Sunday, March 25, 2012

I Want My Day In Court! (I Think?)



Readers of this blog know how I yearn for the chance to be a real lawyer, to plant my four white paws on counsel table and yowl to the world. And yet, two recent decisions out of the Supreme Court may have changed all that. The courtroom, it appears, may not be as important as we'd all like to think it is.

The SCOTUS recently delivered opinions in two cases, Lafler v. Cooper and Missouri v. Frye in which the Court held that criminal defendants have a right to competent legal counsel during plea bargain negotiations.

That doesn't sound like much, but these decisions may have far-reaching ramifications on both the criminal law process and in how we think about it.

The Sixth Amendment to the Constitution states that:

“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense."

Look at that capitalized part. “Assistance of Counsel.” These days, most people know from listening to the recitation of Miranda rights on tv (hopefully that's why you know it, and not because of personal experience), that they have the “Right to speak to an Attorney. If you cannot afford an Attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

The reading of Miranda rights is a fairly recent development. Mirandav. Arizona was only decided in 1966. Even more importantly, up until 1963, there was no recognized right to court-appointed counsel in criminal cases for indigent defendants. What about the 6th amendment, you ask?

Let me introduce you to Clarence Earl Gideon, who, in my humble opinion, is an example of what our legal system can be, at its best.



“Gideon was a fifty-one-year-old white man who had been in and out of prisons much of his life. He had served time for four previous felonies, and he bore the physical marks of a destitute life: a wrinkled, prematurely aged face, a voice and hands that trembled, a frail body, white hair. He had never been a professional criminal or a man of violence; he just could not seem to settle down to work, and so he had made his way by gambling and occasional thefts. Those who had known him, even the men who had arrested him and those who were now his jailers, considered Gideon a perfectly harmless human being, rather likeable, but one tossed aside by life. Anyone meeting him for the first time would be likely to regard him as the most wretched of men.” Gideon's Trumpet, Anthony Lewis, pgs. 5-6.

This “most wretched of men” did something very admirable and very brave.

In 1962, Gideon was serving a 5 year sentence for allegedly breaking into a pool room, stealing some money from a cigarette machine (probably no more than $25.00) and some alcohol. Gideon's Trumpet, pgs. 7, 249.  At his trial, he told the judge he wasn't ready because he did not have an attorney. Gideon's Trumpet, pg. 10.  At the time, the sixth amendment was construed to mean that a person only had the right to a court-appointed lawyer if there would be “denial of fundamental fairness” without an attorney. Betts v. Brady, cited in Gideon's Trumpet, page 8. This meant that unless there were “special circumstances” such as “illiteracy, ignorance, youth or mental illness, the complexity of the charge against him or the conduct of the prosecutor or judge at the trial.” Gideon's Trumpet, page 9. Gideon was on his own.

Gideon wrote a petition to the Supreme Court, in pencil, asking them to overturn his conviction because he didn't have a lawyer at trial. Gideon's Trumpet, page 3.  He knew enough to know what the 6th amendment said, even if he didn't know about Betts.

And that's what the Court did. It overturned Betts. Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U.S. 335, (1963).  It decided that the right to counsel is a “fundamental right” that is guaranteed to defendants in criminal cases.  Id.  It noted that

“Even the intelligent and educated layman has small and sometimes no skill in the science of law. If charged with crime, he is incapable, generally, of determining for himself whether the indictment is good or bad. He is unfamiliar with the rules of evidence. Left without the aid of counsel, he may be put on trial without a proper charge, and convicted upon incompetent evidence, or evidence irrelevant to the issue or otherwise inadmissible. He lacks both the skill and knowledge adequately to prepare his defense, even though he have a perfect one. He requires the guiding hand of counsel at every step in the proceedings against him. Without it, though he be not guilty, he faces the danger of conviction because he does not know how to establish his innocence." Id. citing Powell v.Alabama.

Which is exactly what had happened to Gideon. For example, he spent a good deal of time at his trial encouraging witnesses to assert that he had not been drunk on the night in question, (probably trying to protect his character), without realizing that intoxication would have been a defense. Gideon's Trumpet, pg. 63.  Because he had been in jail, he didn't have the opportunity to research the backgrounds of the witnesses against him (one of which had previously lied).  Gideon's Trumpet, page 250

When the Supreme Court remanded his case, and he was retried with the help of defense counsel, Gideon was found not guilty.  Gideon's Trumpet, page 249.

Because of Gideon, we now understand the right to counsel to be one of the most fundamental rights in our idealized version of the United States legal system. So, fifty years after Gideon, why do we now have Lafler and Frye? Both of the defendants in those cases had counsel at their trials. There is no allegation that there was anything wrong with their trials at all. They were found guilty through a fair process. They benefitted from Gideon's fight. So what's the problem?

The criminal justice system has changed dramatically since Gideon's day. When Gideon was arrested, he was put in jail to await trial. Now, however, he would have been offered the opportunity to “plea” or, to agree to admit guilt in exchange for a lesser sentence. "97 percent of federal convictions and 94 percent of state convictions in 2009 were obtained by a guilty plea, according to the Justice Department."  Pleas save on scant resources. They save time and money.

Defendants' fates are decided overwhelmingly outside of the courtroom. Effectively, there has been no recognized right to counsel in 94% of state convictions.

Here's how that plays out. Galen Frye was charged with driving with a revoked license. Missouri v. Frye. The prosecutor offered his attorney a 90 day jail term if he pled guilty to a misdemeanor or a 10 day sentence if he pled guilty to a felony.  Id.  His attorney never told him. Id.  He pled guilty at his trial and received a three year sentence. Id.  Anthony Cooper shot a woman in the buttock, hip and abdomen. Lafler v. Cooper.  He was charged with “assault with intent to murder, possession of a firearm by a felon, possession of a firearm in the commission of a felony, misdemeanor possession of marijuana, and for being a habitual offender” under Michigan law. Id.  He was offered two plea bargains, which would have subjected thim to a 51-85 month sentence if he pled guilty. Id.  Bizzarrely, however, he “rejected the offer on both occasions, allegedly after his attorney convinced him that the prosecution would be unable to establish his intent to murder...because she had been shot below the waist.” Id. (I think I know a lawyer who should start reading The Purrdict).

Both Cooper and Frye had, by all accounts, fair trials. What more could you ask for? Well, according to Justice Kennedy, we can't consider the trial the be all and end all of the criminal justice system anymore. Instead, plea bargaing “is the criminal justice system.” Missouri v. Frye.

I submit to you that the Frye and Cooper decisions are controversial because this just isnt' how we want to think about our justice system. Our courtrooms, shabby and broken as they may (usually) be, are panneled in wood. They have seals above the judge's head. They are steeped in formality. Plea bargains take place behind closed doors with plastic chairs and bad lighting. There is very little Latin spoken. Tuxedo kittens do not demand litter-box facilities in the counsel rooms of jails, (although now...)

And what are we to do with Mr. Frye and Mr. Cooper? As Justice Scalia points out in his (unsurprising) dissents, they received fair trials. Are we to overturn the ressults of two completely appropriate and fair trials, in which the men were found guilty, to allow them to receive lesser sentences that they were offered in plea bargains? What does that say about the trial itself? What does that say about the jury, that institution that is so highly regarded in our jurisprudence?

Do these two decisions say more about the Supreme Court, or about the state of our legal system? Or, do they say more about our actual legal system, or how we want to think about our legal system?

And is this all just a ploy to keep cats out of the courtroom?



Sunday, March 4, 2012

YEOWLLL! (I object).


Adoring public, I have returned. Let me explain my absence.

When the Humans first brought me home, Human Female, although a lawyer in name, was not working. It was fantastic. She snuggled me when I needed snuggling, she fed me when I needed feeding (not enough to my liking, by the way), she played with me when I needed playing with.

And then she went back to work. 

I am so alone! Neglected!

Frankly, I've just been too distraught to write.

But I am determined to not turn into another After-School Special, despite Human Female's abandonment. I have made a commitment to this blog, and I shall persevere! I am Rory! I am not just another latchkey kitten!

So, today shall be just a short post about the purpose of objections, because I am feeling very objectionable lately.

You've seen the tv shows and movies. You've seen the lawyer-actors pop up like jack in the boxes and self-righteously announce “Objection, Your Honor!” when the testimony is not going their way. Alas, that's not really how it works.

In order to object, the lawyer needs to have “grounds.” Just because you don't like the way things are going, doesn't give you the right to object. The testimony has to be violating some rule of evidence.

For example, imagine I am suing Human Female for emotional distress for leaving me alone all day. At the trial, she testifies that she has to work in order to pay for my kibble. I leap up onto the counsel table and howl “Objection!”

The judge is the ultimate arbiter of what evidence is allowed to stand and what she or he chooses to strike. She or he can stop a line of questioning. So, when I object, I have to explain to the judge what my grounds are, so that he or she can either “sustain” my objection (i.e. agree with it and strike that particular piece of evidence), or “overrule” it, (i.e. rule that the evidence can stand). Most times, the grounds are obvious enough to the judge that she or he will decide without asking for grounds. This also makes for better television than a protracted argument at side bar about the meaning of the Rules of Evidence. (I'd rather have a hairball).

So, what are my grounds? I can't tell the judge that I just don't like her answer, or that it is hurting my case. I could try to argue that her testimony is irrelevant, (seriously, I don't care how she gets the kibble;YOU DO NOT LEAVE RORY). I could argue that the testimony is overly prejudicial, that it will create an improper emotional response in the jury that will distract them from the legal and factual issues of the case (ok, I'm a kitten, she's a lawyer. You're the jury. Who do you vote for?)

There are a number of highly technical objections. If she testifies that Human Male told her that I told him that I wanted her to leave me alone, I could object on the grounds of hearsay. (Also, perhaps I'd have an argument that she is totally incompetent, because, whoever heard of a talking cat?) One of my favorite grounds is “asked and answered,” which is pretty much a formal way of saying “Your honor, this clown of a lawyer has asked this same question fifteen times as a way of hammering home his point, and it's starting to get on my nerves.”

But don't think those television shows have it all wrong. Objecting has an element of drama to it, no question. The lawyer may use objections to signal the jury. Depending on his tone, he could try to imply that a particular line of questioning is totally off base, he could roll his eyes (not recommended), he could flail, he could raise his voice. He may just want to throw the other lawyer off, or derail the witness, by interrupting. It's a dangerous game; the judge isn't likely to allow him to play these kinds of games for very long.

But let's get back to what's important here. Rory. Why can I not be brought to work? Look, I even fit in Human Female's briefcase! They have kibble in the office, right?