While it was happening, I heard from many on Twitter that Bryan Stevenson‘s TED talk on injustice was riveting and a must watch. It’s now available online and I’ve linked to it below. This is your homework for the day. Watch it, think about it and we’ll come back tomorrow to talk about it (and injustice).
Years ago, when two men broke into a house overnight in the suburban town of Cheshire, CT and in the most gruesome manner imaginable killed three women, leaving one survivor, the calls for an overhaul of our criminal justice system were swift and unrelenting (I could have linked every word in that overwrought sentence to a separate post, but I’ll spare you and leave you with just this link instead). Some proposals – three strikes laws, for instance – were thankfully dispatched as ineffective and onerous, while others increasing penalties and creating new laws where old ones already existed were passed and continue to terrorize our criminal courts to this day.
But there was an event and swift, decisive reaction. There was outrage and fist-thumping and a general cacophony best described as madness.
Now, some 5 years later, there are equally troubling events bubbling to the surface in this land of steady habits. These events demand a similarly swift and decisive response from those that purport to speak on our behalf. The difference, however, is that this response needn’t be born of passion, but rather of compassion and logic.
First – and forgive me for being so late to this game – the wound that has opened and refused to scab and heal: racial profiling. Starting with the indictment of 4 East Haven police officers, the mayor’s boneheaded remarks, the long-overdue resignation of the police chief all the way up to the Hartford Courant’s analysis of over 10,000 traffic incident reports, it should be clear to everyone, not just those who are nestled inside the system, that there is an undeniable bias against minorities:
[Just the other day, I was viewing this slideshow of photographs taken by a reporter in 1983, documenting the protests against the KKK right here in CT and for a brief moment, deluded myself into thinking that racism and racial stereotyping were thankfully a thing of the past. Don't make the mistake I did. It's still there. You just can't see it.]
The disparity was most striking among Hispanic motorists, who were more likely than both whites and blacks to be ticketed in each of 13 categories of violations — such as speeding, cellphone violations, running stop signs and improper license-plate display — for which there were at least 1,000 stops. Black drivers fared worse than whites in 10 of the 13 categories.
For violations of state laws on tinted windows, white motorists were ticketed 12 percent of the time. For blacks and Hispanics, the figure was 17 percent and 24 percent, respectively.
Among drivers stopped for an improper turn or stop, blacks were nearly 50 percent more likely to be ticketed than whites. Hispanics were twice as likely.
That this is something that should be prohibited occurred to the wise men of the Senate as far back as 1999, when they passed a state law outlawing profiling and requiring each department to submit racial data for analysis. But like a bandaid on a gaping head wound, it was never more than lip service. The reason for that, of course, is that this problem is systemic. It’s also a problem without a solution, at least as currently imagined. So let’s assume someone gets pulled over because of racial profiling and gets a ticket. So what? What can anyone do about it? What’s the remedy? Short of a vindictive prosecution type of argument, how is someone even going to prove it? And what’s the legal basis for a judge or prosecutor to take that into account if we ever get over the hurdle of making them believe that that’s the cause of the stop?
The change has to come from the system, not imposed on it. Those in power – judges and prosecutors – have to first admit that this problem exists and then view stops with skepticism and suspicion and not take the word of police officers as gospel.
A few years ago I worked with a clerk who was a young Hispanic male. In the three years we worked together, he got 7 tickets, all from the same police department in the town where our office was. We all knew he got pulled over because he was Hispanic. Fat load of good it did him. He still had to pay 7 tickets.
The only other solution, of course, is the wholesale federal indictment and prosecution of errant officers. This, obviously, is not tenable. But there have to be repercussions; a system purporting to provide justice cannot turn a blind eye to the injustices that populate its halls on a daily basis.
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Let’s play a little game. I’ll posit some well known facts and then I’ll tell you whether they’re true or not.
Q: Is it true that all sex offenders kill their victims?
A: No.
Q: Is it true that all sex offenders are possessed by the devil and can’t even be killed by the Colt?
A: No.
Q: Is it true that the minute you let a sex offender out of jail, he goes and eats another baby?
A: No.
Q: Is it true that sex offenders have the highest (or even high) rate of recidivism?
A: No.
A study [PDF] by the state Office of Policy and Management has finally vindicated what I (and others) have been saying for a long time now: sex offenders don’t reoffend at the same rates as other felons and the common perception of their rates of recidivism is incorrect. From the study:
The study tracked 14,398 men for a five-year period following their release or discharge from a Connecticut prison in 2005. In that cohort, 1,395 men had a previous arrest for a sex offense, 846 had a conviction and 746 served a prison sentence, either the one ending in 2005 or an earlier one, for a sex offense.
Looking at the 746 men who had served time for a sex crime, 27, or 3.6 percent, were arrested and charged with a new sex crime; 20, or 2.7 percent, were convicted of a new sex offense; and 13, or 1.7 percent, were returned to prison for a new sex crime. Many among the 746 committed other crimes — many for parole violations or violating the conditions of the sex offender registry — but not sex crimes.
Those are spectacularly low rates (yes, yes, I know, one child is one child too many) that don’t justify the resources and the energy put into incarcerating these offenders and nor do they justify the onerous sentences handed out to all and sundry.
Obviously there are those who have committed grievous offenses and must be punished accordingly, but that’s exactly my point: that, contrary to popular belief, sex offenders aren’t one-size fits all and we must treat them as such. There are those who are low risk, those who are medium risk and those who are high risk. There are those who are misguided teens with angry parents and those who are truly predatory. Our system paints them all with the same scarlet letter and such a homogenous view does nothing to keep us safe or to put our resources where they are most needed.
The Court article linked to above calls for the creation of a tiered registration system. There already exists a Risk Assessment Board. Fund it. I have additional suggestions: pass legislation that makes it clear that an offender does not have to admit to committing the crime during treatment, that they don’t have to confess to other crimes. People are routinely violated (yes, I know, it’s an awful word) for failing to “admit” their crime during treatment even if they steadfastly maintained their innocence throughout the proceedings. Hey, here’s a news flash: innocent people go to jail all the time.
Let’s focus our resources on determining who out of those truly pose a danger and who can be rehabilitated. The less people we ostracize, the safer we are.
And so as this short legislative session continues, the question comes into focus: will our legislature be strong enough to eschew the faulty “tough on crime” for the more appropriate “smart on crime”? Will these events – the racial profiling and the studies – be enough to jar them out of their steady habits and, for once, enact some meaningful reforms?
The problem with Brady v. Maryland, as many have argued, is that its effectiveness depends entirely on the charity and goodwill of prosecutors who are tasked with enforcing it. The only sword hanging over prosecutors’ head, forcing them to do “the right thing” is one that brings as its punishment obscure and vague references to the office they work in, buried deep in mildly reproachful appellate decisions. A vague notion called the “interests of justice” and pithy phrases reminding them that their job isn’t to “seek convictions” do little encourage them to fulfill their Constitutional obligation.
The only incentive – financial loss – was vilely struck down by SCOTUS in a decision (Harry “I’m the singer’s father” Connick v. Thompson) authored by Justice Thomas (who, in the words of one commentator, just doesn’t give a fuck). And Thomas seems to have a 20 year love affair with the crooner’s father, as evidenced by his joining the dissent in Kyles v. Whitley, another case highlighting the failure of Connick’s office to turn over exculpatory material, the aforementioned Connick v. Thompson, and his lone dissent in yesterday’s Smith v. Cain [PDF] – another Connick special.
Smith was about the prosecutor’s failure to turn over police notes that significantly undermined the testimony of the only witness against Smith. From this Slate article:
notes from the detective stating that the eyewitness said on the night of the murder that he “could not … supply a description of the perpetrators other then [sic] they were black males.” Again, five days after the crime, the ostensible eyewitness said he “could not ID anyone because [he] couldn’t see faces” and “would not know them if [he] saw them.” The detective wrote these statements down—and then wrote down “Could not ID.” It’s understandable that the eyewitness was, as he later said, “too scared to look at anybody” under the circumstances. But usually police know that a person who didn’t see a face is not an eyewitness at all.
And this was a “witness” who went on to testify with absolute conviction that Smith was, indeed, the perpetrator and he’d seen him face to face. Perhaps recognizing, albeit not acknowledging, that there may be such a thing as a Connick special, SCOTUS took cert. soon after Thompson and in brief, terse and matter-of-fact 4 page 8-1 opinion summarily reversed Smith’s conviction.
8-1. A lone dissent. Thomas authored a 17 page dissent extolling the virtues of eyewitness testimony and the jury’s function of determining the reliability of that testimony. Garbage. He knows it, I know it, his four conservative colleagues on the bench know it and don’t you fall for it. A jury can, I suppose, effectively evaluate the reliability and believability of a witness’ testimony, but only if that jury has all the relevant information before it from which to reach that conclusion. Hiding the fact that the only witness had several times claimed that he could not ID anyone hardly seems non-material.
That Thomas continues to ply this nonsense is not a testament – nor should it be – to the decline of the value of The Court, but rather a telling indictment of his abandonment of any modicum of intellectual honesty. In other words, he just doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Unfortunately, in doing so, he is fast making his presence on the Court a joke and, in the process, devaluing the institution.
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A day after the Court issued Smith, it issued Perry v. New Hampshire [PDF], a case that had incorrectly been called the next step in the development of eyewitness identification jurisprudence. The issue in Perry was far more limited and not a review of lineup procedures in of themselves. Here‘s a nice article by the same fellow who wrote the Slate piece above on the juxtaposition of the two cases.
give me your tired, your poor - no wait, that's the other one
A sense of awe and a nobility of purpose is an often-found characteristic among those of us who choose to dedicate our lives to the criminal justice system. Though most may not choose to repeatedly quote Ammianus Marcellinus or repeatedly invoke the image of Sisyphus, we are all aware of our place in the continual progression of a free society and most importantly, the simple atoms from whence we evolved into the rich, complex system which governs our lives today.
Whatever the role of Roman Law may have been creating the broad outlines of the present system, the most significant impact was that of the British legal system from the 17th century onwards, most famously represented by the court at Old Bailey. (Astute readers will note that this painting of a scene at the Old Bailey – which seems to be a color reproduction of a Thomas Hosmer Shepherd watercolour and H. Melville engraving – used to lend an unwarranted gravitas to this blog.)
To those who know – and those who want to know – I recommend the website ‘Old Bailey Online‘, the subject of this new NYT piece on the vast amount of historical information about Old Bailey trials now available and searchable. The advances in computer technology have made it possible for researches to quickly and deeply analyze the vast volumes of information stored in ‘the Proceedings’, drawing some interesting conclusions. From the NYT piece:
Beginning in 1825 they noticed an unusual jump in the number of guilty pleas and the number of very short trials. Before then most of the accused proclaimed their innocence and received full trials. By 1850, however, one-third of all cases involved guilty pleas. Trials, with their uncertain outcomes, were gradually crowded out by a system in which defendants pleaded guilty outside of the courtroom, they said.
Conventional histories cite the mid-1700s as the turning point in the development of the modern adversarial system of justice in England and Colonial America, with defense lawyers and prosecutors facing off in court, Mr. Hitchcock and Mr. Turkel said. Their analysis tells a different story, however.
“Mapping all trials suggests that the real moment of evolution was in the first half of the 19th century,” with the advent of plea bargains that resulted in many more convictions, Mr. Hitchcock said. “The defendant’s experience of the criminal justice system changed radically. You were much more likely to be found guilty.” Last month the scholars submitted an article to the British journal Past and Present on their findings.
Profound shifts were behind the turn toward negotiated agreements. The class of professional lawyers, police officers and judges was growing quickly at the same time that prison began to be used as an alternative to exile or capital punishment, historians have noted. (The first modern prison in Britain can be dated to 1792.) As Mr. Hitchcock said, “It’s hard to have plea bargaining when all they are going to do is hang you.”
This online repository is a delightful source of endless hours of entertainment. For example, see this account of the poor fellow who received a “fentence of Death” for stealing a Mare and a “Guelding”, or this unfortunate soul who was “Drawn, Hang’d and Quartered” for, well, you have to read it yourself: Continue reading
The Constitution requires that criminal defendants be provided with a fair trial, not merely a “good faith” try at a fair trial. Respondent here, by what may have been nothing more than police ineptitude, was denied the opportunity to present a full defense. That ineptitude, however, deprived respondent of his guaranteed right to due process of law.
Those, of course, are the (somewhat) famous opening lines to Justice Blackmun‘s dissent in Arizona v. Youngblood, which held that in order to affect due process of law, law enforcement’s actions in destroying potentially exculpatory evidence must be caused by some “bad faith”. The Court, of course, never explains “bad faith”, which results in a race to the bottom to designate all police misconduct as “incompetence” and “inadvertence”, thereby circumventing the Fourteenth Amendment.
Consider, for your entertainment, the very recent case of Martin v. The State of (Where Else?) Texas. In Martin, the defendant was pulled over by Deputy Fife Jennings for failing to signal a left turn. Upon approaching the vehicle, the Deputy smelled “marihuana” and then observed a furtive gesture which led to a patdown, which led to the Deputy feel something like a razor blade (wait for it) which led to the discovery of marihuana methamphetamine (don’t even ask). Martin, within two weeks of his arrest, sent a subpoena to the police department, asking them preserve the video of the dashboard camera. A year later, at the suppression hearing, there obviously was no video, or I wouldn’t be writing this post. Here’s a summary of the police procedure and operation of the dashcam:
The dashcam is automatically activated when an officer turns on his emergency lights. Department policy states that all video must automatically be saved for thirty days. Jennings could not say whether his machine was operating that night, but he would have noted either at the beginning or end of the shift if the device had not been functional. Jennings stated that the only way to know for sure if the video had been taken would have been if he had preserved the video.
And why did no one know if there was video and why did Jennings not preserve it to find out if the incident had been videotaped? I’ll let him tell you: Continue reading
too soon?
Lawyers, despite what some would have you believe, are people too. We eat, we breathe, we cry, we laugh and we sleep. And there’s nothing wrong with that and there shouldn’t be. Except that last one – sleep – specifically if a lawyer decides that the cross-examination of his client, in front of a jury, is the perfect opportunity to catch a few winks.
Sleeping lawyers have been mentioned on this space before [and elsewhere], so I would be remiss in not pointing out the latest escapade of one who allegedly decided to shut his eyes for a few minutes during that oh-so-unimportant part of a criminal trial. This one comes courtesy of the 6th Circuit (and via Volokh) in Muniz v. Smith [PDF], in which Muniz alleged through the sworn affidavit of a juror that his attorney was, in fact, asleep.
I won’t bother with the facts of the case or the outcome, because both are quite obvious: there is no presumed prejudice under Cronic because there is no record that the lawyer was asleep for a substantial portion of the trial and there is no Strickland violation because goshdarnit Muniz was overwhelmingly guilty.
But the Court’s perfunctory analysis of the issues raises a greater problem: what is it that we expect of lawyers in our criminal justice system? Why is it acceptable for a lawyer to be asleep for even as little as a minute during a criminal trial?
In Cronic, SCOTUS said:
Continue reading
Discretion is such an ugly word. It sounds officious, vague and un-engaging. I prefer to call it choice. Because that’s what prosecutors have: the power to choose whether to prosecute someone or not. It is that power to choose that is a manifestation of the great power that prosecutors wield: the power to deprive someone of their life, their liberty, their reputation.
This inherent ability has been discussed elsewhere lately, in Scott’s post where he gives two examples of poor choices made by prosecutors and in this NPR interview with former state judiciary committee co-chair Mike Lawlor and today, in this piece in the NJ Star Ledger.
The Star-Ledger piece talks about prosecutorial discretion choice in the context of three recent high-profile criminal justice stories: Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Casey Anthony and The Rocket and how all these cases seem to indicate the quest for justice has buckled under the pressure of the 24-hour sensationalist news cycle and the pressure to convict – when that same news media all but assumes that with every accusation comes a conviction – has subverted the true function of the prosecutor. I’ve written plenty about the impact and responsibility of the media in sensationalizing the criminal justice system, so I won’t go there in this post. This post is, I think, about the role of the prosecutor and the power of choice that they possess.
In penning this lament in the Star-Ledger, John Farmer, dean of Rutgers Law School (and a former prosecutor) relies heavily on the words of former Attorney General (and later Supreme Court justice) Robert Jackson uttered at a meeting of prosecutors, some of which I reproduce here:
“The prosecutor,” he reminded them, “has more control over life, liberty and reputation than any other person in America. His discretion is tremendous. He can have citizens investigated and, if he is that kind of person, he can have this done to the tune of public statements and veiled or unveiled intimations.”
…
“With the law books filled with a great assortment of crimes,” the attorney general said, “a prosecutor stands a fair chance of finding at least a technical violation of some act on the part of almost anyone. … It is in this realm … that the greatest danger of abuse of prosecuting power lies. It is here that law enforcement becomes personal, and the real crime becomes that of being unpopular with the predominant or governing group … or being personally obnoxious to or in the way of the prosecutor himself.”
