For what? Child porn. To prosecute, not to view, you goddamn pervert.

Here‘s an EFF primer on the bill and a statement on the bill making it out of committee. The title of this post comes via Rep. Zoe Lofgren (D-CA), which I learned of in this post.

Here’s a Reason post on the subject, here’s one from Cato which gives us the alternate title “You Are All Criminals Act”. From another Cato piece:

It’s got everything: porn, children, the Internet. And it’s got everything: financial services providers dragooned into law enforcement, dataretention requirements heaped on Internet service providers, expanded “administrative subpoena” authority. (Administrative subpoenas are an improvisation to accommodate the massive power of the bureaucracy, and they’ve become another end-run around the Fourth Amendment. If it’s “administrative” it must be reasonable, goes the non-thinking…)

This isn’t a bill about child predation. It’s a bald-faced attack on privacy and limited government.

What with all the BART nonsense this past week (but see and but but see) and the news that the NYPD will now be using Twitter and Facebook to monitor crime (giving a whole new meaning to the phrase “the NYPD is now following you”), one begins to wonder how far, not if, we’ve slipped down the rabbit hole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s an alternate image to the one above:

insert uncomfortable laugh track

too soon?

Lawyers, despite what some would have you believe, are people too. We eat, we breathe, we cry, we laugh and we sleep. And there’s nothing wrong with that and there shouldn’t be. Except that last one – sleep – specifically if a lawyer decides that the cross-examination of his client, in front of a jury, is the perfect opportunity to catch a few winks.

Sleeping lawyers have been mentioned on this space before [and elsewhere], so I would be remiss in not pointing out the latest escapade of one who allegedly decided to shut his eyes for a few minutes during that oh-so-unimportant part of a criminal trial. This one comes courtesy of the 6th Circuit (and via Volokh) in Muniz v. Smith [PDF], in which Muniz alleged through the sworn affidavit of a juror that his attorney was, in fact, asleep.

I won’t bother with the facts of the case or the outcome, because both are quite obvious: there is no presumed prejudice under Cronic because there is no record that the lawyer was asleep for a substantial portion of the trial and there is no Strickland violation because goshdarnit Muniz was overwhelmingly guilty.

But the Court’s perfunctory analysis of the issues raises a greater problem: what is it that we expect of lawyers in our criminal justice system? Why is it acceptable for a lawyer to be asleep for even as little as a minute during a criminal trial?

In Cronic, SCOTUS said:

Most obvious, of course, is the complete denial of counsel. The presumption that counsel’s assistance is essential requires us to conclude that a trial is unfair if the accused is denied counsel at a critical stage of his trial. Similarly, if counsel entirely fails to subject the prosecution’s case to meaningful adversarial testing, then there has been a denial of Sixth Amendment rights that makes the adversary process itself presumptively unreliable. No specific showing of prejudice was required in Davis v. Alaska, 415 U. S. 308 (1974), because the petitioner had been “denied the right of effective cross-examination” which ” `would be constitutional error of the first magnitude and no amount of showing of want of prejudice would cure it.’ ” Id., at 318 (citing Smith v. Illinois, 390 U. S. 129, 131 (1968), and Brookhart v. Janis, 384 U. S. 1, 3 (1966)).

Circumstances of that magnitude may be present on some occasions when although counsel is available to assist the accused during trial, the likelihood that any lawyer, even a fully competent one, could provide effective assistance is so small that a presumption of prejudice is appropriate without inquiry into the actual conduct of the trial. Powell v. Alabama, 287 U. S. 45 (1932), was such a case.

That the cross-examination of the defendant during a trial is a “critical stage” in the proceedings cannot be denied. It can thus also not be denied that during that cross-examination, the defendant must have the assistance of counsel. It surely would not suffice to say that the defendant must have the assistance of counsel during some periods of the critical stage, but not all. The second paragraph certainly illustrates that: Muniz’s lawyer was technically “available”, so it isn’t a situation where there is an actual denial of counsel, but rather an effective denial of counsel. But can any lawyer provide effective assistance when asleep? Obviously not. So why don’t Cronic and Powell apply? Why is it okay, then, for a lawyer to be asleep during the cross-examination of his client, the defendant?

Cronic nowhere mentions the “substantial portion” requirement. That comes from further caselaw from the circuits interpreting and applying Cronic:

The Ninth, Fifth, and Second Circuits have all considered the question of when sleeping by trial counsel becomes the effective denial of counsel and “so likely .. .prejudice[s] the accused” that Cronic applies and prejudice is presumed. All of these circuits have held that the denial of counsel with presumed prejudice only occurs once counsel sleeps through a “substantial portion of [defendant’s] trial.” Javor v. United States, 724 F.2d 831, 834 (9th Cir. 1984); see also Burdine v. Johnson, 262 F.3d 336, 340-41 (5th Cir. 2001) (en banc) (concluding a defendant’s right to counsel was violated where defense counsel was “repeatedly unconscious through not insubstantial portions of the defendant’s capital murder trial”); Tippins v. Walker, 77 F.3d 682, 685 (2d Cir. 1996) (holding the defendant’s right to counsel was violated where defense counsel was asleep for “numerous extended periods of time”).

This still doesn’t answer the question, of course. The answer is, I suppose, that the Court makes a judgment that there are periods of a trial that are inconsequential. That if, for example, the lawyer falls asleep between witnesses, it clearly doesn’t affect the trial itself (now some might rightly argue that it does, but let’s assume that it doesn’t). But what about during the cross-examination of the defendant itself? The court, is in essence, applying a harmless error analysis to the lawyer’s actions. They’re condoning it because it really wouldn’t have made a difference whether the lawyer was awake or asleep. In doing so, in my opinion, the court conflates both Cronic and Strickland. Cronic, as noted above, says that whether it would have made a difference or not is irrelevant. What’s relevant is merely the fact that the defendant did not have access to counsel during a critical stage and that in those situations, because there is a paramount need to preserve the integrity of the system, we will assume prejudice. Strickland, on the other hand, says that where it is the performance of counsel that is under fire, we will see whether that performance made any difference in the outcome.

Cronic becomes useless.

Reading this opinion and its narration of the meaning and import of Cronic and Cronic‘s application, one is left with the distinct impression that it really is okay for lawyers to take brief naps during a criminal trial. That Cronic‘s language about the effective denial of counsel is meaningless and unenforceable.

Coupled with the very low bar of Strickland that one needs to skip over, it sends the message that we are willing to tolerate everything but the most outrageous instances of misrepresentation of clients.

That we do not require of those among the bar who take it upon themselves to protect and defending the liberties of others to be awake during one of the most crucial acts of the criminal trial. Is it too much to ask that lawyers stay awake when their clients are on the stand? Even if the prosecutor is droning ona and on and it’s after lunch and you’re slipping into that food coma?

Is the message a wink and a nod that those who are prosecuted are really guilty, so attorney performance doesn’t really matter?

Here’s a thought experiment: if you were the attorney, would you sign an affidavit saying you were asleep? Would you testify at an evidentiary hearing and admit that you were asleep during your client’s cross-examination?

That this is condoned is only further evidence of the fact that the purpose of the system is no longer to protect individuals, their liberties or their rights, and there is nary a regard for the appearance of justice, but rather the focus is on ensuring that those who go to trial are convicted and remain convicted.

—-

On a similar note, thanks to a commenter at Volokh, I stumbled across these four videos recording a very odd, disturbing and sad courtroom interaction between an allegedly drunk lawyer and a judge trying to make sense of it all and protect the hapless individual seated at the defendant’s table. I’ve embedded Part 4 of the series below, because it gives the most flavor, but be sure the check out Parts 1, 2 and 3 as well.

If the Federal government were on Twitter or Facebook (or even that shiny new toy Google+), they’d be the confused old grandfather who’s elated that he’s won the Australian lottery even though his clearly smarter – and younger – wife quizzically asks him if he’s every been to Australia.

The Feds continued their misadventures in Terms of Service land with an indictment handed down today against Aaron Swartz, disputed co-founder of Reddit, the less well known bastard child of Digg.

His crime – described by his acts, not the silly US Code that they’re charging him with (PDF) – is essentially downloading staggering amounts of documents from JSTOR, the online repository of the ivory tower’s pontifications and musings on the life of the bourgeoisie. Seriously. Have you ever tried download anything from JSTOR? Apart from being so damn counter-intuitive, that shit is expensive. So expensive that some universities are charged $50,000 a year for access to the hallowed writings scanned and uploaded to JSTOR.

Swartz, someone whom the Feds have had their eye on for a while, basically used spoofed MAC addresses, guest accounts and the like to get behind their paywall and just download all their files. What was he going to do with it? Who the hell knows. But he did it because he hates paywalls and believes in freedom of information and free dissemination of that information. Or something. Watch out, NYT, you’re next.

Imagine, if you will, the olden days. No computers, nothing. Then imagine the most pompous guy in your town. He builds a house, goes around the country collecting all these interesting books and papers. Then he locks them in that building and charges each person one dubloon to look at one paper. That’s JSTOR, sort of. Along comes Swartz, who says, screw this, breaks in and starts photocopying (in this alternate timeline, photocopying is invented a century early) everything. The pompous guy realizes what happened, so he changes the locks. Swartz, undaunted in his singular mission of liberating information, pretends to be the termite inspector, goes back in and start copying everything again. Finally collared, he gives it back. All of it. He doesn’t keep a single piece of paper, doesn’t make a single dime off it.

That’s essentially what happened here:

The grand jury indictment accuses Swartz of evading MIT’s attempts to kick his laptop off the network while downloading more than four million documents from JSTOR, a not-for-profit company that provides searchable, digitized copies of academic journals. The scraping, which took place from September 2010 to January 2011 via MIT’s network, was invasive enough to bring down JSTOR’s servers on several occasions.

…

The indictment alleges that Swartz, at the time a fellow at Harvard University, intended to distribute the documents on peer-to-peer networks. That did not happen, however, and all the documents have been returned to JSTOR.

JSTOR, the alleged victim in the case, did not refer the case to the feds, according to Heidi McGregor, the company’s vice president of Marketing & Communications, who said the company got the documents, a mixture of both copyrighted and public domain works, back from Swartz and was content with that.

As for whether JSTOR supports the prosecution, McGregor simply said that the company was not commenting on the matter. She noted, however, that JSTOR has a program for academics who want to do big research on the corpus, but usually faculty members ask permission or contact the company after being booted off the network for too much downloading.

“This makes no sense,” said Demand Progress Executive Director David Segalin a statement provided by Swartz to Wired.com before the arrest. “It’s like trying to put someone in jail for allegedly checking too many books out of the library.”

Well, not quite checking too many books out of the library. Because it seems that JSTOR and MIT made it clear to Swartz that he wasn’t supposed to be doing what he was doing and could he please knock it off already? But the Feds think otherwise. Since all the other crimes in the US have stopped occurring, the Feds have decided to turn their sights on that most insidious of the new-age felonies: violating terms of service. You know what? I think I’m violating 3 TOS right now: the aforementioned social media networks. Hang on, there’s a knock on the door. Is it the Feds:

But the feds clearly think they have a substantial hacking case on their hands, even though Swartz used guest accounts to access the network and is not accused of finding a security hole to slip through or using stolen credentials, as hacking is typically defined.

In essence, Swartz is accused of felony hacking for violating MIT and JSTOR’s terms of service. That legal theory has had mixed success — a federal court judge dismissed that argument in the Lori Drew cyberbullying case, but it was later reused with more success in a case brought against ticket scalpers who used automated means to buy tickets faster from Ticketmaster’s computer system.

Ah, Lori Drew. Remember her? She was charged with some trumpeted nonsense because she set up a fake account on My[____] (yes, that’s what it’s called now) and some girl tragically killed herself because of the bullying she was subjected to from that account. While the event was tragic, a crime it was not.

And here we have essentially the same dilemma. Just how do the Feds have jurisdiction? Swartz was in the JSTOR building while he was “hacking”. It’s like me stealing from your house and being indicted for wire fraud because I took this nice vase that your Aunt Maude sent you from her old person’s home in Peoria.

That – at least to me, for now – seems to be the tenuous connection that gives the Federal government the authority to indict Swartz. But I’m not expert and I’m often wrong, so don’t quote me on it.

So what’s really going on here? It seems that they may just have a thing for Swartz:

Swartz is no stranger to the feds being interested in his skills at prodigious downloads. In 2008, the federal court system decided to try out allowing free public access to its court record search system PACER at 17 libraries across the country. Swartz went to the 7th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals library in Chicago and installed a small PERL script he had written. The code cycled sequentially through case numbers, requesting a new document from PACER every three seconds. In this manner, Swartz got nearly 20 million pages of court documents, which his script uploaded to Amazon’s EC2 cloud computing service.

While the documents are in the public record and free to share, PACER normally charges eight cents a page.

The courts reported him to the FBI, which investigated whether the public records were “exfiltrated.” After in-depth background searches, a luckless stakeout and futile attempts to get Swartz to talk, the FBI dropped the case.

Ohhh. He’s that guy! This should be a fun ride. Strap in…or should I say…log on!

Okay, video time:

What Comstock is, what it isn’t and what it might very well be.

First, what Comstock isn’t. Despite the ominous newspaper headlines, it is my opinion – however uninformed – that Comstock does not directly stand for the proposition that it is Constitutionally permissible to indefinitely commit sex offenders beyond the expiration of their criminal sentences.

Justice Breyer’s decision explicitly reserves that question for another day:

“We do not reach or decide any claim that the statute or its application denies equal protection of the laws, procedural or substantive due process, or any other rights guaranteed by the Constitution. Respondents are free to pursue those claims on remand, and any others they have preserved.”

As one commentator notes, there may very well be viable challenges to the Federal statute in the yet-to-come Comstock II or other cases.

What Comstock is: a decision that holds (however unpersuasively and problematically) that civil commitment by the Federal government is a “necessary and proper” means of exercising the federal authority that permits Congress to create federal criminal laws. What that “enumerated power” is, is never mentioned by the majority opinion (the best analogy I’ve seen of this legal trickery is in this post).

Justice Thomas explains this succinctly (yes, I know. Shut up.):

The Government identifies no specific enumerated power or powers as a constitutional predicate for § 4248, and none are readily discernable. Indeed, not even the Commerce Clause—the enumerated power this Court has interpreted most expansively, [citation omitted] can justify federal civil detention of sex offenders.  Under the Court’s precedents, Congress may not regulate noneconomic activity (such as sexual violence) based solely on the effect such activity may have, in individual cases or in the aggregate, on interstate commerce. Morrison, 529 U. S., at 617–618; United States v. Lopez, 514 U. S. 549, 563–567 (1995).

What Comstock may very well be: the start of a line of cases that holds, one at a time, that it is perfectly okay for states and the federal government to indefinitely confine sex offenders, well beyond the expiration of their terms of incarceration.

Mixing sex offenders and public safety is a sure recipe for the evisceration of the rights guaranteed and protected by the Constitution. A court following in the footsteps of Comstock could easily hold that, as per the decisions in Alaska and Dept’ of Public Safety, civil commitment is a regulatory function undertaken for the safety of the general public, is not a punitive measure and justify it using the following language from Comstock:

2. This type of legislation is a long-standing Congressional practice: “the civil-commitment statute before us constitutes a modest addition to a set of federal prison-related mental-health statutes that have existed for many decades.”
3. The statute is merely an extension to persons already in federal custody  (“If a federal prisoner is infected with a communicable disease that threatens others, surely it would be “necessary and proper” for the Federal Government to take action, pursuant to its role as federal custodian, to refuse (at least until the threat diminishes) to release that individual among the general public, where he might infect others).

Of course, both of the above arguments are a smoke-screen for the real purpose: sex offenders are bad and must be put away forever, even in the face of evidence suggesting that they are the lowest to reoffend. The above argument also ignores the basic distinction between civil commitment of sex offenders and those who are “quarantined” for health reasons: that the “disease” of being a sex offender is the very reason the individual is incarcerated in the first place, thus, in a sense, making civil commitment a second punishment.

But we are talking about sex offenders, so it’s open season. For a preview, see this brief analysis of the potential interplay between Comstock and Kansas v. Hendricks.

Finally, it must be noted that there is certainly something odd about the timing of the two criminal justice decisions issued today: Comstock and Graham v. Florida.

Reading them both on the same day certainly leaves one with the sense that there is no direction on the court on criminal justice issues.

[For links to far more detailed coverage of Comstock, see this post at SexCrimes.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

A very important question, for it should be quite obvious that whatever the terminology attached to the formal charge, the act for which Barnes is being exposed to further punishment is the same: that he fired a weapon with the intent to cause the death of Ofc. Barclay.

Having already been punished once for that act, how is it permissible for the Commonwealth to seek to punish him again? I decided to delve into the quagmire of Double Jeopardy law, a muck from which I’m not quite sure that I’ve yet emerged. Nonetheless, I found this quote from a LawProf in another article covering the start of the trial:

Temple University Law Professor Jim Strazella says he believes the charges are permissible, and don’t violate any double jeopardy laws.

Since there is no further explanation in that article, or any other that I could find, you are left to my devices and I am to yours.

The fifth amendment to the United States constitution declares that no person  shall be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb . . . . This amendment is fully applicable to the states through the due process clause of the fourteenth amendment to the United States constitution. Benton v. Maryland, 395 U.S. 784 (1969).

One of the protections flowing from the double jeopardy guarantee is that against a second prosecution for the same offense after acquittal; North Carolina v. Pearce, 395 U.S. 711, 717 (1969); or conviction. Illinois v. Vitale, 447 U.S. 410 (1980).

The constitutional prohibition against ‘double jeopardy’ was designed to protect an individual from being subjected to the hazards of trial and possible conviction more than once for an alleged offense. . . . The underlying idea, one that is deeply ingrained in at least the Anglo-American system of jurisprudence, is that the State with all its resources and power should not be allowed to make repeated attempts to convict an individual for an alleged offense, thereby subjecting him to embarrassment, expense and ordeal and compelling him to live in a continuing state of anxiety and insecurity, as well as enhancing the possibility that even though innocent he may be found guilty.

Green v. United States, 355 U.S. 184 (1957). The most famous double jeopardy case is Blockburger v. United States, which laid out the test for determining if multiple convictions arising out of the same incident violated the prohibition against double jeopardy:

[t]he applicable rule is that where the same act or transaction constitutes a violation of two distinct statutory provisions, the test to be applied to determine whether there are two offenses or only one, is whether each provision requires proof of a fact which the other does not.

Blockburger v. United States, 284 U.S. 299, 304 (1932). This analysis ‘precludes examination of the evidence.’ Illinois v. Vitale, 447 U.S. 410, 416 (1980). Instead, an examination of the elements of the two crimes is essential. Brown v. Ohio, 432 U.S. 161, 166 (1977).

Quoth Justice Stevens, in Illinois v. Vitale:

In Harris v. Oklahoma, 433 U.S. 682, we held that a conviction on a felony-murder charge barred a subsequent prosecution for robbery, where the robbery had been used to establish the requisite intent on the murder charge. Cf. Whalen v. United States, 445 U.S. 684. Since it was theoretically possible that a different felony could  have supported the murder charge, such a result may not have been required by a literal application of the Blockburger test, see Whalen v. United States, supra, at 708-711 (REHNQUIST, J., dissenting). However, the entire Court agreed that it was required by the Double Jeopardy Clause.

Of course, it is the interpretation of state law by a state court that controls and under PA law, attempted murder may not be a lesser included offenses of murder. There is a line of cases that suggests that the treatment of those crimes intended by the legislature plays an important role in determining whether they are the same for double jeopardy purposes. Perhaps the differing sentencing ranges for attempt and the completed act (for murder at least, at least here in CT) may give some weight to that argument.

Stepping back from the legal mumbo-jumbo, there is a certain appeal to the argument that Barnes should not be permitted to reap the benefits of a lesser sentence merely because Barclay did not die immediately.

This, however, is not unavailing, especially in light of the fact that the Commonwealth was willing to have Barnes plead to a lesser degree of murder, exposing him to a potential maximum sentence of 10 to 20 years, with credit for 16 years already served.

The Commonwealth is not interested in the legal issues here, especially when you consider the fact that Barclay’s body wasn’t autopsied for 7 months and after Barnes had been charged with murder. To me it seems more like grandstanding and putting on a show in light of the death of a member of law enforcement. Which is fine, except Barnes has already paid a pretty steep price for that very crime.

[As you may have noticed, my DJ analysis was pretty half-baked. That's because I am unwilling to embark on writing a brief on this subject just yet. If I've missed a key case, I'm sure you'll let me know about it.]

The Sixth Amendment right of the “accused” to assistance of counsel in “all criminal prosecutions” is limited by its terms: “it does not attach until  a prosecution is commenced.” McNeil v. Wisconsin, 501 U. S. 171, 175 (1991); see also Moran v. Burbine, 475 U. S. 412, 430 (1986). We have, for  purposes of the right to counsel, pegged commencement to “‘the initiation of adversary judicial criminal proceedings—whether by way of formal  charge, preliminary hearing, indictment, information, or arraignment,’” United States v. Gouveia, 467 U. S. 180, 188 (1984) (quoting Kirby v.  Illinois, 406 U. S. 682, 689 (1972) (plurality opinion)). The rule is not “mere formalism,” but a recognition of the point at which “the government has committed itself to prosecute,” “the adverse positions of government and defendant have solidified,” and the accused “finds himself faced with  the prosecutorial forces of organized society, and immersed in the intricacies of substantive and procedural criminal law.” Kirby, supra, at 689.

Rothgery v. Gillespie County (my prior post on Rothgery here). The importance of the Sixth Amendment right to counsel was underscored by the Supreme Court in United States v. Cronic:

Of all the rights that an accused person has, the right to be represented by counsel is by far the most pervasive for it affects his ability to assert any other rights he may have.

In McMann v. Richardson, the Court recognize the right to counsel to mean “the right to effective assistance of counsel”. Drawing on the mandate of this most excellent quote from Marbury v. Madison (“every right, when withheld, must have a remedy, and every injury its proper redress”), the Court, in Strickland, gave teeth (however blunt) to that right, requiring a new trial for a defendant whose conviction was obtained in violation of the Sixth Amendment.

But all of this – Strickland, Cronic, even the quote in Marbury – is somewhat contradictory and rather backward looking. On one hand, these rights attach at the very institution of a criminal proceeding and counsel has tremendous duties and responsibilities to ensure that the defendant has a fair trial:

Representation of a criminal defendant entails certain basic duties. Counsel’s function is to assist the defendant, and hence counsel owes the client a duty of loyalty, a duty to avoid conflicts of interest. See Cuyler v. Sullivan. From counsel’s function as assistant to the defendant derive the overarching duty to advocate the defendant’s cause and the more particular duties to consult with the defendant on important decisions and to keep the defendant informed of important developments in the course of the prosecution. Counsel also has a duty to bring to bear such skill and knowledge as will render the trial a reliable adversarial testing process. See Powell v. Alabama.

On the other hand, any vindication of this Sixth Amendment right must come after a conviction is obtained. Thus, the “two-pronged” approach to deciding ineffectiveness claims:

Although we have discussed the performance component of an ineffectiveness claim prior to the prejudice component, there is no reason for a court deciding an ineffective assistance claim to approach the inquiry in the same order or even to address both components of the inquiry if the defendant makes an insufficient showing on one. In particular, a court need not determine whether counsel’s performance was deficient before examining the prejudice suffered by the defendant as a result of the alleged deficiencies. The object of an ineffectiveness claim is not to grade counsel’s performance. If it is easier to dispose of an ineffectiveness claim on the ground of lack of sufficient prejudice, which we expect will often be so, that course should be followed. Courts should strive to ensure that ineffectiveness claims not become so burdensome to defense counsel that the entire criminal justice system suffers as a result.

There may be an acknowledgment that the Sixth Amendment right to counsel has been violated due to sub-par performance on the part of the lawyer, but there doesn’t need to be any remedy because there was no harm – or, in other words, the “he’s guilty as hell so what difference does it make?” legal principle. What sort of a right is a right without any redress?

Certainly, the vast majority of trials will fall on two points on the spectrum: those with no errors and those with errors so debatable that one cannot know, during the pendency of the trial, whether they will have any impact on the outcome at all. Perhaps these are best reserved for review after the outcome.

But there are some errors, in the pre-trial context or even during a trial, that are so glaring, so immediate a denial of counsel that to proceed to a sham verdict and then “allow” the defendant to challenge his “conviction” would indeed be a manifest injustice. And yet the courts provide for no remedy for such a violation.

I’ve observed many trials and read just as many transcripts of trials. In a very small percentage of these, it was obvious to all present that counsel had absolutely no idea what he/she was doing. And yet, apart from the judge’s few feeble attempts to “assist” the attorney, the mockery was allowed to continue. For what can one do? Per the mandate of Strickland, there is no harm until there is a conviction, even though there will be one is abundantly apparent to all.

And even when the conviction is obtained and the challenge commenced, the institutional roadblocks to meaningful review of counsel’s performance are ever present. First, we must give high deference to the reasonableness of counsel’s performance:

Judicial scrutiny of counsel’s performance must be highly deferential. It is all too tempting for a defendant to second-guess counsel’s assistance after conviction or adverse sentence, and it is all too easy for a court, examining counsel’s defense after it has proved unsuccessful, to conclude that a particular act or omission of counsel was unreasonable. Cf. Engle v. Isaac, 456 U. S. 107, 133-134 (1982). A fair assessment of attorney performance requires that every effort be made to eliminate the distorting effects of hindsight, to reconstruct the circumstances of counsel’s challenged conduct, and to evaluate the conduct from counsel’s perspective at the time. Because of the difficulties inherent in making the evaluation, a court must indulge a strong presumption that counsel’s conduct falls within the wide range of reasonable professional assistance; that is, the defendant must overcome the presumption that, under the circumstances, the challenged action “might be considered sound trial strategy.” See Michel v. Louisiana, supra, at 101.

Then, when we’re done ticking that box, we must view counsel’s performance through his/her eyes at the time of that performance:

Thus, a court deciding an actual ineffectiveness claim must judge the reasonableness of counsel’s challenged conduct on the facts of the particular case, viewed as of the time of counsel’s conduct. A convicted defendant making a claim of ineffective assistance must identify the acts or omissions of counsel that are alleged not to have been the result of reasonable professional judgment. The court must then determine whether, in light of all the circumstances, the identified acts or omissions were outside the wide range of professionally competent assistance. In making that determination, the court should keep in mind that counsel’s function, as elaborated in prevailing professional norms, is to make the adversarial testing process work in the particular case. At the same time, the court should recognize that counsel is strongly presumed to have rendered adequate assistance and made all significant decisions in the exercise of reasonable professional judgment.

And finally, the defendant has to overcome the “it didn’t matter anyway” stonewall:

An error by counsel, even if professionally unreasonable, does not warrant setting aside the judgment of a criminal proceeding if the error had no effect on the judgment. Cf. United States v. Morrison, 449 U. S. 361, 364-365 (1981). The purpose of the Sixth Amendment guarantee of counsel is to ensure that a defendant has the assistance necessary to justify reliance on the outcome of the proceeding. Accordingly, any deficiencies in counsel’s performance must be prejudicial to the defense in order to constitute ineffective assistance under the Constitution.

Attorney errors come in an infinite variety and are as likely to be utterly harmless in a particular case as they are to be prejudicial. They cannot be classified according to likelihood of causing prejudice. Nor can they be defined with sufficient precision to inform defense attorneys correctly just what conduct to avoid. Representation is an art, and an act or omission that is unprofessional in one case may be sound or even brilliant in another. Even if a defendant shows that particular errors of counsel were unreasonable, therefore, the defendant must show that they actually had an adverse effect on the defense.

Even in the “denial of counsel” cases, the determination is always made ex post facto. Never has there been a case, to my knowledge, where a trial has been stopped midway and the parties have said: “this cannot proceed; this defendant must have adequate counsel”. Yet, the caselaw is littered with examples of poor lawyering and convictions being reversed. Why must we wait until a defendant has been convicted, spent years in jail, endured countless rounds of litigation to have a right vindicated that everyone knew was denied him in the first place?

the presumption that a criminal judgment is final is at its strongest in collateral attacks on that judgment. See United States v. Frady; Engle v. Isaac.

Oh. That’s why. Granted, I am talking about a very small universe of cases, but the fact that this occurs and there is no remedy begs the question.

The Sixth Amendment right is not – and cannot – be limited to a trial alone. Indeed, it is clear that “to deprive a person of counsel during the period prior to trial may be more damaging than denial of counsel during the trial  itself”. Maine v Moulton. I suppose that there are some options available to defendants who feel like they are receiving ineffective assistance of counsel pre-trial: they can file a motion to fire the lawyer or they can file a motion to withdraw their plea based on ineffective assistance of counsel (here, in CT, pursuant to Practice Book section 39-27). We know, though, how these arguments are viewed by the establishment: “oh, he’s just being difficult” or “he’s trying to game the system”. In Connecticut, the 39-27 IAC claim is a joke. I’ve never seen it granted. Judges routinely deny the motion to withdraw the plea without so much as appointing new counsel to investigate the claim and almost always without an evidentiary hearing. In both those instances, it’s the word of the defendant against, well, the system. The lawyer is put in a terrible position of having to defend himself, while still representing the interests of the client.

It’s the juggernaut of the conviction and it keeps rolling, rolling.

And of what of the defendant who jumps up during a trial because he can’t take it anymore, who can see that his lawyer has so badly messed things up that his conviction is a foregone conclusion? What redress does he have? Is he entitled to any? Or does he just have to take his lumps and hope that down the road, someone will see it his way and give him a new trial with a competent lawyer?

One way to assuage some of the doubts is to ensure that states provide adequate and competent public defenders, with resources necessary to effectively represent clients. But, then again, these systemic claims do not implicate Strickland.

Strickland was a mutant born of a half-hearted attempt to give meaning to a core Constitutional right. It is time for it to die and to be replaced by a better, more effective standard that actually means something to those whose confidence in their convictions has been undermined.

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1. As an aside, I found the following passages from Justice O’Connor’s opinion in Strickland to be rather interesting. I’ll have to give it some more thought, but perhaps the habeas practitioner could find some meaning in the attempted explanation of the prejudice prong.

Even when the specified attorney error results in the omission of certain evidence, the newly discovered evidence standard is not an apt source from which to draw a prejudice standard for ineffectiveness claims. The high standard for newly discovered evidence claims presupposes that all the essential elements of a presumptively accurate and fair proceeding were present in the proceeding whose result is challenged. Cf. United States v. Johnson, 327 U. S. 106, 112 (1946). An ineffective assistance claim asserts the absence of one of the crucial assurances that the result of the proceeding is reliable, so finality concerns are somewhat weaker and the appropriate standard of prejudice should be somewhat lower. The result of a proceeding can be rendered unreliable, and hence the proceeding itself unfair, even if the errors of counsel cannot be shown by a preponderance of the evidence to have determined the outcome.

Accordingly, the appropriate test for prejudice finds its roots in the test for materiality of exculpatory information not disclosed to the defense by the prosecution, United States v. Agurs, 427 U. S., at 104, 112-113, and in the test for materiality of testimony made unavailable to the defense by Government deportation of a witness, United States v. Valenzuela-Bernal, supra, at 872-874. The defendant must show that there is a reasonable probability that, but for counsel’s unprofessional errors, the result of the proceeding would have been different. A reasonable probability is a probability sufficient to undermine confidence in the outcome.

2. Another aside: While writing this post, I had the nagging feeling that I’d touched upon this topic before. Turns out, I have. With a very similar title. Two years ago. Just goes to show that I’ve been blogging for a really long time and that there is such a thing as “dearth of topics”.

racial integration in prison cells

Three long years after SCOTUS held in Johnson v. California that prison segregation policies were subject to “strict scrutiny” and remanded to the Federal district court for further consideration, California’s prisons are about to enter a new era of racial desegregation.

It was an unwritten policy in California prisons that members of the same race would be cellies, so as to minimize the opportunity for violence amongst prison gangs, which are usually formed around race.

As a result of a settlement between the plaintiffs and California, however, inmates will no longer be permitted to be paired based on the color of their skin. Not all are excited about this move, however:

Many inmates fiercely oppose integrating cells, calling it a dangerous idea that is guaranteed to lead to widespread riots and death.

“It’s like screwing around with the ecosystem,” said Rodney Raxon, 35, a white inmate at Lancaster’s high-security prison. “We don’t want any part of it.”

Several inmates said racial separation helps preserve the peace. In dining halls and prison yards where convicts can commingle if they choose, they hang out with their own. Chosen representatives handle communication between groups, they said, to avoid riots.

As the gym’s black representative, Lavel Atkins, 34, of Compton, Calif., said he defuses nearly 20 grievances a day over issues such as whether one inmate’s splashing water on another was a sign of disrespect. There would be more disputes, he said, if members of various races were forced to room together.

The lawsuit was initiated by inmate Johnson who argued that segregation heightened the pressure on him (and probably other inmates) to align themselves with a gang.

This new program doesn’t mean there will be complete desegregation, however. Now inmates will be evaluated by a host of other categories to determine who would be an appropriate cellmate:

Under the program, prisoners were interviewed and assigned one of five housing codes based on factors such as criminal history, custody level and the inmate’s preference, said Terry Thornton, spokeswoman for the corrections department. The classifications determine whether prison officials can place an inmate in a cell with members of all other races, with one race but not others, or with only his own race.

So now race gang affiliation will be one consideration in determining who to pair together, not the only consideration.

I’m not sure if such a program has been undertaken in another state in the country; a state that has similar demographics and gang violence problems like California. The CA program is modeled closely on a similar program utilized by Texas back in the ’70s. But things have changed since then:

With more than 171,000 inmates, California houses nearly four times the population that Texas did when it began the process. And unlike Texas, which integrated with a prison population below capacity, California’s is 195 percent above capacity.

That overflow gives California officials less flexibility, said Thomas Beauclair, deputy director of the National Institute of Corrections. “They’ve got inmates in gymnasiums sleeping on the floor in some of their institutions,” he said. “It’s not going to be easy for them.”

California also faces a larger, more fractious and more entrenched gang problem, according to experts and prisoners. Northern Hispanics, for instance, are warring with Southern Hispanics.

So the success or failure of this program will be watched closely by other states in the country. After all, the major concern in prisons should be the safety of all people who are within those walls – that includes staff and inmates.

Of course, the violence in prisons is also a by-product of severe overcrowding and a breakdown of the rehabilitation function of our correctional institutions. Whether a degeneration of the social and moral fiber of the nation is also a contributing factor is too complex a question to contemplate or answer here.

But if this is a tool in maintaining safety and security in prisons, I am all for it.

I do want to leave you with this quote from Justice Kennedy’s opinion, via Orin at Volokh:

Officials charged with daily operational responsibility for our security may consider a judicial discourse on the history of the Habeas Corpus Act of 1679 and like matters to be far removed from the Nation’s present, urgent concerns. Established legal doctrine, however, must be consulted for its teaching. Remote in time it may be; irrelevant to the present it is not. Security depends upon a sophisticated intelligence apparatus and the ability of our Armed Forces to act and to interdict. There are further considerations, however. Security subsists, too, in fidelity to freedom’s first principles. Chief among these are freedom from arbitrary and unlawful restraint and the personal liberty that is secured by adherence to the separation of powers. It is from these principles that the judicial authority to consider petitions for habeas corpus relief derives.

There is a reason it is called The Great Writ.

Today, Congressman Chris Murphy (CT-5) announced a pair of legislative initiatives designed to make home invasion a federal crime and provide additional federal resources and technology to parole and probation officials. Connecticut residents have witnessed two heinous home invasions and murders in less than a year – one just this weekend in New Britain, and one in July in Cheshire.
Murphy’s proposal intends to:

• make home invasion a federal crime;
• improve the FBI’s tracking of home invasions across the country;
• improve federal resources for parole and probation activities, including federal funds for the use of GPS monitoring devices and the hiring of additional parole and probation officers;
• And create a national training center for parole and probation officials.

“Connecticut has been through enough this year. These senseless crimes have hurt so much more than our homes and families – they have shattered our sense of safety and security in our communities. It’s time for the federal government to provide more assistance to the states to keep us safe,” said Murphy.

Now, I’m no Constitutional scholar and I know less about Federalism, but this quote sums up the nutiness of his proposal (thanks to a post on a local listserve):

“The Constitution requires a distinction between what is truly national and what is truly local, and there is no better example of the police power, which the Founders undeniably left reposed in the States and denied the central government, than the suppression of violent crime and vindication of its victims. Congress therefore may not regulate noneconomic, violent criminal conduct based solely on the conduct’s aggregate effect on interstate commerce.”

United States v. Morrison, 529 U.S. 598 (2000). So what’s the basis here for Federal legislation? I guess if there was a firearm that was used. But wouldn’t there have to be a showing that the firearm crossed state borders? So we would be talking about a very, very small subset of home invasions.

The real reason, I suspect, is to look good. Two of the districts he represents happen to be the scenes of horrific crimes.

However, is there no one advising him? It didn’t occur to him that this would not fall under Federal jurisdiction? Waste taxpayer money and others’ time to look good?

What’s that deficit at now?