morals are impaired, because my morals are the same as yours.

[For a fascinating read on obscenity trials, be sure to look at this article on the trial of Lady Chatterly's Lover.]

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Tonya Craft teaches us all

May 11th

Posted by Gideon in ethics

15 comments

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.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

Child sex assault allegations are the scariest of them all. The power to believe a child is overwhelming and the fear of disbelieving a child is even greater.

Will the media be there tomorrow when yet another Tonya Craft is hung out to dry by our criminal justice system and our courts that are so quick to label anyone merely accused of such a crime as a heinous monster? Will the public rise up in support every time there is a trial with questionable evidence and even shadier tactics employed by prosecutors and experts?

Or did Tonya Craft get attention because she’s white and she’s a woman?

There’s a well documented disparity between male and female sex offenders and the treatment they receive in our courts. Women are more likely to receive probation and less jail time than men. Women are more likely to have websites created which count down the “hottest” sex offenders.

Men are vilified and universally regarded as creepy and generally guilty.

Imagine if it weren’t Tonya Craft on trial, but Tony Craft. Would there be the same hubbub? Would anyone even bat an eyelid? Would the media’s treatment of the trial have been the same or diametrically opposed?

I don’t mean to demean the victory here, but this is a great opportunity for those who aren’t “in the know” in the system to realize several things:

1. People are falsely accused of crimes

2. Child Sex cases are the most difficult to defend against

3. Prosecutors routinely rely on questionable “experts” to get convictions

4. Just because a man is accused of molesting a child, doesn’t mean he’s guilty.

The next time you get asked to serve on a jury, think long and hard about these things and about Tonya Craft and about the witchhunts that go on every single day in all our courtrooms across the country.

Congratulations Tonya Craft. You board a plane and given an interview to NBC, it is your right. There will be some noise made about grieving the judge and the prosecutors, but if history is any guide, nothing will come of it. The town in Northwestern GA will return to normal and soon this will be talked about as a fairy-tale. But tomorrow, another Tony(a) Craft will be arrested and charged and will go on trial. Will he/she get justice? Will you be there to cover it? Will you know the difference? Will you turn a skeptical eye? Or will you join the mad rush of hysteria that has swept the nation in condemning the despicable child molester?

Your eyes have been opened. Whether to keep them open is up to you.

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tonya craft

Prove the defendant’s bad character, not the crime

May 6th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

3 comments

Let’s play a game. I will give you two quotes, both on the same issue. One is from an erstwhile liberal northeast state, the other from a state in “flyover country”. You guess which is which.

Compare:

Nonetheless, we recognize that crimes of a sexual nature are unique and distinct from crimes of a nonsexual nature because they often are “committed surreptitiously, in the absence of any neutral witnesses” and exhibit an “unusually aberrant and pathological nature . . . .” State v. Merriam, [citation]. Accordingly, we conclude that evidence of uncharged misconduct properly may be admitted in sex crime cases under the liberal standard, provided its probative value outweighs its prejudicial effect, to establish that the defendant had a tendency or a propensity to engage in certain aberrant and compulsive sexual behavior.

with:

that which makes the evidence more probative—the similarity of the prior act to the charged act—also makes it more prejudicial. As we explained in Reynolds, where a prior bad act is “similar to the incident in question, ‘it would be extremely difficult for jurors to put out of their minds knowledge that the defendant had assaulted the victim in the past and not allow this information to consciously or subconsciously influence their decision.’ ” [citation] (quoting State v. Henderson, [citation]). [Statute] violates the due process clause of the [State] Constitution as applied in this case because it permits admission of prior bad acts against an individual other than the victim in the case to demonstrate general propensity.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

Which is which? I’ll tell you. The first is from State v. Dejesus, a Connecticut Supreme Court decision that I excoriated here. The latter quote is from a very recent decision of the Iowa Supreme Court in State v. Cox. Of course, this liberal standard in Connecticut is applicable only to sex offenders. Scott, writing on State v. Cox, highlights yet again the blindness caused by sex offender hysteria and the quick sacrifice of basic principles of constitutional law such as due process:

The obvious response is that if a defendant is alleged to have committed a crime, prove the crime, not the defendant’s bad character. Putting aside the trial within a trial aspect of using uncharged prior bad acts, itself a nightmare to defend, the use of propensity to smear a defendant seems far too obvious for someone as smart as Eugene to ignore.

Most people, including lawyers, find propensity compelling. This is what makes it so dangerous. It is marginally relevant, but it is also the most unduly prejudicial evidence available. As bad as it is for most, it’s worse for anyone accused of being a sex offender, since that characterization already creates a taint that few are able to overcome. There are few offenses that can turn a stomach faster or harder, particularly when the offense involves a child.

As much as the public would be just as happy to take anyone accused of a sex offense and hang them in a tree, after which they can have as fair a trial as they want, this is precisely why propensity evidence should not be permitted at trials involving alleged sex offenses. The mere allegation of a sex offense carries overwhelming prejudice. To further remove the need to prove the crime, by supplanting proof with the prejudice of propensity, reduces the trial to a farce. Defendants should be convicted for what they did, not because they’ve been smeared in the process.

Nowhere has this been more evident recently than in the trial of Tonya Craft, which I wrote about here and which is still underway. One need only peruse the live tweets by the media from the trial to get a sense of the circus that it has become, centered around proving the bad character of the defendant, rather than the crime itself. Once a sexual deviant, always a child molester.

Sex offender fear has seeped into the subconscious of our society. Ask any defense lawyer and they will tell you it is the worst kind of crime to be charged with. An accusation, almost always, is as good as a conviction. We keep believing adolescents and children who make these allegations, many of them years and decades after the assault is alleged to have happened, despite common sense and experience telling us that children are frequent liars of the worst kind. Hack “experts” spring out of the woodwork to explain away any action or behavior of the child as being “consistent with sexual assault”.

A typical cross-examination of these “experts” will seek to show that delayed disclosure is indicative of sexual assault and at the same time immediate disclosure also indicates the same; that good grades are just as indicative as bad grades; acting out and acting normal are both indicators of sexual abuse. No matter how the child acts, the “expert” will tout it as a definite reaction to sexual abuse.

Yet juries don’t seem to care. A sex offender is dangerous and we must believe children. Child sexual assault, to be sure, is an ugly crime. But to automatically assume that any person accused of such is guilty is fearmongering of the worst kind that can only come back to bite us in the ass.

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tonya craft

A witchhunt by men who molest the law

Apr 29th

Posted by Gideon in ethics

10 comments

[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.]

tonya craft

Come with me…to jail for 20 years: an alien abduction

Feb 10th

Posted by Gideon in ct state law

3 comments

It seems that the Supreme Court of the good state of Connecticut (SCOC, which you may pronounce S-Coc if you so please) is having fits. Specifically fits with our kidnapping statutes. Almost from the day they, in a moment of rare weakness, decided to bring some sanity back to the overbroad application of the statute, they’ve been backpedaling furiously, as if to atone for their one sin.

In that original decision, they decided – rightly in my opinion – that kidnapping is more than just mere restraint required for the commission of another felony. So if I held you down and forced you to read this post, I’d be guilty of torture, but not kidnapping.

Then they tinkered with the remedy, because how could one justify letting defendants go? Of course you can’t.

And now, this past week, comes the granddaddy of them all: State v. Winot (leave the why not? jokes for later, please).

This is a case that has been two years in the making. It was argued in January of 2008. Yes, that’s TWO-THOUSAND-EIGHT. And what perplexed them so? Judging by the decision, the vexing question was how to uphold this conviction with a straight face. 730 days later, I don’t think they’ve managed it.

The facts

She began to walk faster, but the defendant forcibly took her right arm. When she asked him to let go, he refused, yelling, ‘[n]o, it’s too wet out here; you’re getting in my car today.’ He tried to pull her toward his car, but she resisted, pulling back in the opposite direction. To get him to release her, the victim then leaned over to bite the defendant, at which point he quickly let go and rushed back to his car. In doing so, the defendant was almost hit by a maroon car. Upon being released, the victim ran home and told her mother what had transpired. The entire incident lasted only a few seconds.

That’s less time than it took you to read that first sentence. He took her right arm, she pretended to bite him, he let go. A matter of seconds. Got that?

The challenge

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There’s no legal principle called “this conviction is stupid”, so we lawyers call it “the statute is unconstitutionally vague”. All that means is that the Average Joe would have no idea that his conduct was illegal, so the statute is unconstitutional. Now be honest: were you aware that holding someone’s arm who didn’t want to come with you for a second or two would expose you to 20 years in jail? I mean, we’d all be criminals. That’s how most of my dates start.

To demonstrate that [a statute] is unconstitutionally vague as applied to him, the [defendant] therefore must . . . demonstrate beyond a reasonable doubt that [he] had inadequate notice of what was prohibited or that [he was] the victim of arbitrary and discriminatory enforcement. . . . [T]he void for vagueness doctrine embodies two central precepts: the right to fair warning of the effect of a governing statute . . . and the guarantee against standardless law enforcement. . . . If the meaning of a statute can be fairly ascertained a statute will not be void for vagueness since [m]any statutes will have some inherent vagueness, for [i]n most English words and phrases there lurk uncertainties. . . . References to judicial opinions involving the statute, the common law, legal dictionaries, or treatises may be necessary to ascertain a statute’s meaning to determine if it gives fair warning.’’

The statute

The statute in question is CGS 53a-94 (a), Kidnapping in the Second Degree. It is short and simple: you’re guilty of kidnapping when you abduct somebody. Which the court squares with its finding thusly:

We disagree with that conclusion because, although the defendant’s restraint of the victim was brief, it was coupled with unusually strong evidence of his intent to prevent the victim’s liberation.

Now this is just silly. The court seeks to justify its absurd holding on the actus reus portion of the statute by citing to the evidence of mens rea. Well, what if there weren’t any evidence of intent? Would it be unconstitutionally vague in that scenario? What if he hadn’t said anything and simply walked up to her and grabbed her by the arm? For a few seconds? Every prosecutor worth his or her salt would infer that he intended to kidnap her.

In the present case, any potential for vagueness of § 53a-94 (a) as applied to the defendant’s conduct, standing alone, was counteracted by the overwhelming evidence that he possessed the requisite specific intent to prevent the victim’s liberation. The events of July 23, 2002, were not the victim’s first encounter with the defendant; rather, he was convicted of attempting to kidnap the victim only four days earlier.

I’m paraphrasing here, but: “Well, I mean it was obvious he intended to kidnap her. So what if his follow-through was pathetic and feeble. As long as he said he wanted to, that’s good enough for us.”

I’m not even going to get into the blurred lines between attempt and the completed act here. It will make my mind explode and probably yours too.

There are two dissents here, but let not the lovers of the rule of law get their hopes up. There is nary a word in the dissent about the substance of the majority’s holding; rather the dissent is on the remedy to be afforded: the majority reinstates the conviction, the dissenters want a new trial. This just makes me sad. Very sad.

Maybe the Court hasn’t been abducted by aliens. Maybe they were when they wrote Salamon and only just have been returned to their bodies. That’s the only thing that can explain this.

Or the fact that CT isn’t the liberal hippie state with liberal activist judges that everyone seems to think it is.

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Does the client have a right to discovery?

Jan 19th

Posted by Gideon in ct state law

21 comments

A number of changes to the Practice Book went into effect on January 1, 2010 here in CT. Of particular importance to this blog and criminal defense practitioners in the State are the changes to the discovery rules.

The regular discovery section was amended to add the following language:

Without the prior approval of the prosecuting authority or the court, defense counsel and his or her agents shall not provide copies of materials disclosed pursuant to Section 40 -13A to any person except to persons employed by defense counsel in connection with the investigation or defense of the case.

Note the use of the very specific “defense counsel”. Most criminal practice book provisions use the phrase “the defendant” as a substitute for either the defendant himself or his lawyer. But the use of “defense counsel” is particularly notable. The section seeks to exclude the defendant himself from possession copies of police reports, statements, affidavits, etc.

The only way for the defendant himself to get copies is through the permission of the prosecutor or the court. And even then, I suspect (as is the practice for many defense lawyers) they would require that names and addresses be redacted.

The changes to the section were actually agreed upon by a joint task force, comprising prosecutors and defense attorneys. The “compromise” was a much expanded discovery provision, making disclosure of all statements, affidavits and reports mandatory upon written request by the defense.

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This, in my opinion, is a major victory. Each court here in the State was its own fiefdom prior to this change. In some jurisdictions you’d get all discovery on the first court date, without even having to ask, and in others the only way you’d get to see a police report is if you sat in the prosecutor’s office and read it – and perhaps copied it by hand – while they stood over your shoulder. Some jurisdictions would give you whatever you wanted and others wouldn’t give you what you were entitled to.

The brand new Section 40-13A provides:

Upon written request by a defendant and without requiring any order of the judicial authority the prosecuting authority shall no later than forty-five days from receiving the request provide photocopies of all statements, law enforcement reports and affidavits within the possession of the prosecuting authority and his or her agents, including state and local law enforcement officers, which statements, reports and affidavits were prepared concerning the offense charged, subject to the provisions of Sections 40 -10 and 40 -40 et seq.

This is a tremendous improvement, making uniform discovery provisions across the State.

But many are not happy with the tradeoff. The local listserve erupted today with a discussion of this. The argument – a valid one – is that the requirement that clients not be given copies of discovery is unethical. The file, after all, belongs to the client and the client only. The police reports are his police reports and the statements are by witnesses accusing him.

There are many clients who don’t want copies, but there are just as many who do. This new requirement might end up straining relations between attorney and client, which is an even bigger problem for already maligned public defenders.

Of course, this is not to say that the defendant can’t view the reports and statements. One could sit there all day and let the client read the documents in your possession; you just can’t make copies and hand them over – not without permission of the State anyway.

The rationale for the State’s position, I suspect, is that there is a risk of retaliation against witnesses whose names, addresses and phone numbers are sometimes printed in reports and on statements.

An easy solution for this, of course, is a requirement that all such identifying information (other than name) be redacted and copy of that redaction be provided to the State as well, as proof that it was indeed redacted.

I suspect the State might balk at this, though, because there are some lawyers who don’t bother to redact anything when they turn over discovery to the client. As I said, my practice has always been to redact, but I know there are some who don’t. The State doesn’t trust them and thus we all have to comply with this rule.

There is no State caselaw that I found addressing this issue. But there will be a challenge at some point – not by a lawyer, I think they’ll get on board with this rule sooner or later – but by a headstrong client running up against a stubborn prosecutor who refuses to give permission.

The argument can be made that as long as the defendant’s legal representative – the defense lawyer – has access to all materials, it is just as good as the defendant having access. The lawyer can, after all, show his client the documents. And it is the lawyer who has to defend the defendant, to advocate on his behalf and to present evidence in his defense.

But that argument belies a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of the relationship between the defense lawyer and his client. I can imagine that if I were accused of a crime, I would be mightily irked if my lawyer told me he couldn’t give me a copy of the documents of accusation against me. I’d want to hold it, take it home with me, read it over and over again as many times as I wanted.

For some, this will only add another layer to the multi-faceted conspiracy theories about how all lawyers are in collusion and the system is out to get them.

This really is a true “compromise”. The new rule will benefit many, many defendants by providing automatic discovery of all documents in the State’s possession, but at the cost of risking the tenuous relationship between many others and their lawyers.

Do the benefits outweigh the costs? How is it done in your state?

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The objection’s on the other foot

Jan 7th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

No comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

A. Yes.

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

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

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

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The fruit of the poisonous confession

Jan 1st

Posted by Gideon in confessions

15 comments

fruit of the poisono---oh nevermind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Voluntary false confessions

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

Compliant false confessions

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

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

Internalized false confessions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

False evidence

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Minimization

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are several reasons for this – three, primarily:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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false confessions

Junk “science” and missing evidence

Dec 21st

Posted by Gideon in evidence

2 comments

Add a gallon of destroyed evidence to a tubful of junk science and what do you get? Another man set free. Philip Scott Cannon was released from prison Friday after serving 10 years for a triple murder. Note that I have not yet used the term exonerated – and that’s for a reason. We don’t know if he is truly innocent and we will never know. That’s because the police in Polk County, Oregon destroyed all the physical evidence they had collected during their investigation, despite a county policy.

Cannon’s conviction was overturned in the first place because it had been based on the now debunked “comparative bullet lead analysis”, that the FBI distanced itself from in 2005 after another NAS report in 2004 called bullshit on the “science” [not to be confused with the NAS report that this year called bullshit on a whole bunch of other "forensic science tools" and other tales of "junk science"].

In 2004, after the NAS report but before the FBI disavowal, NACDL’s Champion published this lengthy piece on CBL and its flaws. And then in 2007, the Washington Post had this article questioning the FBI’s failure to alert courts and lawyers of their distancing themselves from CBL and the closing window on the possibility of reversing questionable convictions.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

Polluting the jury pool

Dec 16th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

4 comments

In today’s hyper connected world of 24 hours news and in-your-face social media that tweets breaking information before you have time to read it, one of the great concerns among legal professionals is keeping the jury pool free from pollution. As information is more widely and easily available, more and more people are becoming intimately aware of details of even routine criminal cases in their towns.

This presents an added challenge in weeding out those potential jurors who’ve already heard about a case and who might have made up their minds about the guilt or innocence of a defendant. The core right, of course, is the right to trial by an impartial jury.

But there’s another concern, one that not many pay attention to or can do much about: and that’s the post-verdict informational session usually conducted between the judge and the jury. This has happened after every trial to verdict I’ve been a part of: the judge slips into the jury deliberation room, chats with the civic minded people who’ve just discharged their important duty and proceeds to give them the dirty details of the case (and occasionally to answer questions).

Invariably, this discussion comes around to the defendant. And when discussing defendants, there’s nothing juicier than discussing a defendant’s criminal history. The jurors, besotted by curiosity, may ask questions about the defendant – to know what kind of person the defendant is: has he done this before? Does he have a record?

Some judges may choose to ignore such questions and some may not. Some public defender wrote in to the Legal Ethics Forum to ask that very question: what do you do with a judge who reveals the defendant’s criminal history to jurors post-verdict?

This past summer I tried a criminal case in federal court. After the guilty verdict but before the jurors were dismissed, the district court judge told them about my client’s prior bad acts. I would like to write an article and argue that this is wrong because it damages the future jury pool. If it cannot be done in Texas state courts, why should the federal courts be any different? Could you tell me of any articles or periodicals dealing with this issue?

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

I don’t know of any articles on this issue, but I do have some thoughts (surprised?). This is definitely something to be concerned about, but realistically we may be powerless to stop it.

A friend of a friend told me the story of a potential juror during voir dire a few years ago who was the lucky recipient of this “extra” information post-verdict in a trial for which she was a juror a long time ago. During this current voir dire, the story goes, she expressed her reservations about the criminal justice system because of that very fact: that she may not have all the information she’d like. “We found out later that the defendant had a lengthy record for this kind of thing”, she said. “If we’d known about it during the trial…” and her voice trailed off.

We can all finish her sentence, can’t we? “…we’d have convicted with much less deliberation.” There was a certain distrust in her voice, I’m told, about the system and of the defendant. This juror had been contaminated. How could she ever believe the defense? What were they hiding? Was the defendant a really bad guy? There’s no way she’d acquit, is there?

Telling the jury the behind-the-scenes operation of a trial is problematic, in my opinion. There’s a reason why some prior convictions aren’t introduced into evidence: primarily to avoid that very reaction. “Once a criminal, always a criminal” is a sentiment we strive very hard to avoid (unless, of course, you’re a sex offender, in which case, God help you. And even then…). It’s easy to think that once a trial is over, we can conspiratorially reveal the “secrets” of the trial to the jurors, like some piece of gossip we were just dying to reveal.

Doing this places an inordinate amount of importance on the fact of such prior convictions and elevates its function in the equation of guilt or innocence – which is to say it gives prior convictions any place in that equation, where it should have none.

That juror may have already discharged her service for that trial, but just as surely as the Sun rises in the East, she will be called for jury duty again and now, she will no longer be an acceptable juror for any criminal trial.

If that isn’t polluting the jury pool, I don’t know what is. And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.

Bonus: On a related note, see this amusing story of a judge who served as a juror in the trial of a defendant over whose previous trial on identical charges he had presided. What a clusterf*ck of a sentence.

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Face-to-ski mask: a defendant’s right to confront his cat burglar

Nov 23rd

Posted by Gideon in cops

2 comments

Do you feel lucky?

I’m not quite sure how to introduce this story (and the case that it covers) in a pithy manner, so I’m just going to get to it: New Hampshire’s Supreme Court recently ruled that it’s okay for a police officer to testify at a criminal trial while wearing a ski-mask to protect his identity because he was working in an undercover unit at the time of the trial.

Yes, you read that right. In State of New Hampshire v. Jose Hernandez, a police officer who had conducted an interview with the complaining witness was permitted to sit there like a cat burglar, with a ski mask on his face. The State’s reasoning – bought by the trial court – was that the officer’s identity needed to be protected. Nevermind the fact that the jury viewed the interview with the complainant in which his face was uncovered and that everyone knew his name. Oh and that pesky Confrontation Clause thing.

Let’s look at that. The Confrontation Clause provides that:

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to [...] be confronted with the witnesses against him.

Federal court decisions have interpreted this to mean eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation. The confrontation clause affords the criminal defendant two types of protections: “the right physically to face those who testify against him, and the right to conduct cross-examination.” Pennsylvania v. Ritchie, 480 U.S. 39 (1987). And there’s a reason for this. The accuser, or any other witnesses on the accusers behalf, should have to face not only the defendant, but the jury that is deciding the defendant’s fate. The jury should have the opportunity to observe the witness and the witnesses reactions and demeanor.

The Connecticut Supreme Court has not yet considered (that I could find) whether a witness testifying in disguise violates the Confrontation Clause. It has, however, considered whether an accuser can testify outside the presence of the defendant and not in court. In State v. Jarzbek, the Court permitted the videotaping of a minor who had accused the defendant of sexual abuse. While the court in Jarzbek ultimately permitted the introduction of videotaped testimony instead of live testimony at the trial, the jury had the opportunity to observe the demeanor of the complainant. Jarzbek, however, emphasized the importance of having the ability to look the accuser (or by extrapolation a witness) in the eye and having that witness face the jury:

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? SHOW ME THE REST OF THE POST!

As the United States Supreme Court has asserted, a defendant’s “literal right to `confront’ the witness at the time of trial … forms the core of the values furthered by the Confrontation Clause.” California v. Green, 399 U.S. 149, 157 (1970); Delaware v. Fensterer, supra; Davis v. Alaska, supra, 315; Dowdell v. United States, 221 U.S. 325, 330 (1911). The clause was originally conceived as a safeguard “to prevent depositions or ex parte affidavits … being used against the prisoner in lieu of a personal examination and cross-examination of the witness in which the accused has an opportunity, not only of testing the recollection and sifting the conscience of the witness, but of compelling him to stand face to face with the jury in order that they may look at him, and judge by his demeanor upon the stand and the manner in which he gives his testimony whether he is worthy of belief.” Mattox v. United States, 156 U.S. 237, 242-43 (1895); see also 5 J. Wigmore, Evidence (3d Ed. 1940) §§ 1365, 1367.

The court, in a subsequent case analyzing Jarzbek, engages in a thoughtful analysis of the Confrontation Clause and the need for the jury to be able to observe a witness:

Our law is well settled that it is a jury’s duty to determine the credibility of witnesses and to do so by observing firsthand their conduct, demeanor and attitude. See, e.g., State v. Morgan, 274 Conn. 790, 800 (2005). Some of our older cases indicate that fact finders properly may consider not only a witness’ demeanor during his testimony but also his spontaneous reactions in the courtroom, as a whole, provided these considerations are limited to assessing credibility. See Kovacs v. Szentes, 130 Conn. 229, 233 (1943); State v. McLaughlin, 126 Conn. 257, 264-65 (1939). A jury’s assessment of a witness’ credibility also naturally and rightly may include observations of his reaction to having to confront the defendant physically and to testify in an open and public forum. See State v. Jarzbek, supra, 204 Conn. 683, 692-93 (1987) (confrontation clause “finds its modern justification in the perceived role that physical confrontation plays in the truth-seeking process”), cert. denied, 484 U.S. 1061 (1988). We have observed that the confrontation clause was conceived as a means of providing the accused with “an opportunity, not only of testing the recollection and sifting the conscience of the witness, but of compelling him to stand face to face with the jury in order that they may look at him, and judge by his demeanor upon the stand and the manner in which he gives his testimony whether he is worthy of belief.” (Emphasis added; internal quotation marks omitted.) Id., 692. Therefore, we conclude that, to the extent that the jurors formed opinions as to Ford’s credibility by observing his demeanor on the stand and his spontaneous reactions in the courtroom, they acted properly. Such observations and the rational inferences drawn therefrom are not prejudicial. See State v. Porter, 241 Conn. 57, 120 (1997) (“forming impressions and intuitions regarding witnesses is the quintessential jury function”), cert. denied, 523 U.S. 1058, (1998).

The court, however, has applied the rationale of permitting unmasked out-of-court testimony to cases of sexual abuse of minors and only on the rationale that the State has a compelling interest in protecting child victims and encouraging their participation in the criminal justice system. Even then, it is a determination to be made on a case-by-case basis. The New Hampshire Supreme Court in Hernandez seems to buy into a similar compelling need to protect the identity of undercover officers, but in my opinion, at the grave expense of the Confrontation Right. That court relies on Coy v. Iowa and Maryland v. Craig and crafts another case-by-case test for permitting witnesses to testify in disguise. But Coy dealt specifically with the defendant’s absence from the presence of the accuser and again in a child-sex case. The Supreme Court in Craig did hold that the right to face-to-face confrontation was not indispensable and that the requirements of the Confrontation Clause:

may be satisfied absent a physical, face-to-face confrontation at trial only where denial of such confrontation is necessary to further an important public policy and only where the reliability of the testimony is otherwise assured.

In doing so, according to the NH Supreme Court, the Craig court focused on four factors:

(1) physical presence; (2) oath; (3) cross-examination; and (4) observation of demeanor by the court, defendant and trier of fact.

In holding that permitting the police officer to testify in disguise constituted harmless error in this case, but may be permitted in other cases, the NH court seems to explicitly ignore (4) above. Who knows if the detective is smirking under that ski-mask, knowing that he’s lying through his teeth and the jury is unable to observe that. Again, it is important to note that Craig again dealt with the physical presence of a defendant and the impact and trauma that might have on a child victim. None of these cases speak to permitting a witness to testify, in court, with his or her face hidden.

Given my reading of Jarzbek, Coy and Craig, I think the Connecticut Supreme Court would be hard pressed to agree with New Hampshire’s august tribunal, but I’m usually wrong when it comes to things like this.

Two side notes: The newspaper story covering the NH decision includes the usual quotes from law enforcement about how the primary focus should be the safety of the officers, not the Constitutional rights of an accused. So make sure you read it if you want to get all indignant.

Second, the dissent by Scalia in Craig is certainly worth the time it would take to read it. Here’s a sampling:

According to the Court, “we cannot say that [face-to-face] confrontation [with witnesses appearing at trial] is an indispensable element of the Sixth Amendment’s guarantee of the right to confront one’s accusers.” Ante, at 849-850. That is rather like saying “we cannot say that being tried before a jury is an indispensable element of the Sixth Amendment’s guarantee of the right to jury trial.” The Court makes the impossible plausible by recharacterizing the Confrontation Clause, so that confrontation (redesignated “face-to-face confrontation”) becomes only one of many “elements of confrontation.” Ante, at 846. The reasoning is as follows: The Confrontation Clause guarantees not only what it explicitly provides for — “face-to-face” confrontation—but also implied and collateral rights such as cross-examination, oath, and observation of demeanor (TRUE); the purpose of this entire cluster of rights is to ensure the reliability of evidence (TRUE); the Maryland procedure preserves the implied and collateral rights (TRUE), which adequately ensure the reliability of evidence (perhaps TRUE); therefore the Confrontation Clause is not violated by denying what it explicitly provides for — “face-to-face” confrontation (unquestionably FALSE). This reasoning abstracts from the right to its purposes, and then eliminates the right. It is wrong because the Confrontation Clause does not guarantee reliable evidence; it guarantees specific trial procedures that were thought to assure reliable evidence, undeniably among which was “face-to-face” confrontation. Whatever else it may mean in addition, the defendant’s constitutional right “to be confronted with the witnesses against him” means, always and everywhere, at least what it explicitly says: the “`right to meet face to face all those who appear and give evidence at trial.’”

Sometimes, he’s so good that it hurts.

According to the Court, “we cannot say that [face-to-face] confrontation [with witnesses appearing at trial] is an indispensable element of the Sixth Amendment’s guarantee of the right to confront one’s accusers.” Ante, at 849-850. That is rather like saying “we cannot say that being tried before a jury is an indispensable element of the Sixth Amendment’s guarantee of the right to jury trial.” The Court makes the impossible plausible by recharacterizing the Confrontation Clause, so that confrontation (redesignated “face-to-face confrontation”) becomes only one of many “elements of confrontation.” Ante, at 846. The reasoning is as follows: The Confrontation Clause guarantees not only what it explicitly provides for — “face-to-face” confrontation—but also implied and collateral rights such as cross-examination, oath, and observation of demeanor (TRUE); the purpose of this entire cluster of rights is to ensure the reliability of evidence (TRUE); the Maryland procedure preserves the implied and collateral rights (TRUE), which adequately ensure the reliability of evidence (perhaps TRUE); therefore the Confrontation Clause is not violated by denying what it explicitly provides for — “face-to-face” confrontation (unquestionably FALSE). This reasoning abstracts from the right to its purposes, and then eliminates the right. It is wrong because the Confrontation Clause does not guarantee reliable evidence; it guarantees specific trial procedures that were thought to assure reliable evidence, undeniably among which was “face-to-face” confrontation. Whatever else it may mean in addition, the defendant’s constitutional right “to be confronted with the witnesses against him” means, always and everywhere, at least what it explicitly says: the “`right to meet face to face all those who appear and give evidence at trial.’”

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Texas kills…..an innocent man? (updated)

Aug 25th

Posted by Gideon in death penalty

5 comments

The first half of the title of this post (shamelessly plagiarized from our good friends at CapDefWeekly) should come as no surprise to anyone. Texas is a powerhouse when it comes to executions, rapidly putting people to death.

The second half of the title should also come as no surprise, though. And there’s a new report to back it up [here's a link to the actual report]. The man in question is Cameron Todd Willingham, convicted of setting fire to his house that killed his children in 1991. The new report states that Texas fire marshals had no basis to conclude that the fire was set intentionally and in all likelihood was an accident. Willingham was executed in 2004, maintaining his innocence to the end.

Among [Craig] Beyler’s key findings: that investigators failed to examine all of the electrical outlets and appliances in the Willinghams’ house in the small Texas town of Corsicana, did not consider other potential causes for the fire, came to conclusions that contradicted witnesses at the scene, and wrongly concluded Willingham’s injuries could not have been caused as he said they were.

The state fire marshal on the case, Beyler concluded in his report, had “limited understanding” of fire science. The fire marshal “seems to be wholly without any realistic understanding of fires and how fire injuries are created,” he wrote.

The marshal’s findings, he added, “are nothing more than a collection of personal beliefs that have nothing to do with science-based fire investigation.”

And it isn’t Beyler alone. Nine of the nation’s top fire scientists reviewed the Willingham case and concluded that “the original investigators relied on outdated theories and folklore to justify the determination of arson.”

And that’s not all. There was some other evidence of his guilt: jailhouse snitch testimony. That doyen of reliable information. To paraphrase Radley Balko, junk science and a jailhouse snitch do not a reliable conviction make.

Good job Texas. Good job death penalty advocates.

evidence

Connickally yours

The Barney Fife exception: all in good faith

Conviction by cuteness

The obscenity of risk of injury

Tonya Craft teaches us all

Prove the defendant’s bad character, not the crime

A witchhunt by men who molest the law

Come with me…to jail for 20 years: an alien abduction

Does the client have a right to discovery?

The objection’s on the other foot

The fruit of the poisonous confession

Junk “science” and missing evidence

Polluting the jury pool

Face-to-ski mask: a defendant’s right to confront his cat burglar

Texas kills…..an innocent man? (updated)

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