Category Archives: judges

Defining the role of appellate courts

Dan Klau points, rather diplomatically, to a Connecticut Supreme Court opinion issued today [PDF] which he lost. It’s a civil case, but what sucked me in was his description of the issues in the case, which fits right in with the theme of complaints that I have with this present Supreme Court:

In particular, it will tell us whether a majority of the Court believes that the proper role of an appellate court is to decide the issues that the parties have raised and argued–and only those issues–or, alternatively, whether the Court believes that it is appropriate to decide cases based on issues that appellate judges raise on their own initiative. In short, can and should appellate courts raise and decide unpreserved issues sua sponte?

Today, the Connecticut Supreme Court ruled that yes, it could very well decide appeals based on issues that it raised on its own and that no one thought of at the trial level and that weren’t preserved or properly briefed or that the trial judge had no opportunity to consider.

Okay, that’ll be the last of the snark for today, because it actually is a really interesting and important opinion written by Justice Palmer.

The issues were divided up by the Court as follows:

Yet another judge caught on video abusing his power

Thanks to this video recording from August 2013, the public gets another glimpse into the power trips that some people go on when they get elevated to the bench.

Back in August last year, a woman named Ebony Burks was arrested and brought before a judge (Judge Gary Bennett) for arraignment. He asked her how she wanted to plead (not guilty) and then set bonds. As a condition of bond, he directed her to stay away from her partner, who was the victim of a domestic charge. When she realized that that meant she couldn’t go to her own home, shit hit the fan:

“How you going to tell me I can’t go to my home?” Burks asked.

“I just did,” Bennett replied.

“Well, I bet I do,” Burks said.

That brought the initial 30 day sentence.

Burks got 60 days when she held up her hand and walked away from the camera. Bennett ordered her back. Burks continued to talk back.

Here are her words and the resulting jail sentences:

“So what?” (90 days)

“So?” (120 days)

“Okay, and?” (160, 180 days)

“What else you got to say?” (Bennett replies that he will have nothing more to say until they meet again in six months.)

Burks makes an off camera remark, gets a 200 day sentence, and then Bennett asks Burks if she has anything more to say.

“F— you,” Burks replies, bringing the 300 day sentence.

Glad to see today’s definition of judicial temperament includes the ability to get into a childish pissing match with an indigent defendant who’s been told she can’t return to her house.

Should lawyers be disciplined for criticism of judges?

Lawyers are a touchy bunch. We have egos and we have inflated senses of self-worth. And it only gets worse when we become judges. No one’s ever gotten their way pissing off a judge.1 That doesn’t mean that no one talks shit about judges and some judges are more frequently talked-shit-about than other judges. But does there come a time when criticizing a judge goes too far?

Or, put another way, should lawyers be permitted to criticize judges in either public or private and not be sanctioned or found in violation of rules of ethical conduct?

Two recent stories brought this to mind: first, in Indiana, lawyer and blogger Paul Ogden received a one-year suspension [PDF] for private emails in which he criticized a judge and that judge’s handling of a case. The emails were turned over to the judge, who then demanded an apology. None was forthcoming; instead Ogden provided the judge with an itemized list of things he did wrong. Ogden then maintained that he has a First Amendment right to criticize public officials like judges and the hearing officer seemingly used that insistence to find that Ogden has limited insight into his behavior and recommend an elevated punishment:

“As a result of the statements made by (Ogden) about Judge Coleman, which statements were false or made with reckless disregard for truth, (Ogden) caused serious injury to the public, Judge Coleman, the judicial system and the legal profession,” York wrote.

York said in his report that he “cannot stress enough the conclusion that (Ogden) has a profound lack of both insight into his own conduct and lack of respect for those who disagree with him.”

Meanwhile, here in Connecticut, a four-month suspension of criminal defense attorney Rob Serafinowicz was just put on hold [PDF] pending his appeal. Serafinowicz, known for his brash style, found himself on the courthouse steps one day two years ago, saying unfavorable things about a judge he had appeared in front of and against whom he’d filed a judicial ethics complaint. Among other things he said “he’s a disgrace to the bench” “has favorites” and doesn’t give people “a fair shake”, “he’s never tried a case in his life” and then made some hollow assertions that the judge violated the code of judicial ethics. Serafinowicz has the habit of engaging in some bluster, which you can see in the video.

Serafinowicz eventually agreed that he violated two of the rules of professional conduct, Rule 8.2 and 8.4 [PDF]:

Rule 8.2. Judicial and Legal Officials

(a) A lawyer shall not make a statement that the lawyer knows to be false or with reckless disre­gard as to its truth or falsity concerning the qualifi­cations or integrity of a judge, adjudicatory officer or public legal officer, or of a candidate for election or appointment to judicial or legal office.

Rule 8.4. Misconduct

It is professional misconduct for a lawyer to:

(4) Engage in conduct that is prejudicial to the administration of justice;

I write about this not because I think that Ogden or Serafinowicz specifically should be given the freedom to say what they did2 but because it impacts me personally and the judicial system as a whole.

As regular readers will know, I frequently take to these pages to criticize judges, prosecutors and judicial opinions. While I reserve my comments to the “their policies are asinine and idiotic and they write like a bunch of peons” rather than “Justice Smith is an unmitigated idiot” variety of criticism, it is not inconceivable that one day someone might view the former as a violation of a rule of professional conduct as being “prejudicial to the administration of justice”, whatever that means.

And as much as I’d like my response to be “I’m out of order? You’re out of order!”, having the knowledge of such timely pop culture quips will hardly save my mortgage and legal career if public criticism of matters of public importance is so circumscribed simply because the speaker happens to also be a lawyer and thus has some greater duty of care assigned to him.

The law is a morass. Lay people cannot be trusted or counted upon to either care or care enough to know when the law is acting like an ass. The only ones with the knowledge to know and to say something about it are the participants in the system: the whistleblowers, if you will.

As if that weren’t enough, to police private statements like Odgen’s seems a step too far in the administration of justice.

But we are all lawyers. The irony is lost on us.

 

Because even children aren’t as important as convictions

I have written before that despite the successes being touted by the criminal justice head honchos here in Connecticut, we still treat our children differently when it comes to those that are alleged to have committed the most serious of crimes.

According to law in Connecticut, anyone 14 and above who is alleged to have committed a Class A (murder, felony murder, arson, kidnapping, aggravated sexual assault) or a Class B felony (sexual assault, robbery 1, assault 1, risk of injury) is automatically transferred to adult court. For instance, in 2012, approximately 209 children between 14-17 had their criminal cases transferred to adult court.

A 2002 study [PDF] commissioned to consider the impact of the 1995 legislation mandating automatic transfers revealed that 36% of all juveniles1 transferred to adult court2 between 1997-2002 were sentenced to incarceration. That equals 141 children in Connecticut who got jail time in adult court, with adult convictions, with adult conviction consequences. That’s 141 too many for me, but those with the authority to change things seem to disagree.

[If anyone has updated statistics, I'd love to see them. Further, if you're a legislator, request updated statistics from OLR - specifically ask for a breakdown of automatic transfers, discretionary transfers, the ages of the defendants at the time of the commission of the offense and the sentences received.]

But these again, are the people who, had protection of children really been their goal, would have seen it fit to fix a  glaring problem in our General Statutes. In a moment of wisdom that is all too rare these days, our legislature saw fit to enact this legislation:

(a) Any admission, confession or statement, written or oral, made by a child under the age of sixteen to a police officer or Juvenile Court official shall be inadmissible in any proceeding concerning the alleged delinquency of the child making such admission, confession or statement unless made by such child in the presence of the child’s parent or parents or guardian and after the parent or parents or guardian and child have been advised (1) of the child’s right to retain counsel, or if unable to afford counsel, to have counsel appointed on the child’s behalf, (2) of the child’s right to refuse to make any statements, and (3) that any statements the child makes may be introduced into evidence against the child.

That’s a pretty intelligent piece of legislation which seeks to protect a child of a certain age from being subjected to the very adult world of police interrogations without a parent or guardian being present.

Except it doesn’t apply if the case is then transferred to adult court. In 2010, in State v. Canady, our supreme court revisited this issue and a prior ruling in State v. Ledbetter.

In both Canady and Ledbetter, the juvenile defendants argued that they too, should receive the protection of the above statute because it simply doesn’t make any sense that the legislature intended to offer these protections only in situations where the consequences were minimal. Logic dictates, they argued, that children are more deserving of protections like the right to have a parent present and the right to have an attorney present when the consequences expose them to adult convictions and adult jail time and registration as a sexual offender.

You’d think, said the supreme court, but it ain’t so:

The defendant also contends that our interpretation of § 46b-137(a) in Ledbetter is inconsistent with the primary purpose underlying the enactment of that statute, namely, “to provide needed protection to children who are subjected to questioning by the police.” State v. Ledbetter, supra, 263 Conn. at 16, 818 A.2d 1. As the defendant maintains, those rights are no less implicated when a juvenile is tried in criminal court than when he is tried in juvenile court. Nevertheless, as we explained in rejecting the identical claim in Ledbetter, “[w]e agree, of course, that limiting the scope of § 46b-137(a) to proceedings in juvenile court necessarily will deprive some children of the protections to which they otherwise would be entitled under § 46b-137(a). To avoid this result, however, the defendant [in Ledbetter] would have us construe the words, `in any proceeding concerning the alleged delinquency of the child’ … to mean in any proceeding concerning the child. We may not disregard the words `the alleged delinquency of,’ because `[w]e presume that the legislature had a purpose for each sentence, clause or phrase in a legislative enactment, and that it did not intend to enact meaningless provisions.’

And then, of course, the reality laid bare:

Furthermore, Ledbetter was decided more than six years ago, and the legislature has taken no steps to amend § 46b-137(a) in response to our holding in that case. “[A]lthough legislative inaction is not necessarily legislative affirmation … we … presume that the legislature is aware of [this court's] interpretation of a statute, and that its subsequent nonaction may be understood as a validation of that interpretation.”

In other words: the legislature could have clarified this mess, but they haven’t, so it’s pretty clear that they don’t think children should have protections against police interrogations if those confessions can be used against them to secure convictions in adult court. Shameful.

Where’s the surprise, though? They are the same people who’ve seen it fit to leave the discretion to save or ruin a child’s life in the hands of prosecutors and only prosecutors. A judge cannot block the transfer to adult court; a judge cannot require that the case be returned to juvenile court and a judge cannot sentence a juvenile to anything less than the law requires.

We all know what happens when prosecutors are  given that sort of unfettered discretion and power. And if you think they won’t flex their muscle just because the defendant is 14 years old, well you aren’t paying attention.

This is all the more puzzling in light of the fact that our legislature has, in certain circumstances, given judges the power to ignore the mandatory-minimum sentences:

The execution of the mandatory minimum sentence imposed by the provisions of this subsection shall not be suspended, except the court may suspend the execution of such mandatory minimum sentence if at the time of the commission of the offense (1) such person was under the age of eighteen years

Why such a clause cannot apply to all juveniles in adult court in all crimes is beyond me. Keep the maximum intact and let a judge decide what the appropriate sentence is in each case.

And why should anyone need to fix these problems, right? It’s not like juveniles who commit crimes can go on and become productive members of society. It’s not like they become social workers or victim advocates or reporters or pediatricians.

It’s not like children are, you know, children.

Can the prosecution prevent you from giving discovery to a defendant?

In January 2010, new rules were enacted [PDF] in Connecticut ostensibly in an effort to do away with problematic “open file”1 policies of prosecutors and to ensure that all individuals charged with crimes in the State of Connecticut had ready, Constitutionally required access to the evidence the prosecution claimed to have2.

As I wrote in January 2010:

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

The system was a mess. Prosecutors in certain jurisdictions kept two files: one their public “open file” and another, their real file. Guess which one had all the relevant documents and information in their possession and which one didn’t.

This is an issue of Constitutional importance because integral to our system of justice is the right to notice: to be informed of and aware of the charges, allegations and supporting evidence so that one may properly defend against them.

However, even with the enactment of these rules making uniform the disclosure of discovery, there was a big problem that was overlooked as part of the compromise. The discovery rules prohibit giving copies of the documents, reports, statements and records to the person with the greatest individual stake in the outcome of the case: the accused.

In order for the man charged with the crime to be able to get his own copy of the allegations and peruse them at his own leisure, the prosecutor must permit and barring that, a judge.

Many in the defense bar argued back then that this was problematic and once again last week, the problem erupted again.

Unsurprising to most, the practice of permitting defendants to have a copy of their own discovery is just as arbitrary and haphazard as it was before the rule changes.

Some prosecutors office routinely grant the requests and some offices routinely deny. Some judges grant in all cases while some judges change their tune depending on the position of the prosecution and even then not always so.

So we end up with a patchwork system of discovery denial and defendants throughout the state have different access to their own discovery than their cell mate, all depending on which jurisdiction they’re in.

It is incredibly hard to explain to a person accused of serious crimes by the state that:

  1. You are in possession of witness statements that implicate him and police reports that tie it all together;
  2. But you cannot give it to him.
  3. He can read it in front of you, but he cannot take it with him.
  4. He must rely on his memory in a correctional institution to recall all the details and to become well-versed with his own case, because he is not allowed to have any participation in the defense of his liberty and freedom;
  5. Especially when his cell-mate has 3 boxes of legal materials.

As numerous ethics opinions and judicial decisions have affirmed, the file and everything it contains does not belong to a lawyer. It belongs, unmistakably, to the individual party. Lawyers aren’t even parties to the criminal case.

There is no legal basis for withholding these documents from the individual, who must feel like he is intentionally being kept in the dark and blocked from the process of justice.

If the client demands of you, the criminal defense attorney, that he receive a copy of his file, I am unsure that you can refuse. It certainly would be a greater concern of mine that I might be held in violation of the rules of professional conduct than a judge or prosecutor getting upset with me that I flouted a Practice Book rule.

Of course, the question – just as with this scenario – is whether anyone will make that stand or will there always be some compromise worked out?3

It is a ridiculous burden to place on criminal defense attorneys and yet another sign of how the business of our justice system is conducted in full view of and in full neglect of the individual charged with a criminal offense.

The petulance of power

petulant

Let’s lay it out there: who here doesn’t believe that anyone arrested for a crime is automatically guilty of it? Who here doesn’t believe that there is a very good reason someone’s been arrested: they must’ve done something. Who here doesn’t believe that the system is a necessary inconvenience; a rigmarole we must go through before we arrive at the “truth” that everyone’s known about since the time of arrest.

The legal system – and the criminal justice system in particular – is increasingly viewed as an annoying detour on what should be a very short road from arrest to incarceration. If an arrestee is later found guilty by a jury, well then, I told you so. If an arrestee turns into an acquittee, it doesn’t mean he didn’t do it, just that the State couldn’t prove it. What has come before me, I do not know1.

And while it may be excusable for the masses to believe that the system is a technicality, it is exceptionally shameful for those educated in the law and charged with its conveyance to similarly believe so.

While this desire to dispense with the due process of law because we know better is foul when it emanates from law professors2, it is particularly odious when it extrudes from the pores of our own Champions of Justice: a terrible habit that seems to routinely recur.

Prosecutors can’t seem to keep their hands out of the misconduct jar. And when they engage in this misconduct, they do it over and over again, and indignantly soBecause they know better. Because they know how the system really works and how defense attorneys and the “constitution” are just impediments and tricks that prevent them from doing real justice: putting people who they’ve decided are rapists and murderers behind bars.

They have the power to decide who is a criminal and who is not and by God they’ve decided that long before they start to pick a jury.

Take Sharmese Hodge. A prosecutor in Danbury, Connecticut, who prosecuted a man named Michael Maguire. Hodge alleged that Maguire had sexually assaulted an eight-year old. In fact Hodge was so sure Maguire was guilty of this hyenous3 crime that she said the following4 [PDF] to the jury:

Defense counsel concluded his argument by stating: “I don’t ask you for pity. I don’t ask you for mercy. I ask you for justice. I ask you to set [the defendant] free.”

The prosecutor began her rebuttal closing argument as follows: “Ladies and gentlemen, that’s not what he’s asking you for. What he’s asking you for is to condone child abuse. What he’s asking you for is to allow a world in which a forty-one year old man sticks his hand down the front of an eight year old’s pants, claims to tickle her . . . [t]akes his hand out, smells it while his erect penis is sticking out of his pants, and, because he did that to an eight year old child, because he did it in a room where no one else was present, because he did in it in a house where mom and dad were separated and there was a woman staying the night . . . you can’t find him guilty. That’s what defense [counsel and the defendant want] you to believe. That’s what they want you to do. They want you to condone child abuse in this courtroom. They don’t want you to look at that little girl that sat on the stand and testified before you . . . . They don’t want you to look at her testimony. . . . They want you to say, hey, guess what? Because she’s eight [years old] and it was just her [testimony alone, you should find the defendant not guilty].”

After asserting that defense counsel had “lied to [the victim]” when he told her that his questions were not intended to trick her, the prosecutor returned to her earlier theme, stating: “So when [defense counsel] sits here and says to you today, we’re not here to condone child abuse or we’re not trying to beat up . . . on the [victim], listen to that. . . . Is he telling you the truth . . . when he says that?”

Finally, the prosecutor made the following argument with respect to the defendant’s own testimony: “I would assume what you wanted to hear was the truth, not a bunch of excuses, not . . . a big cloud of smoke and mirrors . . . . You wanted to hear the truth. That’s not what you heard. You heard a . . . coached conversation between a defense attorney and his client.” The prosecutor further argued: “[I]t’s not a secret that child abuse is a crime. But what counsel’s asking you to do is to say that . . . child abuse that happens in secret is legal, and that is not the law. I ask you to find the defendant guilty . . . .”

In addition, during the trial, Hodge and the defense attorney Norm Pattis had agreed that the interview of the complainant should be edited to remove portions that did not deal with the current allegations5. Pattis asked the interviewer if he had asked the complainant about inconsistencies in the story (he had not). Hodge then argued in front of the jury that the interviewer indeed had asked about those inconsistencies, but it was in the redacted portion of the interview that the jury was not allowed to see.

Which is not a misrepresentation but a blatant lie.

Why, if you must ask yourself, would a prosecutor argue to a jury that the defendant is asking them to condone child abuse? Why would the prosecutor make an argument so beyond the pale?

Because she believes it. Because she believes it and also believes that juries aren’t to be trusted. Because she knows that her best bet at “winning” is getting people angry. Because emotion is the surest way to a conviction. Because she has decided that Maguire has done wrong and she’ll be damned if she lets due process get in the way of a conviction.

Fortunately, this time our supreme court intervened6:

We agree with the defendant that the prosecutor’s repeated assertions, during her rebuttal closing argument, that the defendant and defense counsel were asking the jury to “condone child abuse” and to find “that . . . child abuse that happens in secret is legal,” and, further, that defense counsel was lying when he stated otherwise, were highly improper and intended not only to appeal to the jurors’ emotions but also to demean the defendant and defense counsel in the eyes of the jurors. In characterizing the defense theory of the case as she did, the prosecutor sought to demonstrate, unfairly, and without a factual basis, that the defense was illegitimate and wholly unworthy of consideration, for no juror reasonably could be expected to credit a defense predicated on condonation or approval of child sexual abuse.

While Mr. Maguire gets a new trial7. it seems that there are no consequences for Ms. Hodge, who appears free to repeat her questionable behavior.

This prosecutorial hubris is not an isolated incident. Defendants and defense counsel are not immune to the petulance of prosecutors. As a jurist, if you stray too far outside the line, you may find yourself banished to traffic court - a tactic seemingly only employed by prosecutors in San Diego8 - or the subject of a 2-year long inquiry into your impartiality. All because you rule in favor of defendants. Another way of saying that is ‘you rule in favor of individual rights and the rule of law.’ But no one says that. You’re partial and need to be banished if you rule for defendants and prosecutors will spend countless hours writing 70-page complaints against you9.

If none of this bothers you, ask yourself why. Even if you are that convinced of the infallibility of individuals who are given this extreme power, doesn’t their petulance and arrogance at being questioned give you pause?

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Clearly unclear and unequivocally equivocal

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy describes Vogons as:

[O]ne of the most unpleasant races in the galaxy – not actually evil, but bad tempered, bureaucratic, officious and callous. They wouldn’t even lift a finger to save their own grandmothers from the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal without an order, signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters.

There is no way that Douglas Adams, when he created the Vogons, would have the foresight to know of the CT Supreme Court. But in his description of the Vogons, he has also put into words the most precise description of this State’s highest court1.

They’re not evil. They’re bureaucratic.

And they certainly won’t lift a finger unless every request you’ve made is signed in triplicate and somehow magically predicts the spot to the which they’re going to move the target and then manages to hit it perfectly, while following all the rules they’ve subsequently made up.

Some of their opinions are much like Vogon poems:

Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning”, four of his audience died of internal hemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived only by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been “disappointed” by the poem’s reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled “My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles” when his own major intestine–in a desperate attempt to save life itself-leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.

So pretty much how I feel after reading CT Supreme Court opinions. Like this one from yesterday [PDF].

Meet Michael Pires, Sr2. Pires was a VeryBadMan©, guilty of murder. Michael Pires also had a big problem with his lawyer. In a word, he didn’t like her. So he tried, on many occasions to fire her. The problem is, that he didn’t hire her to begin with, so the upside-down law says that you can’t fire someone you didn’t hire.

As a poor person who couldn’t afford private counsel to defend a murder charge – and let’s be honest, unless you live in Fairfield County or the East End of Long Island, you can’t afford a private attorney to represent you on a murder charge – he was appointed a public defender.

And once you have counsel foisted upon you, you’re stuck with that attorney no matter how much you hate him or her. Because that’s what you get for free.

Now there is an alternative, which is usually used as a stick to make the carrot of the infuriating counsel-who-can’t-be-fired more attractive: represent yo’self! After all, Faretta v. California says that it a core Constitutional right to be permitted to represent oneself.

In order to exercise that right, you have to inform the Court somehow that you want to. That’s fair and logical. You can’t be afforded a right that you don’t express you want to exercise.

So, what did Pires do, after rounds of headbutting with his LawyerWhoCouldn’tBeFired? He apparently told her he wanted to represent himself. Which she duly conveyed to the court:

I did go downstairs and attempt to talk to [the defendant]. He did want to discuss strategy with me. He indicated now that he wishes to represent himself in this matter. I informed him that I didn’t think Your Honor was going to allow him to represent himself on a murder charge simply because that would be much too dangerous and it would not be in his best interest. And that’s about where we stand, Your Honor.

Putting aside the fact that counsel’s advice was blatantly wrong, she is alerting the court “that he wishes to represent himself in this matter”.

Now. Imagine you’re the CT Supreme Court. A court that has increasingly become reliant on procedural rules to deny VeryBadPeople new trials. A court that has become so reluctant to judge whether rights have been violated that it makes a tortoise stuck in its shell look like Evel Knievel.

So what do you do? Well 5 of them decided that his “request” wasn’t “a clear and unequivocal invocation” of his right to self-representation.

At this point, I’m just inclined to throw up my hands and say “I don’t even know anymore”. How can “he indicated now that he wishes to represent himself” not be a “clear and unequivocal invocation”?

I mean, surely there must be some rules in place to deal with situations where unsophisticated defendants make fumbling assertions of their individual rights, much less so clear and unequivocal?

Why yes, yes there are. Articulated by this very court, just last year in State v. Jordan:

Although a clear and unequivocal request is required, there is no standard form it must take. “[A] defendant does not need to recite some talismanic formula hoping to open the eyes and ears of the court to [that] request. Insofar as the desire to proceed pro se is concerned, [a defendant] must do no more than state his request, either orally or in writing, unambiguously to the court so that no reasonable person can say that the request was not made. . . . Moreover, it is generally incumbent upon the courts to elicit that elevated degree of clarity through a detailed inquiry. That is, the triggering statement in a defendant’s attempt to waive his right to counsel need not be punctilious; rather, the dialogue between the court and the defendant must result in a clear and unequivocal statement.”

Ask the damn question. If a lawyer or defendant tells you he wants to represent himself, how long does it take to ask him a few questions? Really? Why is everything a game?

Chief Justice Rogers, who wrote Jordan, dissents in Pires [PDF] saying essentially the same thing she said before: that requests for self-representation can be made through counsel and that this is as clear as they come.

The unfortunate reality, however, is that the die has long been cast. The lasting legacy of the “Rogers court” will be their systematic destruction of modes of review. For those who don’t know what I mean, I’m referring to the methods by which appellate courts, whose job it is to ensure that trials were conducted fairly and according to the law and rules of court, determine whether that was done.

If improper evidence was admitted, a new trial may be warranted. If Due Process was violated, a new trial may be warranted. If a judge or lawyer makes a mistake that results in the violation of rights, remedies must be issued. We used to value the protections built into our system more than we valued the result. But now, we value procedure over all else.

So if you are on trial and the judge admits some very improper and damaging evidence against you, evidence that the jury should have under no circumstances heard or considered, and your lawyer didn’t object either because she was asleep or frenzied or scared or incompetent, our appellate courts will refuse to remedy that wrong, because proper procedure wasn’t followed.

It’s akin to doctors refusing to perform surgery because there isn’t a signature on the requisition form for the lightbulbs that are in the operating room.

There is a silver lining, though: maybe someday soon the Court will start to get it. There are fresh faces on the court and more to come. Maybe people will start to realize how narrow appellate review has become. That maybe elevating finality and form over substance has negative consequences for society as a whole.

Well, if not, then we can always go have a drink at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

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