see end of post for info on this picture

I feel compelled to start, once again, with one of my favorite quotes:

Ammianus Marcellinus relates an anecdote of the Emperor Julian which illustrates the enforcement of this principle in the Roman law. Numerius, the governor of Narbonensis, was on trial before the Emperor, and, contrary to the usage in criminal cases, the trial was public. Numerius contented himself with denying his guilt, and there was not sufficient proof against him. His adversary, Delphidius, “a passionate man,” seeing that the failure of the accusation was inevitable, could not restrain himself, and exclaimed, “Oh, illustrious Cæsar! if it is sufficient to deny, what hereafter will become of the guilty?” to which Julian replied, “If it suffices to accuse, what will become of the innocent?” Rerum Gestarum, L. XVIII, c. 1.

Coffin v. United States. And yet, in these days, I look around and see more of Delphidius than of Caesar. Surely, you have heard of Casey Anthony and the verdict of not guilty rendered in her capital trial, that has sent a million heads spinning and the veins of nearly half the population of the country pumping with boiling blood calling for vengeance and murder.

The appreciation of a system which presumes an individual innocent unless the State can prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt seems to be shrinking to a select few who make their living in that system. For the rest, the pure exhilaration of having a pre-determined verdict of guilt (and isn’t it always guilt?) announced, confirming their increasingly myopic and monochromatic view of the world is the only expectation.

Do we want a system that protects the individual or do we want a system that confirms our view of the guilt of those arrested? Do we want a system that lifts the substance of the accusation up to the light – and upon finding  it wanting – discards it? Or do we want a system that goes by the smell test? Do we want a system where no one who is arrested is not guilty? Do we want so much to believe in the infallibility of our so-called protectors? Do we want a system that allows us to so easily and hypocritically create an artificial divide between the mob and the mobbed?

Does the system only work when the guilty are convicted and the innocent are acquitted, or does it work when some who may be guilty are nonetheless set free? Does the system work when some who are likely innocent are not?

we are mindful that it may seem unjust to allow a conviction to stand when the evidence on which the conviction rested has been discredited. It must be remembered, however, that, once properly convicted, the petitioners no longer are cloaked in the mantle of the presumption of innocence.

Gould v. Commissioner of Correction, while doing just that. Gould is a case I wrote about some time ago, where a habeas court reversed Gould’s (and his co-defendant Taylor’s) conviction for murder on the grounds that they were actually innocent. From that decision:

“A senseless, cold-blooded, execution style murder was committed in the early morning hours of July 4th, 1993,” Fuger begins. Eugenio Deleon Vega went to his small Fair Haven bodega, La Casa Green, to open shop at 5:08 a.m. “Before the hour of six AM, before he could even arrange the morning newspapers, he was dead.  He had been executed, shot once in the left temple with a projectile from a .38 caliber semiautomatic pistol. These are indisputable facts.”

Fuger sets the scene for his sharp reproof with a blazing sub-header on Page One.

“This case rises and falls on the testimony of Doreen Stiles,” the sub-header reads, quoting New Haven’s Senior Assistant State Attorney James Clark’s words during Taylor and Gould’s 1995 Superior Court trial.

“No truer statement has ever been spoken,” Fuger wrote.

Stiles, a drug-addicted police informant, was the only supposed eyewitness who placed the defendants at the murder scene. DNA evidence found at the murder scene did not match Gould or Taylor. The state’s case rested on Stiles’ testimony, as Clark openly admitted during the trial. Stiles came forward and recanted her statement in 2006, allowing the defendants to open a joint habeas corpus claim of actual innocence, based on new evidence.

It is “crystal clear,” wrote Fuger, “that the sole piece of evidence, the only thread that links George Gould and Ronald Taylor to this senseless murder is the testimony of Doreen Stiles. If this tether breaks, then there is absolutely nothing that implicates these two men.”

“At the trial of the case in 1995, the case rose because Doreen Stiles made that linkage; at the trial of the habeas petition in 2009, the case must fall, once again, based upon the testimony of Doreen Stiles,” Fuger wrote.

The Supreme Court in its desire to so respectfully uphold the notion of finality, trips over itself to make absolutely clear that they seems somewhat squeamish about writing this decision, but in the end, they really have to. They don’t, really. I know it, they know and you should know it too. The verbal gymnastics are impressive:

In sum, the recantations by Stiles and Boyd may demonstrate that there no longer is any credible evidence that the petitioners did commit the crimes of which they were convicted. What the habeas court’s decision lacks is any discussion of affirmative evidence that would prove by clear and convincing evidence that the petitioners did not commit the crimes. We therefore conclude that the habeas court’s judgments must be reversed…

Emphasis added by me to point out the subtle use of words to support their conclusion.

So, if the only testimony which links the defendants to the murder is now discredited, and that’s not enough, then what must someone do to convince a court of their innocence? I’m glad you asked:

First, taking into account both the evidence produced in the original criminal trial and the evidence produced in the habeas hearing, the petitioner must persuade the habeas court by clear and convincing evidence, as that standard is properly understood and applied in  the context of such a claim, that the petitioner is actually innocent of the crime of which he stands convicted. Second, the petitioner  must establish that, after considering all of that evidence and the inferences drawn therefrom, as the habeas court did, no reasonable  fact finder would find the petitioner guilty.

Not only does one have to prove to the system that they affirmatively did not commit this crime, but they also have to prove that a jury would not find them guilty. It isn’t enough, here, that one presents evidence proving that they did not commit the crime – although how that is to be applied as a universal standard is beyond me.

Are we to decide on the innocence of individuals who are caught up in our system based on their their sheer luck that there exists some physical evidence such as DNA that proves they did not commit the crime? Must we require such a circumstance beyond their control? And what do we say to those who are lucky enough to completely undermine the State’s case against them, yet unlucky enough to have no independent corroborative evidence of their “alleged” innocence? Finality trumps innocence? Form over substance? Perhaps.

It really doesn’t come as any surprise, though, to me – and perhaps to you as well – that our rules are such. That there is a bias toward convicting and keeping people convicted. I sit here, day after day, reading as cases and reports of cases come flooding across my line of sight – and every day it’s the same: we love pronouncing judgment on others and love our moral indignation and our self-assumed superiority. We are better. They are guilty. And how dare anyone disagree with us:

A red-haired woman in her 60s who moved to Florida from Michigan, she told the court she worked at a Publix Grocery when she was questioned as a potential juror.

Now, she’s in hiding.

Juror number 12 left Florida. Her husband, fighting back tears, tells NBC News he’s not sure when she’ll return to her home in Florida.

Why? He says she fears half of her co-workers want her head on a platter.

The other may understand what she did, but she didn’t want to face them.

She was due to retire in the fall, but Juror number 12, after being released from sequestration, chose to call her boss to announce she couldn’t come to work. She didn’t feel safe.

She retired over the phone.

The husband, who sat with two NBC News producers, glanced repeatedly at his blood pressure monitor on the coffee table and the Bible next to it.

One day they’ll come for you and there’ll be no one left to speak up for you.

What do we want from our system? A rubber stamp, apparently.

[For an interesting local connection to the image above, see here.]

So let’s start first with this statement a month and a half ago, from the Mayor of New Haven and the New Haven Police Chief:

“This is America.  Anyone can film anytime they want, including you, me and the PD while on duty,” Mayor DeStefano stated.

“Assume you’re being videotaped all the time when you’re out there,” [Chief] Limon said he has been telling his officers.

Limon said he has upcoming in-service training sessions for his rank and file will include an “update about legal procedures on interfering and videotaping issues.” He’s also looking into putting together a “policy to let officers know what are the exceptions” to when citizens can take video.

He was too slow with that training. Because this happened:

In the midst of swirling controversy about cops and cameras, Luis Luna was put under arrest for filming police in action—not by a rogue patrolman misunderstanding official department policy, but by none other than the assistant chief of police.

Luis Luna (pictured) [not here], a 26-year-old from Wallingford, was arrested on College Street early in the morning of Sept. 25 while he was using his iPhone to videotape police.

According to a police report, his arrest was ordered by Assistant Chief Ariel Melendez, who had told him not to film police breaking up a fight. Read the report here.

Luna said police took his iPhone from him and erased the video he had made. He was charged with interfering with police and spent the night in jail.

Oops. Now, I’m not going to get into the whole “police vs. cameras” angle on this story, because others have covered longer and more effectively. What I want to talk about is what happened on October 8:

On Oct. 8, Luna appeared in Superior Court on Elm Street to answer to the charge of interfering.

“I approached the prosecutor and he said they would drop my charges and that I would have to pay a fine for creating a public disturbance,” Luna said. Luna said he thought to himself that he shouldn’t have to pay anything, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. But the prosecutor told him he probably wouldn’t qualify for a public defender, Luna said. He said when he asked where he might find a lawyer, he was referred to the yellow pages.

Without the time or money to fight the case, Luna decided to agree to the deal. He was charged with the lesser crime of creating a public disturbance.

When the judge asked if he was guilty, he said no, Luna recalled. “The judge explained I have to plead guilty,” he said. “At that moment when I said I’m guilty, I felt like I was going against myself.”

October 7: Actions perfectly legal and acceptable; not guilty of anything. October 8: Actions perfectly legal and acceptable; guilty of creating a public disturbance.

GA23 - where air goes to die

How did this happen, and why? Luna himself tells us why: because he didn’t have the time or the money to be bothered with it. Confronted with an overwhelming court system in that most overwhelming of courthouses: New Haven’s GA23 courthouse on 121 Elm Street, where the facade is barely hanging on supported by rafters and where throngs of people cram into the hallways like sardines and where air quality has been terrible for years, I’m told.

Luna, with nary an involvement with the system prior to this, was likely confronted with that madhouse like scene and had only one thought: “Get me the hell out of here“. So when faced with the daunting prospect of waiting to fill out an application for the public defender’s office, without any certainty of being eligible for the services of one of my brethren, or thumbing through a yellow pages (really? the prosecutor handed him the Yellow Pages?), he took the easy way out. He pled to something that was dangled in front of him: the all-saving “lesser charge”. An infraction, which is not a crime. It’s a slap on the wrist.

But wrists should only be slapped when someone’s done something wrong. Luna, even as of today, hadn’t. But he bore the sting of that slap just to get on with his life.

And Luna isn’t alone. Given the volume of people that wind their way through the system, it just isn’t possible for everyone to fight their fights. People, like Luna, want to forget their interactions with the criminal justice system like a bad nightmare about that ex who stole all your money.

And the ones that cave in are the ones that have had no prior interaction. The irony is that once you’ve been bitten by the court system, you aren’t shy anymore. You realize that it’s a sham for the most part and that sometimes, they’re just out to get you no matter what. So those with records stand and fight. Sometimes over nothing more than pride, but they fight like they’re Ali.

Those who are first timers fight like they’re Liston.

And that’s why Constitutional principles are decided in the cases of people who’ve had long exposure to the justice system – and that’s why these cases are called loopholes, because they only help the “lifelong criminals”. Well, that’s because they’re the only ones with nothing left to lose. So they stand up to the State and extend that middle finger.

Some of the comments on other sites seem to suggest that the prosecutor shouldn’t have extended the offer and the judge shouldn’t have accepted the plea. But I have a hard time faulting the judge. Factual bases for infractions are often sparse and limited. Did the judge know the underlying facts? The story – and Luna – doesn’t tell. What about the prosecutor? Should the prosecutor have known that what Luna did wasn’t illegal? Heck, the mayor and police chief are pretty clear on that. But then again, some seem to suggest that once a prosecutor believes probable cause exists – which is akin to believing there’s evidence of some higher power – then he’s within his rights to push for a conviction. If it’s not unethical, then well, what is it?

Remember that Luna was charged with Interfering With An Officer, which carries a maximum penalty of a year in jail:

(a) A person is guilty of interfering with an officer when such person obstructs, resists, hinders or endangers any peace officer, special policeman appointed under section 29-18b, Department of Motor Vehicles inspector appointed under section 14-8 and certified pursuant to section 7-294d, or firefighter in the performance of such peace officer’s, special policeman’s or firefighter’s duties.

Do Luna’s actions fit within the definition of the crime? Depends on who you ask, I guess. Everyone but the prosecutor: No. The prosecutor (who’s the only one whose opinion counted): Yes/Maybe.

Luna could have been appointed a public defender – certainly the crime is eligible for our services – but maybe he made too much:

(a) In any criminal action, in any habeas corpus proceeding arising from a criminal matter, in any extradition proceeding, or in any delinquency matter, the court before which the matter is pending shall, if it determines after investigation by the public defender or his office that a defendant is indigent as defined under this chapter, designate a public defender, assistant public defender or deputy assistant public defender to represent such indigent defendant, unless, in a misdemeanor case, at the time of the application for appointment of counsel, the court decides to dispose of the pending charge without subjecting the defendant to a sentence involving immediate incarceration or a suspended sentence of incarceration with a period of probation or the court believes that the disposition of the pending case at a later date will not result in a sentence involving immediate incarceration or a suspended sentence of incarceration with a period of probation and makes a statement to that effect on the record.

Maybe he made too little to hire a private attorney. Maybe Luna was stuck in dead man’s land. And now? Now he’s guilty because it was convenient. The system claimed another victim.

all your DNA are belong to us

The story of the role of DNA in the criminal justice system is quite interesting. Heralded as the ultimate in crime solving, DNA has slowly infiltrated the collective consciousness of the entire nation and infected our lawyers, judges and jurors. It’s a double-edged sword, to be sure: DNA can accurately (or maybe not) identify an individual who leaves behind some trace materials at or in a crime scene, thereby implicating or exculpating a suspect. Fueled by DNA based shows like CSI, jurors became more demanding and mistakenly over reliant on the science, producing the “CSI effect”, DNA, on the other hand, has drawbacks that defense lawyers try to highlight – which I’m not sure have sunk in yet – like the fact that you it can’t tell you when it was deposited. DNA is most famous for high-profile exonerations of people already convicted of crimes and serving lengthy prison sentences.

But DNA is much more than that. As the science grows, the uses and implications of the genetic markers grows by leaps and bounds (see here and for the future, see here).

Which is why DNA, and the collection of DNA, is so attractive to law enforcement agencies. Unfortunately, as is often the case, the evolution of science and technology and the desired application of these new uses conflicts to some degree with the core protections of the Constitution.

Just yesterday, a 3 judge panel of the 9th Circuit heard an appeal in a lawsuit filed by the ACLU challenging the legality of California’s DNA-collection-upon-arrest law. That’s essentially all there is to the law: collect the DNA of everyone ever arrested. (Connecticut tried to pass a similar bill two years ago and it was ultimately rejected.) Under some circumstances, the DNA may never be deleted from their database:

Under the law, [an arrestee] must wait at least three years from the time of her arrest before seeking to remove her genetic information from the database, a request that either a judge or a prosecutor can veto.

Putting aside the capacity for intrusion into one’s privacy – law enforcement having access to you and your history, your health risk, who you’re related to (and again the issue isn’t that they would, but that they could) – and the racial implications, the possession of such power by the state is repugnant to many of us for the simple reason that it seems to stand at such odds with that basic of principles: the presumption of innocence. If you are to be presumed innocent up until the time of a conviction, then why must the State get to intrude upon your person in such a permanent manner? What is the need to collect your genetic markers, so you may be tagged forever as a potential criminal, when up to that point, you’re guilty of nothing?

Asked by Judge William Fletcher why the state keeps the DNA of people who were not convicted, Powell said those who know their samples are in the database are “less likely to commit future crimes.”

Indeed. Criminals – hard and soft – are kept awake at night by the idea that their DNA might be left behind at the scene, and thus are frightened into living the straight life. It might happen on CSI, but not in real life. In real life, DNA testing takes months due to backlogs; in a lot of cases the DNA isn’t even tested before a case is resolved.

The use of the deterrent argument to justify the preservation of the DNA of innocent people is simply a shield to hide behind. I’m surprised they didn’t tie it in to 9/11 and terrorism somehow. Is it too late to invoke Godwin’s Law? But sadly, these days, anything goes in the name of “safety”.

And it’s quite ironic that the State in this case is all for the preservation of DNA and testing and matching of that DNA to find the suspect that they are otherwise unable to do so, when they routinely stonewall and object to requests to test DNA by convicted inmates seeking to prove their innocence.

Courts have long held that convicted felons have fewer rights than the rest of us, that the fact of conviction necessarily means that they’ve given up some rights. The right to privacy and the right not to be suspected for the rest of their lives are two of them. So it’s easier to justify the taking of the DNA of a felon: once a criminal, always a criminal, so let’s keep tabs on him.

Taking the DNA of people merely arrested seems to extend that terrible generalization to all who are unlucky enough to be arrested, thus furthering the presumption of guilt.

In the end, the equation always seems to include two mutually exclusive concepts: more freedom or more safety?

We were fooled. Years later, with years of practice and actual experience under my belt, I’ve come to the conclusion that while the system may still be the “best” in the world, it is only so by comparison to the others that are currently in existence (and even that I doubt, but since I’m no comparative law scholar, what do I know?). That makes me sad, both for the systems of other countries and our own.

There are two indelible truths about the system here in the US: it is the criminal conviction system and finality is king (an idea that deserves a fuller post; upcoming).

And when you combine those two inescapable conclusions, you get Lee v. Lampert (pdf). Lee, you see, got stuck in that quagmire that is AEDPA. Lee, you may also see, has proven that he is actually innocent of the crimes of which he stands convicted. And yet, because he missed the statutory, non-jurisdictional, arbitrary deadline for filing a federal habeas corpus petition, he will get no justice.

The case is troubling for several reasons, but mostly it serves as an example of the ridiculous and arbitrary nature of filing deadlines. Lee, who filed his first Federal habeas petition, will not get the benefit of the “innocence exception” to the statute of limitations.

On the other hand, if Lee had filed a successive or second Federal petition and could show that he was actually innocent, the missed deadline would be forgiven. If Lee had procedurally defaulted in State court, he could avail himself of the actual innocence exception and receive review and relief.

But since Lee timely filed a State petition and this was only his first Federal petition, his actual innocence means nothing to the judges on the Ninth Circuit.

AEDPA is poor legislation at its finest. When courts can rely on flimsy statutes of limitations and even flimsier rationales to look an innocent man straight in the eye and say “sorry, you didn’t make your innocence argument before end of business today, so you’re SOL”, something’s gone horribly wrong.

A distaste for those caught elastic arms of the law, a false reliance on notions of “finality” and a “conviction at all costs” culture has brought us to this nauseating point.

the actual innocence exception arises from the judiciary’s equitable discretion, not the Constitution. Murray v. Carrier, 477 U.S. 478, 496 (1986) (“Accordingly,  we think that in an extraordinary case, where a constitutional violation has probably resulted in the conviction of one who is actually innocent, a federal habeas court may grant the writ even in the absence of a showing of cause for the procedural default.”) (emphasis added); Schlup, 513 U.S. at  314-17 (not mentioning constitutional concerns while formulating exception); id. 324-27 (not mentioning constitutional concerns in holding that Sawyer standard was too strict for actual innocence inquiry); House, 547 U.S. at 536-38 (not mentioning constitutional concerns while formulating exception). We   decline to rule otherwise and instead follow Ferguson: AEDPA’s statute of limitations without an actual innocence exception does not violate the Suspension  Clause. Consequently, we conclude that there is no Schlup actual innocence exception to override AEDPA’s statute of limitations. Lee’s habeas petition is thus  time-barred and must be dismissed.

Since there now seems to be a Circuit split, one can only hope that SCOTUS has the courage to look an innocent man in the eye and say “finality be damned, justice shall be served”.

Via C&F, Gamso too.

Meet Thomas White, also convicted for child sexual assault and who also spent 5 years in prison before a third jury finally acquitted him in 2005.

But Hidalgo and White have more in common that merely being falsely accused of terrible crimes for which they both spent long years in harsh conditions in prison. Both convictions were obtained by a failure of the system: in Hidalgo’s case, aided by the complete inexperience of his defense attorney in what amounted to a constructive denial of counsel; in White’s, horrifying misconduct by the police and prosecutors to hide exculpatory evidence.

Stevensen was working for the Barker and Howard law firm, which provided indigent defense services for Chelan County, when he was assigned in 1995 to represent Hidalgo. He had been admitted to the Washington State Bar less than two years earlier, and had been working as a Chelan County public defender for a little over a year.

In a declaration filed in court on Friday, Stevensen, now a juvenile prosecutor for Chelan County, wrote that he had had limited legal experience and little supervision or support from his employers when he was handed the Hidalgo case.

Stevensen wrote that he was unable to launch a counter defense to medical testimony, offered by prosecutors, that one of the children Hidalgo was accused of attacking had been sexually assaulted. He said that he did not know how to “attack” the strong medical testimony or to call on expert witnesses to attest that children sometimes make up stories of being sexually assaulted when they are improperly questioned by authorities.

It would be pointless for me to recap the problems in White’s case here, so just go read these posts. I’ll wait.

Done?

In both cases, one thing is clear to me: the system failed the defendants. Whether it be the public defender system in Hidalgo or the law enforcement and criminal justice system in White. The difference is that Hidalgo’s lawyer has seemingly taken responsibility for his contribution to Hidalgo’s nightmare, whereas the officer and prosecutor in White’s case pretend like they’ve done nothing wrong.

The suit against the police in White is nothing new. The suit in Hidalgo is extremely rare. Hidalgo’s lawyer settled, because he has malpractice insurance although his suit against the public defender system is still pending.

Someone, ultimately, must pay. In some form or another. While courts have routinely declined to hold prosecutors responsible for their misconduct (see here and here and more generally here and here), defense lawyers have no such immunity. And Stevensen, to his credit, did the right thing. He stood up and took responsibility for his actions. That he is being held financially responsible for his inexperience and not any intentionally malicious act on his part is unfortunate, but as long as courts decline to recognize that the system itself is flawed, the burden will fall on the individual lawyer.

Much about the system, though, is backwards. Just like the detective in White who continues to remain a police officer,

Stevensen was admitted to the Washington State Bar in October 1993 and was hired by Barker and Howard in 1994.

Barker and Howard no longer provides the county’s public defense, but did provide it from January 1994 until December 2002. One of its partners, attorney Keith Howard, then contracted with the county until 2006. In 2007, the county switched to a public defenders office, called Counsel for the Defense of Chelan County, and hired Howard as its director.

Hopefully Stevensen has learned from his mistakes, although he’s now on the other side of the fence as a juvenile prosecutor.

There’s one more thing worth mentioning in Hidalgo, especially in light of the conversation around the ‘sphere a few weeks ago regarding IAC and our responsibilities:

Partway through the trial, Firkins, a private attorney [and Hidalgo's current attorney], sent a letter to the court offering to represent Hidalgo if the judge, Carol Wardell, would grant a two-week continuance. Wardell denied the request, saying in court that she thought Stevensen was doing a good job.

It must’ve been clear to some that Stevensen wasn’t doing a constitutionally adequate job, perhaps even Hidalgo himself. Yet he was denied the opportunity to prevent the injustice prior to its occurrence and only gets some measure of vindication after spending 6 years:

Hidalgo was assaulted while in prison and put in solitary confinement. Other court documents state that he was assaulted twice in prison and spent six months in solitary confinement for his own protection.

One can’t begin to put an economic price on the damage to the lives of Hidalgo and White. Money goes a long way, but it isn’t everything. And the beating taken by the system and our notions of justice? What’s the price on repairing that?

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.

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.

[W]hen the Fourth Amendment demands a factual showing sufficient to comprise `probable cause,’ the obvious assumption is that there will be a truthful showing” (emphasis in original). This does not mean “truthful” in the sense that every fact recited in the warrant affidavit is necessarily correct, for probable cause may be founded upon hearsay and upon information received from informants, as well as upon information within the affiant’s own knowledge that sometimes must be garnered hastily. But surely it is to be “truthful” in the sense that the information put forth is believed or appropriately accepted by the affiant as true.

Justice Blackmun, in Franks v. Delaware, quoting Judge Frankel in US v. Halsey. Franks, of course, permits a defendant to challenge the veracity of the statements in a search warrant. If he makes a substantial showing that the affidavit contains intentional falsehoods or material omissions, then he gets an evidentiary hearing to prove..umm..that there are falsehood or misrepresentations or omissions in the affidavit.

But Franks applies only to search warrants. What of the scenario where the officer intentionally lies to get a judge to sign a warrant for an arrest? There has to be judicial review of an arrest warrant and a finding of probable cause. But since we know officers lie, what if an officer lied to get a person arrested? Is there any remedy for that? I’ve been asked this question more than a few times over the last month and was a topic of discussion on the local listserve today, so I figure it’s about time I write a post on it.

There is a remedy, sort of. It’s more of a hollow remedy. In State v. Dolphin, the Connecticut supreme court, without explicitly stating so, applied the Franks analysis to an arrest warrant. As with the search warrant, a defendant attacking the validity of an arrest warrant must prove by a preponderance of the evidence that the falsehoods contained in the warrant, or the material omissions would defeat probable cause:

When reviewing whether a Franks hearing is warranted, we recognize that there is a “longstanding rule that there is an underlying presumption of validity with respect to the affidavit supporting a warrant.” State v. Dolphin, 195 Conn. 444, 457 (1985). In order for a defendant to challenge the truthfulness of an affidavit underlying a warrant at a Franks hearing, he must: (1) make a “substantial preliminary showing that a false statement knowingly and intentionally, or with reckless disregard for the truth, was included by the affiant in the warrant affidavit”; and (2) show that the allegedly false statement is necessary to a finding of probable cause. Franks v. Delaware, supra, 155-56. If the allegedly false statement is set aside, however, and there remains sufficient evidence to establish probable cause, a Franks hearing is not necessary. Id., 171-72. Although the Franks decision referred only to false statements in the affidavit, we have held that “material omissions from such an affidavit also fall within the rule….” State v. Stepney, 191 Conn. 233, 238 (1984).

State v. Bergin. So let us assume that there is, indeed, a material omission. A court finds that the warrant, with the material omitted, would not sustain a finding of probable cause. Then what? One could argue logically that when a search warrant is invalid, the fruits of the search are suppressed. If an arrest warrant is invalid, the arrest should be invalidated. But wait:

The relationship between an illegal arrest and a subsequent prosecution under federal constitutional law is well settled. In an unbroken line of cases dating back to 1886, the federal rule has been that an illegal arrest will not bar a subsequent prosecution or void a resulting conviction. United States v. Crews, 445 U.S. 463, 474 (1980); Gerstein v. Pugh, 420 U.S. 103, 119 (1975); United States v. Blue, 384 U.S. 251, 255 (1966); Frisbie v. Collins, 342 U.S. 519, 522 (1952); Ker v. Illinois, 119 U.S. 436, 440 (1886).

State v. Fleming. An illegal arrest does not stop a prosecution nor does it void a conviction. The argument, it seems, is that you’ve committed the crime if you’ve committed the crime and any illegality in actually initiating the prosecution shouldn’t enable you to go scot-free. What does it get you, then? A Franks violation in an arrest warrant gets you a suppression of the fruits of that illegal arrest: a confession, items seized, etc. But it doesn’t change the fact that you have been accused and thus can be prosecuted for the crime.

A Franks violation in an affidavit supporting an arrest warrant does not entitle a defendant to the dismissal of the charges for which he was arrested. Such a violation may require the suppression of evidence or statements obtained as a result of the execution of the warrant but it does not deprive the court of jurisdiction nor does it bar a subsequent prosecution or void a resulting conviction. United States v. Crews, 445 U.S. 463, 474 (1980); Gerstein v. Pugh, 420 U.S. 103, 119 (1975); United States v. Blue, 384 U.S. 251, 255 (1966); Frisbie v. Collins, 342 U.S. 519, 522 (1952); Ker v. Illinois, 119 U.S. 436, 440 (1886).

State v. Patterson. This, of course, assumes that there are “fruits” of the illegal arrest. What of the case where there are none? You can easily imagine the scenario where the omission of potentially exculpatory information permits the State to obtain a warrant for the arrest of an individual, thus initiating the criminal prosecution. After that, it’s their decision whether to pursue the charges or not and that power essentially entitles the State to force the defendant to a trial, at expense to himself or to the State, through the office of the public defender.

A Constitutional violation caused by the improper acts of the agents of the State having been established, the jurisprudence in this area provides for no real remedy whatsoever. This is a glaring hole in Constitutional caselaw that can be exploited to harass, threaten and otherwise ruin perfectly innocent people. To acknowledge on one hand that the State has engaged in illegal activity and yet on the other permit the same State to continue to reap the benefit of that illegal activity and to force the defendant to risk a trial or accept a compromise deal vitiates Due Process in the worst way. I have not been able to find a mechanism by which the prosecution itself can be dismissed where a warrant has been found to have been obtained by illegal means. Do you know of any?

“Man, if I had a real lawyer, I’d have gotten a dismissal already.”

Yeah, sure.

“I know how this works. If I had a private lawyer, he could fight for me more, but I can’t afford one so I’m stuck with you and this crappy deal.”

Whatever you say.

The irony is that the myth “you’re guilty if you’re poor” is just a few minor edits away from being close to the truth. The reality is that in the volume-high, fund-low world of indigent defense, most people are certainly guilty of one thing: being poor.

I’m not referring to the link between poverty and crime, for which there is much to be said – despite the tortured claim put forth last year that the declining economy coincided with a declining prison population and hence there was no link, an argument that any statistician worth the paper his degree was printed on would snarkily dismiss out of hand with the acronym SSS* – and indeed much has been said, but rather to the reality that unfolds every single day in the busiest courthouses across the country.

In response to my post yesterday on the “difficulty facing public defenders” [and if you want to read a more thoughtful post on the subject, check out Gamso's], a commenter points out that what I identified as a difficult wasn’t really exclusive to public defenders. The presumption of guilt applies to all defendants. But what is special to the indigent bar is that we often have to sit by and watch clients plead guilty, without having a clue whether they are actually guilty or not and without having the opportunity to determine that.

For almost every defendant except the guy doing life on the installment plan, the single biggest motivating factor is liberty. “When can I get out?” is the paramount question.

What with the concept of bail being a joke and no one really having any clue what a reasonable amount is anymore, the choices available to the average defendant are stark and bleak: pray for a promise to appear, sit in jail or do whatever it takes to get the hell out.

Some judges and most prosecutors are acutely aware of this dilemma and a fair percentage of them are not above leveraging it into a conviction.

Offer a deal – any deal – that involves no jail time and the incarcerated defendant will jump on it faster than you can say “suspended sentence”. Guilt or innocence be damned. As long as he can get out today, he’s taking it.

For the public defender, this is quite the conundrum. On one hand, the client’s interests are paramount and whatever is the client’s paramount interest is yours. The ability to investigate, to challenge the State’s case, to force a dismissal if the facts align themselves are all tertiary.

“I want to get out” is an argument against which there is no satisfactory response. Ethically, we must convey every offer to the client. And, at times, they’re not bad deals. They’re just not as good as they should be. When the State offers a suspended sentence, it’s patently obvious that there weaknesses in their case, sometimes even fatal ones.

If only we could convince the client to hold out longer, while we finish that investigation, while we round up those witnesses and get those statements, while we beat the State into submission with the glaring holes in their case, while three months have elapsed.

To the poor, incarcerated client, this is just not a convincing strategy. It’s hard to argue with the allure of immediate freedom and escape from the shitholes that are our prisons.

The reality is that our clients are poor. They want out. We stand by, often with nothing more than a police report and counsel them as best we can that we can’t really tell them whether to take the promise of immediate freedom because we haven’t had time to do any research or investigation. They look at us as nothing more than a warm body and decide that they’d rather take the abstract notion of an unjust conviction and the attendant liberty over the potential of no conviction and the fact of more time spent behind bars.

If only they had money to fight the case “from the outside”. If only they weren’t poor and the system didn’t take advantage of that.

That’s a difficult pill to swallow.

*small sample size

Ammianus Marcellinus relates an anecdote of the Emperor Julian which illustrates the enforcement of this principle in the Roman law. Numerius, the governor of Narbonensis, was on trial before the Emperor, and, contrary to the usage in criminal cases, the trial was public. Numerius contented himself with denying his guilt, and there was not sufficient proof against him. His adversary, Delphidius, “a passionate man,” seeing that the failure of the accusation was inevitable, could not restrain himself, and exclaimed, “Oh, illustrious Cæsar! if it is sufficient to deny, what hereafter will become of the guilty?” to which Julian replied, “If it suffices to accuse, what will become of the innocent?” Rerum Gestarum, L. XVIII, c. 1.

Coffin v. United States. The presumption of innocence, a bedrock principle of criminal justice systems the world over for generations, is really not that ambiguous or in doubt. The presumption has been traced by some to Deuteronomy and there is evidence that it was embodied in the laws of Athens and Sparta. “Better than 10 guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer“, says Blackstone [see here for a summary of the history of the presumption].

It’s a catchy phrase: “innocent until proven guilty”. It nicely ties in the other core principles: the burden of proof is on the State; the defendant has a Constitutional right not to testify; each and every element must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. I’ve often employed Emperor Julian’s response, reproduced above, in answering the cocktail party question.

It’s all a lie. A big, bold-faced, wool over your eyes lie.

The presumption of innocence is dead, at least in practice. The real presumption, if you must, is that of guilt. Despite the Constitutional and historical directives to the contrary, the defendant “enjoys” a presumption of guilt from the moment of the institution of criminal proceedings.

From the absurdly low standard of probable cause needed to arrest a citizen, to the pitifully slanted pre-trial proceedings, to the trial itself, the presumption weighs heavily against all those who have been charged with a crime.

22tweets, a creation of Lance Godard, asked those who were featured in last week’s Blawg Review one question on twitter. Mine was: “What would you say is the most difficult aspect of being a public defender?”*

As I pondered that past the deadline for a response, I cycled through the regular ills of a pd system: a lack of funding, crushing caseloads. But that’s not difficult. It’s a burden, to be sure, and an impediment, but one that can be overcome.

The most difficult aspect for me, then, is this. This wretched presumption that hampers and stymies and confounds at every step of the way. This presumption that takes what would be an obvious case of injustice and turns it into a fight for a dismissal.

Take it a step at a time: the State (or prosecution, if you prefer) has already made up its mind about the defendant’s guilt. They’re initiating a criminal prosecution. In their mind, they’ve already convicted the defendant. That’s the hand they’re playing from.  “Why should I believe your client?” “You think a jury’s going to buy that?” “Oh, that’s his alibi?”

Skepticism and disbelief reign supreme. We have to prove to them that their initial assessment of the defendant’s guilt is incorrect. The burden is shifting.

The media coverage, if any, is almost always slanted toward the prosecution. Unbiased, non-sensationalist reporting is almost non-existent. The press plays a subtle role in shaping the opinions of the jury pool.

But there’s always the trial, you say. A determination of guilt or not-guilt to be made by a jury of “peers”. All 6 or 12 of them are indoctrinated about the presumption of innocence and all vow to uphold the State to its burden.

I have come to believe that that is hogwash. Jurors are smart enough to know what to say. They’ve also been reading the same newspapers and watching the same news. There’s still this cultural divide between “them” the defendants, and “us” the jurors. Someone’s been arrested and is going to trial? Well, there must be something to it or why else would the State waste its time?

The presumption goes to the State. If the State, in its benevolence and infinite wisdom has decided to pursue this matter, then, well…

If you had a client in whose case you believed the State’s evidence could not sustain the burden, would you dare rest without putting on any evidence? Do you have that much faith in jurors?

I have this belief – it may be a naive belief – that most trials are won not because the jury upheld the presumption of innocence, but because the defense overcame the presumption of guilt.

It is human nature to want to hear both sides of a story and then decide which one is more believable. To force the jurors to perform their duty in a manner that is contrary to this human need is merely wishful thinking, no matter how forceful the instruction from the judge.**

The presumption of innocence exists in name only; a lofty ideal that we can thump our chests about and shout from rooftops. Look at this fine example of how just we are as a society.

The real truth, hidden in the backrooms of courthouses and in the ugly, dirty trenches of everyday warfare is quite different. Every morning, the defendant and the defense lawyer face a nearly unsurmountable task: overcome the fact that almost everyone but you thinks your client is guilty.

[*If you have a better response to that question, leave it in a comment. I'd be glad to hear and discuss it.]

[**Maybe, must maybe times are changing with the proliferation of DNA exonerations and wrongful convictions. But I'm not yet convinced. And DNA evidence is surely a double-edged sword for the defendant. Somewhat akin to Rule 34 is the Rule of DNA: If there is DNA, he is guilty. Oh, and Google Rule 34 at your own risk.]

the metaphor, stupid

Monday was a marathon day at the state legislature, with several criminal justice bills being considered. Two of the most important, in my view, were the bills to eviscerate The Great Writ (see prior post here) and Connecticut’s first attempt at residency restrictions (see previous post here). For those who want to brave through the public hearing, the entire video is here and written testimony submitted can be read here.

[A warning: this post is long, repeats some arguments I've already made and is extremely rude and vitriolic. But if you don't read it, you support terrorists.]

The habeas corpus effective suspension and evisceration bill

Chief State’s Attorney Kevin Kane testified at length (almost an hour, I think) on the habeas corpus “reform” bill. There were many, many problems with his testimony, but a few things really stuck in my craw. The entire basis for the State’s “suggestions” in the habeas reform bill seemed to be premised on two things: 1) that there is a glut of “frivolous” petitions and courts are overburdened; and 2) by moving the restrictions on the filing of habeas corpus petitions to the “front end”, rather than during the process itself, there will be a lot of weeding out and the load will be lightened.

Both are unfounded. CSA Kane went on for the better part of an hour, trumpeting the vast number of “successive petitions”, before someone on the committee had the good sense to ask him for some numbers. Just what constitutes a successive petition and what does he consider frivolous? Certainly not all petitions that are denied are not frivolous and eventually he had to admit that. Later on, during the testimony of the Deputy Chief Public Defender, we heard that a meager 4 1/2 % of all petitions were “successive”, in that petitioners had filed a prior habeas corpus petition.

But the State’s argument was premised on this straw man (if not outright lie) that the courts were dealing with a deluge of repetitive, frivolous and time consuming merit-less habeas petitions where petitioners were on their 9th or 10th bite at the apple. From what I’ve been told, there is maybe one inmate who is on his 7th or 8th petition, but that’s about it.

The second premise of the state’s position is all the more confusing and confounding. To allay the fears of the few who rightly questioned the evisceration of such an important and time-honored Constitutional right, the state has inserted several “exceptions” into the bill that would apparently provide a mechanism whereby petitioners can get review of meritorious claims despite missing the statute of limitations and/or having filed prior habeas corpus petitions.

But the onus in all of those exceptions falls squarely on the shoulders of indigent, incarcerated inmates. When asked, for example, how the inmate could make a showing that there were facts that would lead a court to believe there was a chance that the petition was meritorious, the CSA replied that the petitioner could submit an affidavit of facts, that a court would then consider.

And just how is an inmate to do that? Counsel would not be appointed at that stage, so the petitioner would have no access to resources to effectuate such an affidavit. How is he to send people out into the community to investigate the merit to his claims? How is he to present them in a legally effective manner to a judge? Courts routinely insist that defendants and petitioners should not represent themselves and yet here we place this onerous burden, even in cases alleging actual innocence on an incarcerated inmate.

Not one legislator pointed out, much to my dismay, that the Courts would have the same amount of work, just clothed in a different garb. Instead of ruling on the merits of the petitioner’s claims, the court would rule on the merits to decide if there was merit. And then presumably rule again? The fact that this will only lead to more litigation should be obvious to everyone.

Also to my dismay, not one legislator challenged the sound-bite claim that victims are routinely dragged out to habeas corpus hearings, many years later and forced to face a retrial of sorts. In fact, at around 1:03:00 on the video, Judiciary Committee Co-Chair Mike Lawlor parrots the State’s position that “we can trot thousands of victims in here” who are notified that there is a habeas pending and they may be called to testify. Does it sound terrible? Yes. Does it happen? Almost rarely.

In fact, I can’t think of any case that I know of where the victim was called to testify at the habeas trial. There is maybe one scenario in which a victim may be called to testify. Perhaps this is something for which statistics cannot be kept. Still, someone should challenge this fearmongering argument, because it will quickly fall apart, instead of blindly accepting it as true. It simply is not true.

And as an aside, even if a victim is called to testify at a habeas trial, we should not use that as an excuse to curtail the basic Constitutional right to challenge the legality of one’s conviction. The slight inconvenience experienced by any such victim should necessarily take a back seat to the monumental interest in determining whether a person has been unlawfully and illegally deprived of his liberty.

The residency “you hate children or you love terrorists” restrictions bill

The testimony on this bill starts at around 03:14:10 on the video. The main testimony in support of the bill comes from State Rep. Rebimbas. Now, she does not represent my district, I hadn’t heard of her existence prior to Monday and I’ve never, ever spoken to the woman. I’m sure she does a fine job representing her district.

But.

Either she’s horribly assisted by aides who gave her incorrect information, or she misspoke or she intentionally fudged so many things to the committee that it made my head spin.

Two big points here as well: 1) The 2000 feet residency restriction zone is not overly restrictive; and 2) Sex offender recidivism is the highest.

Those who are regular readers of this blog know that residency restrictions are a pet peeve of mine (I even have a category dedicated to it). They are ineffective, useless and only tend to drive sex offenders underground.

At 3:41:00 (approx.) she says that 2000 feet is not overly restrictive “because it’s less than half a mile”. Putting aside the fact that 2000 feet is not less than half a mile, 2000 feet would put Connecticut into the group of most restrictive states. Per this 2007 OLR report, most states have residency restriction zones less than 2000 feet. The only states with a restriction of 2000 feet are Alabama, Arkansas, Iowa (whose County Attorneys issued this statement in 2006 against residency restrictions) and Oklahoma. So 2000 feet would be the most restrictive legislation in the country.

At approx 03:47:00, a legislator hits upon the biggest problem with the residency restrictions in urban cities. There’s a map of places covered by a 1500 feet restriction in the city of New Haven. The only place in the entire city of New Haven that is not within 1500 feet of a school or daycare is in the middle of the Yale golf course. Increase that radius to 2000 feet and there’s nowhere in any of CT’s large cities where sex offenders could reside. (See this post for another map and more on this.)

You should also listen to her evasive bullshit response to Rep. Holder-Winfield at approx 03:53:02 on the question of which, if any, states had restrictions greater than 2000 feet.

What’s the upshot of that? Sex offenders move into rural areas. Mike Lawlor joked at one point that he’s not sure how the rural legislators would feel about that. We all know how Southbury crapped the bed when one sex offender moved in. Imagine a whole busload of them.

In her long winded and vacuous answer to the question about where these sex offenders would go, the Rep. responded by repeating the easily refuted claim that sex offenders are very likely to reoffend and that “we’re protecting the children”. I’m not sure how many times I’m going to have to cite to the studies that show 1) that 95% of sex crimes are committed by people known to the victim and 2) that sex offenders have very low recidivism rates.

When pushed (at 03:55:03) about her numbers on recidivism, she didn’t have any handy, but “her numbers show that there are high recidivism rates”.

Look, I’m not sure if she knows all the answers or what. The point here is that this is dangerous legislation and should only be discussed, much less voted upon, with the full knowledge of the facts. Legislators needs to read all the studies in this area, arm themselves with accurate and reliable facts and then have a long and honest discussion about whether residency restrictions are needed in Connecticut.

The reality is that there already do exist residency restrictions and those are in the form of conditions of probation. When a defendant is on probation, they own him. They control what he wears, what he breathes and more importantly where he lives. Every client that I have, who is convicted of a sex offense, has some form of residency restriction built into his conditions.

Poorly thought out laws should have no place in our penal code, much less ones proposed based on knee-jerk fearmongering. Trotting out the children to pass terrible legislation is akin to the “if you’re against the war, you’re for the terrorists” mantra.

We must refuse to cower blindly to imaginary fears.