Articles Posted in How We Treat People

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the-money-trap-621161-m.jpgAs I’ve been writing about a lot over on Above the Law, one thing that is really not good about the federal criminal system is that it is extremely hard to attack government conduct.

This isn’t to say that all prosecutors or cops are bad. But they have massive amounts of unchecked power. And, my view at least, is that human nature is such that any given with power has at least a decent chance of abusing it. Prosecutors and cops aren’t saints – some of them are going to do what they ought not. And, when that happens, absent an egregious Brady violation and a really good judge, nothing much is likely to happen to the prosecutor.

Perhaps the hardest part of this is in entrapment law. The government should be in the business of catching crime, not creating crime to catch.

The En Banc Seventh Circuit and Fake Stash House Robberies

The Seventh Circuit late last year addressed – en banc – the standard for entrapment. This opinion may be the one good thing coming from fake stash house robbery prosecutions.

The facts of US v. Mayfield are familiar to anyone who knows about fake stash house robbery cases. Here’s how the Seventh Circuit summarizes it (it’s a long summary, but a really good one):

Mayfield was convicted of residential burglary in 1987 at age 18 and served time in jail for this crime. In 1994 he was convicted of several violent crimes stemming from an armed carjacking; he received a lengthy prison sentence. While in prison he earned a GED, an associate degree in general studies, and vocational certificates in commercial custodial services and cosmetology. He was released in 2005 and returned home to Waukegan, Illinois, where he participated in the Second Chance Program . . .

Although jobs for convicted felons were hard to come by, Mayfield managed to find sporadic work. After moving to Naperville, he found a temporary job in nearby Bolingbrook that allowed him to work a 40-hour workweek. He started this new job in late April or early May of 2009 and soon thereafter met Jeffrey Potts, a coworker with whom he had much in common. Potts was also a felon with convictions for drug trafficking, robbery, and gun possession. The two men commiserated about their financial straits, their difficulty finding permanent jobs, and their struggle to support their families. What Mayfield did not know was that his new friend was supplementing his income as a confidential informant for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives (“ATF”).

. . .

In his first overture to Mayfield, Potts explained that he had returned to selling cocaine and invited Mayfield to join him in the drug trade. Mayfield rebuffed this offer. A few days later Potts learned that Mayfield had a pending gun-possession charge, so he tried another tack. He told Mayfield of a one-time opportunity “that was worth a lot of money.” His drug supplier was planning to “stickup” his wholesaler, a robbery that would net tens of thousands of dollars in cocaine. Potts invited Mayfield to participate in the robbery in return for a share of the profits. Mayfield rejected the invitation.

Potts persisted. Each day at work he tried to persuade Mayfield to join the conspiracy by appealing to his concerns about money. He urged Mayfield to think about the financial needs of his family, saying “I know you [are] tired of working for this chump change” and “I know you need this money,” among other similar lines of persuasion. Potts also flaunted his expensive Dodge Ram pickup truck, telling Mayfield that he bought it with $40,000 he had “earned” in another drug robbery. Mayfield continued to decline the offers.

On June 25, 2009, Mayfield’s car was damaged in an accident. He borrowed money from a family member to have the car towed but did not have enough to pay for the needed repairs. He missed three days of work before he found another way to get to his job . . . . When Potts asked him why he had missed work, Mayfield told him about the accident and explained his financial predicament. Potts unexpectedly gave him $180 in cash to pay for the car repairs.

Two days later Potts returned to the subject of the stashhouse robbery, again pressuring Mayfield to join the conspiracy. Mayfield equivocated but did not agree to anything. The following week Potts tried again. When Mayfield continued to resist, Potts gestured to a Gangster Disciples tattoo on Mayfield’s arm. The tattoo dated from Mayfield’s membership in the street gang before his carjacking conviction; he knew that failure to repay a debt risked harsh punishment from the gang. When Potts said he was still associated with the Gangster Disciples, Mayfield took it as a warning that he would be in danger if he did not quickly pay up. By the end of the day, Mayfield agreed to participate in the stash-house robbery conspiracy.

He was arrested pretty much as soon as anything got going with the robbery.

Most nonlawyers looking at this would, I think, say it’s entrapment. For that matter, I think most lawyers who don’t practice criminal law would think this is entrapment. One friend of mine, when I told him about these facts, asked why this wasn’t thrown out before trial because of how bad the government’s actions were.

If only more of my friends made the law.

There was a pretrial motion in Mr. Mayfield’s case, but it was not a motion to dismiss. Nor was it a defense motion for an entrapment jury instruction. No, the entrapment motion was filed by the government as a motion in limine to prevent the defense from talking about entrapment.

If you’re going to entrap someone, the last thing you want is them talking to the jury about how you entrapped someone.

The judge granted the government’s motion. Gotta love an independent judiciary.

The Seventh Circuit used this as an opportunity to discuss exactly what entrapment means.

Entrapment has two parts – lack of predisposition and government inducement. If someone can show both, then they get to present an entrapment defense to the jury and have the jury instructed on, basically, these two elements.

On Inducement

The Court held that:

We hold that inducement means more than mere government solicitation of the crime; the fact that government agents initiated contact with the defendant, suggested the crime, or furnished the ordinary opportunity to commit it is insufficient to show inducement.
Instead, inducement means government solicitation of the crime plus some other government conduct that creates a risk that a person who would not commit the crime if left to his own devices will do so in response to the government’s efforts. The “other conduct” may be repeated attempts at persuasion, fraudulent representations, threats, coercive tactics, harassment, promises of reward beyond that inherent in the customary execution of the crime, pleas based on need, sympathy, or friendship, or any other conduct by government agents that creates a risk that a person who otherwise would not commit the crime if left alone will do so in response to the government’s efforts.

On Predisposition

Predisposition has been the hard bit. Some Circuits have held some thing like that if you ever have a prior conviction for anything, you are always predisposed to commit any other crime. That’s right – Mark Wahlberg is predisposed to commit treason. (this is an overstatement, but a slight one)

Here’s what the Seventh Circuit said on predisposition:

a defendant is predisposed to commit the charged crime if he was ready and willing to do so and likely would have committed it without the government’s intervention, or actively wanted to but hadn’t yet found the means. The defendant’s predisposition is measured at the time the government first proposed the crime, but the nature and degree of the government’s inducement and the defendant’s responses to it are relevant to the determination of predisposition. A prior conviction for a similar offense is relevant but not conclusive evidence of predisposition; a defendant with a criminal record can be entrapped.

Concluding Procedural Remarks

One lovely final thing the Mayfield Court held – the government has the burden to defeat an entrapment defense beyond a reasonable doubt. It can do it by defeating either element, but it’s on the government.

But when does the government get this burden? When is an entrapment defense to be submitted to the jury?

We have held that to obtain a jury instruction and shift the burden of disproving entrapment to the government, the defendant must proffer evidence on both elements of the defense. See Plowman, 700 F.3d at 1057; Pillado, 656 F.3d at 763; Santiago-Godinez, 12 F.3d at 728. But this initial burden of production is not great. An entrapment instruction is warranted if the defendant proffers “some evidence” that the government induced him to commit the crime and he was not predisposed to commit it.

Mayfield is a great case. Here’s hoping it catches on in the other circuits.

It’s a far cry from keeping the defense from talking about entrapment at all.

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Placido Mendoza drove a truck from North Carolina to Tennessee. His passenger was Abel Tavera.

Tavera was a roofer. He later said (to a jury) that he thought he was going to Tennessee to see a construction project.

23.jpgThe truck had construction equipment in it. And a bucket containing nails.

Under the nails was a large quantity of methamphetamine.

Mr. Tavera went to trial and was convicted. His defense was that he didn’t know that the truck had meth in it.

The driver, Mr. Mendoza, pled guilty before Mr. Tavera’s trial.

Mr. Tavera was convicted and sentenced to 15 years and six months in prison.

After Mr. Tavera’s trial, he learned that Mr. Mendoza told the AUSA – Donald Taylor – that Mr. Tavera had no knowledge of the drug conspiracy he was charged with.

AUSA Taylor never told Mr. Tavera’s lawyer that Mr. Mendoza said Mr. Tavera isn’t guilty.

And, as a result, the jury never heard that the only other guy in the car told the prosecutor that Mr. Tavera didn’t know about the drugs.

As the Sixth Circuit said, “Mendoza’s statements to Taylor were plainly exculpatory.”

The Supreme Court has said that the government has to hand over all information that is exculpatory and that if it fails to do that, the prosecution is fundamentally unfair.

Yet, despite that the law is crystal clear on this, the Sixth Circuit notes that “nondisclosure of Brady material is still a perennial problem, as multiple scholarly accounts attest.”

The procedural history is interesting – Mr. Tavera’s motion for a new trial based on the Brady failure was still pending when the Sixth Circuit decided, in United States v. Tavera, that the Brady violation was so clear that the case had to go to a new trial.

The government did not think that it had to disclose this information. As the Sixth Circuit frames their argument:

the government argues, and the dissent agrees, that Tavera (although confined to his prison cell) or his lawyer should have exercised “due diligence” and discovered the statements by asking Mendoza if he had talked to the prosecutor.

The court of appeals held that the Supreme Court rejected the “due diligence” exception to Brady in Banks v. Dretke, 540 U.S. 668 (2004) when it noted that “[a] rule thus declaring “prosecutor may hide, defendant must seek,” is not tenable in a system constitutionally bound to accord defendants due process.”

Moreover, a rule that a Brady violation is excusable if the defendant or defense lawyer just does more work is kind of stupid. As the Sixth Circuit explained:

The Supreme Court’s rejection of the idea that the “prisoner still has the burden to discover the evidence” is based in part on the fact that the prosecution has the advantage of a large staff of investigators, prosecutors and grand jurors, as well as new technology such as wiretaps of cell phones. That is one of the reasons that these investigators must assist the defendant who normally lacks this assistance and may wrongfully lose his liberty for years if the information they uncover remains undisclosed. The superior prosecutorial investigatory apparatus must turn over exculpatory information.

My favorite part is the suggestion that Mr. Tavera’s lawyer should have interviewed Mr. Mendoza – because there is just about exactly zero chance that any competent lawyer would let his client talk to a co-defendant about the facts of the case while he’s trying to work out a deal with the government.

Because “[t]his case shows once again how prosecutors substitute their own judgment of the defendant’s guilt for that of the jury” the court of appeals reversed and recommended that “the U.S. Attorney’s office for the Eastern District of Tennessee conduct an investigation of why this prosecutorial error occurred and make sure that such Brady violations do not continue.”

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The war on terror[ism] is a massive new problem for society. And, of course, when there’s a massive new problem for society, that ends up being a massive new problem for lawyers.

Despite the debate about whether or not to close the detention facility in Guantanamo Bay – both between Obama when he was a candidate and as President, and in society at large – and the discussion about whether to have civilian or military trials for alleged terrorism suspects, a very real part of the war on terror[ism] has been playing out in our federal courts.

The D.C. Circuit’s opinion from last week in United States v. Mohammed is a nice example.

1124515_deserted_houses.jpgDon’t Trust Just Anyone To Help With Your Missile-Buying

Mr. Mohammed lived in the village of Geratak in Afghanistan. If a man named Jaweed is to be believed, one day, Jaweed walked into Geratak and asked to speak with Mr. Mohammed.

Upon meeting Jaweed, Mr. Mohammed then invited Jaweed into his planning to attack a NATO airbase in Afghanistan. Specifically, Jaweed says that Mr. Mohammed asked him to get some missiles to use to attack the airbase.

As any federal criminal defense lawyer – or frequent viewer of The Wire – would suspect, Jaweed then went to law enforcement. Just like on The Wire, he went to the DEA, who were working in Afghanistan.

The DEA agents did what DEA agents do – they wired up Jaweed. Jaweed then recorded calls with Mr. Mohammed where he made some boasts about attacking the airfield.

Initially, the DEA decided they would give the missiles to Jaweed, and then arrest Mr. Mohammed as soon as Jaweed handed over the missiles. At some point, someone in the federal law enforcement community determined that handing missiles to a person in Afghanistan who has bragged about wanting to harm a NATO airbase – using missiles – is not a good idea.

A New Plan Is Hatched

If you only have a hammer, you only see nails. The DEA decided to arrest Mr. Mohammed for narcotics trafficking, instead of planning to attack the airbase.

Jaweed was instructed to talk to Mr. Mohammed about a friend of his looking for opium. Mr. Mohammed said he knew a guy who could get opium, and they talked about what Mr. Mohammed’s commission for getting the two friends together would be. At one point, Mr. Mohammed said he’d use his commission to buy a car to transport the missiles to attack the airbase.

If there’s anything the DEA knows how to do, it’s a controlled buy. The opium deal went through and the agents got some good video of Mr. Mohammed handling opium.

The DEA did another deal – this time for heroin. During this deal, Jaweed told Mr. Mohammed that his friend was planning to send the heroin and opium to the U.S. Mr. Mohammed expressed pleasure at this idea – saying that their common goal was to “eliminate the infidels either by opium or by shooting”.

Mr. Mohammed Is Arrested

The DEA arrested him in Afghanistan and drove him to a DEA base. He was given Miranda warnings and made a statement.

The D.C. Circuit noted that “[a]t no time [during the interview] did Mohammed ask for an attorney”

He was transferred to the United States and put on trial in the United States District Court for the District of Columbia.

The Trial

Mr. Mohammed moved to suppress his statement, but the district court said that he was Mirandized and had the consequences of giving a statement explained to him, so no dice.

The trial lasted four days. Jaweed testified for two of those days. Mr. Mohammed’s lawyer called no witnesses and offered no evidence. He was convicted of narcoterrorism and given two life sentences.

Ineffective Assistance of Counsel

The D.C. Circuit is a good court to practice in for a number of reasons – one of which is that you can raise an ineffective assistance of counsel claim in your direct appeal.

In many other circuits around the country, if your lawyer messed up, and that affected what happened to you, you can’t complain about that in the appeal – you have to wait until after the appeal and file a petition under 28 U.S.C. § 2255.

But not so in the District of Columbia. Here, if you can show that your lawyer was constitutionally ineffective from the record before the court on appeal, the D.C. Circuit will consider your claim.

It almost makes up for not being able to vote for a Senator.

Here, Mr. Mohammed said that he had a number of witnesses in Afghanistan that he wanted his lawyer to interview.

These witnesses, he said, could have shown that Jaweed was a liar who hated Mr. Mohammed and was out to get him. Since Jaweed was the star witness, if Mr. Mohammed could have found and brought over witnesses to say Jaweed was biased or a liar, it could have gone a long way in his trial.

As the D.C. Circuit said, Mr. Mohammed’s lawyer “owed him a duty to make reasonable investigations or to make a reasonable decision that makes particular investigations unnecessary.” If he didn’t try to contact witnesses – even ones in a remote village in Afghanistan – he may not have given Mr. Mohammed the legal representation the Constitution guarantees him.

Sadly, the rest of the details of the ineffective assistance are under seal.

And so, the case was remanded to the district court on the ineffective assistance claim.

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Giraldo Trujillo-Castillon came to this country from Cuba when he was seventeen.

Like they say, you can take the man out of Cuba, but you can’t take the Cuba out of the man. Or so seemed to believe a federal prosecutor and district court judge.

Mr. Trujillo-Castillon was accused of fraud in federal court.

He pled guilty. He went to sentencing.

1212572_cuban_convertible_pesos.jpgAn Anti-Cuba Sentencing Hearing

The government asked for the high-end of the sentencing guidelines range. The request was not made because of Mr. Trujillo-Castillon’s conduct, but, rather, because this Assistant United States Attorney doesn’t appear to think well of Cubans. As the Seventh Circuit explained,

Pointing to the defendant’s admission that he viewed fraud differently than violent crimes, the government argued that “it may be possible to explain his stated attitude because of his Cuban heritage. . . . Maybe there is a different attitude toward private property in Cuba.” The government noted Trujillo-Castillon’s statement that his only friend in the United States was his wife, and said that “if you play by the rules, if you join us, if you become American, [you] will have many [] friends in the United States.” The government then turned to “why people should come to the United States,” professing that “if he came here because he thought it would be easy, then I would simply suggest that he and others like him either wise up, or don’t come.”

Not to be outdone, Mr. Trujillo-Castillon’s own lawyer explained that perhaps being Cuban has some downsides – in the sense that you’re more likely to commit property crimes. Again, here’s how the Seventh Circuit explained what happened:

Defense counsel did not object to this line of argument; instead, he responded in kind. He explained that there is an “attitude” in Cuba that when you steal “you’re pulling a Robin Hood type of act.” He suggested that many Cuban immigrants have a hard time adjusting to “the American way of life.”

It must have been very lonely to be Mr. Trujillo-Castillon.

I feel for the district judge at this point in the hearing.

On one hand, the parties seem to be arguing about whether it’s so bad to be Cuban that Mr. Trujillo-Castillon should get a lighter sentence, or whether it’s so bad to be Cuban that Mr. Trujillo-Castillon should get a higher sentence.

The judge would naturally feel that it’s ok to stay on the “Cubans are bad” train. Except for the fact that it’s really creepy to sentence someone based on their nationality. Also it violates their Due Process rights.

Here’s how the district court walked the tightrope of animosity toward Cubans:

The court first explained that Trujillo-Castillon’s “lifestyle” cannot “be blamed on Cuba.” It said that his record was reminiscent of “when the Mariel people came over here and created crime waves all over the place”; “When [Fidel] Castro emptied his prisons, and his psychiatric wards, and Jimmy Carter took them all in.” The court continued that, unlike in Cuba, “in America, private property is sacrosanct. It’s not the Government’s property. . . . And that’s the way we live in America. And that’s why it’s a serious offense when you do this.”

The district court then sentenced Mr. Trujillo-Castillo to a sentence seven months above the top of the sentencing guidelines.

The Appeal

Mr. Trujillo-Castillo appealed and the Seventh Circuit remanded the case in United States v. Trujillo-Castillo. The court of appeals started the discussion of the Cuba issue by noting that,

The guidelines make clear that race, sex, national origin, creed, religion, and socio-economic status “are not relevant in the determination of a sentence.” U.S.S.G. § 5H1.10; see also 28 U.S.C. § 994(d) (“The Commission shall assure that the guidelines and policy statements are entirely neutral as to the race, sex, national origin, creed, and socioeconomic status of offenders.”). A sentencing court’s discretion to consider such factors is also constrained by the Constitution. See, e.g., Pepper v. United States, ___ U.S. ___, 131 S. Ct. 1229, 1240 n.8 (2011) (“Of course, sentencing courts’ discretion under § 3661 is subject to constitutional constraints”).

The standard that the court of appeals articulated is that remand is required when a reasonable observer might think that reliance on a prohibited factor influenced the sentence.

In this case, the Seventh Circuit held,

we think that both the government and the sentencing court crossed the very fine line of demarcation separating presentencing statements regarding a defendant’s relationship with a country or its residents who have engaged in similar criminal activity there and statements concerning the race or national origin of the defendant which would violate his due process guarantees.

The court of appeals criticized both the prosecutor and the district court.

The government should have forgone discussing Trujillo-Castillon’s national origin in the first place. And although the court did not expressly adopt the government’s position, it did nothing to reasonably assure the defendant that his Cuban heritage would not factor into its calculus. See id. Instead, the court exacerbated the problem by comparing the defendant’s conduct to the Mariel people who emigrated from Cuba more than thirty years ago. By lumping the defendant in with the Mariel people and expressly contrasting the values held by Americans with people, like the defendant, “who come[] from Cuba,” the court arguably made Trujillo-Castillon’s national origin a factor at sentencing. A reasonable observer hearing or reading the remarks might certainly think so.

The court of appeals explained that it wasn’t sure if the above-the-guidelines sentence was based on Mr. Trujillo-Castillon’s Cuban nationality or some other characteristic. The appellate court directed the district court to either resentence him based on some other factor or explain that the court wasn’t motivated by an improper dislike for the Cuban people.

Is there any chance the district court is going to say, in effect, “yes, I was impermissibly biased against Cubans, you should get a new lower sentence” on remand?

I’m betting no.

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It’s easy to hate people who are found guilty of child pornography charges. People don’t like it when other people sexualize children

But, as the Sixth Circuit held in United States v. Inman, a district court still has to give reasons to be mean to them.

Mr. Inman pled guilty to possession of child pornography. He was sentenced to 57 months in prison.

Like anyone else who goes to federal prison, after he is released, he’ll be on supervised release – a federal probation officer will supervise him to make sure he’s not drifting into further lawlessness.

As a part of his supervised release, he’ll have to follow certain conditions. Those conditions, as well as how long he’ll be on supervised release, are set by a judge at his sentencing hearing.

In Mr. Inman’s case, the government and Mr. Inman’s lawyer recommended that he be on supervised release for ten years.

Instead of ten years, the district court, apparently motivated by how gross Mr. Inman’s conduct is, sentenced him to a lifetime of supervised release. It didn’t explain why.

1231362_sign_no_alcohol.jpgAnd, the district court set a number of conditions that no one asked for, or talked about at Mr. Inman’s sentencing hearing – he had to submit to mandatory drug testing; to notify the probation office if he is prescribed any medicine; to provide the probation office with all of his financial information; and he can never drink alcohol again, possess or use a device capable of creating pictures or video, or rent a storage facility or post office box.

What’s worse, the district court didn’t explain why it was imposing these conditions – it just imposed them.

As the Sixth Circuit explained, these conditions are going to seriously mess him up.

The district court . . . precluded him from using any device capable of creating pictures or video. This special condition effectively prohibits Inman for his lifetime from possessing a cell phone with photo or video capability, a video camera, or any other device capable of creating pictures or videos, even if such devices might be used appropriately in connection with employment or family activities.

So much for getting the new iPhone.

Mr. Inman can never drink alcohol again, according to the district court, even though he doesn’t have a problem with alcohol. The Sixth Circuit was troubled by this condition too.

Nothing in the record suggests that Inman has any problem with alcohol or drug dependence; yet, he is now barred from consuming alcohol for life, required to submit to periodic drug testing, and required to keep the probation office informed of any prescription medications in his possession. Supervised release conditions must be tailored to the specific case before the court. Where appropriate, the mandatory condition of drug testing “may be ameliorated or suspended by the court for any individual defendant if the defendant’s presentence report or other reliable sentencing information indicates a low risk of future substance abuse by the defendant.” 18 U.S.C. § 3563(a)(5). Moreover, the pertinent statute on discretionary conditions does not permit a total ban on alcohol, but allows a court to order the defendant to “refrain from excessive use of alcohol.” 18 U.S.C. § 3563(b)(7) (emphasis added). Because Inman appears to present a low risk of future substance abuse, the district court should explain why these conditions of supervised release are warranted.

Finally, the Sixth Circuit thought the requirement that Mr. Inman allow his finances to be inspected by a probation officer was not supported by the record.

Inman also challenges the special condition requiring him to provide the probation office with any requested personal financial information. Inman’s crime was not financial in nature. We realize that Inman’s finances may give a probation officer insight into whether Inman is involved in illegal conduct, but we cannot approve a requirement that Inman disclose any and all financial information to the probation officer without first reviewing the district court’s explanation as to why such a condition is necessary in light of the pertinent sentencing factors.

Based on all of that, the case went back to the district court for resentencing. If a district court is going to take away someone’s ability to have an iPhone for life, that court has to do a little bit more explaining.

See also:
Sex Offenders, Supervised Release, and The Eighth Circuit

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It’s rare that a particular prosecutor is named in an opinion by a federal appeals court. Apparently the Department of Justice wishes it were more rare.

The Ninth Circuit issued a curious opinion last month, in United States v. Lopez-Avila.

Previously, the court of appeals had issued an opinion that was critical of a particular Assistant United States Attorney. The Department of Justice filed a motion asking that the Ninth Circuit remove the name of that prosecutor from the public opinion.

1378633_man_with_a_megaphone_1.jpgHere’s the appellate court’s response:

The Department of Justice has an obligation to its lawyers and to the public to prevent prosecutorial misconduct. Prosecutors, as servants of the law, are subject to constraints and responsibilities that do not apply to other lawyers; they must serve truth and justice first. United States v. Kojayan, 8 F.3d 1315, 1323 (9th Cir. 1993). Their job is not just to win, but to win fairly, staying within the rules. Berger, 295 U.S. at 88. That did not happen here[.]

It goes on, after noting that the appeal involved misconduct by the prosecutor in the trial court that was relatively obvious.

When a prosecutor steps over the boundaries of proper conduct and into unethical territory, the government has a duty to own up to it and to give assurances that it will not happen again. Yet, we cannot find a single hint of appreciation of the seriousness of the misconduct within the pages of the government’s brief on appeal.

The Ninth Circuit then concludes,

upon initial release of this opinion, the government filed a motion requesting that we remove Albert’s name and replace it with references to “the prosecutor.” The motion contended that naming Albert publicly is inappropriate given that we do not yet know the outcome of any potential investigations or disciplinary proceedings. We declined to adopt the government’s suggestion and denied its motion. We have noticed that the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Arizona regularly makes public the names of prosecutors who do good work and win important victories. E.g., Press Release, U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Arizona, “Northern Arizona Man Sentenced to Federal Prison for Arson,” (January 31, 2012) (“The prosecution was handled by Christina J. Reid-Moore, Assistant U.S. Attorney, District of Arizona, Phoenix”), available at http://www.justice.gov/usao/az/press_releases/2012/ PR_01312012_Nez.html. If federal prosecutors receive public credit for their good works–as they should–they should not be able to hide behind the shield of anonymity when they make serious mistakes.

This is the Striesand effect – where an effort to make something not be public gets it even more attention – in action.

Perhaps the best recent example of the Streisand effect was when Dan Snyder, the owner of the Washington Redskins, sued over media coverage he disliked.

My reaction to seeing Snyder’s suit was that he seems really entitled.

It’s hard not to think the same thing of the Department of Justice here.

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Anthony Doswell was having a bad run of luck.

He was on supervised release from the end of a federal sentence. Supervised release works a bit like probation for those who have been in prison – folks coming out of a federal prison have a period of years where they have to check in with a probation officer, be drug tested, and, if they mess up, sent back to prison.

1268685_washington_monument.jpgOne big way to mess up is to commit a new crime. The rub is that a person can be violated – and sent back to prison – for committing a new crime, not just for being convicted of committing a new crime.

So, it’s possible for a person on supervised release to be charged with a new crime, beat the charge, then be sent to prison anyway.

It’s a hard world.

Anthony Doswell was in a spot like that. He was on supervised release and had been charged with having some marijuana on his person. He also tested positive for heroin and didn’t show up to mental health treatment, or to meet with his supervising probation officer. [FN1]

He and his lawyer went to court to answer the allegations. His plan was to admit that he had been using marijuana and throw himself on the mercy of the court.

At the hearing, his lawyer learned that Mr. Doswell had previously been charged with heroin distribution.

Mr. Doswell had also been to court on the charge – twice! Each time the chemist who said the heroin in question was heroin had neglected to show up. The heroin case was eventually dismissed.

Mr. Doswell and his attorney may not have had the most transparent relationship.

In any event, Mr. Doswell objected to a violation of his supervised release based on the heroin. The government went forward with the allegation, providing the district court with the charging documents for the state court heroin distribution charge, as well as the chemist’s report.

The government did not call any witnesses.

The district court found that Mr. Doswell had violated his supervised release by selling heroin. As the Fourth Circuit summarized it,

Without explanation, the district court concluded that, “notwithstanding the objection,” the drug analysis report was “sufficient to support the [heroin] violation alleged.” Accordingly, the court found Doswell guilty of the heroin violation set forth in Supplemental Notice, a violation that the court concluded, “in itself, [wa]s sufficient for . . . a mandatory revocation [of Doswell’s supervised release].” The court then sentenced Doswell to the statutory maximum, twenty-four months of imprisonment.

On appeal, the only issue the Fourth Circuit dealt with, in United States v. Doswell, was whether, under Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 32.1(b)(2), Mr. Doswell had a right to have the witnesses against him testify.

The government argued that under a prior Fourth Circuit case, and the general principle that revocation hearings are less formal, it didn’t have to have a witness there.

Mr. Doswell, instead, suggested the court of appeals look at the language of Rule 32.1(b)(2), which says that at a revocation hearing, a person has

an opportunity to appear, present evidence, and question any adverse witness unless the court determines that the interest of justice does not require the witness to appear

Since the district court spent exactly no time balancing whether the interests of justice didn’t require the chemist to testify against Mr. Doswell, the Fourth Circuit reversed the finding of violation and remanded.

Big congratulations to the defense lawyer on appeal, Joanna Silver! Way to ask the court to please read the law.

[FN1] – I know, they call the people who supervise folks on supervised release “Probation Officers” even though it’s supervised release. I suppose “Supervised Release Officer” is too specialized a title or something.

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The federal criminal justice system runs on pleas. If every person charged with a crime demanded that the courts give them the attention that the Constitution guarantees them, United States Attorney’s Offices wouldn’t be able to prosecute as many people as they do, and federal district courts would grind to a halt.

In the New York Times this week, Michelle Alexander, a law professor at Ohio State University – who wrote The New Jim Crow, arguing that our criminal justice policy is, in essence, a continuation of America’s legacy of not being so awesome about issues of race – wrote a piece arguing that criminal defense lawyers should band together and insist that all our clients go to trial to crash the system.

1226064_prison_cells_2.jpgThe Michelle Alexander piece has generated all kinds of attention, from geeky to professional.

I’m not unsympathetic to this view. Mandatory minimums drive too many clients to give up their rights too easily. Federal criminal practice should be about more than pleas, cooperation, and sentencing. And I think that just about any person who has handled more than two criminal cases had fantasized about the system-wide chaos that would ensue if we organized people accused of crimes.

But, like Brian Tannenbaum says, it’s never going to happen. A criminal defense lawyer has to look out for each client, in each case. We’re not doing systematic reform – we’re doing individual representation.

If you want to reform the system, work for the ACLU or be a law professor. If you’re practicing law, you should help individual people with individual legal problems. The faults of the system are a secondary concern (which doesn’t mean that you won’t think about them while failing to sleep at 3 in the morning – just that your job isn’t to change them, except as you need to in the course of representing your client).

The problems with our system of federal factory justice, highlighted in Professor Alexander’s work, are serious ones though. And the Fifth Circuit’s recent opinion in United States v. Carreon-Ibarra highlights.

Mr. Carreon-Ibarra pled guilty to a count in an indictment that charged him with using a firearm in connection with a drug trafficking offense. It was charged under 18 U.S.C. 924(c).

At the plea hearing, he was told that the charge carried a mandatory minimum of 5 years.

As it happened, the gun in question was a machinegun. So his mandatory minimum was, in fact, 30 years.

The presentence report, prepared by the Probation Office, reported that Mr. Carreon-Ibarra’s mandatory minimum was 30 years.

Mr. Carreon-Ibarra’s counsel objected. The lawyer objected to the presentence report, and objected to the district court at the sentencing hearing.

The judge, appreciative of the fact that Mr. Carreon-Ibarra had been told he faced only a five-year mandatory minimum at the plea hearing, told Mr. Carreon-Ibarra that he considered him subject to only a five-year mandatory minimum. The court said it had the power to give him as little as five years on this count.

The district court them imposed a forty year sentence.

The problem arose, though, when the district court issued its judgment. In the written judgment that followed the hearing, the court said that Mr. Carreon-Ibarra pled guilty to the machinegun offense, which carries a mandatory minimum sentence of thirty years.

Clearly, the district court didn’t read it’s own judgment in light of its statements at sentencing.

The Fifth Circuit reversed, holding that Mr. Carreon-Ibarra’s plea was deficient because he wasn’t accurately told what the mandatory minimum would be.

How does this happen? How does a smart judge, appointed by the President and confirmed by the Senate pay this little attention to documents that send a man to prison for forty years?

It happens because there are too many federal criminal cases that have become too routine for courts to give the attention that these cases need.

And that’s why people who are going through the criminal justice system are angry.

They can feel that their cases don’t get deep attention from the courts or the prosecutors. People know when they’ve been turned into file numbers or claims. Claims that send them to prison for massive amounts of time. People resent how little the most important case in their lives matters to the people who make decisions about them.

It makes people want to do crazy things to tear the system down.

Even though that would be a bad idea.

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Deanna Costello’s love knew no boundaries. Literally. For years she had a romantic relationship with a man who was not in the United States lawfully. It led to a strong judicial slapdown of the Department of Justice by one of our nation’s leading jurists, in United States v. Costello.

Ms. Costello’s Boyfriend

Ms. Costello lived in Cahokia, Illinois, perhaps five miles from St. Louis. She lived with a man from Mexico for a year ending in July 2003. That time ended when he was arrested on a federal drug charge. He plead guilty and was sent back to Mexico after his prison sentence.

1378507_heart_shaped_flower_petal.jpgIn March of 2006, Ms. Costello picked her boyfriend up at the bus station in St. Louis. She drove him to her house, where they lived until October 2006. Sadly, he was then arrested on new drug charges, and the couple were again separated. As the court of appeals noted, he “was given a stiff prison sentence.”

Ms. Costello was charged with harboring an alien. She went to a stipulated facts trial – basically a trial where she and the government agree what happened, they simply disagree about whether what happened was a crime.

She was convicted. The district court sentenced her to two years probation and a $200 fine.

The Appeal

She appealed. Judge Posner, writing for the Seventh Circuit, reversed, in an opinion as critical of the government as any I’ve read in a very long time.

Judge Posner concluded, basically, that harboring an alien does not include having a person in the country unlawfully as a live-in boyfriend.

Judge Posner started by noting that “[t]here is no evidence that the defendant concealed her boyfriend or shielded him from detection” and that, indeed, since he was arrested at her house several times, it’s more likely that law enforcement would find him if he was there than, say, at a relative’s house.

Or, alternatively,

The defendant in the present case was not trying to encourage or protect or secrete illegal aliens. There is no suggestion that she prefers illegal aliens as boyfriends to legal aliens or citizens. She had a boyfriend who happened to be (as she knew) an illegal alien, and he lived with her for a time.

A Car Ride Is Not Harboring

The district court made much of Ms. Costello having driven the man from the bus station to her house. Judge Posner wasn’t impressed with this fact, noting that

the distance was so short–about six miles–that in a pinch he could have walked. And had he wanted to take public transportation he could have used the St. Louis metro transit system; the price of his ticket would have been $2.75. (That is the price today; it probably was lower in 2006.) There is nothing to suggest that the two of them had prearranged the pickup, or that, had she not picked him up, he would have returned to Mexico. (We don’t know how long he had been in the United States.)

A car ride is not harboring an alien.

Judge Posner spent considerable time considering the meaning of “harboring” in the statute criminalizing harboring an alien. Judge Posner considered the way “harboring” is used, and the breadth of the anti-harboring statute if “harboring” covers Ms. Costello’s conduct.

The Government’s View of Harboring Is Absurd

Judge Posner was concerned that the government’s view of what counts as harboring sweeps lots and lots of conduct into the criminal law. In perhaps the most awkward – yet at the same time still awesome – sentence he’s ever written, Judge Posner asks:

is it likely that Congress intended that parents whose child invites an immigrant classmate who, as they know, is illegally in the country to a sleepover might be branded as criminals even if he didn’t accept the invitation, since the statute criminalizes attempts?

The court of appeals also points out the absurd consequences of the government’s statutory interpretation,

an illegal alien becomes a criminal by having a wife, also an illegal alien, living with him in the United States; if they have children, born abroad and hence illegal aliens also, living with them, then each parent has several counts of criminal harboring, on the government’s interpretation of the statute.

Judge Posner Doesn’t Trust The Government

The government tells us not to worry: we judges can rely on prosecutors to avoid bringing cases at the outer margin of the government’s sweeping definition of “harboring.” But this case is at the outer margin. No doubt it was brought because the Justice Department suspects that the defendant was involved in her boyfriend’s drug dealings, but cannot prove it, so the Department reaches into its deep arsenal (the 4000-plus federal crimes) and finds a crime that she doubtless never heard of that it can pin on her. She was sentenced only to probation and to pay a fine but now has a felony record that will dog her for the rest of her life if she loses this appeal.

Down with the Dictionary

In perhaps my favorite section of the opinion (though there are many) Judge Posner criticizes the government’s use of the dictionary –

“Dictionary definitions are acontextual, whereas the meaning of sentences depends critically on context, including all sorts of background understandings A sign in a park that says “Keep off the grass” is not properly interpreted to forbid the grounds crew to cut the grass.

To try to learn how “harboring” is normally used, Judge Posner turned to Google:

a search based on the supposition that the number of hits per term is a rough index of the frequency of its use–reveals the following:

“harboring fugitives”: 50,800 hits “harboring enemies”: 4,730 hits “harboring refugees”: 4,820 hits “harboring victims”: 114 hits “harboring flood victims”: 0 hits “harboring victims of disasters”: 0 hits “harboring victims of persecution”: 0 hits “harboring guests”: 184 hits “harboring friends”: 256 hits (but some involve harboring Quakers–“Friends,” viewed in colonial New England as dangerous heretics)
“harboring Quakers”: 3,870 hits “harboring Jews”: 19,100 hits
It is apparent from these results that “harboring,” as the word is actually used, has a connotation–which “sheltering,” and a fortiori “giving a person a place to stay”–does not, of deliberately safeguarding members of a specified group from the authorities, whether through concealment, movement to a safe location, or physical protection.

Because Ms. Costello was not keeping her boyfriend from the authorities – rather she was just keeping him to herself – she was not harboring. She was merely entertaining.

And entertaining an alien is not against the law.

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People are social animals. We teach each other. We learn from each other. We judge each other.

Perhaps dozens of times a day we make evaluations about other people based on how they look at us and what they say to us. We make determinations about other people based on race and class and whether we think another person is “one of us” – in all the ways that a person can be one of us. Maybe pheromones play a role in how we evaluate each other. But these small judgments we make in our interactions with others shape how we treat each other in ways large and small.

None of this goes away when a judge puts on a robe and imposes a sentence on a person who has been convicted of a crime.

A federal district judge will know generally about the crime – the judge either sat through a trial and heard the testimony, or read a statement of offense in a plea agreement – and will know from the presentence report about the person being sentenced.

But these background facts don’t give the judge the same human knowledge about the person that a face-to-face interaction does. Which is why whether the person speaks at his sentencing – and how he acts if he does speak – can be very important.

Rule 32 of the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure give a person being sentenced a right to talk to the judge about what sentence the court should impose.

837375_mouth.jpgThe right to talk to the judge before the sentence is imposed was given a very muscular reading by the Eleventh Circuit in United States v. Perez.

Mr. Perez, along with a number of others, was convicted of conspiring to rob a check cashing store, as well as a drug stash house that did not, in fact, exist. The federal government, in an apparent effort to bring counter-terrorism tactics to the street, has started finding people who may be interested in committing a crime, then arranging with a confidential informant to have them find some fake entity to conspire to rob. It’s easier to catch fake crime than real crime, I suppose. (For more on these kinds of cases, please see this post at the Ninth Circuit blog).

At sentencing, the sentencing court said to Mr. Perez’s counsel “will the defendant be allocating?” Mr. Perez’s lawyer conferred with his client then told the court, “No, Your Honor. He doesn’t wish to address the Court.” Mr. Perez did not, then, address the court.

The Eleventh Circuit found that this violated Mr. Perez’s right to present information to the court. The court of appeals noted that:

On a number of occasions, “[w]e have explicitly held that the requirement of Rule 32[(i)(4)(A)(ii)] is not satisfied when the court does not address the defendant personally concerning the defendant’s desire to allocute but instead addresses defendant’s counsel only.”

In light of that, the court held that it was not convinced that Mr. Perez knew that he had a right to speak to the sentencing judge.

Because the right to allocute is fundamental, the Eleventh Circuit reversed, even though no one objected at the time.

Waxing poetic about the importance of allocution, the court of appeals said

The right of allocution provides a defendant “an opportunity to plead personally to the court for leniency in his sentence by stating mitigating factors and to have that plea considered by the court in determining the appropriate sentence.” United States v.Tamayo, 80 F.3d 1514, 1518 (11th Cir. 1996). “As early as 1689, it was recognized that the court’s failure to ask the defendant if he had anything to say before sentence was imposed required reversal.” Green v. United States, 365 U.S. 301, 304, 81 S. Ct. 653, 655, 5 L. Ed. 2d 670 (1961) (Frankfurter, J., plurality opinion). Although criminal procedures have progressed significantly since the seventeenth century, “[n]one of these modern innovations lessens the need for the defendant, personally, to have the opportunity to present to the court his plea in mitigation.” Id. Allocution continues to “ensure that sentencing reflects individualized circumstances,” United States v. De Alba Pagan, 33 F.3d 125, 129 (1st Cir. 1994) (citing United States v. Barnes, 948 F.2d 325, 328 (7th Cir. 1991), while maximizing the “perceived equity of the process.” Id. (quoting Barnes, 948 F.2d at 328). Consequently, a defendant’s right of allocution, which is codified in Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 32, remains firmly entrenched in our criminal jurisprudence.

And so, back for resentencing Mr. Perez will go.