Pamela Coloff did the heavy lifting in a New York Times Magazine story. Now Jesse Wegman reminds us of it, as James Dailey’s stay of execution is about to run out, and Florida Governor Ron DeSantis has tired of hearing about it, so scheduling Dailey’s execution seems inevitable.
What Florida officials have so far refused to acknowledge . . . is that Mr. Dailey, 73, is almost certainly innocent.
Jesse gives two reasons for this conclusion. The first is that Dailey’s housemate, Jack Pearcy, was both convicted of the brutal 1985 murder of a teenager named Shelly Boggio, and asserted, twice, under oath, that he, and he alone, committed the murder. The second is that the only evidence against Dailey was the word of Paul Skalnik. Skalnik was the jailhouse snitch.
For those of us who do this for a living, there really isn’t much more that needs to be said about Skalnik. We all know the routine. We’ve all been through the routine, some of us a hundred times. We’ve argued that jailhouse snitches will say anything to weasel their way out of prison. We’ve argued that they’re the least credible people in the room, who would rat out their mother if it bought them a week off their sentence. We’ve argued the absurdity of a guy exposing his deepest criminal secret to a random stranger in a cell. We’ve argued this over and over.
Prosecutors believe jailhouse snitches because without them, they wouldn’t get their conviction. This might make it sound more cynical than it is, as most decent prosecutors start from a place of believing a defendant guilty and the snitch provides the evidence that seals the deal.
Prosecutors don’t believe they’re convicting an innocent person, even if they know they’re using the shoddiest evidence possible. They do so because they sincerely believe that their newest sleazeball best friend might be a lying sack of shit otherwise, but this time he’s giving testimony against the killer. The end justifies the means.
But despite all the points that Jesse finds “infuriating,” juries convict on the word of snitches all the time. Some snitches were part of the crime on trial, working their way out by claiming they’ve had a sudden epiphany, found Jesus and now testify to repent for their sins, so they can get out and do it all over again, the next time hopefully without getting caught. At least these snitches had a basis to claim actual knowledge of what went down, even if their story serves the cause of cutting them a break.
But the jailhouse snitch is the lowest and least credible snitch in the entire snitch ecosystem. We’ve known it forever. The media discovered it after they learned that they could get mileage out of true crime exoneration podcasts. Not to be mean to Jesse’s good intentions, but a few years ago, not a soul at the New York Times would have answered the phone if Dailey’s lawyer called with his story.
Not only would they not have been “infuriated,” or even slightly perturbed, but there’s a fair chance they would have been more inclined to write the story about how a saint like Paul Skalnik revealed Dailey’s killer heart, finally giving Shelly Boggio’s family “justice” and allowing her to rest in peace, knowing her true killer would get the punishment he deserved.
Jailhouse informants are some of the more elusive creatures of the criminal justice system — cycling in and out of jail, always seeming to find themselves in the right place when another inmate decides to unburden himself and confess his crimes to a total stranger. They can help destroy an innocent man’s life, and yet there is virtually no mechanism within the system to hold them, or the prosecutors who quietly use them, accountable.
What sort of “mechanism” would Jesse imagine should exist? There is no magic way to discern the liar from the truthful, even if journalists believe they know “truth” just as cops have always claimed. The failing of the jailhouse snitch is inherent in the beast, that he starts out as a guy in jail, and he’s not there on a research project, and happens upon some other miscreant who inexplicably unloads his worst secret on this unknown person because confession is good for the soul. Jurors love religious explanations. Reporters used to as well. They still do when it serves their truth.
This doesn’t mean the jailhouse snitch is a liar. Just because Skalnik was a con man, and later admitted that he was promised a deal (which the prosecution denied), creating the absurd conundrum of liar lying about lies but still credible enough to kill a guy over.
Pamela makes a persuasive case that Dailey may not have been the killer. Whether that meets the bar of “almost certainly innocent” is a stretch, but it flies over the bar of “not proven beyond a reasonable doubt,” such that he shouldn’t be in prison for the killing, where he’s been for about three decades. And where it appears likely that he’ll be executed.
The rank injustice of cases like James Dailey’s provide yet another reason, as if more were needed, that the death penalty must be abolished.
“Rank injustice” is the sort of plaintive cry that appeals to readers of Teen Vogue, but ignores the fact that it wasn’t just some nefarious abusive prosecutor who put this mutt Skalnik on the stand, but a jury of twelve compassionate citizens bought it. Nowhere does Jesse mention the jury. Then again, if the winds blew in a slightly different direction, the “rank injustice” would have been an acquittal because it let the murderer of a teenaged girl walk free. Maybe then the jury would have been mentioned.
But now that Dailey’s stay has run out and that the failings of this jailhouse snitch have received the New York Times Seal of Approval, what will Florida do?
As the last days of Mr. Dailey’s stay of execution run out, Governor DeSantis has shown no interest in revisiting the case. “This has been litigated over and over and over, and so at some point you need to do justice,” he said.
He is right — if not in the way he thinks. The power to do that justice is in his hands.
Doing “justice” is what everyone says they want, even if they can’t always agree on what that means. Jesse Wegman and Pamela Coloff are right about Dailey’s conviction based on a jailhouse snitch. Then again, that was the case back when Dailey was originally convicted, but back then, doing “justice” meant believing the jailhouse snitches and ignoring criminal defense lawyers telling journalists that they were the worst, least credible snitches of all snitches. Back then, they didn’t care. Now, they do.
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Your mention of Teen Vogue left me wanting.
Jesse Wegman’s piece reads like a (nearly) great football play. The quarterback (Coloff) slips the first tackle and makes a great pass. The running back (Wegman) starts of quick and agile but gets overexcited and starts celebrating before the endzone with cries of “Injustice!” “DO SOMETHING” and fumbles the ball.
It’s Pavlovian. Now, I need only mention Teen Vogue to evoke the memory and visceral reaction.
Jesse means well, and is no doubt sincere, but has a tendency to take an emotional leap over his gaps. That doesn’t mean he fumbled, but that doesn’t mean he scored either.
SHG–there is certainly a problem with jailhouse snitches, but they should be impeachable. What juries take from it, who knows? But this conviction is hardly the picture of someone being “almost certainly innocent.” From the initial appeal to the supreme court of the Swamp:
Are three jailhouse snitches more reliable than one? Did the other two have the same baggage as Skalnik? Why aren’t the other two mentioned in these reports? Should it carry the day that Pearcy stayed silent and only gave it up 30 years after the crime?
I gotta side with the Swamp governor on this one. There was a trial, a reversal of the sentence and a full trip through the Swamp and federal appellate courts. But only now does the media care and they start from the conclusion that he’s innocent–because everyone says so.
The only question for the Swamp Gov at the moment is whether to fry him. You don’t have to be persuaded by Jesse to say “nah.”
But the public loves a good yardbird-fry. Almost as much as barbecue.
Henry Rollins.
“Anything in this culture that stands still long enough eventually becomes okay if a person can derive an income from it. Eventually, pay-per-view public execution will happen, and it will be half-time entertainment.”
In fairness, have you watched a network sitcom in the past few years?
No. I watch the news.
Oh. Wait. Maybe I do watch sitcoms.
This shows how, given thirty years, even media reporters can spot an issue.
Scott, you’ve known me for several years now and you know, I would hope, that I’ve been writing about criminal-justice reform since before I got to the NYT in 2013. (Not for Teen Vogue, alas.) Perhaps I don’t always take the exact line you would, but it’s disappointing to read your cynical take on how you think I and others covering this issue would’ve responded to jailhouse-snitch stories in years past. In fact I’ve covered them before (the OC case, for one) and have been writing about overzealous/dishonest prosecutors for a while. As have many other journalists, most far more involved in the issue than I am.
Take issue with what I wrote, fine — I’m used to that. But the ad hominem gets really tiresome.
I like you, respect you and appreciate your good intentions, but you see the system from 35,000 feet, which is a very different view than mine in the trenches. There is nothing ad hominem in there; it’s entirely substantive and based on your writing. Your complaint is that I’m indelicate about it, which may well be true, but that’s not what makes something an ad hominem.
I neither said nor suggests you were being intentionally dishonest in your assessment (which I don’t, as are many of the pop crim law reformers who deliberately omit and misstate salient details to make an unfair and inaccurate point), but for the reasons I wrote about, it just wasn’t real or limited to the Dailey case, where it was hardly proof of innocence even if sufficient reason not to execute.
You’re right I see it all from 35K feet, as I must given my job (it frustrates the lawyer in me too, believe me). The ad hominem I took exception to was saying that neither I nor other people at NYT would’ve cared about this issue a few years ago but do now because it’s sexy or au courant.
That refers to something very different; a few decades ago when the crack epidemic was in full swing, I pushed this issue with the NYT about jailhouse snitches in drug cases, and I wasn’t just blown off, but kindly informed that drug dealers were the scum of the earth and they couldn’t care less if drug dealers got burned by lying snitches, as they deserved it.
A lot of really bad law happened back in the 80s. You weren’t there then, but it still said NYT on the masthead and your predecessors loved it. That’s what I was referring to.
Oh, yes, I’m aware of the NYT and the crack coverage. There were some cracks in it. See here for a partial reckoning by our page: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/12/28/opinion/crack-babies-racism.html
As long as I have your ear (eye?), consider that we’re doing the exact same thing today that we did in the 80s with crack that gave us all the horrific law we’re trying to undo now (and which the NYT fully supported back then), except the crimes most hated today are rape, sexual assault, domestic violence and white collar. You might not see it yet, but having lived through it, that’s exactly what’s happening, and we’re turning a blind eye to it just as the NYT did back then.
I’ll likely be dead by the time everyone recognizes the mistakes being made today, so when it’s realized 30 years from now, please remember that I said so.