Category: Criminal Law

2

Andy Warhol’s Electric Chair

My colleague Bennett Capers (Hofstra) has written a fascinating, and rather disturbing, article at the intersection of law and art. Writing about Andy Warhol’s Electric Chair paintings, he asks a series of probing questions – about who the viewer imagines in the chair, and about death as a public spectacle. In this excerpt, he talks more about presence/absence in the paintings:

ReSizedWarholElectricChair.jpgIn Warhol’s Electric Chair series, just as the condemned is both absent and present, so is the State – and this is comforting. Complicity is shared. No one is to blame. Our system of capital punishment thrives partly because of this (joint) presence and absence. The state is present in the very bureaucracy of execution, from the legislative decision to authorized capital punishment to the judicial sanctioning of death-authorized juries. At the same time, the state creates its own absence in diffusing authority among the cast of participants: legislators, prosecutors, jurors, trial and appellate judges, governors with their ability to grant clemency, the executioner himself. And this is what I mean by absence. To borrow from another commentator, the diffusion allows everyone to say, “I’m only doing my job. I’m just a cog in the wheel. I didn’t kill him.” The room is empty, even though it is full.

The article was recently published by the California Law Review.

Photo Credit: Andy Warhol, Electric Chair I (1971), Warhol Family Museum of Modern Art

7

Six Flags Syndrome: Price Discrimination In Plea Bargaining

Six Flags.jpg Price discrimination occurs when any seller charges two different buyers a different price for the same product. Coupons are one obvious method of price discrimination. Airline advance purchase requirements are another. The term sounds ugly, but it’s basic marketing. One major area of price discrimination occurs between sophisticated and unsophisticated consumers. Uninformed car buyers often pay more for their autos than those who arrive with the newest pricing data from Edmunds. And while many web buyers routinely pay full price, others of us consult Coupon Cabin, Mom’s View, or XP Bargains before ordering online. We don’t do anything special for the discount; we just know enough to check for coupons.

In a blunt admission of price discrimination based on consumer sophistication, Six Flags’ VP for ticketing, Steve Brown, stated) “any guest paying full pirce at our parks is probably not doing their homework.”

Perhaps all is fair in love and sales, but what about plea bargaining? Would we feel OK if US Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald announced that “anyone pleading to ten years on a marijuana charge probably didn’t do his homework”? As a public defender, I often discovered that a DA’s “best” offer wasn’t on the table initially. I had to request it. Sometimes I provided good reasons for a better deal – I cast the client in a new light, for example, or discussed an extenuating circumstance. But often I simply scrunched up my face and said “come on, you can do better than that”…and he or she would serve up a better offer. I understood the game; as a public defender, I played it every single day.

But it turns out that clients – and more importantly lawyers – are often surprisingly unsophisticated in the negotiation process and will not demand the best posible offer. I’m reminded of a friend who was handling his first serious felony. His client faced a mandatory 6 year bid for the gunpoint robbery, but the DA was offering 10 years. My friend planned to ask for seven years. After we talked, I explained that in my jurisdiction (we were in different states), a first time offender facing these charges would usually receive the mandatory minimum. I encouraged him to ask for six years. And that’s exactly what his client got. But if he’d asked for seven years – his initial plan – the client would have served an extra year.

So should prosecutors “take advantage” of unsophisticated opponents by jacking up offers?

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2

On the Milberg Indictment

MW.gifI’ve been mulling over the Milberg indictment. Since I waited a weekend to post, I have the advantage of having read lots of other folks’ views. Quick summaries follow:

  • Michael Dorf: Kickback payments slaved the named plaintiffs to MW, bloating agency costs.
  • Steve Bainbridge:Kickbacks encourage “nuisance claims.” We may need criminal sanctions to crank the Hand formula to optimal levels, but only against individual lawyers.
  • Walter Olson:”[MW was] taking no chances on the watchdogs staying pacified: It threw regular chunks of raw liver into their cages.”
  • Larry Ribstein: Who cares? Lawyers are fungible.
  • Ed Morrissey: Bad for Democrats and ambulance chasers.
  • Christine Hurt: It’s high noon, and MW can’t blink.
  • And let’s not forget MW itself: It was just a referral! And the theory is overreaching! And our interests remained aligned!

Wow. Lots of words. So here is what I think.

First, I still don’t particularly understand the economics of outrage here. I’ve seen two arguments about why kickbacks are bad (apart from their being unlawful, which we’ll put aside briefly). First, I’ve heard the argument that they “capture” the lead plaintiff, making that person less able to monitor the lawyer’s work. As Dorf points out, however, plaintiffs in securities class actions are sort of like shareholders stockholders: they have deputized oversight and management to lawyers, in return for fiduciary duties. Some folks seem to have in mind a more active role for lead plaintiffs – something like a controlling stockholder(?) – but given the relatively low bonuses awarded in settlements for lead plaintiffs, why would anyone want to play that role? That is, you can’t have distributed, small-stakes, high-impact, governance by private actions and have plaintiff management at the same time. The capture argument is another way of saying that these types of claims are not in the public interest. But we don’t criminalize inefficient lawyering. Not usually.

The second argument I’ve seen is related to the first – it is Bainbridge’s – and it suggests that kickbacks encourage securities actions that are (on the merits) weaker. Yup, that sounds right. But that isn’t an argument against kickbacks, it is an argument that judges aren’t doing enough to raise hurdles to weak actions at early stages, as the PSLRA was designed to accomplish. To the contrary, I have found that judges are quite hostile to securities claims.

The argument that I haven’t seen on the blogs, but which is larded through the indictment, suggests that MW was, in effect, selling out the rest of the class to benefit the folks at the head of the line. And in a way, this is (for me) the strongest argument against the practice. If MW really did countenance paying referrals-as-kickbacks to named class members out of their portion of the settlement, then we know that dollars were being taken out of the mouths of the rest of the class pretty directly. On the other hand, one might argue that MW had to pay off the named plaintiffs to bring the cases in the first place – that it is a an expense like overhead.

Two additional aspects of the case trouble me. Obviously, indicting the entire firm feels excessive. I don’t agree with Larry R. that reputational effects won’t follow MW’s innocent lawyers. I know lots of counsel at MW – I litigated against them – and I thought they were incredibly hard working, tough, honest, passionate adversaries. One of my worst days as a lawyer came across a deposition table from an experienced Milberg partner: he taught me a great lesson on how to get one’s opponent to hang himself on the record. And I’d be shocked if more than a handful of lawyers at the firm had any knowledge of the activities charged. If the USAO is really indicting out of pique for failure to roll over as most corporations would do in response to a patently unreasonable discovery demand, well, many folks who think of themselves as white knights are going to be tarnished unfairly.

Second, I have some problems with the continued federalization of state practice ethical rules. Although the indictment doesn’t come out and say this, some of the illegality is premised on state fiduciary duty and referral laws. (Some, granted, is based on Rule 23.) Shouldn’t this type of prosecution be the job of Elliot Spitzer and his imitators? Which raises a question: why didn’t Spitzer get here first?

0

A Reckoning In Houston

Tomorrow the Enron jury will hear closing arguments in the Lay/Skilling trial. Given both defendants’ reported weaknesses as witnesses, the futures market estimate of conviction on at least several charges for Lay (76% ) and Skilling (73%) is predictable. (Although, the line has shifted significantly from February.) And even if a verdict arrives this week, the defense team(s) are already no doubt working on an appellate strategy. One tack: Judge Lake appears to have accepted the government’s intent instruction.

This raises an issue which I’ve been thinking a bit about recently. Given research showing that juries often ignore instuctions, especially in complicated cases, and instead focus on a narrative and attributions of blameworthiness, why does the government so often appear to overreach and thus preserve great defense issues for appeal? Does the federal prosecution manual discount the research? Or, more cynically, is the phenomena a problem of incentives? In the ordinary case, the marginal gain from the prosecution instruction is reaped by the line attorney, but the marginal cost of the instruction is usually discounted by time and by the likelihood that the government attorney defending the appeal is a different unit, or a different office altogether.

4

Alito’s First Death Decision

Alitocollege.jpgSam Alito’s first SCOTUS opinion arrived yesterday and – if you see the world through Cass colored glasses – it’s a liberal one: the defendant won. The issue in Holmes v. South Carolina was whether:

a criminal defendant’s federal constitutional rights are violated by an evidence rule under which the defendant may not introduce proof of third-party guilt if the prosecution has introduced forensic evidence that, if believed, strongly supports a guilty verdict.

The trial court excluded evidence suggesting that a third party had confessed to killing 86 year old Mary Stewart. Why? On the grounds that the evidence against the defendant was so powerful that any evidence implicating the third party could not raise a reasonable inference that the defendant was innocent. To put it another way, the case against Holmes was so good that the state was allowed to exclude evidence that another guy did it. No need to bother the jury with messy details. The South Carolina Supremes thought this was a fine idea as well.

This didn’t look like a hard case to me and the 9-0 vote thankfully confirmed that feeling. If a defendant possesses reasonably relevant evidence on the issue of guilt, we generally let the jury hear it. When, as here, a judge keeps this information from the jury, he or she effectively decides the outcome of a case. In rejecting this policy as unconstitutional, Justices Alito and Roberts proved that whatever their ultimate ideological place on the Court, they are not completely off the deep edge.

More interesting to me, though, is what was missing from the decision. Alito did not note that this was a death penalty case. His opinion stated that Holmes received a death sentence after his first trial, and that this trial and sentence were reversed by a state court. But nowhere in the opinion did he say that this new appeal was also from a death sentence. Why is that? Perhaps it was an oversight. Or maybe Alito thought the underlying sentence was an unnecessary fact. If so, why did Alito note Holmes’ capital sentence after his first trial? Perhaps he didn’t want to highlight this as a death case. He might have felt uncomfortable reversing a death sentence in a heinous killing. Or maybe he didn’t want the case framed as a “death decision” – with all the attendant baggage – and instead cast it as a plain old evidence ruling.

This is a small detail to be sure, but Alito surely knew his first opinion would go under a microscope. The odds are that this omission was not strategic. But if it was, I certainly hope that it does not portend a broader willingness to omit uncomfortable facts.

5

When Is A Sex Worker A Victim?

In a recent story out of Richmond, a woman – Barbara Tanner, a 52 year old – who operated an escort service was sentenced to 41 months in federal prison. The interesting hook, noted by Doug Berman, is that the court treated each of the women who worked for her as a “victim” for sentencing purposes. This hoisted her sentencing guideline range from 24-30 months to 41-51 months. As a matter of guideline interpretation, perhaps this makes sense. Section 2G1.1 defines a victim as:

a person transported, persuaded, induced, enticed, or coerced to engage in, or travel for the purpose of engaging in, a commercial sex act or prohibited sexual conduct, whether or not the person consented to the commercial sex act or prohibited sexual conduct. Accordingly, “victim” may include an undercover law enforcement officer.

Perhaps this is just a matter of nomenclature, but is this a fair definition of “victim”? While some sex workers are surely victims, others have chosen this work – admittedly under many of the stresses that propel other individuals towards sub-optimal life choices. Is a sex worker necessarily any greater victim than a coal miner or a worker in a meat processing plant? Would a sex worker who was working on her own, rather than for a madame, be able to claim victimhood as well? If not, why is he or she converted to victim status upon taking a position with Ms. Tanner’s agency? (And what would the IUSW – International Union of Sex Workers – say about this?)

The guidelines commission is within bounds when it makes Ms. Tanner’s sentence depend on the size of her operation. But does it make sense to frame the sentence on the number of people “victimized”? To the degree that those who promote commercial prostitution create unwilling sex workers, they are doing serious harm. And maybe we consider larger prostitution schemes more dangerous because they have the potential to increase coerced prostitution. But my sense is that, with such a broad definition of “victim”, the sentencing commission is mostly dressing up morality legislation in public safety clothing.

If you want to send Ms. Tanner to the pokey for sin, go for it, but don’t assume that all of her employees were necessarily victims. Maybe they were just sinners as well.

2

Karl Rove is the Subject of this Blog Post

Robert Luskin, Karl Rove’s lawyer, released the following statement after Rove’s appearance today before the Plame grand jury:

Karl Rove appeared today before the grand jury investigating the disclosure of a CIA agent’s identity. He testified voluntarily and unconditionally at the request of special counsel Patrick Fitzgerald to explore a matter raised since Mr. Rove’s last appearance in October 2005. In connection with this appearance, the special counsel has advised Mr. Rove that he is not a target of the investigation. Mr. Fitzgerald has affirmed that he has made no decisions regarding charges. At the request of the special counsel, Mr. Rove will not discuss the substance of his testimony. (H/T: The Corner)

This isn’t the first time that Luskin has made this claim. But the news media still aren’t really digging into what this means.

Being “not a target” is a good thing for Rove. But it would be better if he were “not a subject” of the grand jury’s inquiry either, and the failure of the Special Prosecutor to say so means that KR remains in some (unknown) amount of legal jeopardy. The distinction between these two concepts has been usefully discussed on Talkleft: for a recent post see here. Before today’s appearance, there was a rumor that Fitzgerald sent Rove a target letter. Either that rumor was false, or Luskin will some day have some explaining to do. I’m betting on the former. Because it would be frankly shocking were Rove to have testified before the Grand Jury after receiving a target letter. I’m not saying it couldn’t have happened under some immunity agreement that hasn’t surfaced, but it is exceedingly unlikely.

6

Reefer Madness At The FDA

marijuana-leaf.jpgOne of the most troubling behaviors of the current administration is its repeated willingness to manipulate the distribution of empirical data with which it disagrees. From global warming to crime, the government seems more interested in promoting its policy preferences than transparently reporting the results of the research it performs or supports. The administration has a legitimate right to advocate for its positions. But if it wants to argue that marijuana ought to be illegal, as the FDA did last week in its Inter-Agency Advisory Regarding Claims That Smoked Marijuana Is A Medicine, it seems to me the better policy – both from an honesty and a credibility point of view – is to concede the facts that cut against you, and make your case anyway. In its press release last week, the FDA asserted that:

A past evaluation by several Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) agencies, including the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) and National Institute for Drug Abuse (NIDA), concluded that no sound scientific studies supported medical use of marijuana for treatment in the United States.

True as this may be, a 1999 review of studies by the National Institute of Medicine suggests that marijuana offers potential therapeutic value for pain relief, control of nausea and vomiting, and appetite stimulation. Also, it notes that “until a non-smoked, rapid-onset cannabanoid drug delivery system becomes available…there is no clear alternative” to smoking. Why can’t the administration concede the existence of this data review by another federal agency?

It seems to me that the administration is driven by a decision, ex ante, that marijuana ought to be illegal. If it were truly interested in investigating the utility of the drug, it wouldn’t make serious research into its value exceedingly difficult. So the federal government ignores data suggesting the value of marijuana. It makes it hard to generate more research on marijuana. And it is therefore able to rail against the many states that have legalized marijuana for medical purposes. There are reasons to believe that, if the government allowed the debate to flourish – by sharing data that does exist and promoting the production of new data – its position might become weaker. But if marijuana is in fact effective as a medicine, perhaps the FDA should legalize it. And if the government’s real argument is something other than efficacy – that it is very likely to be misued, for example, or that its increased availability will lead to a rise in DUI cases – then it should make that case instead.

In some respects, this approach to policy debate reminds me of an argument made by death penalty opponents who argue that the death penalty is bad policy because it is expensive. But why is it expensive? Because opponents litigate these cases very aggressively. There are many good reasons why some people may oppose the death penalty. But it seems to me that when the people complaining about the cost of capital punishment are the people generating this expense, one should at least be skeptical. I’m not denying that the expense argument might mask a a deeper claim: perhaps these cases are so expensive, and require so many appeals, because the state fails to provide excellent counsel in the first instance. But if this is true, wouldn’t a more logical solution to the cost problem be a requirement that states spend money on quality counsel up front, to save in the long haul? In the end, the real claim underneath cost is fairness: the quality of a person’s lawyer should not determine whether he receives a death sentence. That may not “sell” as well to certain voters, but it is the more honest argument.

As for reefer, when government is making the arguments, I think we have a right to expect honesty. The FDA’s dubious pronouncement appears driven primarily by the administration’s emotional hatred of marijuana. Personally, I’d prefer FDA decisions to be grounded in evidence-based research rather than simply madness.

13

Drunk at Duke

By now we all know that an African-American women, hired to strip at a Duke men’s lacrosse party, has accused three white players of kidnapping, strangling, and raping her on May 14, 2006. The Durham district attorney recently secured two indictments in the case, and indicated that a third may be forthcoming. The case is troubling for many reasons. I’ll probably write about a couple of different aspects of the case over the next week, but today I’d like to focus on the issue of alcohol. I’m particularly interested in how intoxication—of the men and the woman on the night in question—will be interpreted.

The initial description of the Duke case included the allegation that the players had already been drinking at the party before the dancers arrived. They may not have been the only ones. On April 10, defense attorney Bill Thomas said that time-stamped photographs would prove that the woman was already drunk herself upon coming to the party. To explain her injuries, Thomas said, “This young lady was substantially impaired. She had fallen several times during the course of the evening.”

How will intoxication of the parties affect an assessment of blame? Studies on the issue are fascinating. In a 1982 study (Richardson & Campbell, The Effect of Alcohol on Attributions of Blame for Rape, 8 Per. Soc. Psychol. Bull. 468 (1982)), participants read a story about a college student raped at a party. Some students read a story in which the attacker was drunk and some read a story in which the victim was drunk. The male attacker was held less responsible for the rape when he was intoxicated than when he was sober. By contrast, the female victim was held more responsible when she was intoxicated than when she was sober.

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7

Why The Right To Choose Counsel Matters

Today the Supreme Court will hear argument in the case United States v. Gonzalez-Lopez. SCOTUS Blog has a nice summary of the issues here. The case involves a criminal defendant who, for various reasons related primarily to guild protection, was denied the chance to be represented by the attorney of his choice. The U.S. takes the position that even though this may have violated the defendant’s Sixth Amendment rights, he should lose his appeal unless the attorney he didn’t want was “ineffective”. The problem is that the Strickland v. Washington definition of ineffectiveness, as it has evolved, misses some core aspects of criminal lawyering. One of the critical problems with the Strickland analysis is its focus on strategic moves: trial skills, evidentiary choices, objections, and the like. Admittedly, the Court has begun to take seriously the importance of pretrial investigation in capital cases. Yet the attorney-client relationship – that (hopefully) large bundle of time and joint effort that occurs before trial – receives short shrift. And it often has at least as large an effect on overall case outcome. An attorney who successfully builds trust with her client can do a much better job for him. And a client’s decision to hire a particular attorney is a good first step in that process.

First, there is the matter of plea bargaining. While plea bargains are usually available in criminal cases, they almost always require a modicum of attorney-client trust. Why? First, if the deal requires a defendant to cooperate with the goverment, the defendant must trust the lawyer to handle this sometimes dangerous transaction properly. Second, when a deal is available, many defendants will not accept it if they think their attorney has negotiated inadequately or, worse, is in league with the prosecution. The higher the stakes in the case – when a defendant is facing decades in jail, for example – the more a defendant must trust his lawyer.

There is also the matter of trial preparation. Defendants often have a great deal of knowledge that can help secure a better deal, or result in a better trial outcome. They know witnesses. They know the facts of their own crimes. They know their own personal history. But defendants are often reticent about sharing this information with lawyers they don’t trust.

Finally, there is the trial itself and, particularly, a defendant’s decision whether to testify. Defendants often want to tell their story. Defense lawyers often want them to remain silent. This decision ultimately rests with the defendant. If he doesn’t trust his lawyer, he is less likely to listen to her advice.

When a person selects his own counsel, he is taking the first step toward building a valuable relatioinship with his attorney. When that process is disrupted by courts, it will inevitably have real consequences. Even if the “show” looks identical – the cross-examination is great and the closing sublime – the process will have changed, and quite possibly for the worse. In recent years, the Court has sometimes shown a greater appreciation for the complex task of criminal lawyering. I hope that their decision in Gonzalez-Lopez reflects sensitivity to the fact that lawyers are simply not fungible.