Category Archives: Uncategorized

Checkpoint Mayfield

What do you know about highway checkpoints, other than preferring that you not end up in one?  Not much, and the police are counting on you not learning enough to beat them at their own game.  Checkpoint basics are fairly straightforward, sobriety checkpoints being lawful as long as they are conducted in a pre-determined random fashion, whether it’s every car or every sixth car.

Drug checkpoints, on the other hand, are unconstitutional. That means they can’t lawfully do them, though it doesn’t mean they can’t walk a dog around your car at a sobriety check point for kicks. But there is another trick with drug checkpoints that’s more interesting. Put a big sign on the highway that there’s a drug checkpoint ahead and see who avoids it. Cool trick, right?

From the Washington Post :



Police in the Cleveland suburb of Mayfield Heights know they’re not allowed to use checkpoints to search drivers and their cars for drugs.

So they’re trying the next best thing: fake drug checkpoints.

Police in the city of 19,000 recently posted large yellow signs along Interstate 271 that warned drivers that there was a drug checkpoint ahead, to be prepared to stop and that there was a drug-sniffing police dog in use.


There was no checkpoint ahead. That would be wrong. But is there anything wrong with fooling the unwary into taking evasive action and thereby creating a reasonable suspicion?  Some people pull to the side of the road, which would allow them to dispose of contraband. Sometimes there’s an exit before the checkpoint and they head off the highway. Some make a U-turn. To a hammer, these all look like nails.



Dominic Vitantonio, a Mayfield Heights assistant prosecutor, said the fake checkpoints are legal and a legitimate effort in the war on drugs.


“We should be applauded for doing this,” Dominic Vitantonio said. “It’s a good thing.”


And yet, he won’t be winning the ACLU’s Man of the Year award. Again. But it’s hardly a foregone conclusion that such conduct is “legal and legitimate.”  If cop was to threaten to beat a person senseless with his baton for fun, a sufficiently clear unlawful act (yes, Vitantonio?), in order to induce the person to either consent to a search, assault the cop in defense or flee, either way using his reaction as the basis to take further action against the person, would that fly?


Bill Peters, one of the four drivers pulled over as a result of the fake checkpoint, said he wonders if he was targeted because he has long, unkempt hair.

Four drivers? With results like that, who can blame the Mayfield police for being so aggressive. Society will be forever in their debt, as will hair stylists.



Peters, of Medina, said he was driving on the interstate when he missed his exit. He pulled over to check his phone for directions, then pulled back onto the freeway when his phone disconnected from the charger, causing him to pull over again to reconnect it, he said.


Soon after returning to the freeway, police pulled him over.


No drugs were found (of course), but this goes not so much to the legality of the tactic, but the fact that the actions of drivers may have nothing whatsoever to do with the phony checkpoint. Hammer, nail, directions. Or maybe they had always planned to get off at the next exit. Or maybe they forgot something and had to turn around. Or maybe they have to go to the bathroom and remember that fast food joint they just past. There are a ton of reasons why people do what they do having absolutely nothing to do with whatever the Hammers have in their heads.

The point being that the characterization of drivers’ conduct in relation to a phony checkpoint sign lacks any substantive basis in fact to give rise to a suspicion of anything.  But this, of course, doesn’t mean that it won’t suffice to persuade a court that it gave rise to reasonable suspicion. There’s the rub.

All it takes is for the cop to have a reasonable and articulable basis. It’s an extremely low threshold, and need not exclude the thousand others bases for people doing whatever the feel like doing, including deciding they just don’t feel like being party to a police checkpoint.

Can the cops create the scenario that gives rise to the actions or reactions that create the appearance of reasonable suspicion where none otherwise exists?  Given the Supreme Court’s approval of pretextual stops in Whren, it would appear they can. The standard is purely objective, whether the conduct can be justified without regard to any subjective belief or purposes on the part of the cops. 

The bottom line is that the police use lies in order to get people to give them what they’re looking for all the time, and the courts are more than willing to embrace this as a necessary weapon in the war on whatever war they are fighting today. 

Lawprof  Jonathan Turley appears to suggest that this is abusive and unlawful:


I would challenge any such stop. There are ample reasons for citizens to want to avoid police abuse, which is what the signs are promising since police cannot engage in such action.

The fact that the prosecutor, Mr. Vitantonio, supports such abusive practices shows a serious gap of judgment in this jurisdiction. He appears to believe that citizens should be stopped if they take any effort to avoid an act of police abuse. I hope that one of these four citizens will challenge their arrests and put Mr. Vitantonio’s theory to the test.

It strikes me that Turley is half right. While I agree that pulling such stunts on people driving down the highway is abusive and deliberately intended to undermine their constitutional rights, I fear that there is nothing unconstitutional about it. That doesn’t make it right, any more than the horrific Whren decision, which reflects constitutional doctrine that rewards police for being liars. But blaming Vitantonio for being a tool doesn’t change the fact that the courts similarly allow such abuse to happen under the guise of small inconveniences for the greater good of the War on whatever.

The best thing to remember is that drug checkpoints, at least, are unconstitutional, so should you see a sign alerting that a checkpoint is up ahead, drive on, dude. Drive on.







Government to Judge: It Sucks To Be The Defense

It’s not yet known whether there was a smoking gun in the jury room, but whatever is known, it’s not by the United States Attorney’s office in the District of Vermont.  And it’s just killing them. Bummer.

From  The Barre Montpelier Times Argus (that’s a name, right?):


Prosecutors are asking a federal judge to order the turnover of defense interviews with jurors who sat on the death penalty case against convicted murderer Donald Fell.

Judge William Sessions, who presided over the 2006 trial in the killing of Terry King of North Clarendon, decided in May to further consider a wide range of complaints contained in Fell’s latest appeal.
The defense made an ex parte application to interview the jurors in Fell’s case, and it was apparently sufficient to get William Sessions to sign off.


In a seven-page filing, prosecutors say defense attorneys have ignored their requests to turn over the interviews in advance of an August hearing on the appeals.

In the prosecutors’ motion, Assistant U.S. Attorney William Darrow wrote that the government was not made aware of the defense motion nor was it given the opportunity to respond to the request.

Prosecutors didn’t know about the interviews until months after they were completed, he wrote, because the judge ordered that both the motion and his decision be sealed.

Can’t you hear the screaming in the hallways of the office: Dammit, Darrow, get that judge to force those bastards to turn over their interviews. I don’t care how you do it, just do it!  You can’t see me, but I’m grinning from ear to ear just thinking about it.

In lawyerly fashion, provided your idea of lawyerly is to write insipid nonsense that only a lawyer from the government can get away with, Darrow explained to Judge Sessions:


“At this juncture, the government is completely in the dark about the facts and circumstances that led (defense lawyers) to request authorization to interview the jurors in this case and to the court’s subsequent order granting authorization (to the defense) to do so,” the motion said. “The government has no information with which to gauge the extent of the court’s authorization to (the defense.)”
Completely in the dark?  Can you imagine?  Outrageous! Impossible! However can the government prepare to address “the court’s authorization to (the defense.)”  Notice that last little kicker, that it’s not the propriety of the jurors’ conduct that concerns the government, but Judge Session’s “authorization” allowing the defense to collect evidence to be used on behalf of the defendant. How dare an Article III judge do something that allows the defense to challenge the government. They’re the government! Doesn’t the judge realize that?

But they’re in the dark, you say?  Yeah, how about that. Imagine what it would be like for the government to not have access to all information, inside and out, prosecution and defense.  It makes them almost like, well, the defense.

And they can’t stand it. They are pulling their hair out, infuriated at the idea that they are expected to prepare for a hearing without having complete and total access to whatever the defense has.


U.S. Attorney Tristram Coffin said Tuesday it’s not uncommon for motions and decisions to be kept secret from either the prosecution or defense through the sealing of records.

But with the hearing in August closing in, Darrow wrote that his ability to prepare an argument about the alleged juror misconduct has been hamstrung after repeated requests to Fell’s New York attorneys have gone unanswered.

“The government simply cannot do its job blind,” he wrote.

Neither can the defense, pal, and yet that’s how we do our job in every case, as you refuse to provide basic information about the allegations because the Rule 16 doesn’t make you and, as you so love to argue, it would be terribly unfair to the government to be compelled to disclose what it contends is the truth before trial so it can’t sandbag the defense.

Sucks, doesn’t it?

This is what it’s like to represent the defendant in a federal criminal prosecution. Suck it up.

H/T Alex Bunin, who I suspect is also grinning ear to ear about this one, but won’t be truly happy about it until Judge Sessions grants Fell a new trial. 



Third, Fourth, Whatever

Fascination spread across the blawgosphere as something that almost never happens happened in Henderson, Nevada.  Marc Randazza first pointed to the story from Courthouse News :

The Mitchell family’s claim includes Third Amendment violations, a rare claim in the United States….

The complaint continues: “Defendant Officer David Cawthorn outlined the defendants’ plan in his official report: ‘It was determined to move to 367 Evening Side and attempt to contact Mitchell. If Mitchell answered the door he would be asked to leave. If he refused to leave he would be arrested for Obstructing a Police Officer. If Mitchell refused to answer the door, force entry would be made and Mitchell would be arrested.’”

“As plaintiff Anthony Mitchell stood in shock, the officers aimed their weapons at Anthony Mitchell and shouted obscenities at him and ordered him to lie down on the floor….

“Although plaintiff Anthony Mitchell was lying motionless on the ground and posed no threat, officers, including Officer David Cawthorn, then fired multiple ‘pepperball’ rounds at plaintiff as he lay defenseless on the floor of his living room. Anthony Mitchell was struck at least three times by shots fired from close range, injuring him and causing him severe pain….”


Officers then arrested him for obstructing a police officer, searched the house and moved furniture without his permission and set up a place in his home for a lookout, Mitchell says in the complaint.


There are far more details (see the full Complaint, courtesy of Doug Mataconis), but the bottom line is the police wanted to use Mitchell’s home for their own purpose and arrested Mitchell for refusing to cooperate and took it over for their lookout of the neighbor’s house. Upon news spreading, law nerds began to salivate. Third Amendment! Do you know how rare this is?   They don’t call it “the forgotten Amendment” for nothing.

But as Ilya Somin points out at Volokh Conspiracy, it’s neither entirely clear that it actually is a Third Amendment case, nor that fighting the case on Third Amendment grounds is going to win the day.  First, cops aren’t soldiers, even if they like to dress up like them and play with soldier toys. On the other hand, there was no thing called “cops” back when the Third Amendment was enacted.

Second, since there haven’t been many Third Amendment claims made, the Supreme Court has never incorporated the Third under the Fourteenth Amendment to make it apply to the states. That doesn’t mean it won’t or shouldn’t, but just that it hasn’t yet happened.

Third, while the cops clearly seized Mitchell’s home for their own use, and arrested him because he didn’t love them enough to do as he was told, whether this is what is meant by “quartering,” or whether the transitory use of a house is sufficient to invoke the Third Amendment.  Quartering refers to the housing, such as barracks, where the soldiers would live. The cops weren’t looking to move into Mitchell’s house, but use it in the course of investigating a possible crime by a neighbor. Similar, perhaps, but not quite quartering.

Cool as it may be for lawyers and scholars to have a zebra in their midst, the likelihood of this case producing some serious Third Amendment law isn’t particularly strong.  The conduct of the police was clearly outrageous and flagrantly unconstitutional, but the Fourth Amendment is more than up to the task of sound basis for relief.

They entered, they seized, they assaulted, they searched, and they seized again, the home of Anthony Mitchell. This is a claim for damages for the violation of his constitutional rights, and the outcome of such suits is monetary relief. Assuming its all true, then the pressing question is less which amendment it falls under as whether it violates Mitchell’s rights under any amendment. And indeed, it does.

As for the ever-fascinating why question, why would they do this to a man who did nothing wrong other than not doing what the cops wanted him to do, Gamso offers a simple explanation:


Henderson is a suburb of Las Vegas.  The cops gambled.  They bet that they could do whatever they wanted and get away with it because, well, they were the cops.

In the spirit of Vegas, I’ll gamble and say that they won’t get away with it, but that the basis for their conduct being held to violate the Constitution won’t be the Third Amendment, with all its unanswered and difficult questions, but the Fourth. As cool as it may be to ponder the possibilities of new vitality given the forgotten amendment, I’m going with the odds as the house never loses.

Born on the Fourth of July

Houston criminal defense lawyer Rob Fickman, whose Stetson just happens to fit me perfectly*, came up with an idea a few years ago. He thought that July 4th, Independence Day, would make a damn fine day for the reading of the  Declaration of Independence, adopted by the Continental Congress.

And so the  Texas Criminal Defense Lawyer Association began a program of reading the Declaration on the Fourth of July.  Yes, they actually do it on July 3rd at courthouses across Texas, but that’s only because everybody is home swilling beer and munching barbecue on the 4th, and there would be no one there to hear it.  But let’s not blow the concept over such minor details.

The readings have since spread across the country, with criminal defense lawyers reading the Declaration of Independence on the steps of more than 50 courthouses. 

Have kids? Have friends? Today would make a fine day to read the Declaration of Independence to them.

Have no friends or family? Then you have all the time in the world to read it to yourself.

Don’t have a copy handy?  The internet is here for you. Here’s the text of the  Declaration of Independence from the national archives.

And while the ribs are on the grill, and you have some extra time on your hands, you might want to consider reading the  United States Constitution as well. It couldn’t hurt.

Don’t worry if your beer gets warm. That’s how the Brits prefer it anyway, and without the Declaration of Independence, you would be working for them today, maybe for the East India Company doing doc review. Now do you appreciate the significance of the Declaration of Independence?  I thought so.
 


And if it wasn’t for our separation from England, we would never have been able to create a government that would give us this:



Now, get back to that beer. It’s not getting any colder, you know.

* This point was made abundantly clear to Fickman in a honkytonk bar, and yet Fickman failed to get the hint, proving that Texans are either selfish or hate Yankees.

But For Video: Former Cop Rory Bruce Acquitted Edition

A classic quote from the  police union business manager :

“Police officers have to make split second decisions in life and death situations and I don’t think that folks over at the Circuit Attorney’s office or folks up in Internal Affairs should second guess them based on their brief impression of a video tape,” says Jeff Roorda with the SLPOA. “It doesn’t tell the whole story,” he says.

Does it bring a tear to your eye, knowing what we put these cops through when they’re just trying to do a tough job under near-impossible conditions?  Completely understandable, since they do have to make split second decisions in life and death situations. But then, that wasn’t what was happening with St. Louis Police Officer Rory Bruce on February 20, 2012, which we know because there was dash cam video.

There was nothing life or death about the decision Rory Bruce made to pound this cuffed teenager in custody. Yet, he was acquitted by  Associate Circuit Court Judge Theresa Counts Burke.  Not because she found this conduct acceptable, but because she never watched the video. 

Prosecutors had also tried, but failed, to get the teenager on the stand. First they couldn’t find him, then when they did, he asserted his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination.

But the video never made it into evidence because the law required prosecutors to authenticate it with someone who had personal knowledge of the events. Bruce refused to testify against himself, on the same constitutional grounds as the teen.

The teenager involved was never charged, leaving the prosecution with nothing to trade off for his testimony. As for doing the right thing against Bruce, well, the right thing on the street can sometimes be a bit different than what some of us might hope for.

But what of the other officer present, Bruce’s partner, Jacob Fowler?

That left Fowler, who claimed the same but was forced to testify after prosecutors granted him immunity from charges and obtained a last minute order from another judge.
When Fowler viewed the footage, he testified it differed from his recollection of events.

 

Maybe he recalled rainbows and unicorns. Who knows? What he clearly didn’t recall was anything that could be used against his partner. What a surprise.

 

Burke ruled he thus couldn’t authenticate it. That left only the testimony of a few police employees, who couldn’t say much because of hearsay rules.

 

The Circuit Attorney, Jennifer Joyce, apparently argued that the video was self-authenticating:

 

She said the video, filmed from a police cruiser, “speaks for itself.”

 

Actually, it doesn’t speak at all if no one in a position to decide Bruce’s guilt sees it, no matter how loudly it speaks to the rest of us.  Were the judge’s hands tied by the rules of evidence, forcing an acquittal in the bench trial for lack of evidence?  Should the video have been admitted under the business record exception, for example?

This is where the rules of evidence, the ones that protect a defendant from unreliable, tampered, partial/misleading proof, turn around to bite us on the butt. Because the defendant here was a cop, and the video so damning (even though it never tells the whole story, like how the other children made fun of Rory as a kid), should the rules of evidence be relaxed when we might really hope a bad cop gets burned?

Bear in mind, the same rules of evidence that apply to Bruce apply to anyone else.

And yet, union spokesman Roorda can’t help but gild the lily:

 

“You’ve got a guy who has twice skated on serious charges all in the interest of prosecuting a police officer on a misdemeanor where the only evidence is video that exonerates him,” Roorda said in a prepared statement. “This is more than a case of prosecutorial indiscretion; it’s a case of prosecutorial vanity.”

 

So this video exonerates him, Jeff? It may not have been admissible in a court of law, but it surely is in the court of public opinion, and it’s not likely that anyone watching the video will be giving him a good cop medal.  Naturally, the union is asking that Bruce, who was fired as a probationary officer, be reinstated now that he’s been found not guilty.  Hasn’t he suffered enough?

It’s Always The Other Cop

Reading Peter Moskos’  review of Radley Balko’s new book, Rise of the Warrior Cop, one thing stuck out like a sore thumb.  Moskos, a former police officer and now professor at John Jay College for Cops, wrote:


Balko carefully prefaces his argument by noting that it isn’t, at its core, “anti-cop.” I suspect this is because he hopes to convince as many people as possible. As a former police officer, I have my doubts. Balko asserts that most police officers regularly commit felonious perjury. Lying, he writes, is “routine,” “expected,” and “part of the job.” He supplies little evidence for this claim – an absence that is particularly notable because the rest of his book is so meticulously researched and thoroughly footnoted. “Bad cops are the product of bad policy,” he warns us. But this is too glib. Bad policy creates bad policing. Bad police, however many there may be, are a separate problem.
It’s not that Moskos denies that bad cops exist, or that cops sometimes lie, but he maintains the “one bad apple” argument until proven otherwise. Some of the verbiage is sloppy, such as claiming that Balko “asserts that most police officers regularly commit felonious perjury.”  Nowhere does Balko speak to “felonious” anything, suggesting that Moskos enjoys a bit of hyperbole in his word choice at the expense of accuracy.  Note the irony, as it’s something we’ll come back to later.

Some of us know a few cops. I know Radley does. I do. Some of you will as well. And for the most part, when you talk to a cop outside of his duties, or hang out with one at the bar sipping a beer, you will find them to be no different than anyone else. They can be great guys and gals, fun to talk to, pretty good about picking up the tab and pretty bad telling jokes. In other words, they’re people.

But in the performance of their duty, something changes. The definitions of what they do change from the ones we use at a backyard barbecue to the ones they use on their reports or on the witness stand. What non-cops, lawyers included, often fail to appreciate is what a cop means when he speaks of a lie.

Plant drugs on an innocent person? Lie
Put a throwaway into the hands of a dead civilian? Lie

These are lies. These are big lies that turn an innocent into a guilty, a bad shoot into a righteous shoot. Some cops will justify why these big lies are acceptable, but many cops will not. They draw a line at the big lie, even if they won’t rat out their brother who doesn’t.  But they won’t perceive their silence, their failure to tell the investigating officer the truth about what they saw, as a lie. That’s a little lie, a required lie, because cops don’t rat out cops.

Then there the details. A tractor trailer obscures the observer’s vision as the undercover takes the hand to hand in a buy and bust, but he testifies that he saw the defendant hand the drugs to the undercover. To us, that would be a lie. To the testifying officer, not so much. You see, his partner told him it happened, and so it did. The perp is dirty, but the testimony needs to flesh out the details. So he fills in the underlying gap with what he is certain is the truth, even though a small lie is needed since he didn’t actually see it happen. This isn’t a lie. This is the job.

Moskos challenges Radley’s assertion that police testilying is pervasive: “routine,” “expected,” and “part of the job.” Where is the proof, Moskos asks? It’s a fair question. There may be a million anecdotes, but what good are anecdotes when the question is whether there is any empirical evidence to establish such a claim?

The problem is that the only basis for empirical proof of the pervasiveness of police lying would have to come from the police. It’s of little use for those of us on the other side to fill out questionnaires by researchers about the lies told in the reports or on the witness stand. We are the adversaries. Our claims are inherently untrustworthy. Only an admission by police that they color their testimony, fill in the gaps by making stuff up, say what they have to say to overcome the law, the lack of evidence, the burden of proof, in order to fulfill their bottom line obligation of making sure the bad guy loses.  And while there is no incentive for them to do so, even if there was they wouldn’t support such a claim.

Why?  Because to a cop, these aren’t lies.

Turning back to Moskos’ hyperbole, that Radley asserted that cops engage in “felonious perjury” all the time, those two words, felonious perjury, capture the problem in a nutshell.  Those aren’t Radley’s words, and nowhere in his book is that phrase used. Moskos made it up, but it’s not wrong, it’s not a lie, because it serves to help him make his point. 

Gilding the lily? Filling in the gaps? Creating a strawman? There are plenty of names for what Moskos does there, but the fact remains that for the rest of us, it would be a deliberate falsehood. A lie. It never happened, yet Moskos says it did.  But then, Moskos was once a cop, and so he’s working with a very different definition than the rest of us.

Almost any cop you talk to in a bar will tell you stories of bad cops, lying cops, violent cops. No cop will deny they exist, and most, with a beer in their hand at least, will readily admit they know one or two. But ask them if they do it, if they lie, and they will look you in the eye and tell you that they aren’t one of the bad cops. And as far as they’re concerned, that’s the truth.

Submission to What Shield?

The story of University of Virginia sorority gal, Elizabeth Daly, having been swarmed by a half dozen ABC agents, raised hackles and dismay for the absurd excess of the faux-cops, who were given guns without guidance.  As explained by Brian Doherty at Reason,


A group of state Alcoholic Beverage Control agents clad in plainclothes approached her, suspecting the blue carton of LaCroix sparkling water to be a 12-pack of beer. Police say one of the agents jumped on the hood of her car. She says one drew a gun. Unsure of who they were, Daly tried to flee the darkened parking lot.


“They were showing unidentifiable badges after they approached us, but we became frightened, as they were not in anything close to a uniform,” she recalled Thursday in a written account of the April 11 incident.

So they made a mistake, thinking sparkling water was beer. Mistakes happen. And Doherty forgets that sparkling water is a gateway beverage. Next it will be soda. Then who knows what?  Isn’t it worth a gun drawn now to stop a lifetime of Mountain Dew?

But the real issue in the stop stemmed from the annoyance felt by the agents, who suffer from a general lack of self-esteem due to their having shield and guns, and yet still considered the pimples of law enforcement, that their commands weren’t immediately followed. Contempt of Alcoholic Beverage Control Agent may not have much of a ring to it, but is more than enough to get them all riled up.

At Concurring Opinions, Frank Paquale asked the harder question about the stop:


We know that, in theory, citizens have some rights vis-a-vis police. But in practice, does it make sense to simply submit to any person waving a badge?
What occurred to Daly reflects an unfortunately common scenario: she was engaged in the heinous conduct of purchasing sparkling water.  The significance is that Elizabeth Daly was doing nothing that would have suggested to her any risk of confrontation or arrest by law enforcement.  She wasn’t on guard for it. She wasn’t prepared for it.

If she heard a fully uniformed cop screaming from across the parking lot of the Harris Teeter (which I assume to be the Virginia flavor of the Piggly Wiggly), she would never have thought the cop to be yelling at her. Why would he? Why would anyone be interested in her?  See the dilemma?

So when six people in plain clothes swarmed three girls who had no reason to anticipate anyone being unhappy with them in a parking lot, what were they to do?  The agents were in street clothing, and looked like anybody else on the street, except that their badges were displayed.

There was once a time when nobody, but nobody, wore a copper shield except a police officer. Those days are long gone. There are a lot of shields floating around these days. Some worn by private individuals who want to be cops. Some worn by private individuals who want to use the pretense of being a cop to do bad things. Some worn by cops. Some worn by the empowered agents of the 37 thousand other agencies of government that have been given limited police powers.

They all have one thing in common: There is no way to read what the shield says unless you get up close and personal under circumstances that allow for clear-headed observation. And not to be overly technical, but even if it says “Police Officer,” that doesn’t end the inquiry. How can one tell if the shield is real of a phony? How can one tell if the shield is in the possession of a real cop? A shield alone leaves a lot of questions unanswered.

Police have addressed some of these issues by acknowledging that people being stopped on a dark road at night when there is no one around by an unmarked police car should be allowed to drive to a populated, lighted area before pulling over. Their unmarked cars have been turned to low profile cars, since few phony cops are willing to spend the dime to put markings on cars.  Better that than another woman raped by a pretender.

Was Daly wrong not to immediately submit to authority because six people started screaming at her? Forget that it was for an asinine trivial violation, and that the agents appear to be pathologically stupid and out of control, and a disgrace to their agency. Let assume they had an actual reason to stop Daly and do so in such an aggressive manner. Did the shields alone suffice?

Underlying the question is the problem that the agents, who knew they were real agents and expected Daly to submit to their authority, lacked the capacity to grasp that their knowing who they were doesn’t mean Daly knows. This is a variation on narcissism, the assumption that the rest of the world automatically knows how important they are and will submit to their commands because they know who they are.

The shield isn’t good enough. And the potential outcome from such mindless expectation that people will be capable of knowing whether a swarm of six plain-clothed people with guns are law enforcement or rapists can be deadly. Daly might have run an agent or two down, but more likely an agent would have shot and killed a 20-year-old college student who bought sparkling water and failed to comply with his commands.

And you can bet that if bad went to worse, the agents would have been cleared of any wrongdoing, acting to protect themselves from harm by a young woman with no way of ascertaining what was happening.  Fortunately, no one ended up with more than butthurt feelings here, although Daly sat in jail until the charges against her were dropped. Not that this isn’t a bad situation, but it’s far better than her parents planning her funeral. A tragic ending to an absurd story was by no means out of the question.






The LIRR 600 Rode into the Valley of Death on the 8:09 (Update x 2)

The  New York Times reports that the Railroad Retirement Board, apparently unable to cut off benefits to former Long Island Rail Road workers on disability fast enough when each form had to be stamped by hand, has decided instead to unilaterally cut off workers en masse.


About 600 Long Island Rail Road retirees will lose their disability benefits after a federal agency voted last week to halt the payments, amid a sweeping investigation into what prosecutors have called a major disability fraud scheme, according to agency documents and officials.

The agency, the United States Railroad Retirement Board, which over more than a decade granted disability benefits to hundreds of railroad retirees based on fraudulent medical evidence with little scrutiny, took the action on Thursday during a five-minute meeting at its headquarters in Chicago. The vote approved procedures under which the board will cut off the benefits, which, officials said, are costing the agency $2 million a month.
The only thing shocking is that it took them a whole five minutes to be this arbitrary and capricious. This is the latest in a series of insults perpetrated by the government on disabled workers. It’s been widely accepted that there are workers on disability scamming the system, though aside from the ones who have already been prosecuted, no evidence has been offered to show any individual retiree to have engaged in fraud. Still, it’s become the accepted myth of the story, and who am I to stir up controversy.

But even assuming that some of the 600 are dirty, there is nothing whatsoever to suggest that all of them are. Indeed, having heard from many of them, there is no question that there are people within this group who are most assuredly disabled and fully entitled to the benefits they receive.  To which the government says, “who cares? If we just cut ’em all off, the deserving and undeserving alike, we can save a bundle and shift the problem onto the backs of the disabled.”

The government, saving us $2 million a month. What’s not to like? And if they let every poor person in America starve, and deny legal representation to anyone who can’t pay for their own lawyer, they can save even more. Pretty soon, you’re talking real money. And as long as it’s not us who suffers, this is a great victory.

The action taken here could not be more arbitrary. Without any basis to suggest that these individuals (and remember that these are 600 human beings, each of whom has to live, eat, survive) did anything wrong, they just cut them all off and let the chips fall where they may. Who cares who was legitimately disabled? The government doesn’t know and doesn’t care.

But neither, it appears, does anyone else in a position to do anything about this.  It seems that this is the culmination of the RRB poking a sleeping giant with a stick to see if it will wake up and fight. Instead, it has just rolled over and played dead.  Where is the union?  Hiding under its contract, praying that it won’t be tainted by the bad press and entrenched hatred of the LIRR and its workers who have humped commuters for decades with their own nastiness and lack of empathy.  Payback is a bitch.

And where are the leaders, the retirees who have the guts to stand up and be heard?  <crickets>

This is where an organization must emerge to fight for the rights of the group, to finance and coordinate a fight against the government’s outrageous denial of benefits to everyone because it’s so much easier than doing the hard work of figuring out who is committing fraud and who is legitimately disabled.  But no leader has emerged from the retirees, who are interested in their own financial survival but fear making themselves a target for federal prosecutors.

Everything about this action by the Railroad Retirement Board stinks of facile capriciousness, enabled by government prosecutors who have no room in their heads for the legitimately disabled whose lives they are wantonly destroying.  And it’s happening without anyone with the guts to life a finger. Not the union. Not the retirees. No one.

To paraphrase, the only thing necessary for the government to arbitrarily terminate the benefits of the LIRR disabled is for good men to do nothing.  And it appears that’s exactly what they’re doing.

Update:  It appears from an  article in Newsday that not only will the 600 retirees whose applications for disability included a medical narrative report by convicted fraudster Dr. Peter Ajemian lose their disability payments, but that the LIRR is also trying to terminate their regular union pensions. 

Bear in mind, while Ajemian may have lied on behalf of some retirees, there is nothing to suggest that the 600 who have neither been prosecuted nor individually inestigated weren’t in fact disabled, and there is no doubt that most were disabled as defined by the Railroad Retirement Board. They have been singled out because of their having used Ajemian, who was promoted by the LIRR at the time as the best choice of physician.

Update 2: In a July 3rd memo to LIRR employees, LIRR President Helena Williams disavows Newsday’s report that pensions are in jeopardy.




As reported in local newspapers and on websites, the RRB has taken an action to discontinue disability annuities for 600 retirees who were treated by Dr. Peter Ajemian. Newspaper headlines and articles are not under our control, and we regret any confusion to employees or retirees caused by today’s press coverage.


LIRR has no information about the identity of the 600 retirees affected by the RRB action or whether these retirees engaged in fraudulent activity while employed at the railroad, and LIRR has made no determination regarding their pension status.


Pension forfeiture for those employees found to have engaged in fraudulent or criminal activity while employed at the LIRR is not an automatic procedure and cannot be invoked without following an administrative process and procedure on a case-by-case basis, including, for those represented employees in the closed plan, an appeal process to an independent arbitrator.


Railroad work is physically demanding, and LIRR employees have distinguished themselves time and again with their hard work and dedication in all kinds of weather and under very challenging conditions. LIRR believes that RRB disability annuity is an important benefit that should be reserved for those railroad employees who are truly disabled.

It appears she has a far better grasp of the issues than the RRB or Newsday. Or, for that matter, some of the annuitants involved.

The Way We Were

Remember the good old days, when prosecutorial misconduct was dealt with by just a wink and a wrist slap? No, not last week, but 20 years ago. Truth be told, there wasn’t even a wrist slap back then. And barely a wink. Because of this, the  Supreme Court of Oklahoma has decided to apply the rule of lenity to the misconduct of former assistant district attorney Robert Bradley Miller, even though the state bar association would disbar him.

Via Jonathan Turley :


The Oklahoma Supreme Court has rejected a request from the state bar association to disbar Robert Bradley Miller, former assistant district attorney for Oklahoma County, and given him just a suspension from practicing law for 180 days and court costs for egregious misconduct in two capital cases twenty years ago. We have often discussed the lack of deterrence for prosecutors who are rarely disciplined for conduct leading to reversals or false convictions. In this case, the bar wanted Miller out of its ranks for hiding a key deal with a witness and using falsified subpoenas to coerce cooperation from other witnesses.
And what caused them to pare down disbarment to 180 days (plus court costs. Don’t forget about the court costs.)?


The novel defense — accepted by the state Supreme Court — was that lots of prosecutors acted abusively back then.
Well, not exactly the defense, but the argument in mitigation of punishment. It’s not that it wasn’t wrong for a prosecutor to lie, cheat and steal his way to convictions, even in capital cases, but that it just wasn’t such a big deal 20 years ago.


Hindsight is 20-20. Instances of prosecutorial misconduct from previous decades, such as withholding evidence, were often met with nothing more than a reprimand or a short suspension.40 Some scholars writing during that time theorized that discipline was imposed so rarely and so lightly that it was not effective in deterring misconduct. Reprehensible though Miller’s conduct may have been, and even if such misconduct is punished more harsly [sic] when it occurs now, Miller’s actions took place decades ago and it would be unfair to hold him to a harsher standard than he would have been subjected to when his actions took place.
Hindsight is what courts do. It’s the only thing courts do, in fact. And they’re awfully good at it when the target of their scrutiny is the conduct of a criminal defendant. Yet, I can’t remember a single decision using such a trite phrase to excuse a criminal defendant for his trespasses.  Funny how that changes when the question is how to punish a prosecutor.

Yet, the rationale of the court is one of lenity, that the nature of punishment for a wrong ought to be considered in the context of the time. While this is truly a sad commentary of the time, when judges didn’t get too bent out of shape by egregious misconduct as long as the judge was satisfied with the outcome (hey, he was guilty anyway, right?), the argument of lenity isn’t entirely wrong. 

The problem here, however, is that it has been misapplied.


Make no mistake, if this conduct were to happen today, the punishment would have been much more severe. This is not to say that the Court condones his conduct, merely that we are not inclined to apply the harsher standards of today to conduct that occurred at a time when it was punished lightly, if at all.

Really?  Would the punishment really have been much more severe, because if that’s the case, where are you hiding the bodies?

The decision suggests that prosecutorial misconduct was somehow shrugged off way back when, but offers nothing to support this facile assertion.  The same rhetoric about misconduct was used then as it’s used now, with pretty much the same results. Indeed, imagine a court 20 years from now citing to this decision as a justification for not disbarring a prosecutor who concealed exculpatory evidence today, but was only revealed to be scum 20 years from now. See how that works?

For a brief, glorious moment during the Warren Court, there was an effort made to level the playing field, and as part of their effort, there was law the required the prosecution to play fair.  The 1963 Brady decision, despite the glaring holes that haunt us today, includes all the right rhetoric about how concealment by the prosecution undermines the integrity of the legal system.  So if it was bad enough in 1963 to warrant the Supreme Court’s creation of a constitutional mandate of disclosure, it wasn’t bad enough back then to compel a little more than a hand-smack?

That’s not how I remember the glory days.

But then, it was 20 years ago. It’s not like a defendant convicted due to prosecutorial misconduct would have to spend those 20 years in prison for what Robert Bradley Miller did, making the price his victims paid 40 times greater, at a minimum, than the very stern words of the court plus a six month vacation.  Oh wait.



Gideon’s Army, The Review

Dawn Porter sought to tell the story of public defenders. Not all, not the ones who gave up caring, but the story of three PDs in the deep south, Clayton County, Georgia, who struggled to hold on their purpose and integrity in the face of their reality.  They are Gideon’s Army,

The film, a Sundance Film Festival award winner for documentary editing, offered a strikingly honest vision of the world of the public defender. Premiering on HBO last night*, it follows three PDs through their banal existence in the trenches.


Brandy Alexander, Travis Williams and June Hardwick have dedicated themselves to defending those who otherwise would not receive representation, contending with a day-to-day life of low pay, long hours and staggering caseloads. Despite these obstacles, with the help of the Southern Public Defender Training Center (SPDTC), these young professionals are inspired to take on this unique challenge in the name of public service.
This synopsis strikes me as, frankly, far more rosy and uplifting than the film itself. In trying to provide honest insight into the misery of a Georgia public defender, Porter doesn’t sugar coat the nature of criminal defense, including Brandy’s halting description of a defendant who raped his step daughter being not merely unapologetic, but proud of himself.  And another client, rumored to be ready to murder her in the courtroom if she doesn’t win his trial. 


The point, that some defendants are just truly bad people, hits home.  At the same time, Porter gives this away with the apparent understanding that those who find the function of the public defender to be a bump in the road of justice will view these concessions as a reason to do away with them as an exercise in futility rather than see the nobility of defending the guilty as well as the innocent. 

Travis is cut into the scene at the end of Brandy’s emotional appeal to bring that point home. Where Brandy waivers in her desire to stand beside the guilty in a moment of weakness, Travis is the rock who affirms that they don’t do it because they “like” the defendant or his crime, but because their duty is to defend, and that means the guilty as well as the innocent.

Some of the most poignant moments in the film bear upon the banal hardships borne by public defenders. That after paying off the debt service on their law school loans (no trust fund babies here) and their basic shelter needs, they are left with a pittance in their pocket. They massage the hose from the gasoline pump in the hope to get out a few extra drops so they will have enough gas to last them an extra ride.

The film wasn’t without its issues. The three PDs whose stories were told were imperfect, yet noble. There were no hacks, no incompetents, mailing it in at the expense of their duty. While reference was made to prior representation where a defendant’s public defender failed them, it was merely passing.

While the caseload carried by the trio was huge, it was still significantly less than some of the more absurd case loads carried in other public defender offices, where 500 felonies might be the norm. Travis carried 150 cases, which might cause a gasp given how the defendants were shown as human beings, worthy of the personal concern of the PDs. Yet, it left unanswered how a public defender with three time, may be more, the caseload could conceivably know their names, no less their cases.

The truncated arguments from the courtrooms were reminiscent of a Law and Order episode, long on platitudes and short on the nuts and bolts a lawyer goes through to persuade a jury not to convict. While it’s understandable that time precludes the film from showing everything, these edits make the unsophisticated viewer think that it’s all grandiloquence rather than grueling work in the face of unpleasant facts.

Then there is  Jonathan Rapping, playing a critical role as guru of the Southern Public Defender Training Center, renamed Gideon’s Promise for that extra tug on the heartstrings (and purse strings). He provides the support and mentorship to keep these PDs inspired, to persist in the fight when they’re on the cusp of walking away. But there is a juxtaposition, which may be intentional, of Jon, a white guy, with the three public defenders, all black, which struck me as troubling.  The public defenders struggle through poverty, overwork, the disdain and lack of appreciation of society and their clients, while the Great White Hope inspires them to continue to pull the plow.

While this is a documentary, and thus beyond the realm of a sound stage where the actors can be dressed in whatever color clothing suits the producers, is it meant to suggest that even the black lawyers for the poor are still working the fields, while their white inspiration plans cocktail parties on D.C. rooftops when he’s not cajoling them to keep working?

The penultimate scene of the film has Travis’ client forced into a plea by his lifelong best friend flipping on him, taking a triable case and turning it into certain defeat.  To add insult to injury, a decent plea deal is cut, and the young defendant naively whispers to his lawyer moments before sentencing, “can I get probation?”  Facing five years rather than ten, Travis argues for two years served, while the judge sucks the air out of the room by imposing the full five. Every criminal defense lawyer knows how that punch feels.

But the final scene is the Cinderella story, the trial of a defendant Brandy believes to be innocent. The trial that could go either way. The trial that could break her heart if she loses and fails a defendant, 16 at the time of the crime, who she argues was not the guy.  She has facts to argue misidentification, but the eyewitness says 100%.

The jury returns a verdict. Not guilty. All counts. The defendant walks out of court and hugs his mother. It happens, but not often enough to leave the viewer with the belief that there is hope and justice in this system. 

Gideon’s Army is a film of confirmation bias, where one will see in it what one wants to see. Whether it’s the inspiration or the misery, the nobility of defense or the futility. But it tells the story from a side that few ever see, the view of the public defender in the trenches, and it brings a critical perspective that’s missing from almost every story of criminal defense and defendants. It’s mostly an ugly story, because it’s mostly an ugly job. But these three do it because they are the foot soldiers in Gideon’s Army.

* I was kindly provided with access to a screening copy for this review.