Come on, we’re not even pretending anymore


If you for some reason start a judicial opinion with the following:

By virtue of a reassignment within the Mercer County Office of the Public Defender (OPD), defendant Terrence Miller did not meet his attorney until the morning on which his trial was   scheduled to begin.

and then explain further that:

Defendant’s new attorney was a public defender with nineteen years of experience in legal practice, including some experience in criminal cases. On Thursday, December 6, 2007, defendant’s new attorney was informed by his supervisors at the Mercer County OPD that he would be transferred from his current assignment in the Mercer County OPD’s juvenile unit to a trial team responsible for cases overseen by the trial judge in this case. The attorney was told that day that he would serve as defendant’s trial counsel and that defendant’s trial was expected to begin on the following Monday, December 10, 2007. It would be his first adult criminal trial in seven years.

[No. Stop. You really need to read that blockquote. Don’t skip it.] And then recite more facts like these: He worked for an hour and a half on Thursday. On Friday he worked on the case for 2 1/2 hours. Then, on Saturday:

defendant’s counsel conducted a three- to four-hour review of relevant evidence rules and suppression law to prepare himself for proceedings in adult criminal court

and on Sunday, he spent three hours reviewing discovery and preparing cross-examination. In all, he spent 10-11 hours preparing for a trial. For his first criminal trial in 7 years. For a client he’d never met.

In Ohio, it is June 24, 2008

In Ohio, the clock hasn’t moved past June 24, 2008. The residents of that state have been reliving that one day for the last 5+ years.

Or at least that’s the only explanation for this bill proposed by State Rep. John Becker, which would make horrific sexual crimes against children punishable by the death penalty.

So why June 24, 2008? Because the next day, June 25, 2008, the Supreme Court of the United States of America issued its opinion in Kennedy v. Louisiana [PDF], which held that it was a violation of the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States to punish a crime that did not result in death by death.

In Kennedy, Kennedy wrote that the 5 states that had authorized such a penalty did not constitute a “national consensus” and that it violated the prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment.

Rep. Becker wishes to create that “national consensus”, stating that the bill is modeled after the law in half a dozen states. Which is 6. 6 states out of 50. And which is decidedly not the law. See, Kennedy, supra.

He said:

his House Bill 244 would give prosecutors another option when negotiating plea agreements and could help to persuade the U.S. Supreme Court to allow capital punishment for heinous crimes against children.

Oh, that’s great. “Take this plea deal or we’ll kill you” has proven real effective in ensuring that only the guilty get sent to prison.

But what could be causing him to suddenly propose such a bill?

“In light of the Ariel Castro kidnapping case of three young women in Cleveland,

I don’t need to finish that quote. Thankfully (or not?) Ohio is still part of these United States and thus subject to the law of these United States as interpreted by the Supreme Court of these United States, which said, quite clearly, that what Becker is proposing is unconstitutional.

At least we can sit comfortably here in CT knowing that no legislato-nevermind.


One Thousand, Five Hundred and Thirty Two. According to this 2012 report, that’s how many crimes there are in Connecticut that carry a punishment of incarceration.

That’s three crimes a day for 510 days. That’s a cumulative 60 billion years of incarceration1.

And that’s about 1475 more than anyone’s ever read or paid attention to.

There are crimes in there that need to be crimes – murder and the like – and crimes that maybe nobody can dispute but you still wonder if it’s necessary – practicing psychology without a license2;

and crimes that make you go “huh?” – did you know that gas stations are required to provide free air, much less that a second conviction for failing to do so can send you to jail for 6 months?;

and crimes that are pretty clearly written for special interest groups – for instance, spreading a rumor that is derogatory to the financial condition of a bank3;

and crimes that are so horribly written that they only way they can continue to exist is only by judicial re-working and interpreting and salvaging4;

and crimes that really, really cannot be crimes:

Any person who, by his advertisement, ridicules or holds up to contempt any person or class of persons, on account of the creed, religion, color, denomination, nationality or race of such person or class of persons, shall be fined not more than fifty dollars or imprisoned not more than thirty days or both.

This is a 1949 statute that doesn’t seem to have any case citations. Barring some sort of escape hatch hidden in “by his advertisement”, I can’t see how his statute passes First Amendment muster.

But yet, there it is, exposing every day citizens like you and me to 30 days in jail.

The top of the statutory scheme, with the obvious felonies isn’t in issue here (besides the stupid Risk of Injury). It’s at the bottom of the chart, where the punishments are a year and under that the fun lies.

As Jeremy points out, ignorance of the law is no excuse. What have you been guilty of?


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.


Your phone will protect you only as much as the courts let it


Press here to turn over all your secrets1.

The other day Apple announced its latest iPhone which would come equipped with some sort of biometric fingerprint scanner [warning: autoplaying video], permitting users to unlock their phones with simply a touch.  iTouch, it’s called. Putting aside the obvious jokes, there was quite a bit of stir caused by this announcement on the internet, given the current spotlight on privacy invasions. This, some argued, was the end of everything: fingerprint on the iPhone means fingerprint to Apple, which means fingerprint to the Federal Government, which means fingerprint to NSA, which means…something. I don’t know what exactly.

It’s understandable. The NSA apparently can use the apps we put on our phones to hack into our phones or something. It’s a terrible invasion of privacy. Except the fingerprint as “Open Sesame!” is a bit flawed because Apple explicitly stated that the fingerprint was encrypted and stored only on the chip and not uploaded to the cloud or the internet or wherever. So the argument then becomes, if the government is going to hack into your phone to get your fingerprint, aren’t they in there already? What the hell do they want your fingerprint for?

Let us assume for some reason that they do get your fingerprint. What are they going to do with it? Put in an arrest warrant that your fingerprint matched one found at the scene of a crime? Aren’t they going to have to explain how they got your fingerprint? Either the government hacking into your phone is “legal” or not: the method by which they do it is irrelevant.

But there might be another problem associated with the fingerprint, writes Marcia Hoffman in Wired. While titled “Apple’s Fingerprint ID May Mean You Can’t Take The Fifth”2, the import of the article is clearly that this new fingerprint technology somehow reduces your privilege against self-incrimination if you choose to use it.

Because the constitutional protection of the Fifth Amendment, which guarantees that “no person shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself,” may not apply when it comes to biometric-based fingerprints (things that reflect who we are) as opposed to memory-based passwords and PINs (things we need to know and remember).

To cut to the chase, the argument is thusly:

The fingerprint is not an act or a statement made verbally, forcing someone to reveal “contents of one’s mind”, therefore pursuant to Doe v. United States (II), it is not a “testimonial” statement that is incriminating and the act of forcing you to use your finger to open your phone is not privileged and you’re screwed. Damn you Apple, government stooge!

But, as most lawyers will tell you, there’s a big fat “maybe” attached to this argument she makes3. The ‘maybe’ is that it all depends on the facts and circumstances of the case. As Hoffman herself admits:

There are the password cases where a federal judge has ruled that an individual cannot be forced to turn over the password to decrypt files on one’s computer. Up until now, most people use 4-digit pin codes that can easily be hacked into by the Government.

But your fingerprint is different, she argues, because it isn’t something in your mind. It’s more like a key than a wall safe combination, relying on the argument of the court in Doe II.

But you can readily imagine a scenario where forcing you to use your fingerprint incriminates you: it ties you to the phone in question and it may lead police to information they didn’t know existed. See Doe I.

And then there’s the essential difference, at least in my mind4: the fingerprint is an inseparable part of my physical being, like my mind. The closest analogy I see in current practices is DNA comparison, which has been held to be non-testimonial. But DNA is not widely accepted as a method to lock and unlock private materials, except perhaps in science fiction.

A fingerprint, on the other hand, despite its unreliability can become widely used for just that. And then the argument can be made that it’s more akin to another scenario that’s prohibited: forcing you to participate in a criminal prosecution. Because there’s Rochin v. California, in which the Supreme Court held that it was a violation of Due Process to forcibly extract the contents of Rochin’s stomach and then used the pills found therein to prosecute him for possession of drugs.

There’s also the notion that there’s a reasonable expectation of privacy in the contents of one’s cell phone and that the government needs probable cause to seize and search it, however they unlock it.

And if all it takes for them is to get your phone unlocked – and they can hack into a passcode – then look about you. Your fingerprints are everywhere and you have no expectation of privacy in them. Don’t want to comply with being forced to turn over your fingerprint? Fine. They’ll just follow you and seize everything you touch and lift your print off that.

The problem with Hoffman’s piece is that it misplaces the problem with the Fifth Amendment privilege. It isn’t in the key or the fingerprint, it’s in the law that doesn’t care to protect us.

When I was your age, we had executions AT the fundraisers!

If there’s one thing Republicans love, it’s their executions. If there’s one thing they love more than executions, it’s money. If there’s one thing they love more than executions and money, it’s politics. If there’s one thin- fundraisers. That’s what I’m getting to.

So what happens when two public spectacles which exist only for the purpose of pandering to the lowest common denominator collide? Money wins.

Kids: money always wins.

And so Pam Bondi, Attorney effing General of the State of Florida got her buddy Rick “Let’s Speed Up Executions Because We’re Doing Such A Fine Job Of Making Sure We Always Have The Right Guy” Scott to nonchalantly postpone an execution scheduled to take place on Monday.

Because Bondi needed to get some money to keep her job.

After Scott last month rescheduled the execution for Sept. 10, the date of Bondi’s “hometown campaign kickoff” at her South Tampa home, Bondi’s office asked that it be postponed. The new date is Oct. 1.

Scott said Monday that he did not know the reason for the request, and he declined to answer when asked whether he considers a campaign fundraiser an appropriate reason to reschedule an execution.

Here, laid before you in the barest terms possible is your “victim’s rights”. Here is your “tough on crime” and “vengeance” and “justice” and all that supposedly makes it worth having a death penalty.

All of that. An inconvenience to a politician who wants money. Here it lies before you, exposed as nothing more than another tool to get your vote and your dollar.

Do half of these blood-thirsty politicians even care about the death penalty by itself? Or do they care more about it as an instrument that legitimizes their existence?

And, despite your best efforts to convince yourself otherwise, is there no part of you that cringes at the thought that a man’s life is being toyed with so?

Is the irony lost? We, who seek to punish those who kill to teach a lesson about the value of life do so without any notion of exhibiting that very value. Human life is precious and must be treated with respect, we say as we cavalierly bring a man to the precipice of the after-life and then yank him back at the last minute because something shiny caught our attention.

We kill to teach that killing is bad, but we do it with such haphazard and imprecise abandon that one is but forced to come away with the opinion that maybe this killing thing isn’t such a big deal at all.

I want no part of any of this and neither should you.