Friday, November 18, 2016

Ganja in Trumpland: An Introduction



The campaigns for and against Prop. 64, the Adult Use of Marijuana Act, revolved around the minutiae of the proposition: Will the big guns get rich at the expense of mom-and-pop growers? Do we have to give away our medical marijuana cards and pay more for our pot? What do we do with impaired drivers?

It seems like pretty soon we'll have more serious problems on our hands as a result of legalization. Trump's planned nominee for Attorney General, Alabama senator Jeff Sessions, does not share the opinions espoused by reasonable, cost-minded Republicans about the harms of overcriminalization or the sensibility of a public health model for substance abuse. Instead, we will have to contend with a man whose acquaintances define as a "war on drugs dinosaur", and who claims that good people don't smoke marijuana.

(how do good people get their marijuana, then? Do they munch on edibles? Vape? Or maybe they smoke something else? What is it?)

The regime of state regulated-marijuana, as established by the Supreme Court in Gonzalez v. Raich (2005), means that Congress, despite its federal prohibition of marijuana, has not preempted the states from regulating it within their borders. On the other hand, it is perfectly permissible for the use of marijuana to be legal statewise and illegal vis-a-vis the federal government: after all, citizens can freely choose to obey both laws by not using cannabis. Granted, this reason was more upsetting with regard to the original plaintiffs in Raich, who suffered from debilitating medical conditions, than with regard to the prospective users of recreational marijuana in 2016. Still, it is a reminder that, while the State of California has decided to opt out of a criminal justice model, the feds can freely ignore Eric Holder and James Cole's memos about federal restraint in enforcement.

In other ways, gentle reader, there is nothing to stop Jeff Sessions from taking away your pot.

The progressive and libertarian outcry against prospect of federal intervention in recently-legalizing states is understandable. The Trump victory makes the marijuana victory hollow. Federal law enforcement can make, and has in the past made, the lives of marijuana growers, sellers, and users impossible, even in states with lack or no enforcement of their own. And some of the outcomes of this contradiction are downright bizarre. For example, gun salespeople are not allowed to sell guns to anyone who is a "unlawful user and/or an addict of any controlled substance"--including medical marijuana, as the Department of Justice clarified in 2011. Technically speaking, this state of affairs is legally permissible, because Americans can comply with both legal systems by not using marijuana, in which case nothing can stop them from buying guns. But to some commentators this is inappropriate federal intervention in state affairs.

This little example is nothing compared to what we might see during the tenure of a man who finds moral fault in cannabis users: a renewal of the federal war on drugs, with its futility, noxious tactics and tragic outcomes--but this time, with the disturbing history of the Nixon and Reagan eras to school police departments and states in carceral expansion. In this grotesque carnival mirror caused by the election, blue states will now be the ones crying out for state rights.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

Trumpland: Worse Than Nixon

The Trump Administration has published its 100-day plan. Read carefully: it includes mass deportations, as well as a Nixonian plan for federal funding of the police. The cycle continues.

The similarities are striking (especially the noxious racial undertones of both punitive turns,) but this is not merely a re-run of the late sixties: Trumpland is much worse than the early days of Nixonland in several ways.

First, when Nixon ran a campaign of aggressive criminal justice, there was at least partial justification for the public's support of him. He had data in hand showing that crime rates were rising. Whether or not the public felt it on an everyday basis or it was governmental manipulation, it wasn't complete distortion. It's true, as Steven Raphael tells us, that the rise in crime may not have been as dramatic as we think, because crime rates seem to have been considerably underreported until the 1970s because of incomplete FBI data collection (not all counties were included.) But this means that, even if crime wasn't rising that dramatically, there was plenty more of it than there is now.

By contrast, we are now experiencing the lowest crime rates in forty years (and, if the inacuracies from the 1970s are big, even in longer.) Trump's capitalizing on a one-year rise in murder rates is simple deception. And, again by contrast to Nixon, there isn't even a horrible redball crime in the form of the Manson murders to sway public opinion to the cause of oppressive crime control. The basis for this return to Nixonian policies is based on pure fabrication.

Second, when Nixon's policies started fueling arrests and convictions, we didn't already have so many people in prison. The arc of growth was enormous, but it grew from a much lower place. Even with recession-era reductions, prison population has only started to decline. An increase in prosecutions and incarcerations means enhancing an already grotesquely bloated criminal justice apparatus.

Third, after years of Nixonian growth, states already know all the tricks of prison construction: rather than taxing voters (who might like prisons, but don't like paying for them) they'll use lease-revenue bonds to house people.

And fourth, privatization is already well fused into the wheels of the penal machine. By that I don't mean private prisons - I mean mostly the pervasive privatization of the insides of public prisons. In a hypercapitalist America, headed by the epitome of hypercapitalism, this industry is already well-positioned to take advantage of a further increase in incarceration.

I don't think all of this is happening because the economy is better, but that certainly isn't helping. Don't get me wrong: of course I'm happy that the economy has improved. But one of the effects of this will be that a neo-Nixonian influx of money into policing and sentencing is going to create the same cycle I talked about in Cheap on Crime: we can afford to, so let's arrest and charge lots of people, and let the states worry about how to pay for incarcerating them.

We're looking at some dark times ahead. On many fronts.

Friday, November 11, 2016

When They Go Low, We Go High

ExpertFile is a service that allows the public to contact experts with queries. Today, as we're all reeling from the results of this election, I received the following query from them:

Event Inquiry Details
Event Name: fuck you cunt
Event Location: going to hell
Event Date: 11/30/2016
Event Description: hope you crash and die
Message: "voting to end the long wait for death to the fucking killers... hope you are a victim of one of them someday... karma cunt...."
Contact Details
Name: Dead Victim
Organization:
City: San Francisco
State/Prov: CA
Country: US
Email: localcemetary@aol.com
Phone:
Website:
******

In the last few days, people with far less support and social advantage than me have been on the receiving end of slurs, insults, threats, and hate crimes. This is a piece of cake compared to what many good people have been exposed to because of what they believe, how they look, or who they love.


I will not stand for it. Decent people everywhere--of which there are many--will not stand for it.


I am resolved to respond to noxious, misogynistic, threatening messages by doubling down on my commitment to criminal justice reform, the end of capital punishment, and . When they go low, we go high.

A Horrible Setback to Criminal Justice Reform

Prop. 66 is not the first "speed up the death penalty" proposition to pass in the last few years. Florida's similar "fix" was tossed out by the courts as unconstitutional just a few months ago, and let's hope this one meets a similar end.

What got me out of bed and into the office on Wednesday was this interview on ABC News, in which I express grave concerns for the deterioration in the quality of justice with the passage of 66. Capital punishment attorneys know: you cannot resolve a death row case in five years, and you certainly can't do it in Superior Court. You cannot provide people adequate representation without pouring even more money into an already costly process.

This, by the way, is why Prop. 62 was a decent application of the ballot process and 66 was not. In The Forms and Limits of Adjudication, Lon Fuller distinguishes between monocentric and polycentric problems. I think that 62 is easily of the former variety: a simple yes/no question. 66 has a lot of moving parts (and funding) that are difficult for voters to understand. Even among my students, who are considerably better legally informed than the average voter, there were a few people who voted yes on both propositions, perhaps thinking that they could live with a death penalty "fix" one way OR the other. But it is hard to consider the ramifications of creating an entire system of reviewing huge cases with enormous consequences in lower courts and hiring new lawyers en masse to represent them (with what money???).

But I want to say something also to the families of victims, like Ms. Loya, who is interviewed in the newsstory.

Ms. Loya, I am so, so sorry for your loss. What terrible grief you must feel every day. Losing a loved one so violently is such a traumatic experience, and dealing with endless litigation on the part of the killer must be gut-wrenching.

When I hear you on TV, I worry, because I have heard from other victim families that fighting to get people killed faster intensifies the pain, fills you with soul-destroying feelings of revenge, and could compound your suffering in that this proposition could become the instrument of grave injustice.

Among the people whose executions could be expedited by this new law are people who are innocent of the crimes they committed--such as Shujaa Graham and Paris Powell, innocent men who spent long years on death row before their exonerations, and whom I met campaigning against Prop. 66. And these people also have mothers, like you, who will live to see their sons die violently, like you.

It is so hard to think beyond your personal pain. But I am so concerned about all this additional and unnecessary suffering this will bring to other people, just like you. I can't see how this adds up to a net good in the world.

I feel for you and it breaks my heart to see you feel your loss so keenly after so many years. And at the same time, so that others will not know such losses at the hand of their government, I will continue to fight for the repeal of the death penalty in my lifetime.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Wear a White Rose

When my students arrived to class today, they were greeted with dozens of white roses--one at every seat. We talked about the election.

Our Muslim students talked about their family's fear. Our African-American students talked about feeling like other Americans see them as less than human. Our immigrant students talked about how they had thought of America as a beacon of hope and diversity, only to wake up to a horrible reality. Our students who are parents talked about the difficulty of explaining what happened to children and giving them hope to go on.

I talked about how months of my work on Prop. 62 - time, talent, energy, verve, money--yielded negative returns: the failure of Prop. 62 combined with the horrifying and worrisome Prop. 66.

We talked about how difficult it is to get up in the morning and gear up for the work we so desperately need in these times.

I shared two things that have been personally helpful to me. One comes from my Buddhist practice, in which one traditional form of meditation involves "touching the Earth for our adversaries." Our adversaries and enemies, formidable as they might be, reprehensible as their actions are, abhorrent as their values are, provide us with an important service: they remind us of our strength, our preferences, our values, and our actions. The opportunity to resist gives us an opportunity to examine and solidify our own intentions about what's right in the world. It is a reminder of things greater than the self, of the impermanence of everything, and of how the mind (of an individual or of a society) has a limitless capacity for love and hate, generosity and greed, valor and fear. Our adversaries remind us to make mindful choices about our own values and strengthen our resolve.

The other one comes from growing up under the shadow of the Holocaust, in a country where upset and frustration and anxiety over the rise of fascism and bigotry comes in a healthy dose every four years since Yitzhak Rabin's murder. What I learned from living in Israel, and from my grandma who fled Frankfurt in the 1930s, is that in times of great crisis and fear lies an immense opportunity to protect and help the persecuted and the downtrodden. It is in times like this that the social advantage, skills, and character of people like Oskar Schindler or Raoul Wallenberg can make a real difference in people's lives. My students are uniquely positioned--due to their education and skills--to help and protect others, some from their own communities and some from other communities that may face perils and threats in the next few years. This means that everyone's marginal utility in the world will grow manifold. Whether it's working a public service job, picking cases, or donating a portion of a comfortable income to the cause of justice and civil rights, they--and you--have the power to make intentional decisions that can have a dramatic impact on your families, friends, neighbors, and fellow humans.

To keep a ritual and symbolic reminder of how much we can do to help, protect, and champion the people and values we care about, I am going to be wearing a white rose on my lapel from now on. The White Rose Society (die Weiße Rose) was a non-violent, intellectual resistance group in Nazi Germany led by a group of students and a professor at the University of Munich. The group conducted an anonymous leaflet and graffiti campaign which called for active opposition against the Nazi regime. Their activities started in Munich in June 1942, and ended with the arrest of the core group by the Gestapo in February 1943. They, as well as other members and supporters of the group who carried on distributing the pamphlets, faced unjust trials by the Nazi People's Court (Volksgerichtshof), and many were sentenced to death or imprisonment.

The group wrote, printed and initially distributed their pamphlets in the greater Munich region. Later on, secret carriers brought copies to other cities, mostly in the southern parts of Germany. In total, the White Rose authored six leaflets, which were multiplied and spread, in a total of about 15,000 copies. They branded the Nazi regime's crimes and oppression, and called for resistance. In their second leaflet, they openly denounced the persecution and mass murder of the Jews. By the time of their arrest, members of the White Rose were just about to establish contacts with other German resistance groups like the Kreisau Circle or the Schulze-Boysen/Harnack group of the Red Orchestra. Today, the White Rose is well-known within Germany and worldwide.

I've been giving away white rose lapel pins all day long, and am happy to send you one, reader, if you email me with your address. Wear it as a symbol of hope and commitment to compassion and action even in dark times.

Grieve as you need, and then roll up your sleeves and let's get to work.

Saturday, October 29, 2016

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Wry Craigslist ad created in the aftermath of the Malheur takeover acquittal.
My first reaction upon hearing of the acquittal of the defendants involved in the armed takeover in Oregon was probably similar to yours, gentle reader: I saw no legal argument for acquittal and it was plain as day to me that what happened here was jury nullification (despite what this juror says here, I find myself incredulous that it was difficult to deduce intent from what transpired there.) It was a powerful reminder of the unchecked and untamed potential that lies beneath the legal structures we have built. The right to a jury of your peers also has a built-in, hidden-from-sight extension, which is the right to vie for the kind of peers who might be sympathetic to you even when the law is not.

The web is ablaze with cynical commentary and comparison memes, and arguments of white privilege. But what has happened here is no different--legally speaking--than what happens when people follow The Wire creator David Simon's call, or, for that matter, critical race theory scholar Paul Butler's call, to nullify in drug cases, or in cases involving defendants of color.

The constitutional trial rights we all have apply universally: there is no boilerplate section in the Bill of Rights that restricts them only to defendants and causes we like and support. This is, in part, why I opposed the ban on grand juries in police violence cases and signed a letter against Judge Persky's recall: When we take away justice and discretion "only" in cases of defendants we dislike, like police officers or entitled frat boys, we shouldn't be surprised when these rights disappear for defendants we do like and support.

Nullification is not a constitutional trial right, but it is an implicit power that comes with the secrecy of jury deliberations, their exemption from providing reasons for their decisions, and the inability to appeal acquittals in the U.S. criminal justice system. With great power comes great responsibility, and when we call for the use of this power for causes we believe in, it shouldn't be too shocking that people who vastly disagree with us use the same power for causes they believe in.

So, is nullification the tool of armed white supremacists, lynchers, and antigovernment insurgents, or of racial justice protesters and war-on-drugs opponents? There's no way to measure who uses it more, because jurors interviewed after trial are very unlikely to admit that they nullified. Everyone wants their decisions to be perceived as legitimate. Without actually knowing what happened in the jury room and inside the head of each juror, we can never know with absolute certainty--even when it seems obvious--whether they nullified, misunderstood the law, misunderstood the (often badly phrased) jury instructions, or any combination of these factors. We are also unlikely to be able to reproduce and measure this in mock jury experiments, because I think jurors nullify in cases that matter to them a lot emotionally, and experimental conditions will not produce that amount of passion and anguish. In the absence of data on this, we have to assume that juries do this, and keep in mind the knowledge that it can be used by anyone, for any goal, to support any political agenda.

The one thing to learn from this, I think, is that the outcome in highly political contested cases depends on the skills, science and juju that went into the jury selection process, more than on those that went into the trial--and that holds true for all of these cases, sympathetic and antipathetic alike. Which is an excellent reason for every lawyer, on either side of the adversarial process, to learn the art and science of voir dire.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Are You Against the Death Penalty? Good. Then Vote Against the Death Penalty.

It's no big surprise that the Prop 62 campaign, which calls for the death penalty repeal, is working hard to build a coalition across political lines. Because of that, the campaign rhetoric understandably aims at reassuring undecided voters that, even with abolition, they will remain safe; and its two main arguments, the obscene costs ($150 million a year) and the risks of wrongful convictions, are arguments that should appeal to all of us, regardless of our political convictions. But lately I've been hearing from some folks on the very left edge of the political map--progressives and radicals--who are thinking of voting no on 62 for various progressive reasons. If you are one of these people, this blog post is addressed to you.

First of all, friend who cares about progressive causes and criminal justice reform: I hear you. I hear that you are frustrated because you need the system to change at a faster pace and that some provisions in these propositions aren't exactly what you'd hope for, and that you are concerned that if we pass these it'll stall further steps. I hear that the democratic process is not moving things far enough and soon enough for you. I hear that you are giving this a lot of thought and are genuinely concerned about aspects of the proposed reform. I believe you that your dilemma is real. I understand that you are trying to do what you think is best for people in vulnerable situations.

I hope you can hear me when I say that, when you tell me you might be voting to keep the death penalty in place, it really, really frightens me.

I am frightened because I've been thinking, writing, and speaking about criminal justice reform for twenty years, five as a practitioner and sixteen as an academic, and the one thing I learned is this: in criminal justice, the perfect is the enemy of the good. And I am really afraid that in our quest to attain a perfect criminal justice system we might opt out of a crucial step on the way to where we want to be.

Please allow me to address your concerns one by one.

"If we get rid of the death penalty, aren't we entrenching life without parole? I think life without parole is horrible, and we are affirming it as the upper range of punishment."

You feel that life without parole is a hopeless, soul-destroying punishment, which offers a person no prospect of ever seeing life outside prison. And you feel this is especially cruel for very young people (a big chunk of our prison population) who become incarcerated in their twenties and are looking at a very long stretch behind bars.

You know what? I agree with you. Life without parole is, indeed, an extreme form of punishment. Like you, I am committed to a struggle to bring a possibility of hope--an exit possibility--to any prison sentence.

Unfortunately, we can't start our fight against life without parole until we win our fight against the death penalty, which is within reach. This is, unfortunately, how political reform works: incrementally, with bipartisan support, and with a big base of consensus.

I wish there were a critical mass of Californians of all political persuasions convinced that our criminal justice system needs to be immediately reformed. Not just at the edges, not just for nonviolent inmates, not just for juveniles, but for everyone. But that is not the world we live in. The political reality is that, in order to make change, incremental steps have to be taken. Remember same-sex marriage? That didn't happen overnight. There were revolutionaries calling for marriage back in the seventies, when it was unthinkable. Then, the movement had to regroup, advocate for lesser protections (domestic partnerships, workplace protection). Yes, domestic partnership was less than marriage in important ways. But this is why public opinion changed, between the mid-1990s and the early 2010s. Incremental change is what led to the triumph of that movement. 

For an even more relevant example, see what is happening with juvenile justice. Life without parole for juveniles is horrible, right? And look at how close we are to eradicating it--because in 2005, in Roper v. Simmons (2005) the Supreme Court abolished the death penalty for juveniles. It was the first step in a long series of reforms. In Graham v. Florida (2010) the Supreme Court felt comfortable relying on the same arguments to abolish life without parole for nonhomicide crimes. In Miller v. Alabama (2012) the Supreme Court relied on that logic to abolish mandatory life without parole for all juveniles, and then felt comfortable making that ruling retroactive in Montgomery v. Louisiana (2016). We are now within striking distance of abolishing life without parole for juveniles. None of this would have been possible without Roper v. Simmons.


This is even truer for legislative/public campaigns than for judicial change. To make reform happen, we need wide public consensus--not just an agreement among progressives. We need our conservative and moderate friends to live with the new situation for a while, realize that the sky doesn't fall if punishment is less extreme, and accustom themselves to the idea of further reform. A classic example is marijuana legalization. Recreational marijuana would not be on the ballot--within reach and polling great so far--if Californians of all persuasions didn't have a chance to live with medical marijuana for years and realize that it was not the end of the world. Do you think we would have been here, at this point in time, if progressive voters had declined to vote for medical marijuana, claiming that limiting legalization to medical patients wasn't good enough? Similarly, conservatives and centrists grew accustomed to same sex marriages because they lived with domestic partnerships. They will be willing to consider a reform of life without parole if and when they see that the death penalty was abolished and it didn't lead to a rise in crime rates, a decline in public safety, or any other negative consequences. You and I already know that giving reformed, aging folks a chance at parole is also not a safety risk. But not everyone knows that, and we need our friends across the political map to agree with us. We can't make change otherwise.


I've been studying criminal justice reforms for the last sixteen years. I have not seen a single criminal justice reform that sprang perfectly from nothing. Every change we've seen since 2008--and we've seen plenty, believe me--was the product of incremental, bipartisan reform. This will be no exception. We can't get from A to Z skipping steps along the way. I know you're ready for Z. So am I. But the people whose hearts and minds we have to change so that Z happens--and we can't make it happen without them--need us to go through all the steps so that we can have a coalition. What we want won't happen otherwise.



"We are not really executing people in California anyway, and the delays are lengthy, so our death penalty really is just life without parole, with or without an execution at the end. So what would abolition actually achieve?"

Our peculiar situation in California is that we have about 750 folks in limbo. We could execute them, but through litigation efforts and mobilization we're trying to stall their executions. Being on death row, friend, is not the same as being in general populations. Folks on death row are also in solitary confinement, do not work, and do not have access to the social and educational opportunities available in general populations. Our death row is notoriously dilapidated.

Also, can you imagine living with the uncertainty of whether you'll be executed by the state some day? Ernest Dwayne Jones couldn't. And in Jones v. Chappell (2014), a conservative District Court judge from Orange County agreed with him. Based on sound research on the effects of uncertainty, and the horrible thing it is to live with the prospect of being killed by your fellow men, the judge found the death penalty unconstitutional. We didn't win that fight, even though we tried very hard: the Attorney General decided to appeal, and the Ninth Circuit reversed for technical reasons. But the reasoning behind Jones is sound: it is very different to be a death row inmate than a lifer.

But let's assume for a minute that these two experiences are comparable (after all, we always compare them to each other.) If you really can't see that the death penalty is worse than life without parole, how about a tie breaker? We don't like to talk much about savings in the progressive left--it's an argument that some of us think is designed to appeal to centrists. But we're talking about a lot of money here: $150 million a year, to be precise. If you really have no preference between the death penalty and life without parole, does this obscene waste of money not tip the scale in the repeal direction for you? Think about all the things you care about: education, health care, roads. Is it really a progressive move to keep something happening, in which you see no virtue, and spend this much on it when we could spend it on the things you care for?

Finally, I know you'd like to see the death penalty go away not only in California, but also in other places. You know where people on death row do get executed? In Texas, for example. Unfortunately, change in Texas is not going to spring to life, fully formed, out of nowhere. We have the biggest death row in the country and have been the vanguard of criminal justice innovation, for better and for worse. Determinate sentencing? Us. Enhancements? Us. The most punitive version of Three Strikes? Yup, we started that one, too. But we can use this power we have, as a huge and influential state, to make changes in other places as well. We adopted Realignment; we reformed Three Strikes; we passed Prop. 47. These things have a ripple effect in other states. We have to make the first step here. The death penalty doesn't take the same shape in all states, but it is abhorrent in all of them. Reform in Texas begins here, with you.


"If we abolish the death penalty, aren't we depriving people of valuable and free legal representation? Only death row inmates get two free lawyers paid for by the state, and that increases their odds of exoneration."

It's true: The California Constitution awards death row inmates two free attorneys to represent them in their appellate and habeas proceedings. But what does this mean in practice? We have hundreds of inmates on death row who are unrepresented and unable to benefit in any way from this constitutional provision.

As of August 2016, 46 inmates are awaiting appointment of both an appellate attorney and a habeas corpus attorney. 310 inmates have been appointed an appellate attorney, but are still awaiting appointment of a habeas corpus attorney. This is almost half of all death row inmates, and there are only 34 attorneys employed by the Habeas Corpus Resource Center. You could do what tough-on-crimes conservatives might do and vote yes on 66, but to actually close the huge representation gap we'd have to train and appoint 402 defense attorneys just for the cases now pending. This is a huge expense, and it would come with the added price tag of speedy proceedings that run the risk of executing innocent people. And that is something neither of us wants (I really hope you're voting no on 66. It's a horrible and draconian proposition.) So, if we're staying with the existing situation, what guarantees of exoneration do we really have?

Ask Shujaa Graham, who spent 16 years in San Quentin for a crime he did not commit. Yes, he was exonerated at the end, but what a huge risk he ran while he was still there! Beyond the horrible conditions, the cruelty, the loneliness, the boredom--an innocent person on death row lives every hour or every day of his life with the fear that the miscarriage of justice that happened to him will be irreversible. For that matter, ask any of the 150 exonerees whether they'd trade what happened to them with a guarantee that they won't be in a situation where the horrible wrong done to them can never be rectified.


"Hey, wasn't there some survey of death row inmates four years ago where they said they preferred to keep the attorneys they have? Why would we oppose something that the inmates themselves support?"

Four years ago, indeed, the Chronicle published a survey with death row inmates who said something like this. But the Chronicle did not disclose the methodology of the survey, nor did it share the questions they were asked. How does one even conduct a valid survey on death row? And how do we know whether the people who asked the questions weren't only those who are represented--and not the hundreds of people who wait, on average, 16 years to even get an attorney so they can begin the proceedings?

Of course we care what death row inmates think. And former death row inmates who have been exonerated have been aggressively campaigning against the death penalty and on behalf of Prop 62. Have you heard a single exoneree publicly praising his good luck in being sentenced to death? Maybe there's a reason for that and we should listen to them.

You know who else is worth listening to? Lifers. I teach lifers in San Quentin and what I hear from them is uniform, wall-to-wall support of death penalty repeal. They think that the death penalty is a massive waste of resources. And, while they yearn for the day we fight against life without parole, they are relieved to be in general population, studying, working, and interacting with others, rather than on death row. Most importantly: they know that we are spending a lot of effort on a policy that affects only 750 people instead of focusing on the thousands of lifers out there. And they know that we can't get to other penal reforms before we make this one happen. You want us to get to the business of reforming LWOP? Great, me too! Let's repeal the death penalty so we can get there sooner - there are no shortcuts that don't pass through death penalty repeal.


"Prop. 62 is mandating that the folks we commute to life without parole work and give money to victims. That's forced labor and I don't support that."

I know how the concept of work in prison makes you feel. It's a grim reminder of how, when we abolished slavery, we threw in a little exception: forced labor is allowed in prisons. It is something that we have come to abhor, because it means that our prison regime perpetuates, in a new guise, abhorrent forms of coercion and racial domination.

But abolishing labor in prisons is not on the ballot. Abolishing the death penalty is.

Some progressive voters bristle at the campaign's emphasis on making lifers work to compensate victim families. You can be forgiven for mistakenly thinking that the proposition "creates forced labor." But that is, simply, not factually true. Section 2700 of the Penal Code, which requires that inmates work, has existed for a very long time, and already applies to everyone on life without parole. Prop 62 doesn't hasn't invented anything new and does not change that section; it would merely apply to a few hundred more lifers--for the simple reason that they would now be lifers, not death row inmates.

The only modification that Prop. 62 would make is increasing to the maximum restitution withholding from wages (not family donations), from the 50% (which is already in effect) to 60%. Is objecting to an increase in victim restitution from wages really a progressive cause you feel proud to fight for? Considering the enormous change we can effect here, this is a fairly small matter to stand in the way.

Even if you are uncomfortable with this small increase in restitution, I want to remind you that it is not enough for confirmed progressives to vote Yes on 62. We have to have a majority of Californian voters, and that includes conservatives and centrists. It also includes families of victims that are campaigning against the death penalty. And one of the things that is a convincing argument for them--and not unreasonably so--is that the proposition addresses concerns about victims. Compromising on this point is part and parcel of getting things done in the political reality in which we live. And this is the world in which we have to vote.


"I'm against the initiative process. This, and other propositions, are a flawed feature of California lawmaking. I vote "no" in principle on all propositions."

Friend, I hear you. Every election season it's the same thing: money, deceptive ads, easily manipulated voters, a polarized state. Yes, this is a bad way to make a lot of decisions. For example, this is a bad way to create nuanced criminal justice reform.

But I want to ask you to really think about what's at stake here. The legislature is not going to repeal the death penalty on its own. We know; we tried. Our governor (who is personally against the death penalty) is not going to unilaterally commute everyone's sentences to life without parole. We know; we tried. Our courts cannot get rid of the death penalty. We know; we tried, and we came close, and we failed because of habeas technicalities.

The only one who can get rid of the death penalty in California is YOU.

And compared to other propositions, this one is actually fairly well suited to an initiative process: as opposed to, say, medical or recreational marijuana regimes, parole regimes, registration requirements, etc., death penalty repeal is a fairly simple question, which has a straightforward yes-or-no answer: repeal or retain. This is one of the least objectionable uses of the referendum method.

You have to decide: when you look back at this election, which of your values will you be more proud that you upheld: your concerns about direct democracy, or your opposition to the death penalty?


In Summary

Sometimes, with good intentions, we overthink things, and that leads us astray. Listen to your heart and your common sense. Are you against the death penalty? Good. So am I. For the reasons the campaign highlights, but also for all the traditional, good reasons to be against the death penalty: because it is barbaric, inhumane, risky, racially discriminatory, and obscenely expensive.

Are you against the death penalty? Then vote against the death penalty. 


Vote Yes on 62.


Monday, October 3, 2016

This Election, Say No to Old-Skool Crime Panic: Part 1

Last Monday's presidential debate was interesting for a variety of reasons. To me, a particularly interesting point was the reemergence of old-skool crime risk narratives. As I explain in Cheap on Crime, the recession years were characterized by a rethinking of our ideas about crime, crime prevention, and crime control, and by a bipartisan understanding that, regardless of one's stance on the morality of mass incarceration, it is simply not economically sustainable to punish so many people so harshly and for such long periods. This means that, in the last few years, we were exposed to new and surprising declarations from long-time conservatives arguing for more civil rights protections, a truce in the war on drugs, and sentencing reform. This is not just about money, though; new advances in neuroscience and developmental psychology have led to a rediscovery of childhood, which in turn has led to several developments in legislation and in caselaw reforming juvenile justice.

And yet, it seems like some things never change. One such thing was Donald Trump's argument last Monday that murder rates are up. Anyone who lived through the Nixon campaign must have felt, as Yogi Berra would say, déjà vu all over again. The logic behind this old-skool crime panic argument is: crime rates are rising; the only way to stop them is by cracking down on street offenders; the best way to do it is aggressive policing in the streets. The problem is that none of these things is fairly presented or even true.

First, as my colleague John Pfaff explains in The Nation, it is statistically misleading to focus on a rise in one type of crime in the course of one year:
Despite the increases cited in yesterday’s FBI report—the rise in murders in 2015 was the largest in both absolute and percentage terms since crime started dropping in the early 1990s—the United States remains an historically safe place to live. The murder rate in 2015 is still lower than it was in 2009, and before 2009 the last time the murder rate was as low as it was last year was in 1964. Overall, 2015 had the third-lowest violent crime rate since at least 1970, and probably even before that, since our older crime stats likely understate crime much more than they do today.
Yes, crime went up in 2015. But crime remained at near historic lows in 2015, too. Both of these statements can be, and are true. Despite the rise in violent crime, we remain safer today than we have been in decades.
What happened in 2015 happened in the course of one year, against an opposite trend, and one year cannot be regarded a trend:
Because we have so much less violent crime today than in 1990, any given increase will be a bigger percent jump today than 25 years ago. If we have 100 units of something, five more is just 5 percent, but that same five-unit increase is a 10 percent jump from 50. So while the number of murders rose by 11 percent in 2015, compared to 9 percent in 1990, the total increase in murders in 2015 was about 400 less than in 1990. The percent change looks worse because we are doing so much better.
Second, there are no grounds to fear sensible nonpunitive measures. Remember the vast number of articles in California newspapers quoting cops claiming that criminals have been running rampant in the streets since the early releases of Prop. 47? The proposition passed in November 2014. It is now October 2016 and the numbers are in: there is no correlation, on a county-by-county analysis, between releases under Prop. 47 and crime rates. None. Long prison sentences, serious felony charges, and refraining from paroling people do not make us safer. At all.

Third, cracking down on suspected street offenders via aggressive stop and frisk policies is never a good idea. The odds of actually catching contraband on someone during a brief stop and patdown are very low. In New York City, where the NCLU conducted a multi-year inquiry, they found that nine out of ten people who were stopped and frisked were found to be totally innocent. The benefits of finding contraband on a small percentage of the citizenry are far outweighed by the costs of humiliation, degradation, and the loss of trust between police departments and the communities they serve. Even more importantly, as Jill Leovy's book Ghettoside demonstrates and as David Simon repeatedly explains in his public appearances, the problem is not just overenforcement: it's overenforcement of showy, aggressive police power that comes directly at the expenses of enforcement that requires brainy, creative police work. The time and manpower spent on stop and frisk is time not spent solving murders and robberies, which are presumably the serious crimes that Trump wants us to be afraid of.

This election, Californians have an opportunity to say no to old-skool crime panic by voting on sensible criminal justice reforms that will save us money and help us treat our neighbors and fellow residents more humanely. Vote Yes on 57 to eliminate prosecutorial monopoly on trying juveniles as adults and to give nonviolent adult offenders a chance on parole. Vote Yes on 62 to eliminate the costly and failed death penalty. Vote Yes on 64 to save money on marijuana prohibition and to bring in much-needed tax revenue. Vote No on 66 to refuse a costly and dangerous death penalty "tweak" that will provide (and pay) undertrained attorneys and risk wrongful executions. Say no to unfounded crime panics. We've been there before and we know it doesn't help. And say yes to sensible reforms.

 

Friday, September 9, 2016

November 2016 Ballot: Yes on 64

My colleagues and I at UC Hastings made a series of nonpartisan, informational videos on the California propositions on the November 2016 ballot. Here's a video made by my colleague Marsha Cohen, an expert on food and drug law, about Prop. 64, the legalization of marijuana:



On this blog I make endorsements as well, and my recommendation would be to vote Yes on 64.

In 2010, there was a legalization proposition on the ballot which I supported, Prop 19, and it failed by a fairly narrow margin. I supported that one even though I found it problematic and vague: Prop 19 legalized personal use and limited cultivation of marijuana, but left the business end unregulated and up to the counties. As a result, it was unclear how much we would gain in tax revenue.

Prop 64 offers a much clearer legalization regime. Flowing from the recommendations of the Blue Ribbon Commission and relying on the experience of Colorado, Washington, Oregon, Alaska, and DC, it has set realistic price points and tax rates on sales, thoroughly regulated cultivation, possession, and sales, and provided safeguards for sales to minors.

Let's talk about the money first. The Legislative Analyst's Office anticipates gains of many hundreds of millions of dollars, up to a billion, in tax revenue. These gains are based on assumptions about patterns of use and commerce that we see in other countries and states. For substances, there is typically a group of hard-core users (See Philip Cook's analysis of alcohol: 60% of American's either don't drink at all or drink very, very little, and only 10% of Americans constitute the vast majority of drinking in the market, with an average of ten drinks a day.) Those folks will use (and pay for it) no matter what, and making sure that they buy (and pay taxes) lawfully is pretty essential. Which is why setting the price point and the taxes properly is important. It seems that this is a key consideration in the states that already have recreational marijuana: you don't want to tax too much, because that'll keep the market alive. But even though those states are considering lowering the tax, they still got revenue that far exceeded expectations, and the hope is that the same will happen here. Prop 64 sets excise tax at 15% for retail and 2.75-9.25 percent for cultivation. Sales tax for nonmedical will hover around 8%.

The proposition sets up a licensing program. Selling without a license will be an offense. Selling to minors would be an offense. Setting up shop near a school will be an offense. And, driving under the influence would be an offense.

The most convincing argument against the measure is a recent Washington state study showing a rise in THC-positive drivers involved in accidents. Here's the full study. But that someone is THC-positive does not mean that marijuana was a factor in the accident. THC is detectable in the blood up to three weeks from the time of use, and a positive finding does not mean that the person was under the influence of marijuana when the accident happened. The study took into account differences in levels of THC, but those are imprecise. Also, keep in mind that drivers were not tested for THC presence before the legalization of marijuana in Washington, so we don't have great comparative data (who knows how many people were THC-positive before legalization?) Moreover, the findings on THC alone are dwarfed by the findings on alcohol, or on alcohol and THC combined (in which case the causality issue is murkier.) The National Institute on Drug Abuse website claims that marijuana impairs driving ability, but cites a National Highway Traffic Safety Administration study that found that carefully controlled studies relying on measurements find no appreciable difference in driving. NORML, who is far from an unbiased group but who does cite unbiased research, cites far less convincing evidence of impairment under marijuana than under alcohol.

As for arguments for legalization, the existing prohibition regime has been far from successful in curbing drug use and has led to huge monetary and personal costs for people charged, convicted and incarcerated for growing and selling. We wouldn't be the pioneers of a different path, but it's a thoughtful effort and definitely worth a try. I'm going with a Yes on 64.

November 2016 Ballot: Yes on 62 and No on 66

In anticipation of the November ballot, my colleagues and I at UC Hastings made a series of nonpartisan informational videos explaining the 2016 propositions. Here's the video I made on Prop 62:



On this blog I also make endorsements. It's an unequivocal YES, YES, YES on 62.

It's not a particularly well-kept secret that I vehemently oppose the death penalty for all the obvious reasons: it's inhumane, there's no good evidence that it deters murderers, there are grave concerns about the fairness of its application, and with social psychologists estimating that 5% of all convictions are wrongful, there is also the grave risk of mistake. Add to that the important factor I discuss in Cheap on Crime--the expenditure involved in capital punishment--and repeal should be an obvious choice.

But I'd like to address this post not to the folks who are convinced, for moral reasons, that repeal is the right choice. I'd like to talk to decent, reasonable people who are on the fence about the death penalty, because they feel that some people--serial murderers, people who kill and assault little children, etc.--should have an especially harsh sentence reserved for them. Even if you are such a person, you should vote yes on 62. Here's why.

In November we'll be voting not about the philosophical merits of the death penalty, but on whether to keep it as it is practiced here in California. Here are some facts, not opinions: we currently have 751 people on death row. Since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1978 we executed a grand total of 13 people. Meanwhile, 90 people died of natural causes. They spend decades on death row, during which they are held in expensive conditions in a dilapidated facility, and they also litigate. Their confinement, and especially their litigation, is costing us $150 million a year, which would be saved if all these people were to be transferred tomorrow to general population. And most of these death row inmates are not the "worst of the worst" for whom you'd like to reserve the death penalty.

I get that you think that in principle there should be something special for really heinous crimes. But we don't live in a principle. We live in California. And in California, this is expensive and it doesn't work.

"So the death penalty is broken," you say. "Why not fix it? Why not make it cost-effective, and then I can continue to support it?"

There is a proposition on the ballot that argues just that--Prop 66. Its proponents, mostly county district attorneys, argue that adding lawyers and shortening procedures would save money and allow California to retain the death penalty. Here's the informational video I made of Prop 66:



The two reforms proposed by 66 are unrealistic, expensive, and very risky. They would not solve the problem. I strongly oppose it and urge you to vote No on 66. 

Currently, each death row inmate receives two attorneys at the state's expense to litigate his/her case. "Quelle luxe!" I hear you say. Well, not so much. The Habeas Corpus Resource Center has a whooping grand total of 34 attorneys, who get assigned the hundreds of cases on death row. According to the Legislative Analyst's Office, as of September 2015, 57 individuals were awaiting appointment of counsel in direct appeals and 358 individuals were awaiting appointment of counsel in habeas corpus proceedings. Those are hundreds of people whose lives depend on a determination of their legal claims, who have to wait an average of 16 years to get an attorney. That's why it takes so long to execute people in California.

Hiring and training more attorneys to take on capital cases would cost tens of millions of dollars a year--on top of the $150 million we're already paying by having capital punishment. While I'd love for there to be more jobs for my students, this is an unnecessary expenditure we can ill-afford.

What's worse, Prop 66 supporters propose to shorten the times for appellate and habeas proceedings. But there's a reason why these procedures take time. It's because they have the potential of diminishing the risk of horrible mistakes. When someone does life without parole and is found to be innocent, their life has been detailed, but amends can be made. When an innocent person has been executed, there are no amends. The risk of a mistake is graver than we can tolerate: remember, a conservative estimate puts wrongful convictions at 5% of all convictions.

There is no fix here that saves money and prevents injustice. And even if you think you're willing to compromise, ask yourself--how much is it really worth to you to keep 751 people on death row? Is it really conscionable to pay $150 million annually to keep this going?

Yes on 62. No on 66.


November 2016 Ballot: No on 60

My colleagues and I at UC Hastings have prepared a series of informational and neutral videos to educate voters about the CA ballot. Here's a video I made about Prop 60:



Before educating myself about the proposition, my inclination was to vote yes, and I'm sure many voters feel the same way. What could possibly be wrong with condoms? Aren't they wonderful things that prevent pregnancies and sexually-transmitted diseases? Shouldn't we communicate a message to the public that it's cool and sexy to use them, by requiring that they be used in adult films?

Then, I talked to my awesome student Stephan Ferris, who wanted to write a research paper on this. We discussed the advantages and drawbacks of this regime for the better part of last spring, and Stephan's resulting excellent paper on Prop 60 is coming out on the Hastings Women's Law Journal (I'll add the link once it's published.) My student convinced me that the right move on this one is a NO on 60, and here's why.

My natural inclination, as well as that of other well-meaning do-gooders, is to assume that porn actors are defenseless, vulnerable folks with no bargaining power, for whom condoms are the last frontier in the fight against HIV. Neither of these claims is true, and there's actually a regional issue here that is important.

The ecology of porn in California is such that, for the most part, straight porn is produced in Los Angeles and gay porn in San Francisco. What works for the industry on a regional basis in Los Angeles would not necessarily apply statewide. In the world of gay porn, the working assumption in the industry is that anyone involved is HIV positive, and therefore the performers have an incentive to protect themselves. The state-of-the-art standard for protection against HIV is the use of PrEP. This medication, which in San Francisco is covered by citywide insurance, protects HIV-negative people from getting infected and lowers the detectability of the virus in HIV-positive people to the point that the risk of infection is extremely low. While health care advocacy giant AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF) is fighting for this measure, other AIDS-prevention groups claim that the proposition is upholding antiquated health standards that don't work for the industry. My student, who interviewed industry performers for his article, found that the industry effectively self-regulates the risks away, and putting people who have financial stake in adult film in a position that exposes them to lawsuits (particularly moralistic ones) creates a bad incentive. Adult entertainment companies concerned about the prospect of litigation will simply move somewhere else in the country--Nevada, perhaps?--and California will lose tens of millions of dollars in tax money

In case you think this is a positive because "we don't want them here", I'd like to remind you that porn watching knows no borders. Porn is viewed almost exclusively online regardless of where it is produced and filmed. You'll still be able to see plenty of unprotected sex, much of it done by amateurs filming themselves; what you won't get is the tax revenue. This proposition smells like unwarranted moral panic. I'm going with no on this one.


November 2016 Ballot: Yes on 57

My colleagues and I at UC Hastings made a series of neutral, informational videos about the propositions on the November ballot. Here's the one about Prop 57:



For readers of this blog, I'm also making endorsements. It should be a resounding YES on 57, and here's why.

The first part of Prop. 57 is a no-brainer: who do you trust more with the decision to prosecute juveniles in adult court--a judge after a fitness hearing or a prosecutor? We've trusted prosecutors since we adopted Prop. 21 in 2000. We're talking about thousands of cases here, but even one case of a young person unnecessarily doing time in an environment full of older people should be avoided. What we know about juveniles in adult institutions (which is not a lot, because it's difficult to study) is disconcerting: suicide rates and vulnerability to abuse, assaults, and victimization. Moreover, when this decision is left to prosecutors, there are big differences between the different counties. Juvenile offenders should not be political pawns.

The second part requires a bit more unpacking, but also turns out to be a no-brainer. A typical felony sentence in California consists of the basic sentence for the offense plus a series of "enhancements" added in bills and voter initiatives over the years. Our determinate sentencing allow for people's release from state prison after they complete most of their entire sentence, including the enhancements--which can sometimes double or even triple the original sentence. Most folks don't come up for a parole hearing: California holds parole hearings only for lifers.

If Prop. 57 passes, some version of parole hearing will be returned to the system and applied to non-lifers as well. The idea is to award nonviolent felons doing time in prison (not a big population since Realignment and Prop 47) a parole hearing after their base sentence is completed. The proposition requires that CDCR adopt regulations about rehabilitation programming and the worth of doing programs in "good credit" days that count toward early release. So, while its target population isn't big and some of the details on how exactly these parole hearings will be held are still obscure, a few things are clear: This will not result in more incarceration, and it will award release to people whose records show them to be rehabilitated. At worst, it'll be an ineffectual proposition (albeit not a harmful one). But if implemented correctly, it could liberate some folks from the Byzantine maze of enhancements that leads to truly ridiculous sentences.

Some voters might be wondering whether Prop. 57 violates the single subject rule. The best two readings I can recommend on this are Michael Gilbert's 2006 paper and his excellent 2011 followup. Using an ingenious research design, Gilbert finds that our natural tendency is not to enforce this rule when proposition are more or less on the same topic. His analysis with Robert Cooter also suggests that there's positive value in "bundling" similar issues in one proposition.

The "bundling" of juvenile and parole here is relatively benign. Remember Marsy's Law in 2009? The one where you thought you voted to support victims and you actually voted to extend the period between parole hearings? This one's not like that. These two issues make the system more deliberative and personalized, things of which we could use more, and if well implemented can save lives (and dollars.) So, vote yes on 57.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Play Review: The Box by Sarah Shourd

It's hard to say that watching The Box, Sarah Shourd's new play, was a pleasurable pastime. But it was an important play, incisively written, beautifully acted, and impressively produced, that could not leave the audience indifferent.

The Box is a play about solitary confinement. In a cleverly constructed set of six cells, approximately the size of a real SHU cell, sit six prisoners. Some are there for a brief disciplinary interlude; some have been there for years. Shourd's characters are fictional, but their biographies are reminders of real people in solitary, such as the Angola Three and Todd Ashker.

With the views, video projections, and convincing soundtrack of noises, we are transported to a world of cruelty and deprivation. We meet different people, who approach the reality of their situation in different ways. We see them in conflict; we see them in solidarity; we see them at their noblest and basest. Shourd, who has spent years fighting solitary confinement ever since her release from Iranian prison, based the play not only on authentic dialogue, but also on genuine proceedings in solitary (the play takes the trouble of taking us through the routine of getting people out for visitation, including the wait time of the visitor.)

The play is also a reminder of the importance of solidarity and interracial unification. It includes a brief and stylized version of the two Pelican Bay hunger strikes, complete with the court order to force feed the inmates that ended the second one. I highly recommend this unforgettable experience to anyone, especially those who have not yet become embroiled in the struggle to end solitary confinement in California.

The Box plays at Z Space until the end of the month. For tickets, click here.

On the Ballot: CA Propositions on Criminal Justice, November 2016

It's pretty early to start talking about these, n'est ces pas? But it's not too early to start thinking about the November election as an opportunity for positive change. Here is a roster of the statewide propositions addressing criminal justice issues, with some initial thoughts. We will take each in turn in the coming weeks.

YES on 57: Civil and Criminal Trials

This is the Jerry Brown proposition, which essentially does two things: takes the authority to file charges against juveniles out of the hands of prosecutors and places it back in the hands of judges (this bit is a no-brainer. OF COURSE it's a good idea) and offers incarcerated folks the opportunity to earn more good credits on their path to release, resuscitating some version of parole for non-lifers. As to the latter part, the devil's in the details, but even at its worst, it won't make people's sentences worse than they are now. There's nothing to lose by saying yes, and moreover, any day someone with a proven rehabilitation record spends outside, working, paying taxes, and quietly living his/her life, is not a day you pay taxes to house him/her.

YES on 62: Death Penalty Repeal

We came close in 2012, and this is our chance to finally join the industrialized Western world and get rid of a punishment that does not serve us well. If you're philosophically inclined, ask yourself what you think about state-sanctioned killings. If you dislike miscarriages of justice, ask yourself how comfortable you are with executing innocent people. If you feel the system is racially biased, here's one classic setting where that is abundantly clear. And if none of these things matter to you, perhaps, like me, you think that $150 million a year is a pretty extreme expenditure for keeping 750 old and sick folks in a dilapidated facility, paying for their endless appeals and habeas, and letting them, for the most part, die of natural causes. Remember: you are not voting about the philosophical appeal of a theoretical death penalty, but rather about the ridiculously expensive, ineffectual, and non-deterrent process we have now in place. Let's say goodbye to this archaic festival of waste and punitivism once and for all.

YES on 64: Marijuana

This legalization proposition is a considerable improvement over its 2010 predecessor. That one was imperfect, and as you recall, I recommended a "yes" despite of its imperfections, because whatever we do, we can't go on doing what we're doing now. Arrests, trials, and convictions, have not impacted the marijuana market at all. Taxation and regulation might--if we do a clever job at setting price points and the appropriate sales tax. Two things have changed since 2010 that make this one a stronger pitch for you: the feds have fairly consistently stayed out of the business of states that legalized recreational marijuana, and we have the experience of five states who legalized and the sky didn't fall down. There are some complicated implications that this proposition might have on marijuana use rates, and we will discuss them in the weeks to come--as well as the reasons why this is of no particular concern in California.

NO on 66: Death Penalty Reform

This is the District Attorneys' Association's horrible response to 62, which consists of something similar to what happened in Florida a few years ago. The idea is that the death penalty is, indeed, broken, but that it can be reformed, and by taking away important constitutional protections, and "streamlining" (read: removing) options for post-conviction relief we can "cure" the delays in its administration and save a bit. This is only a good option if you are indifferent to the risk of executing innocent people or don't care much for state misconduct, which is sure to result from it--it might be cheaper, but also considerably more cruel and stupid. If you feel that the death penalty is too costly or cumbersome, let's get rid of it altogether, rather than serve a barbaric version of it with a side order of miscarriage of justice. NO NO NO.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Long Sentences for Juveniles: Does Parole Fix Everything?

Today, the California Supreme Court decided People v. Franklin in a way that probably had both the defendant and the state feeling unsatisfied.

The story is tragic in the same way that too many stories are: Tyris Lamar Franklin, 16 years old, was in conflict with other teenage boys, whom they referred to as the Crescent Park Gang. Shortly before the crime, the Crescents fired multiple shots into the apartment where Tyris lived with his grandmother and brothers, and attacked Tyris' 13-year-old brother. In retaliation, Tyris shot and killed Gene, a boy who was associated with the Crescents but who had nothing to do with the attack on the little brother.

Under California law at the time, the judge had no choice: he had to sentence Tyris to 25-to-life for the murder and to a consecutive 25-to-life for the weapon enhancement. The math is easy: Tyris would come up for parole for the first time after 50 years, at the age of 66. But the judge felt very uncomfortable with this decision. His explanation of the sentence echoes not only his grief and frustration with the unnecessariness of the crime AND the punishment, but also his thinking, which was influenced by the new Supreme Court line of cases, starting with Roper v. Simmons and continuing with Graham v. Florida. These cases relied on new findings in neuroscience and developmental psychology, which suggest that juvenile brains continue developing well into their mid-20s, and that until their prefrontal cortex is fully developed, they are less capable of thinking about consequences, factoring in long-term considerations, and resisting peer pressure. Reflecting this "rediscovery of childhood" perspective, the judge said:

The sentence is the sentence that‘s prescribed by law, not one that the Court chooses. And I will impose it in this case, but first I just want to say a couple of words to both families. I see a lot of pain in this courtroom all the time. And so often it‘s because of senseless things that happen. And if there‘s a senseless case, this is a senseless case. We‘ve got two young men‘s lives destroyed. . . . We‘ve lost two young men. And for what? It‘s so senseless. I would have loved to have seen these two young men grow up to be people, to be the people they‘re supposed to be, both of them. And neither of them is going to have that opportunity. It‘s because of unspeakably stupid choices that you made, Mr. Franklin. And I just hope that something can come out of this that‘s productive. I‘m impressed with Gene[‘s] . . . family‘s dignity going through this. Their empathy for Mr. Franklin‘s family and even Mr. Franklin. And I‘m impressed with Mr. Franklin‘s family‘s understanding and empathy for [Gene]‘s family. And if we can take something from this, I would love for it to be, get the guns out of Richmond, get the violence out of Richmond, and don‘t have these young black men going after each other because we see it so much in this courthouse. And what ends up happening is we have some young men going to prison for the best years of their lives at the least, and other young men who don‘t get to grow up. And how crazy is this? How crazy. So if both families can do anything to try to make some sense and find some good out of this, work together to try to get the guns out of Richmond, get the guns out of the pockets of these young men who haven‘t got the frontal lobes yet to figure out how to deal with their issues.

Shortly after Tyris Franklin was sentenced to 25 + 25, the Supreme Court decided Miller v. Alabama. Under Miller, mandatory life-without-parole schemes for juveniles are unconstitutional. Even before the Supreme Court's subsequent decision in Montgomery v. Louisiana, which applied Miller retroactively, California was already searching for ways to fix these problems. One such way was through SB 260, later codified as Penal Code 3051, which provides a special "youth offender hearing" before the parole board. For someone serving a sentence like Tyris Franklin's, that would mean a parole hearing after 25 years, in lieu of the 50 that the law provided before the amendment. Moreover, under the new law, the board is encouraged to take the person's age when the offense was committed into account in a serious way. For evidence that the parole board takes the "rediscovery of childhood" perspective seriously, see their recent decision recommending Leslie Van Houten's release.

The California Supreme Court found today that the "youth offender parole hearings" provided by Penal Code 3051 preempted Franklin's argument that his sentence violated Miller, because he is already eligible for the "fix" via an earlier parole date. Nonetheless, the Court remanded the case to determine whether Franklin was able to fully present evidence as to his level of maturity, which won't make a difference for the sentence but will make a difference twentysomething years from now on parole. It's a bit of a "neither here nor there" decision. The state representatives would say: if the sentence is fine, and if there's evidence in the judicial explanation that the judge was aware of youth issues, why not take that into account? And Franklin would say: if the judge clearly was unhappy with the mandatory sentence, and the mandatory sentence was unconstitutional, why not give the judge a chance to fix this at resentencing, rather than waiting twenty-five years?

Part of the discomfort with relying on the parole "fix" in this case relates to the proximity between Miller and Franklin. Even though, legally, it doesn't matter whether the case we're remedying with a parole hearing happened one day or fifty years before Miller, it somehow feels different. When the Supreme Court decided Montgomery, Henry Montgomery was in his late 60s, having served fifty years behind bars for a crime committed when he was a teenager. A parole hearing to release him could be held immediately. Here, by contrast, the result is that with the "fix", which was just held to preempt the constitutional channel, Franklin has to wait more than twenty years to argue something that we know the judge felt very strongly about as recently as 2011.

Whether or not you think the result in Franklin was constitutionally permissible, the deeper questions about the parole "fix" emerge. We're very good at ratcheting up sentences and we've done a masterful job at forgetting that children were children. And now that we've remembered the difference between youth and adults, it's taking us a very long time to fix things using very small steps, which put a dent in ultra-severe sentences, but are still very far from undoing their destructive effects.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Foster v. Chatman and the Limits of the Sayable

This morning, the Supreme Court decided Foster v. Chatman, a case involving race considerations in jury selection proceedings in Georgia.

There are two types of challenges that the prosecution and the defense may use to disqualify prospective jurors from the panel: for cause challenges, in case there's evidence that the prospective juror is biased and might not be able to decide the case fairly, and a limited number of peremptory challenges, which either side can use for no express reason at all. There is one limitation on the use of peremptories: under a 1986 Supreme Court decision, Batson v. Kentucky, race is not an appropriate reason for a peremptory challenge (J.E.B. v. Alabama extended this decision to gender.)

In cases in which a party suspects that the other party is disqualifying jurors due to their race or gender, that party needs to prove a prima facie case that there is a systematic pattern of disqualification. If successful, the ball moves to the other party's court, and they have to provide a race-neutral (or gender-neutral) reason for the disqualification. The reason need not be a good one; after all, if there were a good reason they could have used a for-cause challenge. It just needs to be unrelated to race or gender. Then, the court has to decide whether the challenges were race or gender based.

Foster, an African-American man, was charged with the sexual assault and murder of a 79-year-old white woman. The prosecution, which under Georgia law has ten peremptory challenges, used nine of them, and four of those were used to strike all four black prospective jurors. Foster immediately lodged a Batson challenge, which the court rejected. And here is where things get dicey.

At the time of trial, the prosecutors provided various race-neutral reasons for their use of peremptory challenges, relying partly on their perception that some of the black jurors were hesitant about the death penalty (which was on the table, given the severity of Foster's crime.) However, on appeal Foster was able to produce the papers on which the prosecutors scribbled notes for themselves. You can see a section of one of those at the top of these post. The prosecutors marked black jurors with a "b" next to their name. In one occasion, a prosecutor scribbled, "no black church" next to a juror's name. The author of those "b" letters and other comments could not be ascertained, but it had to be someone in the prosecutor's office.

The Supreme Court decision analyzes carefully the race-neutral reasons the prosecutor provides, and shows that these were pretextual. Chief Justice Roberts' method of analysis is to compare the black jurors to white counterparts on the panel who had similar circumstances and, yet, were not disqualified. In the Opinion of the Court, he therefore finds these reasons pretextual, "reek[ing] of afterthought", or in short: a mere coverup for the real reasons for the disqualification: race, the reason expressly prohibited in Batson.

From a doctrinal perspective, the decision in Foster is the correct one. I have no doubt in my mind that they got the facts completely right. There is a clear contradiction between the reasons the prosecutors proffered for the disqualifications and the reasons that their paperwork clearly suggests. Their complicated race-neutral explanations easily fall apart when comparing jurors to each other. The court's thorough analysis is a great example for why we need federal review of state practices: federal courts are removed from the judicial and legal climate on the states, and this is especially important in the context of racially controversial proceedings.

It's also a decision that supports solid values, and one that heralds back to the reason the death penalty was temporarily abolished in Furman v. Georgia in 1972: jury selection and trial processes designed to disfavor African American defendants.

And yet, I'm left feeling very uneasy about the lessons prosecutors might learn from Foster. There's no reason to pretend, or be facetious, about consistent social science findings, which confirm again and again that people's demographics--including their race and gender--correlate significantly with their criminal justice perspectives. In experimental settings, when confronted with incidents of police brutality, race is a significant predictor of whether prospective jurors support the police or the suspect.  In mock jury experiments, white male jurors significantly and disproportionately sentence black defendants to death, and influence other jurors to do the same. According to Gallup data, men support the death penalty significantly more than women. With race, the differences are even more stark: whites support the death penalty 75 to 24, whereas blacks oppose it 49 to 44. I could cite dozens, if not hundreds, of studies coming to the same conclusions.

This shouldn't come as a big shocker to anyone. The reason race is influential in forming criminal justice opinions is the racialized nature of criminal justice itself, its history as a system of racial domination, and its massively disparate impact based on race. Some might not like Paul Butler's prescription to fellow African-American jurors to nullify in every case involving race, but at least he's honest about the fact that many folks see our system of incarceration as the battlefront in race war--and with substantial justification.

So what is really going on? Prosecutors, defense attorneys, and judges, all know what social science clearly tells them: that racial identity, and racialized life experiences, are one important and influential way in which people form opinions about the world. They will not excise this piece of information from their memory. What they have learned this morning from the Supreme Court is that they need to find better ways to hide what they know. Indeed, post-Foster, we probably won't see better race-neutral explanations; we just won't see racial notations on papers, and whatever texts the prosecutors might send each other under the table will be deleted before discovery proceedings find what's there. Maybe the prosecution will recur to various real or perceived proxies for race (neighborhood, income, family structure), and maybe, as is increasingly the case, professional trial consulting firms and software will come up with some corporatespeak or sciencespeak that will appear to be racially neutral. Because that's what we do every time a word becomes offensive and unsayable: we put it through the laundromat and it comes out worded differently, within the realm of the sayable, and the discrimination creeps underground.

This is even more depressing considering that the legal system itself has a massively ambivalent approach to the social science truth that demographics impact opinions. Under Taylor v. Louisiana, when the legal process excludes a distinctive social group (again, the clearest cases are race and gender), we don't like this, and the court says that we lose a "distinctive flavor" or a special perspective. In that context, we're perfectly comfortable admitting that a person's experiences--including her race and gender--might impact the way she sees a criminal justice issue. But when the day comes to pick the actual jury, when lawyers draw the exact same conclusion, and use it in a partisan fashion, we get upset and would like them to do a better job pretending that they're not doing that. The difference is that blocking groups of people from the venire and disqualifying individuals, whom you can presumably question to detect bias, are two different types of enterprise. And yet, how much can you possibly learn about a stranger's inner life and worldview in open court?

The bottom line: this decision, while correct and certainly better than the opposite, is a mere band-aid on a problem that is intractable. I cannot see, in the current climate or in any future version of it, a time in which people's racial identity will not be inexorably linked to their criminal justice opinions. Teaching prosecutors to do a better job hiding these considerations from view does not make them less racially motivated; they'll keep their opinions, which happen to be aligned with scientific findings, and become so good at covering their tracks that post-Foster defendants will have a difficult time uncovering them. Holding our nose doesn't make something smell better; it just helps better disguise the smell. If the current presidential campaign teaches us anything, it's that hiding our ugly racism problem under the rug, in the realm of the unsayable, has done little to improve racial equality in the United States. What we're seeing now, when Trump makes the unsayable sayable, is merely the ugly truths that were there all along.