judges

Paying for injustice

May 18th

Meet Manuel Hidalgo Rodriguez, arrested and convicted in 1995 for child sexual assault that he did not commit. Hidalgo spent 5 years out of a 5 1/2 year sentence before his conviction was reversed and the charges dismissed.

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.

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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?

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Tonya Craft teaches us all

May 11th

Posted by Gideon in ethics

15 comments

Tonya Craft, a former kindergarten teacher, charged with 22 counts of various sexual offenses involving 3 minor girls, was acquitted today. You may or may not have heard of her. I wrote a post recently about the trial and some of the outrageous antics engaged in by the prosecutors.

She was represented by Demosthenes Lorandos, who apparently has made a habit of successfully defending child sex cases across the country, and who hilariously said at the post-verdict press conference: “I do not lose”.

The media has been all over this trial, bringing it much needed attention. At first, the attention focused on the misbehavior of the prosecutors [see this for some very questionable comments during closing] and later the complete lack of qualification and training of the so-called “child sex experts”.

Twitter was set ablaze today as the jury was deliberating and the tweets of joy were abundant when the verdict was announced. Parties have been planned, interviews being given on the news and Ms. Craft will now fight to regain custody of her children.

All’s well that ends well. But this is not a happy post, nor is it a merely celebratory one. While Ms. Craft has the opportunity to return to her life, there are lessons for all of us. A fellow defense lawyer asked on Twitter: “Who is #tonyacraft and why [is she] any different from all of our other human tragedies?”

She is not. There are hundreds of Tonya Crafts out there in the criminal justice system, every single day, pleading to charges to avoid lengthy sentences or attempting to fight the false allegations and losing.

Any criminal defense lawyer (like yours truly) saw a stream of familiarity in the continuing coverage by news reporters of the direct and cross-examinations of the witnesses. The dissection of the forensic interviews by the defense experts was a veritable checklist of the problems associated with such after-the-fact divining: repeated questions, leading questions, suggestive questions. Pressuring children to answer a certain way; the worst form of confirmation bias. The prosecutors attempting to cast the defendant in general terms as a bad person, a person of loose moral character, thus equating foibles in their character with child molestation.

This. Happens. Every. Day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. People are falsely accused of crimes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Preempting Strickland

May 9th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

4 comments

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:

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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”.

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A witchhunt by men who molest the law

Apr 29th

Posted by Gideon in ethics

10 comments

[Update: She's been acquitted.] Raise your hand if you’ve never heard of Tonya Craft. I hadn’t either, until I stumbled across this post at change.org. Tonya Craft is the latest lightning rod in that modern day witch-hunt: the sex offender.

But, from all accounts, this isn’t a normal case. This is a shining example of the lengths people will go to, in order to brand someone a villain. The word sham is inadequate to describe the sheer rape of the law that is currently underway in Northwest Georgia at Craft’s trial.

There’s little doubt that a guilty verdict will fail on appeal. Yet Arnt and his fellow prosecutor Len Gregor seem intent on achieving one anyway, no matter the cost. They’ve badgered witnesses with questions about Craft’s exercise and lawn-mowing habits, of all things. They’ve asked whether Craft is a narcissist, and if Craft ever passed out in a girlfriend’s bed after a night of drinking. These so-called “sordid revelations” that the kind that only a puritan (or an unhinged prosecutor) would connect to evidence of child molestation.

The case has gotten weirder and weirder. One defense witness, who let Craft watch her children every day for almost two years without incident, testified that one of Craft’s accusers — who is also a child actress — was “worldly for her age.” “Does that mean she’s a slut?” asked Gregor. When the witness uncomfortably denied the charge, Gregor wondered whether the child might be a “pre-slut.”

While change.org has two posts on the subject, much of the coverage is being done by this man (and this newspaper). The transgressions of the prosecutors in this case are numerous: from claiming that they didn’t have to obey the law, to employing the worst “experts”, to seeking to introduce dubious “prior bad acts”. I could really go on, but that wouldn’t do the story any justice. Instead, follow the yellow brick road from the ridiculous:

Craft’s trial has also seen a parade of so-called forensics experts act as effective cheerleaders for the prosecution. One expert who made an appearance, Holly Nave Kittle of the Children’s Advocacy Center, was openly hostile to questions about her lack of credentials and was unfamiliar with any relevant child abuse literature. Neither did she help her credibility as a witness after she “liked” a public Facebook post by Arnt, in which he wondered “if Tonya Craft’s Defense [sic] lawyers are really insane of [sic] just trying to jack up her defense bill?” (Both Arnt and Kittle’s conduct likely violate Georgia’s ethical rules.)

Another prosecution “expert” involved, Suzie Thorne, lacks a college degree, and her testimony seems highly suspect. When Thorne interviewed one of the children involved during a videotaped session, she asked the girl a whopping 16 times whether “anything else happened.” Each time, the child said no. However, Thorne testified that after she shut off the camera, the child left the room and then returned — suddenly remembering that yes, Craft had sexually abused her.

Fair enough. But then why didn’t Thorne record this statement, or press the child for more information on camera?

to the “what the fuck are you talking about?”:

“Do you know anything about a time that Ms. Craft came to the door of her home dressed only in a towel to meet a first-time date?” “No, I do not,” said the witness.

Mr. Gregor asked, “Do you know any narcissists?” “No, I do not.”

“Would a good person molest a child?” “No.” “Would a good person insert a finger or thumb in a vagina or rectum?” “No.”

As Noah Arenstein at Change puts it: the prosecutors were becoming increasingly unhinged. At least until the media showed up. But that’s not the worst of it. The man who seems to have defiled the purity and sanctity of the law the most is the judge presiding over the trial: Judge Brian House. Starting with declining (without explanation) to recuse himself from the trial, despite having represented Craft’s ex-husband in his divorce from her, to permitting completely irrelevant testimony about the defendant’s alleged affairs with adults, to not permitting the defense to present any character evidence of the defendant, after permitting irrelevant character-assassination testimony from the prosecution.

We all are aware that allegations of child sexual abuse inflame the passions of most people. But when a woman is so horribly being railroaded in a trial, where the singular aim seems to be to obtain a conviction in the face of damning evidence suggesting the contrary, where all independent observes agree that even if a conviction is obtained, it is sure to be reversed on appeal, do we know that we’ve crossed the line from hysteria into madness.

Prosecutors so abusing their power and a judge sanctioning the farce is a damning indictment of the lengths we will go to to demonize those that may be innocent so long as a child is involved. Whether Tonya Craft is guilty or not is irrelevant. That the trial is being permitted to be conducted in such an egregious manner casts a dark pall over all of us that hold the criminal justice system here in such high regard.

While this is the first I’ve read about Tonya Craft, this won’t be the last. I hope it’s the same for you.

[You can follow coverage of the trial by reporters on Twitter and use the #TonyaCraft hashtag.]

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Guilty of being poor

Apr 5th

Posted by Gideon in bail

6 comments

There is a myth that persists among criminal defendants that is well known to all of us: if you are poor, there’s a greater likelihood you’ll be found guilty of something. This myth – and a myth it is, because the rate of conviction is so damn high that you can’t honestly carve out any special class among the universe of defendants – is a steady source of amusement for the public servant.

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

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

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All it takes is one

Mar 30th

Posted by Gideon in judges

1 comment

One witness, one complainant, one word. That’s all it takes for your life to start tumbling down the rabbit hole. One accusation, one prosecutor to believe it and one judge who is laissez-faire. That’s all it takes.

For some cosmic reason, this has been the most frequent topic of conversation with clients that I’ve had in the last two weeks. And I’ve always known, in the back of my head, the power wielded by the State in the criminal justice system. Heck, that’s why my job is an uphill battle.

But until last week, I’ve never really had to confront it head on, think about it for a while and explain it to several people, one after the other.

“Can they do that?” asked one client when I informed him that the State had upped the charges against him to a crime that carried a mandatory-minimum sentence. With an apologetic curl of the lip, I conveyed an affirmative response. “They can do whatever they want”, was my response.

“They can do whatever they want”. For the most part, it’s true, isn’t it? The State decides what to charge. The State makes all plea offers. The State decides which co-defendant to try first and which charge to try first. The State decides if it wants a pre-sentence investigation. The State decides what material they think is exculpatory and what needs to be turned over.

The power of the State is fearsome.

What’s more is that the State decides whom to believe. That was Client 2. “You mean someone can make up some shit about me, say I did this to her and I go to jail?”

“Well,” I tried to explain, “that’s what the State believes happened. That’s the evidence they’ll present at trial. It’s her word against yours.”

“That’s bullshit, man” came the understandable response.

It is bullshit.

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

Vengeance at its most shameful

Mar 29th

Posted by Gideon in dumb laws

29 comments

Jordan Brown, a resident of western Pennsylvania, is charged with shooting Kenzie Marie Houk and her unborn child. Police say that Brown shot her once at point blank range. Today, a judge ruled [thanks to Doc Berman via Gamso] that the prosecution against Brown can remain in his court and denied the defense’s motion for transfer of venue.

Jordan Brown is 12. At the time of the death of Houk, he was 11.

I repeat. Jordan Brown is 12. And a judge ruled that he can be tried as an adult. A state in these United States is about to prosecute an eleven year old as an adult murderer.

Here is a file picture of him, taken from CNN. Look at it. This cherubic 12 year old now faces life in prison. The rest of the post after the photo and the jump.

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

That this decision – to deny a transfer to juvenile court – is an abomination is an understatement. This decision makes Brown the youngest child charged as an adult anywhere in America.

The reasoning for doing so is even more shameful.

Since being charged with the murder of his father’s fiance, Jordan Brown, through his defense attorneys, has asserted his innocence.

Largely because of those denials, a Lawrence County judge ruled Monday that Brown, now 12 years old, will stand trial as an adult.

In his 17-page decision, [Judge Dominick] Motto ruled that the defense failed to meet its burden, in large part because Brown’s continued denials in the crime show an unwillingness to take responsibility for his actions, a necessary factor in rehabilitation.

Motto said that point was established by both forensic psychologists in the case — John O’Brien, who testified for the prosecution, and Kirk Heilbrun, the defense’s expert — who testified in de-certification hearings Jan. 29 and March 12

That the burden is on the defense to show that the child is capable of rehabilitation and is not a danger to society is absurd. The state of the law belies a fundamental misunderstanding about the nature and manner of the child psychology and the development of the human mind.

But again, this is an 11-12 year old we’re talking about. The law in Pennsylvania is that anyone above the age of 10 (10!!!) can be tried as an adult. In Connecticut, the threshold is 14.

To compound the travesty that is the untenably low age threshold and the burden on the defense to show something that should be presumed, the Judge then relies on the lack of “acceptance of responsibility” of an 11-12 year old to justify his decision to treat him like a full-grown adult. This is judicial cowardice of the worst kind.

To say that in order to be treated as a juvenile, a child must display the kind of emotional maturity that most adults in the system are unable to display well into their 40s and then use the lack of that adult development to justify treating the child as an adult is mind-bogglingly contradictory and stupid.

The prosecutor gets no points, either. He, seemingly honestly, states:

“This is something that you wouldn’t even think of in your worst nightmare, that you’d have to charge an 11-year-old with homicide,” [Lawrence County District Attorney John] Bongivengo told a local CNN affiliate in Pittsburgh when Houk was killed in February 2009. “It’s heinous, the whole situation.”

This statement rings hollow. If this is your worst nightmare, John Bongivengo, then do something about it. If the decision is truly with the court to decide whether to transfer the case back to juvenile court, then side with the defense in urging the judge to do so. Don’t file a brief and argue that your relatively inexperienced “expert” correctly concluded that there is “very limited” capacity for juvenile treatment.

I understand the reasons for permitting juveniles to be tried as adults in the most serious of crimes. You do adult things, you face adult consequences. But to bring an 11-year old under aegis of such legal chicanery is appalling.

In most murder prosecutions – and certainly in death penalty prosecutions – vengeance is a driving factor. Punishment and revenge rule the day. But this is not the place for it and certainly an 11-year old is not a worthy object of the collective wrath of the adult criminal justice system.

It is a tragedy that Houk died and her unborn child along with it. But allowing this prosecution to continue does nothing but add to the utter destruction these people’s lives have already experienced. There is no need for vengeance here, but rather for the stern understanding displayed by a disappointed parent toward an unknowing, developmentally undeveloped adolescent.

When the law provides for him to be punished as juvenile for the next 10-11 years of his life, seeking to have as 12 year old incarcerated for the remainder of his natural life smells of nothing but shameful bloodlust.

As an 11-year old, Jordan Brown would still be in middle school. Maybe he just started noticing girls. Maybe he still wants to be a policeman or firefighter. He probably hasn’t stopped growing. And here we are, the best justice system in the world, condemning him to the possibility of spending the rest of his life in jail.

If this isn’t cruel and unusual, I don’t know what is.

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Judge for a day – IV

Mar 24th

Posted by Gideon in ct legal news

8 comments

“Tring tring”

“Hello, how may I help you today?”

“One robbery, please.”

“For here or to go?”

“To go, please.”

“Okay, your total is one smack on the head, plus tax.”

Fine, so that’s not exactly how the conversation went when two would-be robbers called a local bank and informed the person on the phone that they would be stopping by in a few to pick up their order of cash.

“You can’t make this stuff up,” Sgt. James Perez, Fairfield police spokesman, told the Post. “They literally called the bank and said to have the bag of money ready on the floor because they’re coming to rob the place.”

Then, true to their word, they showed up – just as police were coming to greet them.

One is a 16-year old juvenile and the other, 27, is on probation for – wait for it – robbing a bank. Prison may not have cured him of his bank-robber-itis, but it sure did teach him some manners.

[This is just an extreme example of the dire mopiness of most of our clients. An overwhelming number of clients that we here at 'a public defender' represent are sad souls, lost in the quagmire of a dead end life. Most aren't very educated and very few are even street savvy. They're just fools, for the most part, who make bad mistakes without thinking of the consequences. Drugs, alcohol and poverty play a significant role in their motivations for committing crimes. Very few of them, however, have the common courtesy to call ahead.]

So it’s time to return to one of my favorite games: judge for a day (previous installments here, here, here and here). Imagine you’re the judge who is to affix a sentence to those two simpletons. You know what I know: one is a juvenile (assume that he his record is non-existent or minimal) and the other is somewhat older and on probation for robbing a bank. Also assume that the older guy owes about 5 years on probation.

Your options are: a nolle, some form of alternative to incarceration program (see 53a-39a to 39d and other diversionary programs start here), probation for a misdemeanor, conditional discharge for a misdemeanor, probation for a felony or a CD for a felony, or just straight up time in the slammer with or without probation.

The robbery statutes are from here on down and the larceny statutes start here. The terms of incarceration are here and terms of probation are here.

So, Judge Intrepid Reader, how would you dispense your justice?

The Limp Writ

Mar 18th

Posted by Gideon in ct legal news

3 comments

Since the time of the Magna Carta, prisoners have been able to challenge the legality of their incarceration by petitioning for a writ of habeas corpus, long known as the Great Writ. We inherited “this powerful tool for . . . protect[ing] . . . individuals’ constitutional and statutory rights . . . from Great Britain,” which formalized it in the Habeas Corpus Act of 1679. In The Federalist, Alexander Hamilton argued that the Constitution should provide for the writ “in the most ample manner” because it served as a bulwark against “arbitrary methods of prosecuting pretended offenses [and] arbitrary punishments upon arbitrary convictions.”

The drafters of the Constitution imbedded it in Article I before adopting the Bill of Rights. The Supreme Court has attested to the writ’s significance on many occasions. At different times, the Court has declared that habeas corpus is intended “to liberate an individual from unlawful imprisonment,” a procedure for “securing to the petitioners their constitutional rights,” and “the best and only sufficient defense of personal freedom,” which if withdrawn, “risk[s] injury to an important interest in human liberty.” Most recently, the Court described the writ of habeas corpus as a “vital instrument” to securing “freedom from unlawful restraint,” such freedom being “a fundamental precept of liberty”.

And all of that would mean absolutely nothing if a bill currently in the state legislature were to pass. A bill, that in my view, comes dangerously close to an actual suspension of the writ in certain circumstances.

That such a bill is being considered by lawmakers is a monumental slap in the face to the very principles upon which the justice system in this country was built. The bill is born of a misbegotten belief that the courts in Connecticut are “overwhelmed” with “needless” and “repetitive” habeas petitions, whereby inmates [read: criminals/scum of the earth/them, not us] “abuse” the system. Putting aside the fact that the current pending habeas petitions represent a mere 10% or so of the incarcerated population [and an even smaller percentage of total convictions in the state], the idea that a State would be willing to eviscerate so fundamental a protection without the slightest trepidation is repugnant.

Making this proposal even more jarring is the granting of The Great Writ yesterday in a case where the two petitioners were found by the court to be actually innocent after 16 years in jail [make sure you read the decision by Judge Fuger]. If this bill were to pass, it would convert the sharp scythe that the Great Writ is meant to be into a limp sword of cardboard used in middle school productions.

Let us count the ways in which this bill sticks a big middle finger right through The Great Writ and the ways in which this will only generate more litigation and require more expenditure:

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

Section 1. (NEW) (Effective October 1, 2010) The provisions of sections 2 to 6, inclusive, of this act apply to any application for a writ of habeas corpus filed on or after the effective date of this section that is brought by or on behalf of a person who (1) claims to be illegally confined or deprived of his or her liberty as a result of a conviction of an offense, as defined in section 53a-24 of the general statutes, or a motor vehicle violation for which a term of imprisonment may be imposed, and is challenging the validity of the conviction or sentence imposed, [...]

Yes, this bill would be effective immediately and apply to all new habeas petitions and apply retroactively. So if an inmate decides to file a petition tomorrow for a conviction obtained in 2004, the SOL would apply. Is the concept of notice so novel to the legislature that they cannot grasp the implications of this? Increase litigation 10-fold.

Sec. 2. (NEW) (Effective October 1, 2010) Except for the remedies of appeal, petition for a new trial, sentence review in accordance with section 51-196 of the general statutes or sentence reduction or discharge in accordance with section 53a-39 of the general statutes and the authority of the sentencing court at common law to correct an illegal sentence, the remedy of habeas corpus as provided in sections 1 to 6, inclusive, of this act shall be used exclusively in lieu of all common law, statutory or other remedies available prior to the effective date of this section for challenging the validity of a conviction, sentence or commitment.

This is a frightening provision. Perhaps unintentionally so. What it does, immediately, is eliminate the Writ of Error Coram Nobis. WECN (I made up that abbreviation; you are free to use it) is an extraordinary remedy to be applied only when no other avenue is available. Combine that with the forthcoming section on the statute of limitations for the Great Writ and the effect is that for some people, there will be absolutely no avenue to seek redress for a Constitutional violation.

In addition to that, this section also seeks to eliminate the statutory Motion for New Trial (not to be confused with the Petition for New Trial), which must be filed shortly after a verdict of guilt. This gets a +5 on the “more litigation” scale.

Serenity now.

Sec. 3. (NEW) (Effective October 1, 2010) (a) No application for a writ of habeas corpus challenging the validity of a conviction, sentence or commitment shall be brought except within: (1) Three years after the date that the sentence was imposed or the commitment ordered, or (2) one year after the date of the final order of the last appellate court in this state to exercise jurisdiction on a direct appeal or the denial of a petition for a writ of certiorari to the Supreme Court of the United States or issuance of said court’s final order following the granting of such petition; whichever is later.

This is the big kahuna. The SOL is introduced into state habeas corpus petitions, where none existed before. But note the end of that provision: the SOL is one year from the denial or granting of cert by SCOTUS. So if the United States Supreme Court grants an inmate’s petition for certiorari, the SOL still continues to run! Bueller?! Bueller!???!? What. The. Fuck.?

(b) Notwithstanding the provisions of subsection (a) of this section, a court may hear a claim if the applicant establishes due diligence in presenting the claim and:

(1) The applicant establishes that a physical disability or mental disease precluded a timely assertion of the claim;

(2) The applicant alleges the existence of newly discovered evidence, including scientific evidence, that could not have been discovered by the exercise of due diligence by the applicant or the applicant’s counsel prior to the expiration of the three-year period for the filing of an application for a writ of habeas corpus, is not for impeachment purposes and would establish that the applicant is actually innocent of the offense or offenses for which the applicant was convicted or committed;

(3) The applicant’s claim for relief is based upon a new interpretation of federal or state constitutional law by either the Supreme Court of the United States or the Supreme Court of this state that is retroactively applicable to cases on collateral review; or

(4) The applicant establishes that the evidence on which the claim is based was in the exclusive possession of the state and not otherwise available to the applicant, was not disclosed prior to the expiration of the time periods set forth in subsection (a) of this section, is favorable to the applicant and is material to the applicant’s guilt or punishment.

Due Diligence. I don’t know what that means. Do you? cough*morelitigation*cough. Subsection (2) is so mind-numbingly stupid that I can only fairly criticize the “not for impeachment purposes” clause. The legislature is purporting to tell a court of equity what types of evidence it may consider? The litigation meter just went to 100.

Subsection (3) is also evidence that this bill was drafted by a prosecutor non-lawyer. The United States Supreme Court has, on several occasions, applied new interpretations of criminal statutes retroactively [I once wrote a brief on that damn issue].

On the more litigation front: Who decides all this anyway? Does a Court? If a court decides this, is it prior to the filing of the Great Writ, or after? Or is it in purgatory? Is counsel appointed? Is counsel appointed provisionally? Can this be appealed? If it is appealed, is counsel provided? There is a right to counsel, after all. Oh yay!

Suspension of the Writ

Read the following section and tell me how this is not a suspension* of the Great Writ for some:

Sec. 4. (NEW) (Effective October 1, 2010) (a) A claim for relief raised in an application for a writ of habeas corpus, or in an amended application, shall be barred and no court may decide the claim if:

(1) It was raised and decided, either on the merits or on procedural grounds, in any earlier proceeding; or

(2) It could have been raised but was not raised:

(A) At any time prior to the imposition of sentence in the proceeding that resulted in the applicant’s conviction or commitment;

(B) In a direct appeal from the proceeding that resulted in the applicant’s sentence or commitment; or

(C) In a previous habeas corpus proceeding challenging the same sentence or commitment.

I’ll give you an example of the idiocy of 4(1): an inmate files a sentence modification and his grounds for the modification are that his conviction is illegal and thus he should have no sentence at all. A trial court, rightly, says, “sir, you are crazy, go file a habeas”.

Mr. Not-So-Smart-Inmate goes to habeas court where it is barred because it was decided on procedural grounds in a prior proceeding. This is so flatly contrary to mountains of state and federal Constitutional law that I have half a mind to go to the public hearing on Monday and just scream into the microphone, following the advice of Anouilh.

You want even more litigation? I’ll give you more litigation:

(b) Notwithstanding the provisions of subsection (a) of this section, a court may hear a claim if:

(1) The applicant demonstrates good cause for his or her failure to raise the specific claim in the earlier proceedings and sets forth sufficient facts to demonstrate a reasonable likelihood that, if the facts are viewed in a light most favorable to the applicant, the claim or claims will succeed on the merits. For purposes of this subdivision, an applicant demonstrates good cause by identifying an objective factor external to the defense that impeded his or her ability to raise the specific claim during the earlier proceedings, or by proving the ineffectiveness of counsel in failing to raise the specific claim prior to the imposition of sentence in the proceeding that resulted in the applicant’s conviction or commitment, or on direct appeal;

A) Who is going to decide, prior to deciding the merits of the claim, whether there is a “reasonable likelihood that the claim will succeed on the merits”? A judge, that’s who. So…why…I mean…umm…what?

B) Is counsel going to be appointed? Or is this going to be pro-se? And what if a judge decides that the claim can proceed because there’s a reasonable likelihood that it will succeed and then denies it?

C) Demonstration of good cause that there was an objective factor: who decides this? A judge – repeat A and B above. Make sure you lather well.

D) Ineffective assistance of counsel is good cause to proceed, but who decide – oh what the hell, I can’t play this game anymore.

Sec. 5. (NEW) (Effective October 1, 2010)

(b) The ineffectiveness of any counsel who represented the applicant in an earlier habeas corpus proceeding shall not be a ground for relief in a second or subsequent application.

100 magic brownies to whoever points out how unconstitutional and stupid this is in the funniest way possible. To those that may not understand it, I provide a big hint: Right to Counsel = Right to Effective Assistance of Counsel. Quod Erat Demonstrandum .

This post has gone on long enough so I won’t reproduce Section 6, but I will tell you that it is merely another “gatekeeping” provision. That makes it, what, the 3rd? We screen the screen that screens the claim, deciding whether to get to a full hearing. Each stage is appealable (and believe me, it will be appealed). Wouldn’t it be simpler to just have the damn hearing?

The bottom line

Yes, there’s a bottom line. And that is this: this bill “streamlines” habeas corpus procedures in the State of Connecticut in the same way Mount Everest placed atop the Space Shuttle would streamline it. Which is to say, not at all.

I wouldn’t be surprised, if this bill passed, that the State would have to provide greater resources to the State’s Attorney’s office and the Public Defender’s office to litigate every step of the process. And at the end of that litigation, most of this garbage bill would be struck down as unconstitutional anyway.

Many of the “provisions” of this bill are already law: procedural default, cause and prejudice, motions to dismiss, motions for summary judgment. Moving these restrictions from their proper place – during the pendency of the proceedings – to a newly created space prior to the institution of proceedings is nothing but another way to increase litigation and create backlogs and nightmares where none exist.

My version of a “habeas reform” bill

What? You thought I didn’t have an idea of my own? I thought you knew me better than that.

Section 1. The right of access to the Great Writ shall be inviolate.

Section 2. All State’s Attorneys charged with defending against petitions for writs of habeas corpus are required to file Motions to Dismiss and Motions for Summary Judgment in all applicable cases.

Section 3. All Special Public Defenders, appointed to represent inmates in petitions for writ of habeas corpus, shall be paid a flat fee per case, regardless of whether a hearing is conducted on the merits of the petition or not.

Section 4. A second or subsequent petition challenging the same conviction that was challenged in a prior habeas petition adjudicated on the merits shall be automatically subject to a motion to dismiss. If the petitioner, through counsel, can establish that there exists good cause for raising new claims challenging the same conviction, then the petition shall be permitted to proceed. Otherwise, it shall be dismissed.

Fin.

[The opening paragraphs of this post have been lifted, word for word, from this law review article. The principles are articulated so well there, that it would be a shame for me to try and reproduce them in my meandering style.]

*Yes, I realize I’m being a bit dramatic here. But.

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Cumbersome bloviating misrepresents

Feb 22nd

Posted by Gideon in cheshire

9 comments

Consider my gears ground. I’ve been resisting jumping in to counter the incessant stream of anti-individual voir dire noise emanating from Norm Pattis over the past month or so. I first saw a post on his blog, which was then reproduced in his column in the Connecticut Law Tribune and finally copied and pasted into this opinion piece in the Courant yesterday.

Norm, for some reason, has been crusading against the “cumbersome” and “wasteful” process of individual voir dire that we employ here in CT. What happens, simply, is this: a jury panel is brought into a courtroom, is read some preliminary instructions by a judge and then members are asked to identify if they have any hardships or other reasons why they cannot serve on a jury. Those who do not identify any such impediments are temporarily asked to retire to a room, while those that raised their hands and quickly individually questioned to determine the reason for their inability to serve. A large percentage of these people are quickly dispensed with and then people are brought out individually from the “able to serve” pool to be questioned to determine their suitability for serving on the particular case.

The length of individual voir dire varies greatly: a simple misdemeanor or less-serious felony jury can picked within a day. Murder juries can take over a week or so. Capital juries naturally take longer.

I have long argued that individual voir dire is preferable to group voir dire. Human nature is such that we are more likely to be honest in our beliefs when we are not being compared to those “similarly situated” to us. Besides, really the only purpose for group voir dire is to indoctrinate jurors and educate the jury, a point which Norm claims is one of the abuses of individual voir dire.

But there are several other problems with his position. He starts with this paragraph:

In every other jurisdiction nationally, juries are selected in a group voir dire. Questions are put to potential panelists to see whether they can be fair and impartial in the case for which they may be selected. The group method permits folks to sit with their peers to answer questions about bias or prejudice. A jury can be picked by this method, even in a case of some complexity, in a matter of hours.

That’s just patently false.

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

Many, many jurisdictions besides Connecticut permit individual sequestered voir dire. Let’s talk capital cases, because that’s seemingly what precipitated his tirade against ISVD. By a rough informal survey conducted this afternoon, I have been told that the following states permit ISVD in capital cases:

Federal
Alabama (discretionary)
Arizona
California
Colorado (not required but routinely done)
Florida
Georgia
Indiana
Maryland
Kentucky (statutorily required in capital cases)
Louisiana
Missouri
New Mexico
NJ
NY
Ohio
Oklahoma
Oregon
Pennsylvania (required in capital cases; individual, sequestered in discretionary in non-dp cases)
South Carolina
Tennessee
Washington
Texas (statutorily required in capital cases)

That’s 23 jurisdictions besides Connecticut. Almost half the States. Not none. In addition, the results of an informal survey I conducted on Twitter a few weeks ago revealed that more than just CT permit ISVD in non-capital cases.

Norm uses the currently underway Steven Hayes trial in the infamous “Cheshire” case to illustrate his point that ISVD is wasteful, long and useless:

After nine days of jury selection in the Hayes case, four jurors were picked. (Selection of jurors was suspended following an apparent suicide attempt by Hayes.) It is entirely possible that jury selection will proceed at this pace or slower until a panel of 12, plus alternates, is seated. The trial expected to begin in September. Is it necessary to spend months picking a jury?

There’s a bit of disingenuous cherry-picking going on here. Anyone who’s been following Helen Ubinas’ tweets can attest to that. First, let us consider the fact that four jurors were picked. That’s four questioned. Add to that the number of challenges exercised by both sides (10, by my count). So that’s only 14 jurors who could have been seated as jurors over 9 days. The reason that using the Cheshire case an example is a terrible idea is that the case is so polarizing. Only a very small percentage of the panels of 40ish brought in every couple of days was even eligible to be questioned: the rest were excused either for hardship due to the length of the trial and the economy or were simply unwilling to serve due to the nature of the case. So to claim that only 4 jurors were picked after 9 days of jury selection is misleading. In fact, by any honest standard, jury selection in the Cheshire case is chugging along at a fast clip.

Let us not forget that the Connecticut Constitution provides for individual voir dire.

The basis of any argument against ISVD seems to be that it is time consuming and it is costly. Time consuming I will admit, but do we really want to trust juries picked in 30 minutes? And as for cost, voir dire is the least of the money drains. The death penalty itself is a big vacuum that sucks in bundles of money. Better ways to save money would be to trim the fat out of the penal code, get prosecutors to stop overcharging, reduce the lengths of confinement to what is truly needed to punish and rehabilitate and to divert money from the prison industrial complex and “truth in sentencing” to reducing crime. To point at ISVD as one source of wasteful expenditure is rather silly.

Group voir dire is not a panacea. Its problems are well documented. And I shudder all the more when I read articles like this, teaching lawyers how to “make the best of limited voir dire”.You are left to the mercy of judges and juror questionnaires. You are left to the mercy of people willing to admit biases in front of others. You are left to the mercy of people being honest about their opinions and not altering them on-the-fly on the basis of others’ responses.

The point of voir dire, it would seem, is to find jurors who can be fair and impartial, who harbor no hidden biases against certain principles or, heck, your client. I’m not willing to trust that brief questioning in a sea of 40 others will be probative enough to weed out those that are unfit for service.

It boggles the mind that someone who takes the very liberty of another individual into his own hands would be willing to place his faith in a group of individuals, randomly selected within a matter of hours.

Look, there are many people who hold his view. They are all entitled to it. But I’m certainly very curious as to why Norm is choosing this particular moment to launch this one-man assault on the individual voir dire system here in CT.

But instead of taking a good, albeit time consuming, right and turning it into something that is not as desirable for the sole reason of cost, I have a suggestion: next time you’re on trial, just waive the right to individual voir dire. I’m sure the client will understand.

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voir dire

12 really angry men

Feb 16th

Posted by Gideon in judges

5 comments

Imagine you’re sitting at counsel’s table, ready to start trial. The jury walks in and is seated in the jury box. The judge shuffles his papers, looks over at them and opens his mouth his start instructing the jury.

Suddenly, one of the jurors leans forward and says: “He’s brave enough to go out and get shot at by anyone but he couldn’t handle this?” Another juror pipes in: “I think severe emotional distress is what is happening in Haiti. I don’t think you could have such severe emotional distress from that”.

The case was a suit for emotional distress in the workplace, but that’s irrelevant. What’s relevant – and a little disconcerting – is the anger, resentment and frustration displayed by the jurors. This outward display of vehemence isn’t necessarily caused by the facts of the case; in fact, under other circumstances, they may have made appropriate jurors.

The troublesome matter here is that these jurors made it through voir dire and were selected – over their own objections. Both those jurors above attempted to be excused based on hardship.

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

Here’s how it works: a bunch of potential jurors are brought into a courtroom for voir dire. The judge explains the basics and gives them a time frame. Then the judge asks if anyone cannot serve for family or financial reasons. Those that have legitimate excuses or hardships are summarily excused.

The hardships are only getting worse in these tough economic times and courts are getting more reluctant (at least in some parts of the country) to excuse jurors. That jury duty is an important civic duty is unquestioned. Many people who are summoned want to serve, some because they recognize the need to do so. But no one wants to give up days of their lives if it is at the expense of their livelihood. The longer a trial, the smaller the jury pool.

Here, in CT, your employer is required to give you 5 days pay for jury duty. After that, you receive a stipend of $50 per day. Judging by the numbers quoted in the article above, that’s on the high side. In California, jurors get $15 a day. In Dallas, they used to get $6 before it was sensibly raised to $40. But even that’s a pittance.

Imagine forgoing your income for 7 days in exchange for $350? Not many can and want to do that. Yet, somehow, we have to fill our juries.

Lawyers will agree that the last thing one wants on a jury is a reluctant juror. I shudder inwardly every time a judge hesitates to excuse a juror who claims a hardship, no matter how weak or blatantly made up it is. If it’s not a real hardship, but the juror claims it anyway, it reveals a distinct lack of desire to serve. And if they’re forced to serve, they’ll make poor jurors. Forget fair and impartial. They’re pissed off they’re there and they’ll do something to get back at the system. I don’t want that to be at the expense of my client.

That these two jurors made it onto the jury is telling: the system, the economy, all of it is straining under the pressure of the financial downturn. Finding a suitable jury in a criminal case is difficult enough as it is, having 12 angry men is another burden we don’t need.

I understand that the jury pools are small to begin with and are only getting smaller, for a variety of reasons, but to seat reluctant jurors who might vote based on the facts of the case but also might vote their frustration doesn’t serve the interests of anyone.

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An idle thought on the Boykin canvass

Feb 12th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

9 comments

Much as been written and said about Boykin v. Alabama since Justice Douglas wrote the decision in 1969. At best, it is a necessary safeguard to ensure that guily pleas, the bulk of the resolutions in the criminal justice system, are made voluntarily. At worst, it is a prophylactic.

A defendant entering a guilty plea waives several fundamental constitutional rights. Boykin v. Alabama, 395 U.S. 238, 243 (1969). “We therefore require the record affirmatively to disclose that the defendant’s choice was made intelligently and voluntarily.” (Internal quotation marks omitted.) State v. Andrews, supra, 253 Conn. 503. To satisfy that requirement, a defendant must be fully aware of the direct consequences of his or her plea. See Brady v. United States, 397 U.S. 742, 755 (1970). Direct consequences are generally defined as consequences that are “definite, immediate and [that have] largely automatic effect[s] on the range of the defendant’s punishment.” Cuthrell v. Director, 475 F.2d 1364, 1366 (4th Cir.), cert. denied, 414 U.S. 1005 (1973).

State v. Groppi. The Boykin canvas is limited to three Constitutional aspects: First, is the privilege against compulsory self-incrimination.. . [s]econd, is the right to trial by jury… [t]hird, is the right to confront one’s accusers.’ Boykin v. Alabama, [supra].

In fact, the Boykin canvass is now part of most state statutes or rules of court. Here, in CT, it is codified in Conn. Prac. Bk. S. 39-19, which provides:

The judicial authority shall not accept the plea without first addressing the defendant personally and determining that he or she fully understands:

The nature of the charge to which the plea is offered;
The mandatory minimum sentence, if any;
The fact that the statute for the particular offense does not permit the sentence to be suspended;
The maximum possible sentence on the charge, including, if there are several charges, the maximum sentence possible from consecutive sentences and including, when applicable, the fact that a different or additional punishment may be authorized by reason of a previous conviction; and
The fact that he or she has the right to plead not guilty or to persist in that plea if it has already been made, and the fact that he or she has the right to be tried by a jury or a judge and that at that trial the defendant has the right to the assistance of counsel, the right to confront and cross-examine witnesses against him or her, and the right not to be compelled to incriminate himself or herself.

But even there, strict compliance is not required:

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

While the federal constitution requires that the record of the plea canvass indicate the voluntariness of any waiver of the three core constitutional rights delineated in Boykin, it does not require that the trial court go beyond these “constitutional minima.” United States v. Dayton, 604 F.2d 931, 935 n.2 (5th Cir. 1979) (en banc). A defendant can voluntarily and understandingly waive these rights without literal compliance with the prophylactic safeguards of Practice Book §§ 711 and 712. Therefore, although the Practice Book provisions were designed to reflect the principles embodied in Boykin; State v. Godek, 182 Conn. 353, 357 (1980), cert. denied, 450 U.S. 1031 (1981); Blue v. Robinson, 173 Conn. 360, 373 (1977); precise compliance with the provisions is not constitutionally required. Thus, our analysis will focus on whether the federal constitutional principles of Boykin were satisfied rather than on meticulous compliance with the provisions of the Practice Book.

State v. Badgett. But enough with the primer and onto my idle thought. Here, as part of the plea canvass, a judge will routinely ask defendants the following question: “Are you satisfied with your attorney’s representation of you?” This question, to me, is distinctly different from the practice book requirement that the defendant be aware that he is entitled to the effective assistance of counsel. The latter is directed at informing the defendant that if he proceeds to trial, he will have available an attorney to conduct the trial for him.

The question of satisfaction, on the other hand, seems to have no basis in any Constitutional requirement (at least none that I can see on this idle Friday afternoon).

You can imagine the gamut of responses to this question: A perfunctory “yes”; a begruding or resigned “yes”; a hesitant “yes”; some hemming and hawing followed by “yes” and the rare “no”.

Most defendants view this as asking whether they are satisfied with the outcome of the case, rather than the performance of the specific attorney (in fact, some judges will follow up with that clarifying statement, if they notice any hesitation in the defendant). Their thought process is obvious: “I’m not thrilled with this deal, so how can I be satisfied that my attorney did the best job?”

Which brings me to my question(s): What, exactly, is the point of this question? It certainly cannot be to prevent any future habeas corpus litigation alleging ineffective assistance of counsel. The administration of a Boykin canvass hardly precludes future arguments that the plea was not voluntary. I’ve seen prosecutors attempt to question habeas petitioners whether they answered the question in question in the affirmative, as if it were evidence of a lack of IAC. But they are not serious arguments and don’t hold much weight in the eyes of even the most pro-state judges.

Everyone realizes that most defendants are aware of the dance. They know the questions to be asked and they know the pat responses. Some are truly satisfied with the sentences they are receiving; most are resigned to them. After all, who wants to go to jail?

So, why then, do we ask this question at all? Is it habit? Is it really designed to truly determine if the plea is voluntary? If that is the case, there would be no need for the follow up clarification that judges tend to employ. Rather, we would see a judge exploring the basis for any hesitation on the part of the defendant. But that’s rare.

Now, I’m not saying that we need to do away with this question, or re-work the Boykin canvass (at least not in this post); I’m merely following a train of thought out loud, as is my wont.

Those of you in other states: do your judges ask this question? If so, any insight on why it is necessary?

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Reconfiguring terms

Jan 24th

Posted by Gideon in cops

10 comments

It really grinds my gears when I hear lay people (read: tv and movie writers, newscasters, media, your mother, my mother) use the term technicality to describe a violation of some Constitutional right. As in: “The judge threw out the case because of a bad search or something”, “The guy kills a cop and he gets off on some technicality?” or “He was so guilty, but his lawyer got him off on some technicality”.

So here’s my proposal. Let’s start replacing real phrases for the meaningless and incendiary “technicality”. For example, a search that violates the 4th Amendment protection against unreasonable searches and seizures shall henceforth be called “police misconduct”.

A conviction that’s reversed because the prosecutor “forgot” to turn over potentially exculpatory information should be called “prosecutorial dishonesty”.

A case that’s dismissed for lack of probable cause should be called “fabrication of evidence” or “prosecutorial bloodlust”.

“The judge threw out the case because of police misconduct” sure has a better, more truthful ring to it.

Any more ideas?

The objection’s on the other foot

Jan 7th

Posted by Gideon in criminal law principles

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

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

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

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

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

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

A. Yes.

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

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

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

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The fruit of the poisonous confession

Jan 1st

Posted by Gideon in confessions

15 comments

fruit of the poisono---oh nevermind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Voluntary false confessions

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

Compliant false confessions

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

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

Internalized false confessions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

False evidence

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Minimization

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are several reasons for this – three, primarily:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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false confessions

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Paying for injustice

Tonya Craft teaches us all

Preempting Strickland

A witchhunt by men who molest the law

Guilty of being poor

All it takes is one

Vengeance at its most shameful

Judge for a day – IV

The Limp Writ

Cumbersome bloviating misrepresents

12 really angry men

An idle thought on the Boykin canvass

Reconfiguring terms

The objection’s on the other foot

The fruit of the poisonous confession

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