So says the Mayor of Paragould, Arkansas, Mike Gaskill, speaking of the  recent increase in violent crime in his town.  After thinking long and hard, he’s come up with a solution.

In response to a recent increase in crime, Paragould Mayor Mike Gaskill and Police Chief Todd Stovall offered residents at a town hall meeting Thursday night at West View Baptist Church what could be considered an extreme solution — armed officers patrolling the streets on foot.

“[Police are] going to be in SWAT gear and have AR-15s around their neck,” Stovall said. “If you’re out walking, we’re going to stop you, ask why you’re out walking, check for your ID.”

Stovall said while some people may be offended by the actions of his department, they should not be.

“We’re going to do it to everybody,” he said. “Criminals don’t like being talked to.”

Public safety is one of a mayor’s foremost responsibilities, and when you happen to have a police department at your disposal, the solution seems obvious. The only problem, of course, is that the law forbids it. Police can’t stop people because they’re “out walking.”  Police can’t “check for ID” because they feel like it. And while it may be true that criminals don’t like being talked to, neither do non-criminals. And, hard as it may be to accept, even criminals have rights. I know! But they do.

Police Chief Todd Stovall, highly trained in such matters, recognizes that even Paragould police operate under certain limitations, but he’s got it all figured out.

Normally, police would not stop individuals for simply walking on the street, but Stovall said the level of crime in certain areas and concerns from residents gave his officers the right to institute the actions announced at the town hall event.

“This fear is what’s given us the reason to do this. Once I have stats and people saying they’re scared, we can do this,” he said. “It allows us to do what we’re fixing to do.”

“To ask you for your ID, I have to have a reason,” he said. “Well, I’ve got statistical reasons that say I’ve got a lot of crime right now, which gives me probable cause to ask what you’re doing out. Then when I add that people are scared…then that gives us even more [reason] to ask why are you here and what are you doing in this area.”

While lawyers may find this simultaneously outrageous and amusing, in the sense of utter cluelessness and rhetorical irrationality, the fact is that this perspective largely mirrors the prevailing public view. There’s a problem and an easy solution. Make it happen.

Which prevails, the criminals’ right to walk the street unmolested by the police. Others think of people’s right to walk the street unmolested by criminals. See how easily the rhetoric can be gamed? So what if there’s a fundamental flaw in the reasoning? It shines on its surface, and more importantly, does what the good citizens of Paragould want it to do. We all have within us that bone that allows self-serving rationalizations to prevail over logic.

But it’s not just the elimination of cause for street stops of criminals that raises concerns, but that Stovall’s force will walk the mean streets ready for battle.  As Radley Balko notes, this isn’t a new concept:

Using SWAT teams for routine patrols isn’t uncommon. Fresno did this for several years in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The city sent its Violent Crimes Suppression Unit into poorer neighborhoods and stopped, confronted, questioned, and searched nearly everyone they encountered. “It’s a war,” one SWAT officer told Christian Parenti in a report for The Nation (not available online). Another said, “If you’re 21, male, living in one of these neighborhoods, and you’re not in our computer, then there’s something definitely wrong.”

At Current.com, another, closer to home, analogy is drawn:

Stovall is labeling his initiative “Stop-and-ID” similar to Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s “Stop-and-Frisk” policy in New York City, a program that’s had disastrous results and stirred outrage among the African-Americans and Latinos who’ve become targets of racial profiling and police harassment and brutality.

While it’s a bit facile to beat up on poor Paragould, Arkansas, the parallels are undeniable. When you think about it, the solution in some backwater in Arkansas doesn’t strike too far from that of Gotham.  Balko goes further to note that the embrace of such extreme tactics is less a matter of the prevalence of crime than the fear it causes.

But Stovall’s comments show that it isn’t so much a rise in crime that allows these sorts of police actions to happen, it’s the fear of crime.

Stoke the flames and it’s perfectly understandable why the public not only permits the police to don their most fearsome costumes, and go into the neighborhoods where other people live to clean up the mess, but demand it. It’s their right to feel safe, and the right to feel always trumps the rights of other people.  Doesn’t the Declaration of Independence mention something about Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness?  Aren’t the good people entitled to these things as well?  Why is it always the criminals who get rights?

Whether it’s true, as Mayor Gaskill says, that criminals don’t like to be talked to, isn’t the point. The police in Paragould won’t be asking for IDs in the good neighborhoods, or seizing the walkers of Golden Retrievers out for their evening constitutional. They will head straight to the “high crime” neighborhoods, which are usually noticeably darker red-neckier(?) and where the good citizens want them to go.

And it’s not a whole lot different than the way it’s done in New York City, so don’t think too ill of Paragould, Mayor Gaskill or Chief Stovall.  If they can do it here, they can do it anywhere. Perhaps the rhetoric is a bit less polished, but tossing the poor over nothing is becoming a staple of American policing, and why shouldn’t Paragould enjoy the same tactics as Manhattan?

Addendum: Apparently, Chief Stovall has  decided to cancel additional town meetings on the subject, citing “public safety.” It’s amazing how useful two little words can be. It seems that people are a bit upset by the Paragould PD’s plans, which suggests two reactions. He can either change the plans or shut down discussion. He’s made his choice.

In the recap of his acquittal for videotaping police,  Carlos Miller includes this paragraph among the many offering his appreciation to those who aided him in the cause:

I also wouldn’t have been able to do it without the Chandler brothers, specifically Robert, who was able to pry public records from the Miami-Dade Police Department when Major Nancy Perez was refusing to provide requested public records to [Carlos’ lawyer, Arnold] Trevilla.

The Chandler Brothers?  A couple of guys in Florida doing something both small and huge, and without which, the promise of law would be a sham.

There is a tricky little law that exists in one permutation or another across the country, but the purpose of which is clear. It’s supposed to prevent government from hiding its dirty little secrets from the public.  Freedom of Information, it’s called, and it is supposed to require government, upon request, to provide us with inside information about the things they do behind closed doors.  Great law, right?

Except it’s mostly honored in the breech.  Make a request and maybe you will get a response. Maybe not. Maybe you will get everything you’ve requested. Maybe only what they feel like giving you. Maybe you will just be ignored altogether. Maybe they will make up some official sounding excuse and deny your request.

On the whole, there are two things that are clear about Freedom of Information laws. They haven’t fulfilled their promise, and when they don’t, it’s up to you, dear citizen, to force the government to comply.  Therein lies a huge, often insurmountable problem.  And that’s where the Chandler Brothers come in.

One of the most well established principles of open government law in Florida, is that, with very few exceptions, we have the right to inspect, photograph and copy public records and to attend open meetings without having to explain why we want access, only that we do. That principle is also one of the most abused.

Let’s face facts: for most people, denial, whether express or tacit, is where the fight ends. You’re not equipped to sue over it, and the cost of retaining counsel isn’t worth the gamble. For lawyers, taking on a cause that puts you on the front page of the New York Times with a victory that will be remembered throughout the ages may be worth the effort. Getting a locality, a police department, to comply with its Freedom of Information laws is about as small potatoes as it gets. There will be no parades in your honor, no statues of you in the town square.

It’s the tiny acts, however, that makes the promise of laws that purport to keep the government honest work.  This is why the efforts of the Chandler Brothers are so valuable, even if unknown and underappreciated. This is why I’m offering my capital by way of this post to show them the respect they’ve earned.

They’ve become experts in fighting for disclosure, taking on the little fights that make the law happen. They were a critical part of uncovering evidence in Carlos’ case, but just as importantly, remain a perpetual threat that keeps the government somewhat honest.  What they do inures to everyone’s benefit.

And they don’t do it without risk to themselves.

Dating back to 1889, public officials in Florida have had a long tradition of trying to impose their own set of rules to open government access. Some officials have tried to impose rules about who has access. Others have tried to impose their own set of rules about why folks have access. Both are unlawful.

If public officials can demand that members of the public identify themselves as a condition of open government access, then those officials will be able to filter what information (records and meetings) are available to citizens. We have collectively decided that unfiltered information works best to minimize waste and corruption and to increase public awareness of key issues in government.

What the Chandlers have come to learn is that when they show up at a police station to make a request, they are regularly subject to suspicion for the offense of exercising the rights given them under law.

For no other reason than having asked to inspect the most innocuous public records imaginable – visitor’s logs – Robert and I have been investigated by numerous law enforcement agencies.

Based upon a public records request made to FDLE using the criteria of “Robert Chandler”, “Joel Chandler” or tag number “X41977” (Robert’s tag and the vehicle in which we were traveling to do our in-person-audits) numerous LEOs accessed FCIC during our road trips.

Kathy Martin of the Stuart Police Department writing down our tag number.

After all, what could be more suspicious and seditious to a cop’s mind that someone investigating them?  And yet, the Chandler Brothers ignore the intentionally chilling effect of making themselves the target of police scrutiny to assure that public information remains free?

There’s no glory in doing this. There are no fabulous riches, now or down the road. It’s just another cause, but one that makes the small laws happen where they would just be ignored or denied otherwise. 

I applaud the efforts of Robert and Joel Chandler, and want to offer some well-deserved recognition.  Just as Carlos has become the patron saint of photographers and videographers capturing the police in the act despite their efforts to stop them, the Chandlers do the same in Florida to prevent Freedom of Information from falling into a black hole. 

Perhaps you might want to thank them as well, maybe even contribute to their cause, as their efforts serve all of us in keeping some small measure of integrity in the law and government.  Thanks, Robert and Joel Chandler, for doing something that may be small in each instance, but huge in its importance to the rest of us.

H/T FritzMuffKnuckle

Most dreams of cops, executing a warrant at the home of a family of innocents, fail to produce the outcome we would hope for.  A big compensatory award coupled with punitive damages against the cops involved personally.  The good news is that it happened in Chicago.

On Friday, a federal jury awarded [Markee] Cooper and his family $565,000 in damages after finding one officer at fault for a falsified warrant and two others responsible for the illegal 2007 search.

The city of Chicago will have to pay $450,000 in compensatory damages awarded by the seven-woman, three-man jury, said Cooper’s attorney, Brendan Shiller. The jury also assessed punitive damages against three of five officers — money they will be responsible for paying, Shiller said.

Cooper, a nine-year police veteran, is assigned to the department’s elite Organized Crime Division, working undercover investigations that often involve getting warrants.

Officer Sean Dailey, who testified that he secured the warrant based on information from an informant named “Lamar” who told him crack was being sold out of the second-floor apartment in the Cooper’s building

Cooper’s legal team argued that Dailey either made up the informant or was reckless by making no effort to try to verify the tip. They pointed to the sketchy information Dailey initially had about Lamar’s background — no last name, phone number or address.

The officers’ attorneys argued that Dailey played by the rules, informing the Cook County state’s attorney’s office before going to a judge for the warrant. Dailey testified that the same informant had given him three previous tips that led to criminal charges. That the information turned out to be bad was not intentional, the defense argued.

The officer and his wife testified at the trial that their two young sons, Markee Jr., 13, and Zion, 8, were traumatized at seeing their father confront a roomful of cops with guns before kneeling to the living room floor and handing over his badge and weapon.

“It’s a horrible experience for a child to see or even think about,” Cooper’s wife, Sherita, said after the verdict was announced. “I’m just glad that justice was served.”

The time to mourn will continue, but the cries to fix the problem that took the lives of 20 children in Newtown can no longer be ignored.  At a memorial service last night, President Obama, who appeared to be sincere in his resolve to  do something about mass killings after the fourth in his first term, said:

“Because what choice do we have?” he added. “We can’t accept events like this as routine. Are we really prepared to say that we’re powerless in the face of such carnage? That the politics are too hard? Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?”

And so the gauntlet is thrown down. Can the nation capable of putting a man on the moon because a president challenged us to do so find a way to prevent another Newtown?

A recurring answer from many in response to crises is to blindly leap to simplistic, overarching “solutions” to whatever they perceive as being the “real problem.”  Sometimes the “real problem” is the system is corrupt and irreparably broken. Sometimes the “real problem” is that we have dismantled the safety net for the mentally ill. Sometimes the real problem is that we fail to honor the constitutional right to keep and bear arms. 

The “real problem” tends to reflect whatever priority we personally hold, and we call it the “real problem” because people who hold a different priority want to solve the wrong problem. It’s wrong because it’s not ours, and it’s not ours because it’s not the one that conforms to our priority.  As with all beliefs, it’s a matter of chosen faith. The solution consistent with our faith is the one we believe will solve the real problem, and therefore the solution we support. And anyone who believes otherwise is wrong.

For those of us who have neither the authority to solve grand problems, nor the responsibility should our solutions be wrong, it’s easy to opine. The best part is that if the powerful don’t heed our opinion, we can smugly say, “See? I was right.”  The illogic of false choices doesn’t change this smugness. 

As much as anyone, I wish I had a cure for the death of these babies, and the death of any child.  I wish I could prevent many horrible things from happening, as do so many others. But cures don’t come easy, and don’t come cheap.  At this moment, appeals to emotion are very likely to swing opinion, as emotions are raw. Yet any fix will be around long after the emotion has waned, and we will live with the fix every day when nothing horrible happens. 

While the day after the shootings was not the time to think, now is.  While it is probably too early, we no longer have the luxury of feeling now that the gauntlet has been thrown.

The primary positions are already laid out.  There is gun control.  There is our mental health system. There is a stronger bubble around our children. There is greater school security. And there are any variety of variations and combinations of these ideas. Many have already laid claim to their positions, and will spend the rest of the discussion arguing why theirs fixes the “real problem.”

One line from President Obama’s speech at the memorial last night stands out in my mind.

Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?

No one wants to respond in the affirmative.  No one wants to say that history has shown that we cannot eliminate tragedy from our world, as someone bent on engaging in horrible acts will find a way to do so.  It’s defeatist. It’s uncaring. It’s unacceptable.

Yet, it might be the case, and all the arguing over what is the “real problem” may be just so much noise. Every solution has consequences, and the weighing of these consequences can’t be obscured by the emotion of the moment.  There are cures worse than the disease. 

Scientists seeking a cure for cancer don’t search for a solution that will eradicate the disease. They search for tiny bites of the solution. They search for a means of delivering a toxin to an errant cell that causes one obscure form of cancerous growth.  Their search has taught them that there is no “real problem,” but a million problems, all of which need to be recognized to find the cure. And then, they need to balance the harm of each bit of the solution with the benefit, so as not to cure the disease by killing the afflicted in the process.

Most of our big problems require us to think much longer, much harder, much smaller, than we like to do. We want to proclaim that there is one big solution that will fix the “real problem.”  It’s nonsensical.  Worse yet, it leads us to argue about nonsense, and while doing so, ignore the small things that can be done to ameliorate tiny bits of the problem without terminal consequences to the host.

Don’t rush to your favorite priority to proclaim it the right solution, or the wrong solution, to the “real problem.” Don’t rush to join a team in this fight and defend your faith to the death.  If there are answers, they will require thought.  And it may be that there are no solutions to the “real problem,” that the answer to President Obama’s question is that tragedy is the price of freedom.  But that doesn’t mean we cannot strive to find answers that will prevent as many tragedies as possible, even if we can’t stop them all.

Necessity is the mother parent of invention, and so a new cottage industry is born. What’s surprising isn’t that it happened. When there is money to be made, someone eventually comes forward to make it. What’s surprising is that it took as long as it did.  Via Brad Heath at USA Today :

For a fee, Watkins and his associates on the outside sold them information about other criminals that they could turn around and offer up to federal agents in hopes of shaving years off their prison sentences. They were paying for information, but what they were really trying to buy was freedom.

“I didn’t feel as though any laws were being broken,” Watkins wrote in a 2008 letter to prosecutors. “I really thought I was helping out law enforcement.”

That pay-to-snitch enterprise – documented in thousands of pages of court records, interviews and a stack of Watkins’ own letters – remains almost entirely unknown outside Atlanta’s towering federal courthouse, where investigators are still trying to determine whether any criminal cases were compromised. It offers a rare glimpse inside a vast and almost always secret part of the federal criminal justice system in which prosecutors routinely use the promise of reduced prison time to reward prisoners who help federal agents build cases against other criminals.

Were laws broken? The question is only asked after the scheme goes public, because only then does anybody care whether something that emits a bad stink was wrong. Ironically, the scheme played into the hands of law enforcement’s crack investigators, who only smelled sweet busts.  After all, the ability to copy down the name and address offered by a snitch is what agents refer to as “investigation.” Once they smell their first successful take-down, the scent becomes intoxicating.

The snitch method of defense grew out of the Sentencing Guidelines, and during the 1990s, became the predominant method of avoiding the absurdly draconian prison sentences required by the grid. When defendants had no one to give up, substituted cooperation came into being, where someone on the outside would snitch or work a case on behalf of an arrested defendant. It was never popular with prosecutors though, as it rewarded a defendant for something he didn’t do and presented a disconnect when it came time to take a case to trial.  Many offices eventually refused to allow substituted cooperation.

According to Heath, 48,895 federal convicts, or one in eight, had their prison sentences reduced by snitching over the past five years. Let’s face it, neither the bonds of friendship nor even family ties are strong enough for some defendants to take a ten year hit.  There is no honor among thieves, or drug dealers, money launderers or fraudsters. Hey, you can always make new friends, right?

But Watkins took the battle in a new direction, selling names to desperate defendants who had no one to give up. What Heath’s number doesn’t reflect is the number of defendants who want to snitch, are desperate to snitch, but just don’t have anything good enough to give.  Bear in mind, if a defendant is in on a ten kilo sale, giving up the guy selling dime bags isn’t going to do him much good. He needs to give up somebody the feds want badly enough to cut him a break.

As for the lawfulness of Watkins’ business, there really isn’t any doubt.

Prosecutors have said they were troubled that informants were paying for some of the secrets they passed on to federal agents. Judges are outraged. But the inmates who operated the schemes have repeatedly alleged that agents knew all along what they were up to, and sometimes even gave them the information they sold. Prosecutors told a judge in October that an investigation found those accusations were false. Still, court records show, agents kept interviewing at least one of Watkins’ customers even after the FBI learned of the scheme.

As part of the opening spiel at every proffer session, the assistant tells the Queen for a Day that if he doesn’t tell the truth, he won’t be accepted as a snitch and may be prosecuted under §1001. By the truth, he means good dirt. Truth is such a relative term.  So when a convict claims to possess personal knowledge about a crime, but leaves out the part about the tens of thousand he paid Watkins or the fact that he doesn’t actually have a clue about the person he’s ratting out, it’s just a minor detail. A sin of omission. Barely a sin at all, when the dirt is good enough to capture the government’s interest.

But why blame Watkins, who is merely showing the entrepreneurial spirit that made America great? He saw a need and filled it. That’s the American way. The beef, if any, is with an incentive system that rewards people for giving up others, whether it’s true or not. The incentive system promotes turning minor criminals into drug lords, manufacturing lies that will make value of the snitch’s information sufficiently enticing to the government to cut a sentence in half, or maybe more. After all, if Sammy “The Bull” can make murders disappear with the right information, certainly a run of the mill drug dealer shouldn’t be a problem.

The government, with the help of the judiciary, has made snitching an art when it comes to overcoming any potential aversion a juror may have to it. The inherent reasonable doubt over allegations provided by a person who has an enormous incentive to lie is blunted by prosecutors who harp on how a convict must tell the truth or lose any potential benefit.  Judges instruct juries with carefully crafted words to explain that snitches aren’t unreliable, but a critical part of the system that prevents their wives from being raped.  Without them, the judge solemnly intones, our streets would be overrun by crime. Thank God for snitches.

So why not Watkins? Is his snitch-for-hire information any less reliable than the stuff guys make up in the quiet of their prison cells?  In fact, he may well be more reliable, for there is no better marketing for a service than customer satisfaction, and so he’s got a strong incentive to sell only the highest quality information. 

And on the law enforcement side, there is no incentive to do anything to impede the flow of names and addresses for the next day’s bust.  After all, how would they possibly win awards for their brilliant investigative techniques if somebody doesn’t feed them every detail?  All they have to do is write it down on a pad correctly, which my empirical research shows happens 57% of the time, and they get medal and a promotion.

Of course, once the government and courts come up with an artful explanation for the jury about why pay-to-snitch is really a valued part of our legal system, then competition will follow and the marketing wars will start.  The only problem after that will be scarce resources, making sure there is enough crime to snitch about, which will give rise to the next cottage industry: getting children to become criminals so that there is no shortage of people to snitch about.

The business of America is business, and there is no reason why snitching should be any different.

Newberry College in Columbia, South Carolina, will offer a major in social media.

The college, for its part, explains that this is one of the first interdisciplinary social media majors. It says it blends graphic design, communications, business, marketing, psychology, and statistics, and that social media is such a vital part of marketing and other business habits that it’ll be a valuable qualification with a likely career path ahead of it. One way students will learn mobile marketing, the college says (via Fox 57), is by designing QR codes, “those little black and white scanners you use with your smartphone.” Apparently this is the “hot new way” to do marketing with mobile phones.

So…last time we looked, the QR code was frowned upon by almost everyone, everywhere (though it does linger in the U.S.). And surely one worry is that by the time students graduate in 2017, with the course starting in 2013, the rocket-speed development of social media itself will have outpaced their education.

No, this isn’t from the Onion, but from educators who are trying to become relevant in a young person’s world by getting ahead of the curve, even though there is neither a chance of success nor a need to turn culture into coursework, and cater to the interests of children.

What teenager wouldn’t be enticed by a major in Facebook with a minor in Pinterest?  Of course, if they offered this a decade ago, the major would have been Netscape and they would be working the counter at Dairy Queen today, if they were lucky.

What type of educator panders to youth culture in this way?  All types, actually.

Having taken lawprofs to task for the  inexcusable failure rate on the bar exam, it’s worthwhile to consider what has gone terribly wrong in the classroom. It’s not that lawprofs aren’t smart enough to adequately educate law students, though their interest in pedagogy as compared to indulgent scholarship is in question. But, from what I know of law professors in general, they want to teach students well, even if it’s not their primary focus.

So if it isn’t their capability to teach or knowledge of the law, then what?

My surmise is that a core problem is that lawprofs have allowed the inmates to take over the asylum. Law students today have a very different perspective of their relative worth. They believe their opinions are important. Stemming from an excess of unwarranted self-esteem and entitlement, borne of years of coddling, they view themselves as peers of their professors.

They have questions, and demand not only prompt answers, but answers that validate them. The will not tolerate the Socratic Method, as it belittles them and reflects a lack of respect.  There are no longer wrong answers in law school, but just answers not as right as they could have been. And when a student disagrees, asserting that his answer is every bit as good as the one the professor “suggests,” they have no qualms about informing the professor of her error.

What does not happen anymore is a professor informing a law student that they are wrong. Dead, completely wrong. Totally wrong. There is no Kingsfield to hand Hart a dime.  Any lawprof foolish enough to do so would learn that he was “condescending and disrespectful.”

And why, an old lawyer wonders, would any lawprof care what a law student thought of him? The dark side of empiricism, evaluations. I asked a lawprof for whom I have enormous respect what drives lawprofs to give a damn about evaluations. This is what I was told:

Deans probably give popular teachers a bit more money in salary, although it’s hard to know for sure and varies Dean to Dean. Bad teaching evals can make a lateral move less likely and tenure harder, too, although that’s probably only if the evaluations are really bad.   But I suspect the real reason professors care is that everyone wants to be popular, and to feel like their work is valued.  And for professors, evaluations are like their grades, and professors tend to be Type A people who are competitive and want to get high grades.

This is a shocking and deeply disturbing explanation.  A law professor cannot, by definition, be “condescending” to a law student. There is a reason why one is the teacher and the other the student. The teacher possesses superior knowledge. The student is an empty vessel, waiting to be filled with the teacher’s knowledge.  At least that was the old concept, before they needed the permission and approval of students to teach them.

Plus, law students tend to be a pretty nice people, and it’s natural to want the nice people you work with to like you back.

Law professors do not “work with” law students. They teach law students. Or at least they used to, and many of us thought that was still the job.

Even though practicing lawyers may not know what happens in the classroom these days, we can see the attitude on blogs, Twitter, Facebook, etc., where law students are so bold as to school us on the law. One of my favorite examples was on Twitter, where a law student would twit her opinions on the law to me, which were ignorant and juvenile, and I told her so and explained why.  She was outraged that I didn’t respect her views, at my snide, arrogant and condescending attitude.

I responded that the fact that I acknowledged her existence at all was a demonstration of respect far beyond what she deserved. In what universe does a law student get to demand the attention of an experienced lawyer?  In her universe, I was told. In her universe, she was entitled to demand my attention and respect, and my failure to comply with her demands, and in the manner she demanded, made me unworthy.

Dear Lawprofs:  Take back your classroom.  These are not your peers, your colleagues. Perhaps one day they will be, but not now. When you seek their approval, you forfeit your authority to teach them.  If they are wrong, someone must tell them they are wrong. If they lack the capacity to become a lawyer, someone must give them a dime and tell them to call their mother.

But they won’t like you?  Too bad. Your job is not to be liked, but to teach blobs of clay to become lawyers. You do not need any more permission than the fact they sit in your classroom.  They disagree with what you say? Too bad. They are students. They know nothing. That’s why they’re there.  Their feelings will be hurt if you don’t apologize for anything less than glowing validation of their every thought, and they will take it out on you in their evaluations?

That’s why they pay you the big bucks.

The expectation of students is that you will honor and respect them, no matter what.  They can be wrong, yet you will find something positive to say because they cannot handle the slightest hint of criticism. They are fragile. They are delicate. They are special.  And since you want them to like you, you pander to their demands.

As the bar exam results prove, this hasn’t helped them to meet the minimal level of competency to become a lawyer. As unemployment rates prove, they are about to learn what real disappointment means. And as their skill in the representation of clients proves, real life will not be nearly as kind to their fragile self-esteem as you were.

You have done them no favors. You have not done your job. Perhaps they are now your dearest pals, but they didn’t need a friend. They needed a teacher.

As I pay attention to what lawprofs say and do, I also pay attention to what law students and new lawyers say and do. Some are remarkably astute. Some are mind-bogglingly misguided. They hate me for telling them when they are wrong. They call me snide, arrogant and condescending. And I don’t give a damn. They are not my peers, but children in dire need of guidance that no one else is willing to give them.

Of course, they won’t listen to me. I don’t coddle them and rub their little tummies. So as long as you concern yourselves more with sweet words on their evaluations, law students will continue to emerge from your classrooms incapable of the rigors of law and unsafe for clients. But who cares, as long as they like you.

This is the pedagogy you’ve created and perpetuated. If you have any balls at all, take back your classroom and teach your students well.  Hurt their feelings whenever their feelings need to be hurt. That may be the most important lesson you can ever teach them.  And stop caring more about your validation than what these ignorant, entitled misfits will do to clients some day.

There were other things that I expected to write about this morning, but they can wait. Tragedies happen with unfortunate regularity, but I can’t recall one that involved the murder of so many young children. Regardless, the deaths of 20 babies is beyond comprehension. The death of six adults is a nightmare. And whatever caused the shooter to do such a thing, both his sadness or sickness and his suicide are part of the tragedy.

It is all so mind-numbingly horrible.  Some focus on the “why” question. I don’t.  It no longer matters, It happened, and that can’t be changed by understanding it better. Nor will it change the next time it happens, any more than Columbine changed this time. It merely gives us something to do while the dead bodies of beautiful children lie in the Sandy Hook Elementary School so we don’t feel utterly useless and puny as we think about this from far away, unable to contribute anything that matters.

Yet, even as the bodies of the children that mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, loved and adored, held and kissed, played with and dreamed with, lie still, there are some who are so cold as to immediately calculate how they can use this to their own advantage.

Mike Huckabee blames “removing God from schools,” as the reason for the shooting.  Randazza disproves the usually sound view that ad hominems are never warranted.

UCLA Lawprof Eugene Volokh had  two posts up  on the merits of wider gun ownership before the sun went down. And conservatives rip the president for hinting that guns must be controlled, while liberal rip the president for refusing to utter those two words.

I borrow again from Tim Kevan, that priests believe, people feel, lawyers think.  Today is a day to feel, not think or believe. Feel for the parents, the loved ones, who lost their babies.  Don’t think. Don’t believe. Just feel.

There is no answer to a horror like this. For all the “answers” offered, all those inclined to see a tragedy and use it for their own purposes, the reality is that humanity has endured horrible tragedies before and will do so again, and no one, no group, no solution, has ever altered this course.  We have events of wonder and greatness, and events of horror and tragedy.  That’s the nature of humanity.

So too is it in the nature of humanity to seize the opportunity to use tragedy to further one’s own agenda.  This is not part of our better nature, and it demeans us and the tragedy. 

I cannot feel what the parents of the children murdered in Newtown feel. But I can feel the terrible sadness of such a tragedy.  For today, that’s all that can be done.

The symposium at  Concurring Opinions on  Convicting the Innocent has been less than energetic in its forward momentum, about as controversial as chick peas and less than enthusiastically received. In fact, I suspect I’ve been one of twelve people total to bother with it, but still I press on. 

In a post by Northwestern lawprof Steve Drizin, director of the NU Center for Wrongful Convictions, he discusses the issue of contaminated police testimony about feeding facts to a defendant giving rise to a false confession.

In the absence of an electronic recording of the entire interrogation, suspects don’t stand much of a chance of convincing a jury that their confessions were coerced or false.  As Dan Simon points out in In Doubt, jurors have great difficulty accepting the idea that anyone would confess to a crime they did not commit, especially a murder or other crime that could result in death or a lengthy prison sentence.  Moreover, in a classic case of the “cover-up being worse than the crime,” the trial process actually encourages prosecutors to prepare police witnesses to testify that the details came from the suspect in an uninterrupted narrative with no prompting, prodding or persuasion from the police.  It’s not a case of suborning perjury.  Without a recording, everyone has plausible deniability about police contamination.  The collective memory of the officers involved —  often months or years after the fact — is washed clean of any contamination.  During trial preparation, prosecutors prepare the officers to testify in ways that are persuasive to juries.    There is nothing more persuasive than a police officer who testifies that the reason he knew the suspect was guilty was because the suspect came up with details that only the true perpetrator could have known.

At first glance, this seems to be the conventional wisdom, that everyone is just doing their job under difficult circumstances, with nothing nefarious going on, and it just works out badly.  Even the “collective memory of the officers involved…is washed clean of any contamination.” Time heals all wounds.

But it’s not so.  There are two fundamental flaws that routinely occur that undermine this overly kind view of contaminated testimony.  First, the police officer takes the stand and testifies that he remembers everything, everything, as if it happened yesterday.  As much as we might want to wish away any suggestion of perjury, there is no rationalization that allows the cop to testify as to facts as if he recalls them perfectly while simultaneously  justifying his absolution from responsibility for contaminated testimony by the fact that “months or years” have elapsed.

Either he remembers the facts or he doesn’t. Which is it?

The second flaw is that the feeding of facts to a defendant in the course of attempting to extract a confession isn’t mere happenstance.  It’s no accident. It is something police officers are trained to do.  Sure, they occasionally get a defendant who spills his guts, committed the crime and tells all, but that’s not the situation under discussion. Rather, Drizin speaks to the false confession, the seemingly inexplicable circumstance where a person who didn’t do the crime manages to come up with a confession replete with intimate details.

In exculpating the cop, he ignores what Larry Barksdale was kind enough to tell us, it’s the police officer’s job to get the confession.  It is the police officer’s job to get a confession that will stick, that will suffice to convict the defendant. It is not his job to make certain that it’s truthful. If the confession is false, it’s our job to prove it.

In the sanitary world of theory, we don’t point fingers and accuse anyone of doing bad things. It’s just not polite.  But trials don’t happen in the sanitary world of theory, and people do bad things.  To testify under oath that nobody planted the details that bolster a confession, but that they came from the defendant alone, is fine, except when it’s a lie.  What it is not is a mistake. It is not forgivable. It is not excusable. Even though we may want to be polite and hurt no one’s feelings, it’s just not real.

This is a tough business, and the stakes in the real world are very high.  If there is to be a solution to the problem of false confessions (whether by the innocent or the guilty, or the somewhat guilty), it has be based on how things actually happen in the courtroom.  Police don’t innocently forget that the seeded the confession with details. Police do so to make the confession stick. They do so because their job is to make the confession stick.  They do so because they believe the defendant is guilty, and the ends justify the means. They don’t lose sleep over it.

This isn’t to say that Larry Barksdale is wrong about his perspective, that it’s a cop’s job to get a confession that nails a defendant to the wall, even though it’s the prime reason for false confessions.  But it is to say that no worthwhile discussion of false confessions can be premised on the notion that it’s all a big mistake and cops would never deliberately testify falsely about a confession because they can’t remember how they contaminated it, They remember. They contaminated the confession on purpose.

With that in mind, let the discussion continue.

The New York Times says so? Huff Post? Me? Neither stories in the mainstream media nor the blawgosphere, and SJ in particular, tell it all. They can’t because of space and limited comprehension. I can’t because I don’t know anymore than what they say, unless I have the source materials.  This point was driven home  after my post about Jack McCullough, convicted 55 years after the murder of 7-year-old Maria Ridulph.

After checking to see where people came from who read my post, two sources sent a few people by, and I decided to check them out. 

Aside: For those of you who want other blawgers to know that you exist or have written something relating to what others are writing, links are an excellent method of letting others know. Most of us are curious to see where people come from, and are interested in learning about new neighbors in the blawgosphere. This is a great way to make that happen.

How do we know the NYTimes and Fox News are telling the whole story?  We don’t. We only know what they’re telling us.

As recently noted, the new diagnosis whenever someone dies following a tazing is “excited delirium,” which Steve Tuttle from Taser International advised me was not their invention, even if they seized upon it as an awfully facile excuse. But there is another word in the lexicon of force to note: superhuman.

Who doesn’t think it sounds pretty darned cool to be described as a “man of steel”?  Except the word gets trotted out not as a compliment, but a rationalization. From Work Without Dread :

Bartholomew Williams, the unarmed African-American graduate student shot dead on Sunday night by Cal State San Bernardino campus police, showed “superhuman strength” as he struggled with them, according to police. If that sounds familiar, that’s because superhumanity is a lot more common than has been thought. Roberto Laudisio-Curdi, an unarmed student killed by police in Sydney in October, also had “superhuman strength.” A man on a stolen motorcycle who resisted arrest in South Carolina last September had “superhuman strength” too, although it seems to me that it was more to his advantage that he had a gun, which the deputy through superhuman strength of his own got control of. Last summer in Maryland, a guy in a shootout with police “held on to his gun” after being hit by a bullet, which led a police spokesperson to remark, “The PCP just provokes superhuman strength.” And at about the same time, police in Georgia said that a delirious man that they arrested “had superhuman strength and admitted being high on bath salts.” (See also State of North Carolina v. Jonathan Howard Norton, No. COA10–1544, June 2011.)

The post goes on to argue that the use of the characterization “superhuman” is the new means of dehumanizing the target of police violence.

You don’t have to be Foucault to see that superhumanity functions as subhumanity; it allows the nonhuman to be eliminated while releasing the perceiver from having to answer for seeing someone as nonhuman. Like last spring’s “bath salts” hysteria itself, the phrase “superhuman strength” reflects police discomfort with mental illness–or even just “irrationality”–on the one hand, and with the unaccountable phenomenon of resisting arrest on the other.

While this explanation delves deeply into the police psychology of viewing non-cops, the us-and-them mentality, as lesser humans unworthy of concern or compassion, my sense is that the description isn’t so much a tacit reflection of their dehumanization as it is another in the long list of convenient words that can provide a ready excuse for the use of force. It’s easy, quick and immediately explains why they had to shoot, taze, beat a person whose conduct otherwise compelled no need for force.

As is often the case, the word is used in conjunction with the underlying criminal accusation, such as the use of PCP or bath salts, playing upon public hysteria and ignorance. After all, how many people are going to rush to the aid of the dead man claiming they use PCP all the time and never had superhuman strength?  On the other side, the mythology surrounding crazy, wild things that happen to people who do demon drugs plays right into a claim like this.  As Judy Tenuta liked to say, “it can happen.”

While police are frequently uncomfortable with mental illness or irrationality, though the latter usually reflects the peculiar police perspective that failure to immediately comply with their commands constitutes irrationality per se, the use of force isn’t limited by any stretch to those who suffer from some mental impairment.  With increasing frequency, it’s just a matter of time and convenience, where they have the means to end an incident now, and use it, or don’t feel much like chasing down a perp and just shoot instead.  It’s quick and easy, the only thing needed is an excuse. 

The beauty of characterizing a person as having “superhuman” strength is that it not only provides a justification for the use of force that would otherwise be inexcusable, but it can’t be tested later for veracity.  Much like the beloved “furtive gesture,” it happened only because the police officer said so, and then it’s gone.  In the case of furtive gesture, the result is a search. In the case of superhuman strength, there’s usually a dead body.

Does anybody actually have this “superhuman” strength? No and yes.  No, there is no such thing as Superman, and no one suddenly manifests abilities beyond those of mere mortals, regardless of whether they’re wearing a cape.  But drugs do cause disinhibition, where a person will exert his very human strength to its fullest, without any reluctance, despite doing so in the face of police force.  The fact is that a person on PCP may well beat a cop in fight; cops don’t necessarily have secret cop-fu that allows them to come out on top in hand-to-hand combat.  They can be beaten. They can be hurt. They are not inclined to let that happen.

At the same time, use of such shorthands as “superhuman” strength build a mythology that’s hard to resist. It becomes a mantra, where just saying the magic words makes whatever comes afterward perfectly understandable. What could the cop do in the face of this drugged up guy with superhuman strength? He had no choice but to shoot.  And another unarmed person lies dead on the street, and there is no way to dispute it.  Except it isn’t real.

H/T FritzMuffKnuckle