Crack, Torture, and Conspiracy Theories: Why and Which Stories Matter

Conspiracies and evil machinations have been on my mind lately, for a combination of reasons. One of them is that I recently gave a post-play talk at Cutting Ball Theater's production of Superheroes, a play by Sean San José performed in collaboration with Campo Santo. The play is a non-narrative, nonlinear take on the 1996 revelations of Gary Webb, then a journalist with the San Jose Mercury News. In a three-part series of articles titled Dark Alliance (later to appear as a book), Webb outlined the emergence of the crack cocaine epidemic in America's inner cities. According to the story, CIA agents allowed Nicaraguans who financed the Contras to import cocaine into the United States with impunity and protected mid-level drug dealers from the consequences.

That the CIA was aware of drug importing was already known at the time; a 1989 Senate committee admitted as much, but stopped short of tying the CIA to the actual trafficking. Webb's article provided the missing link. In response, the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the Los Angeles Times refuted and discredited the story, leading the San Jose Mercury News to withdraw it and sack Webb. After a stream of small jobs and financial ruin, Webb committed suicide.

A recent Hollywood movie, Kill the Messenger, reaffirms Webb's findings. And at the talk I gave, many audience members, especially people of color who came of age during the heyday of the epidemic, expressed their firm belief that Webb was right, and that the CIA deliberately pushed crack cocaine into their neighborhoods with the express goal to destroy them. Michelle Alexander's The New Jim Crow gives credence to this "strong Webb theory" as well.

Which raises two questions: what do you believe, and, does it even matter what the truth is? When assessing our belief in a story, it's important to keep in mind the context in which we hear it. There is a lot of talk about white privilege these days, and it's making a lot of people angry and defensive to the point that I'm not sure the term is useful or productive anymore. What some hear as anger and some as accusation can, however, be understood as an effort to explain to others that one's lived experience cannot inform a complete view of the subject, and that it is sometimes helpful to open one's eyes and hearts to the lived experiences of others, particularly if one's social advantages in life are taken for granted and make them unaware of lives lived without these advantages. The protests erupting in many American cities, by people who are sick of police abuse and of the devaluing of black lives, are an expression of this frustration with not being heard and with having a particular set of experiences ignored and trivialized, even when we are presented with irrefutable evidence.

I think it's important to take these experiences seriously. Not because I think, at this point, that anyone can productively point the finger at someone at the CIA as some archvillain who decided that dying from crack would be white America's "final solution" to the black population (if anyone did, I'm sure they've found that their cure was much worse than whatever disease they assumed to fix.) I think these experiences matter because, regardless of the personal intent of actors in the system, even if one assumes a modest version of Webb's theories, which merely ascribes ignorance and neglect, it is frightening that the CIA's rush to protect the Contras and their allies would lead them to discount the horrific effects drug importing would have on neighborhoods and communities.

In many ways--which I said on Sunday night at the show--ignorance and neglect are worse than intent and malicious design. Because, if someone is evil and malicious, we can point a finger, accuse, (try to) prosecute. But if there is an entire system which, at some point, just decided that the bottom 15% of American citizens are dispensable, there's not a lot to do and the fight is going to be much longer and harder. And also, because anyone who regards you as an enemy at least ascribes you some importance. On the other hand, if you are discounted, disregarded, and discarded, it's because, as many of the protesters today are pointing out, the system has come to the collective conclusion that your life doesn't matter.

Another thought I've had on this has to do with the credibility of the theory. This morning, the Senate Committee's report on the CIA's use of torture came out. The report tells you what your country does to people, many of whom are probably innocent, without informing you (if you don't know, please educate yourself). Before 9/11, before the nonexistent weapons of mass destruction, before many other things happened, some of you might've thought this impossible, a joke. But those of us who grew up on shows like Mission: Impossible were raised on the premise that we are the good guys, and as such, we are entitled to treat the world as our personal sandbox: torturing, abusing, stealing elections in at least eight countries. Mission: Impossible was a work of fiction, but maybe it was designed to make the inconceivable possible, to ameliorate our feelings and desensitize us for the moment in which we learned the truth.

And what a terrific indoctrination job! In 1974, when we found out that the White House was plotting to steal an election and spied on the opposite party, the president had to resign.  Now, as we find out that a government agency is regularly listening to our telephone conversations and reading our mail, we're not even apathetic; we're jaded.

So the question is no more whether the crack cocaine conspiracy is believable or unbelievable. Pretty much everything is in the ballpark of the believable, and Webb's exposé was not even that far from what the Senate itself admitted back in 1989. The question is, what are we going to do about this?

This Sunday: Cutting Ball Theater's Superheroes

This weekend, Sean San José's play Superheroes, which addresses the crack epidemic, debuts at Cutting Ball Theater. After the show on Sunday, Dec. 7, I'll be giving a short talk about the crack epidemic, the criminal justice system, and the failures of the war on drugs.

Where: The EXIT, 277 Taylor Street, San Francisco
When: 5pm

Death Penalty Representation: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Today's ScotusBlog reports on a series of orders denying certiorary to the Supreme Court. The very last one on the list is Redd v. Chappell. The case raises a question that may, at first blush, seem technical: should capital punishment appellants be represented on appeal? Can the appellate courts deny hearing appeals from pro se (unrepresented) appellants?

A little bit of background: As Gerald Uelmen explains in this excellent and informative piece, while California presumably offers representation for capital punishment post-conviction proceedings (See Cal. Govt. Code Ann. §68662), the realities of this arrangement are pretty messy. In 1976, the California legislature created the State Public Defender‘s Office to handle all indigent criminal appeals. In the early 1990s, the governor asked the office to restrict itself to capital cases. Subsequent changes in budget and personnel contributed to the growing backlog of death penalty appointments, as did the special requirements to be counsel in cases of capital punishment: the unique expertise and level of experience required are hard to meet, which means the pool of qualified attorneys is limited. In 2009, when Uelmen wrote his piece, there was a delay of three to five years before a death row inmate had counsel appointed to handle his or her direct appeal. The wait for habeas counsel appointment was eight to ten years after imposition of sentence, and while continuity would be a good thing, it is very rare that attorneys accept representation for both the appellate and habeas process. The latter problem was only partially solved in 1998 with the creation of the Habeas Corpus Resource Center (HCRC), which represents approximately 70 clients in state habeas proceedings. And we haven't even started talking about federal habeas.

Which brings us back to Redd v. Chappell. Redd was sentenced to death 17 years ago, and his conviction was affirmed on direct appeal more than four years ago. Now, he wanted to pursue habeas remedies, but up until now has not been appointed counsel. But ironically, the California Supreme Court refuses to consider capital inmates’ pro se submissions relating to matters for which they have a continuing right to representation--even if they don't actually have representation! Presumably, despite having a right to counsel--which is NOT being honored by the state--in order to be taken seriously, and given the grim realities of the state's failure to meet its obligation, Redd has to waive his right!

The result from the Supreme Court was very unsatisfying, but Justice Sotomayor at least added some explanation as to why she joined the denial of cert: she writes that--

it is not clear that petitioner has been denied all access to the courts. In fact, a number of alternative avenues may remain open to him. He may, for example, seek appointment of counsel for his federal habeas proceedings. See 18 U. S. C. §3599(a)(2). And he may argue that he should not be required to exhaust any claims that he might otherwise bring in state habeas proceedings, as “circumstances exist that render [the state corrective] process ineffective to protect” his rights. 28 U. S. C. §2254(b)(1)(B)(ii). Moreover, petitioner might seek to bring a 42 U. S. C. §1983 suit contending that the State’s failure to provide him with the counsel to which he is entitled violates the Due Process Clause. Our denial of certiorari reflects in no way on the merits of these possible arguments. 

My question is, of course, how is Redd supposed to know about all these options if he doesn't have counsel to inform him that they exist?

As a coda to this: Some of you may remember that, two weeks before the vote on Prop 34, the Chronicle ran a story about how death penalty inmates themselves opposed the proposition, because it would deny them the free counsel they get. And several opponents of the proposition got behind that; arguably, that was the political capital that helped defeat the proposition. But the truth is that death penalty inmates don't really get specialized counsel, and many of their petitions lag behind and go unheard for years for that very reason. If the death penalty were to be abolished tomorrow, and all these folks were to do life without parole with the general population, they could be represented by basically any attorney, which would increase the availability and quality of representation, and we would all save money and time.

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Many thanks to Simon Grivet for drawing my attention to this case.

Plata/Coleman Sequel: We Can't Release Inmates - We Need Their Labor!

If you've followed the litigation in Plata/Coleman from the mid-2000s forward, you probably think you've seen it all: the dawdling, the evasion maneuvers, the political blackmail. But today I have something really special for you. As you might know, the court has ordered a special parole regime to ensure early releases. What did the Attorney General's office have to say? The L.A. Times reports:

Most of those prisoners now work as groundskeepers, janitors and in prison kitchens, with wages that range from 8 cents to 37 cents per hour. Lawyers for Attorney General Kamala Harris had argued in court that if forced to release these inmates early, prisons would lose an important labor pool.

Yes, you've read it right. The Attorney General's office now opposes early releases BECAUSE THOSE WILL DEPRIVE IT OF A CHEAP LABOR FORCE. The prisons can only function if prisoners work in them, so... we need to keep them in.

I'm sure I don't need to explain why this is a shockingly conscienceless rationale to keep people incarcerated and pay them abysmal wages, and much as I resist the unsubtle comparisons made in The New Jim Crow, this really, really reeks of postbellum resistance. Ugh. Shame on you, Ms. Harris.

Prop 47 Passed... What Now?

By now, gentle readers, you're probably done with celebrating the passage of Prop 47, which will have the effect of reducing charges and misdemeanors for many nonserious, nonviolent offenses. But what does this mean, practically, for inmates and for people with criminal records for felonies that are now misdemeanors?

Californians for Safety and Justice have compiled this neat resource answering your questions. There's even a form you can use to petition to change your record, from a felony to a misdemeanor. If you're unclear about how Prop 47 might affect your case, contact the Public Defender's office in your county.

2014 Election Postmortem: YES on 47!

With enough information to comfortably call appointments and shots, and with some distressing news for Democrats in the Senate, I'd like to focus on the important news on the local scene.

The most important of these for CCC readers is the passage of Prop 47 with 58.5% voter support. The proposition will downgrade several nonviolent, nonserious offenses to misdemeanors, and will allow people currently serving felony time for these misdemeanors to petition for resentencing.

A few things that bear mentioning: First, many of the people whose offenses are affected by Prop 47 are already doing time in jails, as a function of Realignment, and some of them might even be doing a split sentence, which means they're not in confinement at all. As such, they are also already under the authority of local probation offices and not of the statewide parole apparatus. It would be interesting to know, therefore, how much resentencing would really need to happen. My suspicion is that the effects of Prop 47 will be mostly felt in the counties that did Realignment wrong--building more jails and not using split sentencing--rather than in counties that embraced the reform. The late awakening of the Los Angeles D.A. preceded this proposition only by a few months.

Second: if that's the case, and if Realignment already did most of this, what practical impact might this have? Well, for starters, think of all the offenders doing time who could not vote in 2014 because they were classified as felons--even though they were physically doing time in jail. Reclassified now as misdemeanants, these folks will be allowed to vote in 2016. This is excellent news that affect many thousands of Californians. Also, there are several Third Strikers whose third offense would now qualify as a misdemeanor, not a felony, and would therefore not trigger the law at all. Those folks are applying for resentencing anyway, as a result of Prop 36 and thanks to the efforts of the Stanford Three Strikes clinic, but I think their chances of prevailing may have improved.

And third: The passage of Prop 47 doesn't mean that people have become more humane or care more about offenders. The proposition was a classic humonetarian move, appealing to people's financial prudence, and it was supported by folks of all political stripes, including Newt Gingrich. I only regret that the proofs for Cheap on Crime are already set, otherwise I could add a few hefty paragraphs about this campaign. It's right out of the Cheap on Crime playbook.

Other than that: Prop 46 did not pass; it was a mixed bag of arguably good things and litigation-hungry things, and I'm not quite sure whether to celebrate or mourn its defeat.

And finally:

Dear Governor Brown, I congratulate you for earning a second term. As California limits governors to two terms, this is your opportunity to take the prison crisis seriously without worrying about reelection statistics. This is an opportunity to reform felon voting laws, to abolish the death penalty (which I know you think is ridiculous and expensive) and to make good things happen for formerly incarcerated people in their communities. This is an opportunity to outlaw Pay to Stay and to abolish long-term solitary confinement in California. Please, take this opportunity and let's make history. Don't let a serious financial crisis go to waste.

Federal Court Hearing: Declassifying Marijuana

On Monday, the federal court of the Eastern District held a hearing challenging the classification of marijuana as a Schedule 1 drug. Among the scientists testifying was Dr. Carl Hart, whom some of you may remember from the movie The House I Live In. There's a blow-by-blow account of the testimonies in the case, U.S. v. Schweder, in this blog.

Declassifying Pot?

CCC Endorsements for the November Elections: Yes on 47 and Other Matters

After a bit of a hiatus, CCC is coming back with some election endorsements for Californians. In this endorsement list, I point out only issues that are particular to crime, law enforcement, and corrections; of course, your vote may be influenced by other matters as well.

State Measures

Yes on 47

Prop 47 would reduce sentencing. According to Ballotpedia, which faithfully summarizes the proposition's text, if it were to pass, it would:

• Mandate misdemeanors instead of felonies for “non-serious, nonviolent crimes," unless the defendant has prior convictions for murder, rape, certain sex offenses or certain gun crimes. A list of crimes that would be affected by the penalty reduction are listed below.
• Permit re-sentencing for anyone currently serving a prison sentence for any of the offenses that the initiative reduces to misdemeanors. About 10,000 inmates would be eligible for resentencing, according to Lenore Anderson of Californians for Safety and Justice.
• Require a “thorough review” of criminal history and risk assessment of any individuals before re-sentencing to ensure that they do not pose a risk to the public.
• Create a Safe Neighborhoods and Schools Fund. The fund would receive appropriations based on savings accrued by the state during the fiscal year, as compared to the previous fiscal year, due to the initiative’s implementation. Estimates range from $150 million to $250 million per year.
• Distribute funds from the Safe Neighborhoods and Schools Fund as follows: 25 percent to the Department of Education, 10 percent to the Victim Compensation and Government Claims Board and 65 percent to the Board of State and Community Correction.

Right now, there is about 60% support for Prop 47. As the Chronicle observes, it seems to be stirring little controversy, and for good reason: it makes sense. You'll note that this is a classic humonetarian proposal--let's not throw low-risk people in prison who shouldn't really be there in the first place, and we'll save millions doing so. The money is going to a fund that invests in education, victim compensation, and various therapeutic projects. The arguments against it can be easily dispensed with: it won't "release dangerous people", because it takes risk into account. It is supported, in grand Cheap on Crime fashion, by people from the left and the right alike, and by victims of crime, who would rather see energy spent on violent offenders. By all means, go ahead and vote YES on 47.

U.S. House

House Representative: Jackie Speier

Speier is one of my favorite politicians. Her work to prevent sexual assault in the military and on university campuses is admirable, as is her sensible approach to databases that would enable tracking down gun ownership. I should say, however, that if you're a Republican on other maters, you could do far worse than Robin Chew, who would work to reverse climate change and who believes in sensible regulatory reform.

California Supreme Court

Of the three Justices up for retention, I want to mention and support Goodwin Liu, with whom I've had a chance to exchange views on criminal justice matters, and who is a sensible and careful interpreter of the CA constitution.

State Executives

Governor: No Endorsement

The race is between incumbent Jerry Brown and libertarian Republican Neel Kashkari. Kashkari has no platform at all on public safety, criminal justice, or corrections, which is truly astonishing given the amount of time the Brown administration spent on these matters, and his focus on "jobs and education" doesn't seem to include the close connections between these topics and corrections. Obviously, we can't recommend him. On the other hand, Jerry Brown has maintained that the correctional problem in California has been solved, has fought the Plata order tooth and nail to the point of almost contempt of court, and has practically extorted federal judges into giving him two more years for depopulation under threat of heavy privatizing. Between a bad track record on corrections and no interest in the topic at all, I think it's a toss-up.

Lieutenant Governor: Gavin Newsom 

Yes, I know. Newsom is responsible for sit/lie in San Francisco. But do we really want Ron Nehring in the lieutenant governor's chair? He wants to repeal Realignment and build more prisons. It's a very antiquated and uninformed conservative position, one that most reasonable conservatives have already rejected. This one is a no-brainer.

California Attorney General: Kamala Harris, with Reservations

Having recently heard, with a heavy heart, about Harris' intent to appeal Jones v. Chappell for reasons that don't make any sense to me, and watched, with concern, her battle against truancy stigmatize kids and parents along the way, this one is not a no-brainer for me. The correlation between truancy and crime does not necessarily imply causation, and the cause of both--poverty and social neglect--is the one that should be addressed. This campaign is failing to excite voters, but I think it's for the opposite reasons to those the Gold campaign assumes. We're disappointed because we want Harris to be smarter on crime, not because we want Gold to be tough on crime. Gold supports legalization of recreational marijuana, but he is inexperienced and does not have thought-out policies on all the issues we are addressing. For what it's worth, he urged Harris to appeal Jones v. Chappell, so death penalty issues are a toss-up. There doesn't seem to be much of a platform for rehabilitation, though Harris can cite her collaboration with the Public Defender's office on Operation Clean Slate.

California Secretary of State: No Endorsement

With Leland Yee, who despite his alleged involvement in corrupted dealings was a big champion for juvenile delinquents in the State Assembly, out of the race, we're left with a choice between Alex Padilla and Pete Peterson. No one has asked them the important question--do they interpret the CA constitution as Debra Bowen did, to exclude Realigned felons doing time in jails as ineligible to vote? While both candidates speak about the need to improve civics education, Padilla seems to be more interested in actually reaching out to people to expand the vote, but Peterson has some good suggestions for increasing the vote via early voting and other options of convenience.

State Legislature: Notable Issues

Tom Ammiano is not running for reelection, and we thank him for his consistently incredible, sensible, and humane service to folks without voices and voting rights, including the thousands of people on solitary confinement. Neither in Nancy Skinner, who was an important voice for eliminating long-term solitary confinement. In District 17 (San Francisco) you'll have to pick between David Chiu and David Campos. People I respect support each of these candidates for good reasons. I'm leaning toward an endorsement of Campos, because of his important anti-gang work, but am open to hearing more.

***

If all you remember from this post is to vote YES on 47, I've done my job.

All Counties Committed to Enrolling Inmates in Health Care!

A new report by Californians for Safety and Justice and the Local Safety Solutions Project announces good news: pretty much all California counties are committed to enrolling their criminal justice populations in health care, and 70% of counties are actively doing so.

Where does the funding for this welcome activity come from?

This is excellent news. As we know, many formerly incarcerated people don't necessarily have the resources or know-how to deal with the intricacies of Obamacare and are walking out of jail systems whose health care services are sometimes truly deficient. This guarantees that, as people return to life on the outside, they'll be covered and protected.

Today at Noon, PST: Interview about Cheap on Crime on KPFA

Today at noon, PST, KPFA will air an hour-long interview I did with C.S. Soong from Against the Grain about my forthcoming book, Cheap on Crime. It was a great conversation. Here are some details on how to listen:

To Listen Live:

KPFA 94.1 FM in the Bay Area and beyond
KFCF 88.1 FM in Fresno and the Central Valley
Online, worldwide: http://www.kpfa.org.

To access the recording afterward:
http://www.againstthegrain.org/

Death Penalty Debate next Tue: Free and Open to the Public!

Nail Polish, or Why Left Realism Fights Rape Culture Better than Radical Demagogy

An interesting invention is making the rounds on social media website: four college students have invented nail polish that would allow its wearer, by inserting their finger into their drink, to detect whether a roofie--frequently used by rapists to overpower their victims--has been mixed into it. The company is called Undercover Colors.

This is a very practical, simple cautionary tool, and may help to spare many women, and some men, too, a traumatic and horrible experience. But the new invention has found some detractors, who in the name of radical feminism criticize the inventors as facilitating rape culture by placing the preventive responsibility onto the shoulders of the victims (see here and here.)

I'm sorry, I have to call bullshit when I see it. And this presumably feminist critique of prevention is grade-A bullshit.

It should probably go without saying that, like any decent human being on the planet, I am committed to ending rape culture, and that I believe that the fault for rape lies squarely on the shoulders of the rapist, which is why I really liked this campaign. Happily, evaluative research has found it to be effective in teaching men to be more respectful toward their partners.

But I get very, very upset when the people who purport to be fighting rape culture seem to be okay with not fighting rape itself, and especially with the radical demagogy that equates sensible self-protection with embracing rape culture.

Of course it is not the victim's responsibility to prevent crime. It is, of course, anyone's right to go anywhere they wish, wearing whatever they wish, without inviting physical or sexual assault. Nonetheless, we know that crime happens when there is opportunity, and many rapists are opportunists. And each of us takes preventive measures daily, to the extent that they are compatible with our lives and appreciation of freedom. We lock our house doors, we don't leave valuables in the car, we don't escalate arguments with angry drivers. And sometimes we make the choice not to engage in excessive self-protection, when we feel it infringes upon our lives too much, such as, for example, going out anywhere we wish, at any time of the day, wearing whatever we like. Doing so, of course, does not make us blameworthy if something bad happens to us. But taking measures that don't infringe upon that feeling of freedom has the potential of minimizing our odds of victimization, and doing that shouldn't make us blameworthy, either, for inventing such measures, using them, or recommending them to others.

The rhetoric against rape culture also pulls the rug under sensible and empowering acts like taking a self-defense class, even though we know that fighting back significantly reduces the odds of rape completion. Why, in the name of self righteousness and feminist idealism, would I deny myself, my family members and my friends the odds of survival and victory? How is this empowering? How is this preventing rape?

Moreover, as my friend and colleague Edi Kinney mentioned in a Facebook conversation about this:

[T]aking the opportunity to recenter discussions about rape culture to blame rapists is something activists have to do, but to me, we need to take advantage of allyship in its diverse forms and applaud practical efforts to engage in efforts to address sexual violence. What we've been doing hasn't worked. I think we should be emphasizing the fact that the men who developed the product were inspired to do because so many of their own friends had been drugged & sexually assaulted and they wanted to do something to empower their friends and other women w/ tools to identify risks. They apparently had scientific/lab/other expertise that they could deploy to that end, and were motivated to do so out of an effort to give women tools to help them protect themselves. IMHO, their allyship intentions -- AND the fact that bros who see social media accounts of this now might think twice re. engaging in predatory behavior at parties, bars, etc. -- trump the potential to reinforce 'blame the victim' rape culture. Rapists are opportunists, and I'd reckon there's a slippery slope between date rape and predatory behavior, and any tools to identify folks who engage in such behavior seems like a good start (and at least it's raising awareness?)

I think we have enough room for short-term and long-term strategies in the war against rape culture. In the long term, our commitment should be to eradicate it off the face of the earth. But in setting our sites on that and firing up our keyboards with feminist rhetoric, let's not forget that this thing we're fighting is not just an ideology. IT'S REAL AND IT'S VICTIMIZING WOMEN RIGHT NOW. And our first and foremost commitment to potential victims is to prevent their victimization as effectively and practically as possible, without stigmatizing them for it. Let's not lose sight of real rape when talking about the culture that produces it.

A Jury Trial in Brazil

On September 3, 2008, Marcos Venicius Amon Barbosa finished his 48-hour shift at the shipyard. Before driving home, he stopped for a drink. Shortly after he resumed his trip, he ran a red light at an intersection in Vitoria, killing one woman and injuring eight more people.

Today, six years after the event, I attended his trial for vehicular manslaughter at the First Criminal Department of Vitoria. I was graciously invited by the prosecutor, Daniela Moysés, whom I had met the day before on our prison tour. Prior to her impressive legal career, Daniela had been a civil engineer, which requires five years of study in Brazil, and after a few years of working as the engineer of the court system she decided to change direction and studied law at UFES (another five years of education!). After passing a special competition for a prosecution position, she worked for several years in a rural area, and transferred to Vitoria as a special jury prosecutor.

In Brazil, jury trials are reserved only for crimes against life that involve criminal intent or recklessness. The state selects 25 people to serve on a jury, and they serve for two months. Every trial requires only seven jurors, which are elected from the 25-person panel by way of lottery. Employers have to eat up their employees’ two-month absence, even though they are unhappy about it. It is a big commitment, which is why Judge Victor Ribeiro Pimenta started the hearing by thanking everyone for their service.

At this point, after several weeks, the judge, the prosecutor, and the jurors know each other fairly well, and the judge told me that he tries to make it a positive experience for them even though the trials revolve around heavy matters. So, he joked with them a bit before the defendant was brought in.

Escorted by the military police, the defendant sat in front of the court on a chair with no table. His attorneys sat at a table to his left, requiring them to get up and approach him if they wanted to tell him something or confer with him. Today, he had three defense attorneys, all private, to speak on his behalf.

Then, the judge ran the lottery. He put labels with the jurors' names in a special box, shook it, and removed labels one by one.

For each juror who was selected, the judge asked the defense attorney and the prosecutor if they had any objections. Each side gets three strikes, all peremptory, and they don’t need to offer an explanation. The prosecutor objected once, to a man whom she and the other prosecutors had seen falling asleep at the trials. I asked whether the challenges are sometimes used strategically. Daniela said that, in a drunk driving case, she preferred female jurors, whom she felt would be less sympathetic to a drinking man then male jurors. She got four women and three men. As each newly selected jurors stepped to the jury box—two rows of chairs behind tables—they wore black robes. The judge then announced the “jury winner”—the juror whose number had come up most frequently in the history of that particular panel—and awarded her a box of chocolates as gratitude for her service.

Everyone smiled and clapped. It was a nice, warm gesture to alleviate the stress and gravity of the trial to follow, and was very characteristic of the way Judge Pimenta runs his courtroom, always adding a smile and levity to the situation. Of course, the only person not laughing was the defendant, and conscious of his anxiety, Daniela muted her reaction to the joviality. Judge Pimenta swore the jurors one by one.

From the moment of selection, the jurors are prohibited from communicating with each other about the case. Deliberations are forbidden, and each juror votes secretly according to his or her own conscience.

Prior to the jury selection, the prosecution and defense conferred briefly on testimonies. Out of the eight surviving victims, four showed up for the trial. One of them testified that the traffic light was yellow when the defendant’s vehicle entered the crosswalk. The defense wanted that victim to testify. However, said the judge, if that’s the case we’ll want to testify all of them, and the rest will testify the light was red. Daniela didn’t want the witnesses to testify; she was concerned that they would go off on tangents and be unhelpful. One of them even said, shortly after arriving to the courtroom, that she did not want to see the defendant. The bottom line was that no witnesses testified at all.

The jurors were handed copies of the accusatory document, which already includes summaries of the evidence against the defendant and the judge’s “pronúncia” – the decision to bring the case to the jury in the first place. They were given some time to read it, and one of the court workers brought in a big tray with little cups of strong coffee for everyone to sip while they read. All parties, except the defendant, were served coffee, and small trays of cookies for everyone followed. Food is very meaningful in Brazilian culture, and eating together is an important social ritual. At cookie time, Daniela explained to me that the judge had the discretion to close the case based on police evidence, and sometimes does, and also the discretion to decide that the case was not befitting a jury panel and should be sent before the judge.

After the jurors familiarized themselves with the facts, the judge asked the defendant a few questions about his work, familial status, etc. He explained to the defendant that he had the right to testify and very respectfully presented everyone—the jury, the prosecutor, even me—to the defendant, as if we were all seated in the judge’s living room. He then asked the defendant whether he wanted to testify. The defendant replied that he did not, and that his testimony in the police station—in which he admitted to being drunk and falling asleep behind the wheel—could speak for him. He was visibly anxious and very miserable.

The judge allowed the prosecutor to speak, and she started by acknowledging every single person—even me—by name. She smilingly introduced the defense attorneys, referring to each by name, and gently needled them about being “three against one”. She started by expressing thanks to the jurors for their important service, and ended by saying to the defendant that we all wanted justice and that we were hoping to be fair to him.

Then, she proceeded to present to the jury her theory of the case. In the absence of witnesses, the attorneys were allowed to give lengthy speeches to the jury, walking them through the evidence. I was told that, had there been witnesses, they would first be examined by the judge to give their version, then by the prosecutor, and then by the defense attorneys. Parties are allowed to cross-examine the other side’s witnesses. Attorneys could object to questions and the judge could disallow them, and often judges would disallow questions on their own, not prompted by a party’s objection. In general, the judge plays a much more active role in conducting the trial, getting up frequently from his chair, conferring with the attorneys, addressing the jury, and attending to administrative matters (it also is possible that Judge Pimenta is particularly lively and engaged.)

In this particular case, the speeches pertained to an interesting question of substantive criminal law. Brazilian law allows for two types of criminal intent: a desire that the result occur, which is the equivalent of first/second degree murder mens rea in American common law, and awareness of the possibility that the result might happen. According to the prosecutor, this case fell into the latter category. Because the defendant had just left his shift and then decided to go drinking, he must have been aware of the possibility that he could commit an accident, and therefore assumed the risk of doing so. She combined her explanations of criminal doctrine with testimonies of the victims in the case, and the defendant’s own testimony in the police station. The jury attentively followed her, flipping through their materials. While obviously sympathetic to the victims and their suffering, the prosecutor was also sympathetic to the defendant, especially given the long time that had passed since the accident. After her speech was finished, she and I discussed her theory of the case. Brazil does not have plea bargains, except in very small cases, where they are legally proscribed “discounts” for pleading guilty and/or for providing information about the crime. Had the Brazilian system allowed them, she would probably had agreed to a guilty plea to a lesser charge of homicide, even though she thought her theory of the case was sound and the defendant acted with “conscious negligence” (the equivalent of recklessness in common law), because of the time that has passed since the accident and its effect on the defendant. She therefore told the jury that her argument was doctrinal-technical, but that they should vote with their conscience. She thought that her lucid but tempered argument may have communicated to the jury that, as opposed to other homicide cases they had seen during their two-month tenure, this one was not one of the serious ones.

After the prosecutor finished, the first of three defense attorneys, Joao Angelo, rose to speak. Like the prosecutor, he started his speech with a very gracious address to everyone in the room (including me). He thanked the prosecutor for her “calm and respectable” presentation (perhaps hinting to the jury that even the prosecutor was not out to get the defendant.) He then proceeded to argue the case. He spoke mainly of two things: the fact that the defendant obviously had not desired the lethal outcome and did not seek it, and the suffering he had been through in the years since the accident. Some of the argument was legal, but for the most part it was a plea for clemency. Criminal procedure in Brazil allows the prosecutor the opportunity for rebuttal, but doing that opens the door for a subsequent rebuttal by the defense. Because she didn’t feel the case merited a severe outcome, Daniela quietly made the decision not to rebut.

After the defense attorney’s speech, we all broke for lunch. When the judge invited me to eat with them—which was very kind of him—I didn’t quite know where we were headed. It turns out that, on days in which trials are heard in the morning, everyone—the judge, the prosecutor, the defense attorneys, the jurors—share lunch together in the courtroom, sitting around a large table. The court employee in charge of the jury, who also wears a little black robe, arranges for a very nice and rich meal, and so we all chatted amicably around the table, eating roasted chicken, rice, vegetables, plantains, and manioc flour. There was a tacit agreement that no one spoke about the case, and people just had a nice, companionable lunch together for almost an hour before the trial resumed.

When we returned to our seat, the two remaining defense attorneys proceeded with their argument. Their arguments were fairly theatrical and exaggerated, but their essence was the same as that of the first attorney: that the defendant should receive clemency. The second attorney even mentioned that the aftermath of the accident drove the defendant to a suicide attempt, which was not proven in any external materials (and the jury might or might not have believed.) He was divorced after the accident, but we did not know whether the divorce was related to the accident. The prosecutor felt that the attorney misquoted her, arguing a point of law she hadn’t actually made, but she clearly prioritized fairness in the defendant’s case over an ego battle and decided to let it go.

As the defense attorneys argued their case, the judge typed up a list of interrogatories for the jury. It was titled “Quesitos”, and for each of the nine victims it listed four questions:

1.     Had the victim suffered an accident?

2.     Did the defendant drive the vehicle that caused the victim’s death?

3.     Did the defendant assume the risk that he might cause the accident?

4.     Does the jury choose to absolve the defendant?

Questions 1-2 are matters of fact (and clearly were not in dispute in this case). Question 3 is a matter of law, and Question 4 is a matter of ethics and morals. The breakdown of jury decision into interrogatories is new to Brazilian law, introduced in a 2008 amendment. The judge shares the interrogatories with the parties and revises them if they express reservations he accepts.

After the attorneys were done, the judge emptied the room of audience (especially of the crime victims, because the vote is secret and there is concern about retaliation) and addressed the jury. He explained that he didn’t need their vote with regard to each victim, because the accident was the same. He also said that, since questions 1 and 2 were not in dispute, they were going to assume an affirmative answer to both, and start with question 3. He would ask question 4 only depending on the result of question 3. Each juror was handed a green ballot by the court employee, consisting of “sim” and “não” options. The judge asked question 3, again briefly explaining assumption of risk, and the jury voted. A court employee collected the ballots in a wooden box and closed the lid. The judge shook the lid and counted the votes. After 3 “sim” and 4 “não” responses, the deciding seventh vote was “não”, and the defendant was therefore declared not to have assumed the risk. The judge concluded that, in light of this decision, question 4 was not necessary. Daniela explained that, even though the interrogatory separates between the legal and ethical questions, juries frequently combine their answer in the legal vote.

With that, the jury’s part of the trial was over and I had to rush to the airport, but the judge and parties still had some work left to do. In the absence of a vote of intent, this was no longer a jury case, and the judge convicted the defendant of negligent homicide. The punishment was 4 years, but it was substituted by community work, and the defendant agreed to pay each of the living victims $250,00 dollars. The prosecutor walked away from the case feeling the decision was fair. Since the case presented a rather meaty legal question, as well as special personal considerations, no one was surprised that the vote came close. The jury faced a genuine dilemma and faithfully made an effort to follow the case and decide fairly.

“Is it crazy?” my friends, local academics and lawyers, asked me as they graciously gave me a lift to the airport. Crazy? I thought. Not really; that is, not necessarily less or more crazy than an American trial, or of any way which human beings orchestrate to pass judgment on their peers.

Many thanks to Daniela Moysés for inviting me to join her workday, to Judge Victor Pimenta for accepting me so kindly into his courtroom, and to everyone else involved in their trial for their graciousness.

CCC Visit to a Maximum Security Prison in Brazil

I got extremely lucky today. My very gracious hosts here in Vitoria organized for me to visit a maximum security prison out of town!

Brazilian prisons are fairly brutal places with abysmal conditions. Only two days ago, a prison riot in Cascavel claimed three lives in horrible ways. A story on The Economist, which was published a few months ago, ascribes the brutality, and the murders of about 220 inmates in the last year and a half, to the severe overcrowding in the system.

In the past 20 years Brazil’s population has grown by 30%, while that of its prisons and police cells has almost quintupled, to 550,000—the fourth-highest in the world, behind the United States, China and Russia.

Officially, Brazilian penitentiaries have room for around 300,000 people. There is federal money to spend on building extra prisons, which are largely run by the states. But it can flow only once a project is approved by a local town. They are reluctant hosts, fearing that penitentiaries both bring crime when prisoners are released and also divert resources from other public works. “Everyone wants hospitals and schools,” says Antonio Ferreira Pinto, a former security secretary in São Paulo state. “No one wants a prison.” Federal-prison spending fell in 2012.

Brazil needs cells to house genuine criminals: the murder rate stood at 24.3 per 100,000 in 2012, more than six times higher than in Chile. But really it needs fewer inmates. Lucia Nader of Conectas, a human-rights group, attributes an upsurge in prisoners since 2006 to a law that decriminalised possession of drugs for personal use but stiffened penalties for trafficking. The distinction between the two is left to the arresting officer. “A light-skinned yuppie smoking pot on the beach is a user and left in peace,” says Ms Nader. “A dark-skinned slum-dweller lighting a spliff on the street is a peddler and thrown in jail.” Since the law’s introduction, the number of people held for trafficking has swelled from 33,000 in 2005 to 138,000 in 2012.

There are two bottlenecks that prevent the release of inmates that would alleviate the overcrowding: undiscriminating pretrial detention (41% of all inmates) and a paucity of legal advice that would enable inmates to benefit from Brazil’s theoretically world-class laws on parole and alternative sentences like community service.

With too many prisoners flowing in, and not enough flowing out, a cesspool festers in the middle. On paper Brazil’s prisons are a paragon of modernity. In practice, says Marcos Fuchs of Instituto Pro Bono, another human-rights group, they are medieval. In one São Paulo penitentiary he visited, 62 people were crammed in a cell meant for 12, taking turns to sleep on the floor or by leaning against a wall. According to official figures, half a million inmates received care from 367 doctors in 2012. Fifteen gynaecologists served 32,000 female prisoners, many of whom use bread to stanch menstrual bleeding.

Knowing all this, I was invited to join two Espirito Santo prosecutors on a trip to audit Capixaba, a maximum-security prison located in a rural area of the state. Every month, the office of the prosecutor conducts an audit of the prisons.

When we came in, we were met by Bruno, the energetic prison warden. I was very impressed with him; for someone so young, he is not only incredibly practical and capable, but also full of good, sound ideas, and he treats all the inmates, all of whom he knows personally, like full-fledged human beings--with a balance between discipline and compassion.

The prison is located in a modern building. The state purchased the model from the United States and built it in 2011. It is a fairly new institution, with automatic doors that control everything from entrances to the water in the showers. What you can't see are the cells, which we were not allowed to document out of concern for the inmates' privacy. We were, however, allowed to walk. There are four hallways, three of which are regular hallways. One of them is devoted to students and allows them time to study. In each cellblock, there are a few inmates who study theology and their cells are designated "Igreja" (church). They have volunteered to offer spiritual help to the other inmates.

The cells are very crowded: at their design capacity, they hold four inmates in two bunk beds in a space equivalent to one SHU cell in California. Moreover, at the moment Bruno has approximately 750 inmates in a space designed for 650, and some cells have 6 inmates in them, which means two folks sleep on mattresses on the floor.

I asked about solitary confinement. Bruno was surprised, then explained that he did not believe in segregation, so he simply never did that. Instead, if someone violated the discipline, they were sent to a special aisle of cells where disruptive folks lived, to enable the other people to live in peace.

The gardener.

At the entrance to the prison, we were greeted by a beautiful organic vegetable garden. The garden is run by an employee of the state who is also a biologist. He has transformed the outside of the entire prison into a bountiful farm, and the produce goes straight to the kitchen. At lunchtime, we saw the meal, which was very decent - chicken, rice, beans, vegetables - and contained produce. The surplus is donated to needy families.

The garden manager chooses frail, ill inmates to work in the garden, because he reasons that they can benefit more from the sunshine.

The garden.

This is another picture of the garden. Not all the inmates who work here are from this prison; some come from a nearby "semi-open" prison, in which inmates walk to work. At the moment, the Brazil prison bottleneck means that anyone who gets four years or less doesn't actually do any prison time, and folks sentenced to a bit more sometimes get to do their time in an institution where they only go to sleep. They work outside the prison all day. The guys we met, who were proud and happy of their vegetable garden, stroll without any supervision from the other prison here every day to work, and calmly return to bed at night.

Outside the prison, near the garden, we met the prison's two full-time psychologists, who conduct extensive intake interviews with the inmates and help them put together education and work plans.

Lawyers meet the inmates through plexiglass in a special meeting room that looks like the one in any American prison. But they're not the only visitors, of course; inmates are allowed a one-hour conjugal visit with their wife, or a legally-recognized partner, once every 15 days. The prison has basic but decent and clean rooms for this purpose, with a bed, a mattress, and a washbasin. The women undergo a search coming in but are treated with respect by guards and inmates. While Bruno created some rules for walking around the prison, the inmates came up with an informal code of their own: out of respect for their fellow inmates and their wives and a willingness to avoid violence and anger, they look away when women pass by.

There is also a big yard and a big family room, and children can come visit and play in the yard. Because of the good influence of visits on inmates' morale and behavior, last year, Bruno transferred several inmates from a distant part of the country to an institution close to their families, and accepted local inmates in return.

Vinicius and his art.

Bruno strongly believes that inmates who keep busy and better themselves are happier and cause less trouble, so he runs a rigorous study and work program. The prison school has at least five classes. Every class teaches on an accelerated pace--the curriculum of two regular schools in one year. Many of the inmates learned their alphabet for the first time in prison. They continue from grade to grade. We saw algebraic equations, anatomy, and language classes going on while we were touring the prison. There is also a library, where some inmates are doing a librarian apprenticeship program. Bruno is fairly well read on pedagogy, and he's come up with a plan: the inmates will finish high school, then attend a technical school on the grounds, and then be assigned a job.

In Bruno's prison there are several ways to spend your time. There is an art studio, where inmates paint and make marvelous objects of art. Their teacher, who was enthusiastically explaining perspective to them, is Vinicius, a gifted oil and charcoal painter himself, who is serving his second sentence for drug trafficking. A gentle and intelligent soul, Vinicius explained about his program and we became friends. At the end of my visit, he very generously gifted me this beautiful painting.

Net factory.

There are also two prison industries: one that makes football and volleyball nets, and one that makes handmade quality footballs. These are not industries supported by outside corporations. They were conceived and created by Bruno and the prison staff, and the nets and footballs are donated to schools and other institutions.

Football factory.

Footballs!

The prison infirmary has nurses and a dentist for eight hours a day and a physician for 20 hours a week. It's fairly calm and undercrowded; the inmates are, for the most part, young and healthy, and sentences in Brazil are much shorter than in the United States. But there are several inmates with AIDS and diabetes, and the staff treats them on the premises. In rare cases, very ill inmates are simply released home, to house arrest.

A local church has started a music program with the prison, and several inmates have joined a choir. There are also several talented musicians who started a samba band, and they were rehearsing when we came to visit. They told us that some of them had been musicians outside and some learned music behind bars. I thought they sounded fantastic.

Samba band.

On the way out, we told Daniella, the prosecutor, that we hope she doesn't now get motivated to send inmates there. We know that there are only eight prisons like Capixaba in the state, and the rest of them are awful, full of violence, boredom, and terrible conditions. Since apparently there is federal money to reform prisons, I very much hope Brazil will model more of its prisons like Capixaba, with one variation: an improvement in the impossibly-small cell size. The key to stay sane and healthy in Capixaba is to spend as much time out of the cell as possible, working, studying, and learning new skills; being in the cells is extremely depressing and requires being with at least other three human beings in very close quarters.

With warden Bruno and the psychologists.

Tomorrow, I'm heading with Daniella, the prosecutor, to see a negligent homicide trial in the lower courts. Stay tuned for more adventures.

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Many thanks to Daniella and her fellow prosecutor, as well as to Ricardo Gueiros and Marco Olsen, for bringing me to Capixaba and treating me with generous hospitality; to Bruno, for allowing us an extensive tour of his well-run prison; and to Vinicius, for sharing his art and talent with us.

CCC Field Trip: Vitoria, Brazil - Appellate Courts

I am visiting Vitoria, Brazil, as part of a collaboration between Hastings and Universidade Federal do Espirito Santo (UFES), who has invited a few of us to offer a week-long comparative procedure mini-course. I'm teaching policing, courtroom processes, and American incarceration, so naturally I've been very curious about the Brazilian criminal process.

Our hosts have very generously taken me to see some fascinating things. Yesterday, we visited the Appellate Court of the State of Espirito Santo.

Here we are with some of the judges of this upper level court (any appeals go straight to the Supreme Court of Brasilia), standing in the great hall of the court. There are currently 26 judges, and in important matters of government they all sit in justice, deciding the case by a majority vote.

Our hosts, the Chief Judge of the court (4th from the right) and Judge Manuel Rabelo (1st on the right) sit in criminal and civil cases respectively. We got to see a criminal appeal. It was a burglary case; the appellant was charged with breaking into car windows and was caught in flagrante delicto (in the act), which is a fairly important consideration in Brazilian substantive law.

When the court hears an appeal, there are three judges present. The prosecutor sits with the judges and basically does nothing. The defense attorney stands across the room in street clothes and pleads her case (overall, in this system, the defense gets very little respect, and it's a job poorly regarded and poorly remunerated compared to those of prosecutors and judges). Only one judge of the three reads the case, and s/he renders an opinion. Based just on listening to the judge's opinion, the other judges decide whether they affirm or withdraw to read the case on their own. All of this debate takes place in open court; the judges do not discuss the case amongst themselves.

To become a judge, you have to pass a civil justice exam. Most appellate judges are first-instance judges who received a seniority or merit promotion, but a few come from the prosecutorial service. About half the judges in lower courts are women, but only two out of the 26 in the upper court are women. Each judge has several clerks and a couple of estagiers (externs) who help write the opinions.

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Many thanks to Ricardo Gueiros and Marco Olsen who made our visit to the court happen.

New Law Bans Inmate Sterilization

This trend has, thankfully, somewhat changed, and we know much more about the experience of female inmates thanks to the works of feminist criminologists and human rights lawyers and advocates. But once in a while, a new report or study sheds light on a particularly shocking or brutal occurrence previously unknown.

In this way, the last few years have exposed several “pains of imprisonment” that harm women in unconscionable ways, particularly pertaining to their autonomy over their own sexuality and reproduction. Interviews with female inmates expose the common occurrence of sexual harassment and abuse on the part of guards. Romantic and sexual relationships between inmates and staff are, by nature, plagued by a power differential that is impossible to bridge, even when not accompanied by brutal coercion. Female reproduction is severely monitored and sanctioned; according to the ACLU, most prisons in the United States still shackle pregnant inmates, even when they are in labor.

In 2013, the Center for Investigative Reporting uncovered a California scandal of massive proportions: the sterilization of female inmates without proper state procedures. A 2014 California Auditor examination uncovered 144 cases of tubal ligations performed in inmates between 2006 and 2010, 39 of which were performed without consent and a further 27 in which the inmates’ physicians did not sign the appropriate forms. Interviews with the inmates that had undergone the procedure reveal disturbing degrees of paternalism and pressure on the part of medical staff.

Thankfully, the California legislature has unanimously adopted SB 1135, which “would prohibit sterilization” of an inmate “except when required for the immediate preservation of life in an emergency medical situation or when medically necessary . . . to treat a diagnosed condition and certain requirements are satisfied, including that patient consent is obtained.” The bill requires special follow-up on sterilizations performed in compliance with these conditions, as well as an annual report of data on sterilizations, disaggregated by race, age, medical justification, and method of sterilization.

In approving the bill, which is now on Gov. Brown’s table, California has taken an important step away from two painful legacies: its historically dysfunctional health care system, lambasted by the Supreme Court in Brown v. Plata (2011) and the history of medical experimentation in inmates with dubious, or nonexistent, consent, now strictly regulated by federal law. But rather than the neglect that categorizes the former or the exploitation that categorizes the latter, the sterilizations are the manifestations of another disturbing factor: supposedly benevolent paternalism and an assumption that the sterilizations are for the benefit of the inmate herself, and perhaps of society as a whole.

A story published today on the Sacramento Bee quotes Crystal Nguyen, a former Valley State Prison inmate, who reports having heard, back in 2007, medical staff asking inmates to agree to sterilization.

“I was like, 'Oh my God, that's not right,'" said Nguyen. "Do they think they're animals, and they don't want them to breed anymore?"

Also quoted by the Bee is Christina Cordero, who was talked into undergoing the procedure after giving birth to her son while incarcerated. “As soon as [the institution’s OB-GYN] found out that I had five kids, he suggested that I look into getting it done. The closer I got to my due date, the more he talked about it. . . He made me feel like a bad mother if I didn't do it."

What these paternalistic notions have in common with medical neglect and scientific exploitation is the lack of recognition that the inmates, regardless of their respective offenses and histories, are human beings, and as such must be given at least a modicum of autonomy regarding the only thing that is still theirs: their own bodies. It is to be hoped that SB 1135 represents not only a remedy for a recently uncovered horror, but a willingness to acknowledge our shared humanity on both sides of the prison gates.

BREAKING NEWS: Appeal in Jones v. Chappell

I have disappointing news to share: the Attorney General has decided to appeal in Jones v. Chappell.

I am not surprised, but I am very disappointed, just as all of you must be. Whoever has taken part in reaching this decision is not supporting the law or defendants' rights; they are supporting wasteful, unconscionable expenditures of $130 million annually on a lengthy incarceration in a dilapidated facility, complete with decades of state-funded post-conviction litigation. This is a very sad day for any reasonable, conscious Californian.

The next frontier will be in the Ninth Circuit, where odds that we will prevail are not very good, but not non-existent. Please follow up on our coverage of this issue,and do not be discouraged: we will fight on, in litigation and through legislative and political means, and we will see nationwide abolition in our time.

Preview of Cheap on Crime - and talk today!

Points, the blog of the Alcohol and Drugs Historical Society, ran an interview with me about Cheap on Crime. 

If you're in San Francisco today and want to learn more, I'll be giving a talk about the book at the American Sociological Association meeting, at the Hilton in Union Square, on a panel about Law in Hard Times, between 12:30 and 2:10. I'll be very happy to meet blog readers there!

Ferguson Coverage

Just a reminder that I'm blogging about Ferguson and other related law enforcement matters over at Iron in War.

Offshoot Sister Blog: Iron in War

Friends and readers - I have a new sister blog to CCC called Iron in War, in which I blog about matters pertaining to the front end of the criminal process: policing and law enforcement. I'm blogging extensively there about Ferguson and will blog about other issues, such as private policing, criminalization, neighborhood watches, search and seizure, interrogations, and investigations. Come check us out.

Happening Right Now: CA Assembly Vote on Crack/Cocaine Disparity

As we speak, the California Assembly is voting on SB 1010, which, if passed, will eliminate the sentencing disparities between powder and crack cocaine in California. The rest of the agenda is here and you'll be able to watch this historical vote live here.

More Death Penalty News: Robert Justice Comes to the Rescue

On Monday morning, I drove to Sacramento and submitted this petition, calling on Gov. Brown and Attorney General Harris not to appeal the decision in Jones v. Chappell, in which Judge Carney of the U.S. District Court found the death penalty in California unconstitutional. It started as a small plea on Facebook, and without any pushing or prompting from me found its way to the Daily Kos and to the Daily Journal (twice). By the time I submitted the petition, it was 2,198 signatures strong. That's me on the left with the gubernatorial bear.

There are still 12 days left for the Attorney General to appeal the decision, and as I explained here, if her office does not do so, it doesn't mean the death penalty in California is effectively abolished, but it would be a great start of a series of legal and political moves that could spell its demise. I'm beginning to think that the death penalty can't be executed; rather, it has to die a slow death from a chronic disease (delays, costs, malfunctions)--much like the vast majority of the inmates on death row.

I think everyone understands this, even if they don't like it, and that includes death penalty proponents, who seem to be freaking out about the prospect of $130 million annually in savings and folks being put in general population serving life without parole (which they do anyway, just without the expenditure.) And it seems that death row supporters in California are beginning to freak out at the not-unlikely possibility that the Attorney General is going to leave this decision alone. First was this post on Crime and Consequences, inviting district attorneys to risk their jobs and eat up their lives by appealing a decision their boss might not appeal against her officer's discretion (really?). But then, the decision was actually appealed. Yesterday. Not by the Attorney General. By a guy named Robert Justice.

Don't believe it? Here's the notice of appeal.

I bet you're wondering who these mysterious appellants are, and what gives them standing, given that they are not Jones OR Chappell OR the Attorney General. Well, the signatures on the petition give away their interest in seeing the death penalty continue its slow limp into the sunset. Mr. Soos and Mr. Justice are "citizens of the State of California".

First thing's first: this is obviously not going to work. Unless Mssrs. Soos and Justice have some truly acrobatic standing argument up their sleeve, the issue of standing in a case like this has already been decided by the Supreme Court. If the Attorney General does not support our 1978 voter initiative to reinstate the death penalty, citizens have no standing to do so in her stead, not even if they're the ones who fundraised and pushed the initiative in the first place. This is going to be thrown out of court for lack of standing faster than I can say "Hollingsworth v. Perry."

I will give Dr. Justice credit for his enthusiasm regarding the political and legal process. It's good to see citizens of California spend energy and resources on vital matters of public importance, such as his previous legal endeavor, which involved trying to get the State of Hawaii to reveal President Obama's birth certificate (yes, it's the same guy. He's a birther).

The Hawaii court said, "while Dr. Justice may have a strong desire to personally verify President Obama's eligibility, pursuant to article II, section 1 of the United States Constitution, to serve as President of the United States, such desire does not constitute compelling circumstances within the meaning of HRS ÿÿ 92F-12(b)(3). Dr. Justice does not have the power or authority to determine President Obama's eligibility. Only the Congress of the United States has the power to remove a sitting president. Indeed, Dr. Justice has not alleged any factual basis for his implicit contention that President Obama may not be a natural-born citizen of the United States. Dr. Justice has not stated an overpowering or urgent need for the records to protect the life or safety of an individual in a medical or other emergency." I expect Dr. Justice's newest foray into the exciting world of legal standing will meet with similar success.

But let's get serious for a bit. I want to give Robert Justice the credit that he doesn't seriously think he has standing, and that this might be his attempt to persuade, or shame, our elected officials into doing his bidding. Anticipating some arguments from death penalty supporters, here goes:

The Attorney General has to do what the people want.

No. No, she doesn't. Not when the people's will goes against what's fair and just and makes sense. Remember Jack Conway, Attorney General of Kentucky? This is him, courageously saying that he is going to do the right thing and refrain from appealing a decision that same-sex marriage bans are unconstitutional "even if some disagree."


The people want the death penalty to remain.

What we know from the last election is that the percentage of people who want the law to remain is the lowest it's been in decades: 53 percent. And it will continue to go down, in the same way that support for same-sex marriage went up. The population is getting younger. And, as a French student reminded me this week, France abolished the death penalty before most of the public agreed with abolition.

The Attorney General should uphold the law.

Well, of course she does. But what counts as "law" is a changing, evolving thing. The death penalty was constitutional until 1972. That was "the law". Then it stopped being "the law", and became "the law" again in 1976. When Jack Conway declined to defend a bigoted, homophobic law, he expressed his opinion--that the court's decision was law now. Similarly, a decline to appeal Judge Carney's decision makes it "law", and opens the door to more changes and processes that may make abolition "law" in the entire state of California.

The Attorney General owes it to us to see this through, so we can have a Ninth Circuit decision up or down. 

That's an interesting one, and I've heard it from several people I respect. But I think we all understand that litigation involves strategy. Appeals are discretionary for a reason, and it is a legitimate opportunity to employ strategy and shape the law of the future--whether by appealing or by refraining from appealing.

This is the end of the death penalty. Isn't it healthier if it comes about by means of extensive public debate?

First of all, this is not the end of the death penalty, for reasons I explain in detail here. There is still plenty to be done and plenty of room for extensive public debate to take place. But public debate about this has been going on for centuries, and many arguments have been made on the pro and con sides for the last forty years in particular. We've discussed deterrence, racial discrimination, innocence, botched executions, ad nauseam. In some ways, it's befitting that the death penalty perish in the same way that most of its subjects perish--namely, slowly, quietly, of natural causes, exhaustion and dysfunction.

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Props to the anonymous kind soul who provided some of the sources for this post.