In the other criminal justice opinion issued by SCOTUS today, a 6-3 court held in Graham v. Florida that life without parole for juveniles convicted of non-homicide crimes violates the Constitution’s ban on Cruel and Unusual Punishments.  The decision is a beautiful thing, for sure. Combined with Roper, the Supreme Court has now categorically banned the death penalty for juveniles and LWOP for those juveniles convicted of non-homicide crimes.

This, however, has left a gap in the juvenile jurisprudence, one that is sure to be addressed sooner rather than later. What of LWOP for those juveniles who have committed some sort of homicide?

I believe the issue is ripe for pickin’ and there may be enough votes on the Court to hold that such a sentence would violate the Eighth Amendment.

Consider the following quotes. First, the Court sets up the framework under which this claim is to be analyzed:

The present case involves an issue the Court has not considered previously: a categorical challenge to a term-of-years sentence. The approach in cases such as Harmelin and Ewing is suited for considering a gross proportionality challenge to a particular defendant’s sentence, but here a sentencing practice itself is in question. This case implicates a particular type of sentence as it applies to an entire class of offenders who have committed a range of crimes. As a result, a threshold comparison between the severity of the penalty and the gravity of the crime does not advance the analysis. Here, in addressing the question presented, the appropriate analysis is the one used in cases that involved the categorical approach, specifically Atkins, Roper, and Kennedy.

Shunning the case-by-case approach in favor of the “bright line” approach is a trend on the Court and certainly works in favor of those arguing that LWOP for all juveniles is cruel and unusual.

In accordance with the constitutional design, “the task of interpreting the Eighth Amendment remains our responsibility.” Roper, 543 U. S., at 575. The judicial exercise of independent judgment requires consideration of the culpability of the offenders at issue in light of their crimes and characteristics, along with the severity of the punishment in question. Id., at 568; Kennedy, supra, at ___ (slip op., at 27–28); cf. Solem, 463 U. S., at 292. In this inquiry the Court also considers whether the challenged sentencing practice serves legitimate penological goals. Kennedy, supra, at ___ (slip op., at 30–36); Roper, supra, at 571–572; Atkins, supra, at 318–320.

The Court then goes through all the research and data relied on in Roper on the mental development of juveniles to support its holding that LWOP serves no penological purpose for this category of defendants:

because juveniles have lessened culpability they are less deserving of the most severe punishments. 543 U. S., at 569. As compared to adults, juveniles have a “‘lack of maturity and an underdeveloped sense of responsibility’”; they “are more vulnerable or susceptible to negative influences and outside pressures,including peer pressure”; and their characters are “not as well formed.” Id., at 569–570. These salient characteristics mean that “[i]t is difficult even for expert psychologists to differentiate between the juvenile offender whose crime reflects unfortunate yet transient immaturity, and the rare juvenile offender whose crime reflects irreparable corruption.” Id., at 573. Accordingly, “juvenile offenders cannot with reliability be classified among the worst of-fenders.” Id., at 569. A juvenile is not absolved of responsibility for his actions, but his transgression “is not as morally reprehensible as that of an adult.” Thompson, supra, at 835 (plurality opinion).

Then the court ties together two threads: 1) that offenders who do not kill are categorically less deserving of the most serious punishments and 2) that LWOP is the second most serious punishment permissible. Thus, it concludes, juveniles who do not kill and are sentenced to LWOP have a “twice diminished moral culpability”.

The Court recognizes the fact that for juveniles – who have a diminished moral culpability – a sentence of LWOP is a death sentence and is unfair as it categorically denies them the opportunity to be rehabilitated and to atone for their mistakes and to prove that they are worthy of being given an opportunity to reintegrate into and contribute to society:

A sentence of life imprisonment without parole, how-ever, cannot be justified by the goal of rehabilitation. The penalty forswears altogether the rehabilitative ideal. By denying the defendant the right to reenter the community,the State makes an irrevocable judgment about that per-son’s value and place in society. This judgment is not appropriate in light of a juvenile non homicide offender’s capacity for change and limited moral culpability.

Which, if any, of the foregoing quotes excerpting the Court’s reasoning would be inapplicable to juveniles who have committed homicides? Certainly, I don’t disagree that it would be a tougher sell, but given the various rehabilitative and psychological factors underpinning the basis for the Court’s decision, one can make a strong legitimate argument that LWOP for all juveniles violates the Eighth Amendment ban on cruel and unusual punishments [and I'm not the only one to notice this potential]. The converse of that argument – that juveniles who kill are just incorrigible enough and irredeemable enough to warrant spending the rest of their natural lives in jail despite their particular characteristics and the development of their brains – doesn’t hold water, especially when viewed in light of the quote above.

Excited as I am by this historic decision, the potential for application of Graham to all juveniles has me doubly excited. Are you?

A Connecticut aside: the issue of whether LWOP for juveniles who commit a capital felony is cruel and unusual was considered and rejected by the Connecticut Supreme Court in post-Roper, pre-Graham 2008:

The defendant contends that the sociological and physiological evidence on which Roper relied, which demonstrates that persons under the age of eighteen differ from adults in terms of their culpability and moral responsibility,  necessarily dictates a similar result because a life sentence without the possibility of release excludes the possibility of rehabilitation, the main objective for juvenile offenders. We disagree.

Maybe then, but perhaps no longer? Quoth Justice Stevens:

Society changes. Knowledge accumulates. We learn, sometimes, from our mistakes. Punishments that did not seem cruel and unusual at one time may, in the light of reason and experience, be found cruel and unusual at a later time; unless we are to abandon the moral commitment embodied in the Eighth Amendment, proportionality review must never become effectively obsolete…Standards of decency have evolved since 1980. They will never stop doing so.

I’m going to miss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never fear. Here’s a practice advisory on Padilla, and more importantly, on pages 7-8, a list of deportable offenses and tips on how to approach a case with immigration consequences.

The advisory also points to several great resources on immigration consequences in criminal courts.

You can thank me later.

First, for the habeas practitioner, Justice Stevens delivers a powerful statement:

In [the Supreme Court of Kentucky's] view, “collateral consequences are outside the scope of representation required by the Sixth Amendment,” and, therefore, the “failure of defense counsel to advise the defendant of possible deportation consequences is not cognizable as a claim for ineffective assistance of counsel.” 253 S. W. 3d, at 483. The Kentucky high court is far from alone in this view.

We, however, have never applied a distinction between direct and collateral consequences to define the scope of constitutionally “reasonable professional assistance” required under Strickland, 466 U. S., at 689. Whether that distinction is appropriate is a question we need not consider in this case because of the unique nature of deportation.

JACKPOT! Those who practice in the field know that courts are quick to dismiss viable claims of Constitutional defect on the grounds that the basis for that alleged defect is only a “collateral consequence” of the plea. Go forth, defense attorneys, and beat them over the heads with this quote.

In what is more evidence of the complete battiness of Scalia and Thomas, Scalia writes:

We have held, however, that the Sixth Amendment requires the provision of counsel to indigent defendants at government expense, Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U. S. 335, 344–345 (1963), and that the right to “the assistance of counsel” includes the right to effective assistance, Strickland v. Washington, 466 U. S. 668, 686 (1984). Even assuming the validity of these holdings, I reject the significant further extension that the Court, and to a lesser extent the concurrence, would create.

I thought it needed pointing out that Scalia would only “assume the validity” of Gideon and Strickland. Nino, you crazy old man, you…

Writing for a 5-4 majority (7-2, if you count the concurrences), Justice Stevens opined that when the immigration consequences of a plea are clear, it is Constitutionally deficient for a defense attorney to neglect to inform the defendant of those consequences. Well, duh.

As SCOTUS itself recognized in INS v. St. Cyr, for the non-citizen defendant, the fact of deportation may be the single most important factor in deciding whether to plead guilty. We’ve known this forever.

Moreover, several states, including Connecticut, require courts, by statute, to inform defendants during the plea canvass that their plea might have immigration consequences. In cases where the immigration consequences are unclear, Justice Stevens writes, the defense attorney must meet at least that threshold.

Immigration law can be complex, and it is a legal specialty of its own. Some members of the bar who represent clients facing criminal charges, in either state or federal court or both, may not be well versed in it. There will, therefore, undoubtedly be numerous situations in which the deportation consequences of a particular plea are unclear or uncertain. The duty of the private practitioner in such cases is more limited. When the law is not succinct and straightforward (as it is in many of the scenarios posited by JUSTICE ALITO), a criminal defense attorney need do no more than advise a non-citizen client that pending criminal charges may carry a risk of adverse immigration consequences. But when the deportation consequence is truly clear, as it was in this case, the duty to give correct advice is equally clear.

There may be some who throw their hands up in the air at yet another thing the defense attorney has to do or learn. In a lot of situations – and I’m looking at you, public defender offices – the sheer volume of business is such that it’s hard to keep up with changes in substantive criminal law, let alone familiarize oneself with the immigration consequences.

I don’t think that’s a legitimate complaint: for one, the defense attorney is already ethically and morally bound to advise the client of all matters that are relevant to the client’s decision to plead guilty. I’m sorry to say that our role as counsel is not limited to just the criminal arena. The consequences of a conviction extend far beyond the local penitentiary these days. Housing, immigration, child custody are all consequences that stem from the fact of a conviction and are all issues that are important to the client.

It helps to think about the kind of lawyer you want to be. Do you want to be a lawyer who does the bare minimum and relies on the judicial dam that stems the tide of ineffective assistance of counsel claims? Or do you want to feel good about yourself when you go to bed at night, knowing that you’ve accurately and honestly helped someone make a decision that will severely impact their life?

And how difficult is it, really? The big ones are no-brainers: robbery, murder, assault, rape, kidnapping. All will result in deportation. The drug offenses are where it’s difficult. But if that’s your stock-in-trade and you don’t familiarize yourself with the immigration consequences, you will lose business or gain a bad reputation. It’s that simple. Even simpler, call an immigration attorney. Every single reputable immigration attorney I know will gladly take a few minutes of his or her time to give you a rough approximation of the consequences, if any, of the plea and even tell you how you can structure the plea to avoid deportation (if possible).

The effort required to discover this pertinent information is minimal and you owe it to yourself and your client to make it.

Finally, just a reminder of the ethical responsibilities. The Rules of Professional Conduct states:

Rule 2.1 Advisor
In representing a client, a lawyer shall exercise independent professional judgment and render candid advice. In rendering advice, a lawyer may refer not only to law but to other considerations such as moral, economic, social and political factors, that may be relevant to the client’s situation.

The commentary to and analysis of Rule 1.1 also provides handy guidance.

First, having already disproven the notion that Connecticut is the only state in the country that conducts individual voir dire, I point you, discerning reader, to some studies that highlight the relative benefits of ISVD. In 1999, then Federal Judge Gregor Mize wrote a paper about an experiment he conducted wherein he questioned jurors individually, regardless of whether they’d self-identified any biases in the “introductory” phase of voir dire.  Here is his conclusion:

In view of these results, one cannot help but get a strong sense of the essential and revealing juror data that can be obtained by interviewing citizens who do not initially respond to open-court voir dire questions. The sometimes shocking, and always noteworthy, quality of the statements given  above, have caused me to require that I interview all silent venire members. I am convinced that even if individual questioning took up significant  amounts of time (which it has not for me), it would be well worth expending the effort in order to avoid juror UFO’s and the consequent danger of  mistrials caused by impaneling biased or disabled citizens.

In 2003, he followed it up with another paper: “Be cautious of the quiet ones.” Voir Dire, 10, pp. 1-4.

In Judge Mize’s research, in the criminal trials, 1 in 5 of the silent jurors offered a highly relevant comment in individual voir dire that was withheld during group voir dire; at least one, and up to four, silent jurors were then struck for cause in 27 of the 30 criminal trials. Silent jurors in criminal trials withheld being the defendant’s fiancé, being related to the police, being predisposed toward the police, being predisposed against the police, having self or someone close shot with a gun, having lied in group voir dire, and religious convictions conflicting with duties as a juror.

In the civil trials, 1 in 10 of the silent jurors disclosed a highly relevant comment in individual voir dire, which translates into one significant disclosure for every two civil jury trials. Silent jurors in civil trials withheld having been represented by an attorney in the case, being in an auto accident one month before being called in an auto accident case, overhearing others discussing frivolous lawsuits, predispositions against the plaintiff, and predispositions against the defendant.

In both civil and criminal trials, silent jurors withheld medical conditions/hardship, financial hardship, and limited English proficiency.

The most common excuses jurors gave for failing to answer questions in group voir dire were shyness, embarrassment, and a belief that their answers weren’t very important.

Judge Mize concluded that individual voir dire is an indispensable means of identifying juror bias.

In 2005, Dax Urbszat published another study entitled The challenge for cause: Does it reduce bias in the jury system? I am unable to locate a free copy of the paper on the interwebs, so you’ll have to make do with this excerpt and summary:

Urbszat (2005) recently conducted three studies examining the effectiveness of voir dire in identifying jurors with bias or prejudice in a case. The challenge for cause was found to be ineffective in identifying and rejecting biased jurors. In addition, when the jury pool remains inside the court during voir dire, jury pool members were less likely to admit being prejudiced, and less overall rejections occurred. Individual voir dire, conducted outside the presence of other jurors, increased admissions of prejudice.

In addition, since the original series of posts, I did informally ask several local attorneys who have experience both in the Federal system and in other States, and to a person they all affirmed that they would prefer individual voir dire over group. But that is neither here nor there since I am anonymous/pseudonymous and it is only anecdotal.

However, I may not even have written this post, were it not for oral argument today in Skilling v. United States (transcript) before SCOTUS. There are two issues before the Supreme Court, both interesting in very different ways. The first is of relevance here. Skilling claims that his “trial was unfair” (and I’m paraphrasing) because of the immense pre-trial publicity his case received that rendered it impossible to empanel an impartial jury, especially given the manner in which voir dire was conducted. For a case of this magnitude, an entire jury was selected in just 5 hours, with limited questioning by the judge and even more limited questioning by the attorneys. Their primary reliance was on a 14 page questionnaire that each potential juror had filled out well in advance of jury selection. It is especially important to note that in Skilling, the voir dire was individual voir dire (and this is the much vaunted Federal “quick pick” system).

In Skilling, 60 percent of the jury venire affirmatively acknowledged in the responses to questionnaires that they would be unable to set aside their deep-seated biases or doubted their ability to do so, or that they were angry about Enron’s collapse, an anger that was manifested in the vitriolic terms in which Skilling was referred to repeatedly both in the questionnaires and in the community more generally.

Here, in CT, a similar trial is underway in New Haven. I mentioned this in a previous post and it seems that this trial is the gunpowder that has ignited some calls for doing away with ISVD. Any such reliance on highly-publicized trials is misguided. As with the Skilling trial, there is an overwhelming percentage of people called to serve who immediately are disqualified due to the immense publicity in the press and the overwhelming emotions the case evokes. That, in of itself, takes up a lot of time. In the Hayes case in New Haven, it is my understanding that only 14 jurors have actually been questioned on their suitability, with 4 of them being selected to serve. The rest have either been excused for hardships or for cause.

And yet some would have us pick a jury in a capital case which evokes the strongest of emotions in a matter of hours. I wouldn’t do it if my life were on the line, would you?

And if you cannot answer the above question in the affirmative, then we must stop calling for a truncated process when the lives and freedom in question are of those who trust us with them.

In the vast amounts of time that I have to myself, dragging the wheel as an indentured servant of The Man, I have thought about ISVD. Perhaps it is my feeble mind that cannot escape the conclusion that ISVD is a tool to be cherished by the true believer in the fairness of the system. Perhaps it is the lack of dollar signs impeding my vision that does not let me see reason. Perhaps none has been given.

Convicted of murder in 1992, Fernando Bermudez has wrongly been in jail for 17 years. Interestingly, it took only a year from his conviction for the eyewitnesses to recant citing police and prosecutorial pressure and manipulation:

A year after Mr. Bermudez’s 1992 conviction, five witnesses who had identified him as the killer at trial recanted, saying in sworn affidavits that, they were coerced or manipulated by the police and prosecutors to identify Mr. Bermudez as the killer. Several of those witnesses reiterated their recantations in September at a hearing before Justice Cataldo.

Not only that, but all 5 testified at the most recent hearing that they viewed his mugshot as a group and discussed his likeness to the killer: a big no-no in photo array identifications. All the science in this field shows that we have a tendency to compare pictures to each other and to what we think the suspect looks like and pick the one that most closely resembles the person sought to be identified, instead of picking the person who actually is. If you don’t believe me, try this simple test from expert Gary Wells‘ website.

In his 79-page decision, Justice Cataldo wrote that Mr. Bermudez’s rights were violated because the police had allowed prosecution witnesses to view Mr. Bermudez’s mug shot as a group and to discuss his resemblance to the killer. Justice Cataldo also found that the prosecution should have known before sentencing that one of its cooperating witnesses, Efraim Lopez — a teenager whom Mr. Blount had punched at the club — had given false testimony.

But that doesn’t deter prosecutors. In fact, they’re so wedded to the notion that once a conviction is obtained it must be defended at all costs – and certainly one where the reversal is based in part on misbehavior by one of their own – that they utter nonsense like the following:

“We don’t think the defense has shown anything wrong with the verdict,” Mr. Dwyer [the chief assistant Manhattan district attorney] said.

I’m not sure what world Mr. Dwyer lives in that 5 recantations don’t imply something wrong with a verdict, but wherever it is, I don’t want to live there.

What cases like these ought to do is put more focus on SCOTUS’ upcoming decision in Pottawattamie County v. McGhee [oral argument transcript here; scotusblog recap here]. The issue in Pottawattamie is whether prosecutors should enjoy immunity for intentionally coercing false testimony in the investigation phase of a prosecution and then introducing that same testimony at a trial that leads to conviction. In that case:

In 1978, Curtis McGhee and Terry Harrington were convicted of murdering a retired police officer in Pottawattamie County, Iowa and sentenced to life in prison. Twenty-five years later, the release of new files in the cases revealed that prosecutors had fabricated the testimony of a lead witness at their trials and failed to disclose evidence about an alternative suspect to the defense. The Iowa Supreme Court vacated Harrington’s sentence, and McGhee pleaded guilty to a lesser charge in exchange for time served. Both prisoners were freed.

The oral argument in Pottawattamie is something to read. It shocks the mind that something so simple as intentionally framing an innocent person is a phrase never once uttered by any party (not that I remember anyway). Some of the justices were more concerned with the chilling effect on prosecutors. Look, we all acknowledge that most prosecutors try to do their jobs fairly and very, very few of them wouldn’t be bothered by a wrongful conviction on their conscience. But how does removing immunity for intentionally framing someone produce a “chilling” effect on their prosecutorial function? It seems bass-ackwards. If anything, wouldn’t it make prosecutors more careful in whom they pursue and whom they charge? Would  removing such immunity not provide the very result which we seek: no wrongful convictions and certainly none that are obtained by intentional falsification of the evidence? [Listen to NPR's Morning Edition's coverage of this case last week, which includes listener calls from prosecutors and public defenders.]

For me, the answer in Pottawattamie is simple: If you’re a prosecutor who intentionally frames an individual, you should be sued. Not only should you be sued, but you should be disbarred. The latter is less likely to happen than I am to become the next Chuck Norris, but the former should be a real threat. The power of a prosecutor is awesome and that power should be wielded with great care and never with malice or dishonesty.

Had police and prosecutors not pressured 5 people into falsely identifying Mr. Bermudez, he probably wouldn’t have spent 17 years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. That’s the real moral of this story, not the legal fiction of “opening floodgates” or “chilling effects”. Anyone who gives any weight to such an argument needs to spend 17 years in jail in his place.

And because it’s a Sunday night, I give you this little joke:

Get it?

In an odd little dissent from the denial of cert in Virginia v. Harris, Chief Justice Roberts essentially argues that anytime police receive an anonymous tip that someone is driving drunk and they find that person, they should be able to pull them over and conduct an investigatory stop.

The story in Harris essentially was that some woman called the cops refusing to give her name, but said that Harris was driving drunk in a green Altima and wearing a striped shirt. The police found a green Altima in the general vicinity of where she said it would be, and the license plate was “close enough” to the partial description she provided. Importantly, however, Harris did not commit any traffic violations (damn those pesky drunk drivers not providing any bases for a pretextual stop!), so when he pulled over to the side of the road, the cop followed suit and initiated a traffic stop. It is not clear why he pulled over (probably because he was drunk and saw a cop following him) or what the cop initiated a stop for (probably because he was a cop and he could). Anyway, Harris reeked and was arrested.

Not so fast, said the Virginia Supreme Court, relying on Florida v. J.L. SCOTUS, in its wisdom, determined less than a decade ago that anonymous tips, by themselves are worth diddly-squat:

An anonymous tip has a relatively low degree of reliability, requiring more information to sufficiently corroborate the information contained in the tip. See J.L., 529 U.S. at 270. “Unlike a tip from a known informant whose reputation can be assessed and who can be held responsible if her allegations turn out to be fabricated, ‘an anonymous tip alone seldom demonstrates the informant’s basis of knowledge or veracity.’ ” J.L., 529 U.S. at 270 (quoting Alabama v. White, 496 U.S. at 329) (citation omitted).

The indicia of reliability of an anonymous tip may be bolstered when the tipster provides predictive information, which the police can use to test the tipster’s basis of knowledge and credibility.  However, for such predictive information to bolster the tipster’s basis of knowledge or credibility, the information must relate to the alleged criminal activity. Providing information observable or available to anyone is not predictive information and can only “help the police correctly identify the person whom the tipster [meant] to accuse.” J.L., 529 U.S. at 272. An anonymous call that provides no predictive information leaves the police without a means to test the tipster’s knowledge or credibility. J.L., 529 U.S. at 271.

And it makes perfect sense. if this were not the case, I could call the police and say I saw Scott walking down the street, carrying an AR-15 and a suitcase full of meth and he told me he was going to go rob some prosecutors. That’d be enough for them to arrest him. Now, I know he’s not actually doing any of those things, but he’d be harassed a bit. Chief Justice Roberts’ response to this, though, is that “drunk driving is different”. Okay, he didn’t actually use that pithy phrase, but that’s essentially what he thinks:

The imminence of the danger posed by drunk drivers exceeds that at issue in other types of cases. In a case like J. L., the police can often observe the subject of a tip and step in before actual harm occurs; with drunk driving, such a wait-and-see approach may prove fatal. Drunk driving is always dangerous, as it is occurring. This Court has in fact recognized that the dangers posed by drunk drivers are unique, frequently upholding anti-drunk-driving policies that might be constitutionally problematic in other, less exigent circumstances.

Riiight. So a cop who is following a driver based on an anonymous tip couldn’t pull him over if the driver was say…driving erratically? No, of course not. That would make too much sense. There’s definitely more harm there than, say, a drug deal gone bad. You know how those cops love to point out to juries that drug dealers are violent types known to carry guns.

I don’t know why he chose to dissent in this case, but one can suspect that perhaps his whole intention isn’t really to distinguish between drunk driving and other offenses, but rather to do away with that pesky J.L. case altogether.

Either way, good thing he was all alone in his dissent. Well, besides that MADD amicus brief, which I won’t link to because this is a respectable, family oriented blog.

In an delightfully oddly split 5-4 decision, Justice Stevens (penning the majority) wrote that police could no longer search the interior of a car after the suspect had been secured. The rationale given by Courts (perhaps stemming from an inartful explanation in Belton itself) prior to Gant was that officer safety demanded that they be able to search the interior of a car – the so-called “wingspan”, once a lawful arrest had been made.

Stevens’ majority debunked that:

We do not agree with the contention in JUSTICE ALITO’s dissent (hereinafter dissent) that consideration of police reliance interests requires a different result. Although itappears that the State’s reading of Belton has been widelytaught in police academies and that law enforcement officers have relied on the rule in conducting vehicle searches during the past 28 years,11 many of these searches were not justified by the reasons underlying the Chimel exception. Countless individuals guilty of nothing more serious than a traffic violation have had their constitutional right to the security of their private effects violated as a result. The fact that the law enforcement community may view the State’s version of the Belton rule as an entitlement does not establish the sort of reliance interest that could outweigh the countervailing interestthat all individuals share in having their constitutional rights fully protected. If it is clear that a practice is unlawful, individuals’ interest in its discontinuance clearly outweighs any law enforcement “entitlement” to its persistence.

…

The experience of the 28 years since we decided Belton has shown that the generalization underpinning the broad reading of that decision is unfounded. We now know that articles inside the passenger compartment are rarely“within ‘the area into which an arrestee might reach,’”453 U. S., at 460, and blind adherence to Belton’s faulty assumption would authorize myriad unconstitutional searches.

The decision is also a great primer on search incident to arrest law (and Bennett’s post does a nice job of recapping the history of it). Notable, however, is another holding within this decision: that police will always be entitled to search the interior of a vehicle if the evidence of the instant offense might be discovered within it. Obviously, this would not apply to traffic violations.

Scalia’s concurrence is also rather notable and packs a lot of punch in a few short pages. Here is a choice quote:

I believe that this standard fails to provide the needed guidance to arresting officers and also leaves much roomfor manipulation, inviting officers to leave the scene unse-cured (at least where dangerous suspects are not involved) in order to conduct a vehicle search. In my view we shouldsimply abandon the Belton-Thornton charade of officer safety and overrule those cases. I would hold that a vehi-cle search incident to arrest is ipso facto “reasonable” only Cite as: 556 U. S. ____ (2009) 3 SCALIA, J., concurring when the object of the search is evidence of the crime forwhich the arrest was made, or of another crime that the officer has probable cause to believe occurred.

As always, he concludes with a bang:

I am therefore confronted with the choice of either leaving the current understanding of Belton and Thornton in effect, or acceding to what seems to me the artificial narrowing of those cases adopted by JUSTICE STEVENS. The latter, as I have said, does not provide thedegree of certainty I think desirable in this field; but the former opens the field to what I think are plainly uncon-stitutional searches—which is the greater evil. I therefore join the opinion of the Court.

For the CT reader, I decided to look up whether our Supreme Court had adopted Belton. My limited, preliminary research left me a little confused, so if you know the answer, leave a comment. Our Supreme Court first confronted Belton in State v. Badgett, 200 Conn. 412 (1986), in which they refused to extend Belton to permit law enforcement to conduct searches of vehicles willy-nilly.

We refuse, however, to extend the “fiction” that the passenger compartment is always within reach of the arrestee; New York v. Belton, supra, 467 (Brennan, J., dissenting); to circumstances, as here, where the defendant is no longer at the scene of the arrest when the warrantless search was undertaken. It is undisputed  that in this case the defendant was strapped and handcuffed in the police cruiser leaving the scene when the heroin was discovered by officer Kiernan. Because Belton does no more than apply Chimel to a “particular and problematic” context, and “in no way alters the fundamental principles established in the Chimel case . . .”; id., 460 n.3; we hold that the right of a police officer to search the vehicle ceases the instant the arrestee departs the scene because the arrestee’s removal forecloses any possibility that he could reach for an article within the vehicle.

This is close to Gant, but not quite. In Badgett, the emphasis was on whether the defendant was on the scene as opposed to secured and unable to access the interior.

But it gets murkier. In States v. Dukes, 209 Conn. 98 (1988), the Court wrote this:

With reference to the legitimacy of the search of the defendant’s vehicle, we conclude that it was proper. There is no need for us in this case to decide what authority the officer would have had under our constitution to search the vehicle for contraband when the only provocation for that was a traffic violation. This is so because once the officer had searched the defendant incident to a lawful arrest and found contraband, he then had probable cause to search the vehicle as he had grounds of the probable guilt of the defendant of a “crime,” as defined under General Statutes § 53a-24. New York v. Belton, supra. The discovery of the contraband in the defendant’s pockets, coupled with all the officer knew at that point, including the fact that he was now presented with a misdemeanant and not a mere traffic violator, gave him probable cause to search the vehicle for contraband. Black’s Law Dictionary defines “contraband” as “any property which is unlawful to produce or possess.” See United States v. Williams, 533 F. Sup. 448, 450 (E.D. Pa. 1982). We point out here that the officer’s ability to search the vehicle is not to be justified as any continuation of his authority to conduct a pat-down search specifically for weapons in order to protect himself, but is justified on the ground that the escalation of the defendant’s involvement had now risen from that of a mere traffic violation to probable guilt of a “crime” as our statutes define that term. Despite the fact that one does not enjoy the same expectation of privacy as to the interior of his motor vehicle as one does in the interior of one’s home, nevertheless, “[t]he word ‘automobile’ is not a talisman in whose presence the Fourth Amendment fades away and disappears.” Coolidge v. New Hampshire, 403 U.S. 443, 461, 91 S. Ct. 2022, 29 L. Ed. 2d 564, reh. denied, 404 U.S. 874, 92 S. Ct. 26, 30 L. Ed. 2d 120 (1971). The same applies to an “automobile” under article first, § 7, of the constitution of Connecticut. The exception to the warrant requirement in an automobile search demands that the searching officer have probable cause to believe that the vehicle contains contraband. Carroll v. United States, 267 U.S. 132, 153-54, 45 S. Ct. 280, 69 L. Ed. 543 (1925); State v. Badgett, supra, 429. So does article first, § 7, of our constitution. We believe that this officer had, as we have outlined, objective facts upon which could be based  a finding of probable cause to search the defendant’s vehicle for contraband. Accordingly, the motion to suppress was correctly denied by the trial court.

You tell me what that means. (There’s more, but it’s late. I’ll update later.) If you’re interested, see State v. Wilkins, 240 Conn. 489 (1997), specifically the end of the majority decision and all of Berdon’s dissent.