The following editorial was published in the Washington Post on October 19, 2009.
Jaded justice
Reexamining a Bush-era policy on plea bargains and DNA
ON ITS FACE the proposition seems reasonable enough: Anyone who pleads guilty to a federal crime must give up the right to use DNA evidence in the future to challenge that conviction. This Bush-era policy would work just fine in a perfect world, where only those who actually committed crimes pleaded guilty to those offenses.
But the facts show that this is not always the case. Defendants sometimes cop to a plea for reasons having nothing to do with guilt. Some are coerced or intimidated into a confession and subsequent plea bargain. Others accept a plea offer if it provides for a much lighter sentence than could be expected if convicted at trial. In short, not everyone who pleads guilty is guilty -- and prosecutors understand this.
Yet according to The Post's Jerry Markon, the Bush Justice Department lobbied strenuously during the early part of this decade against legislation to assure inmates of access to post-conviction DNA evidence that could prove their innocence. When the bill appeared on the verge of passing, the administration succeeded in jamming through a provision that allows defendants to waive that right. Prosecutors in the Bush administration were then instructed to insist on such waivers when negotiating a plea bargain. While not all U.S. attorneys in the country went along, many routinely abided by the mandate, including federal prosecutors in the District and in Alexandria.
Attorney General Eric J. Holder Jr. has called for a reexamination of the Bush policy -- and rightly so.
DNA evidence has become an invaluable tool in the criminal justice system, providing prosecutors, defendants and victims with more certainty about guilt or innocence. The technology has been used to prove the innocence of some 240 or so wrongly convicted people, including some who had entered guilty pleas and some who were sentenced to death. It has been used countless more times to put actual offenders behind bars.
It takes a special kind of callousness and disregard for the truth to insist that a defendant give up his rights to scientific tests that could definitively prove guilt or innocence.
Mr. Holder should rebuff this jaded approach to justice by throwing out the Bush policy as soon as possible.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Louisville (KY) Courier-Journal Editorial: A tardy exoneration
October 15, 2009
A tardy exoneration
The exoneration of Edwin Chandler, who served nine years in prison for a Louisville homicide 16 years ago that he did not commit, may be an instance of justice ultimately prevailing. But it is not affirmation that the legal system worked as it should or that it has overcome inherent shortcomings.
Indeed, Mr. Chandler should never have been convicted, or probably even prosecuted. The physical evidence — fingerprints on a bottle of beer, and ownership of a knit cap and sunglasses — could not be matched to him. A man who had been pumping gasoline outside the convenience store where a clerk was shot and killed insisted that Mr. Chandler was not the perpetrator, but police largely ignored him, and he was not called to testify at trial. The police interrogator assumed from the outset that Mr. Chandler was guilty. Mr. Chandler said police used scare tactics to coerce a false confession.
The wrongful prison sentence stripped years from Mr. Chandler's life that can never be returned. It also forces the shooting victim's family to relive a nightmare that should have been closed years ago. But the biggest tragedy is that cases such as this are not a rarity in the United States.
The Innocence Project, whose Kentucky branch handled the Chandler case, says on its Web site that there have been 244 post-conviction exonerations since the venture was begun in 1992 in affiliation with Yeshiva University. Mr. Chandler's conviction seems typical of the miscarriages of justice that the project addresses. Seventy percent of the wrongfully convicted defendants are racial minorities (Mr. Chandler is black), for example, and 40 percent of the cases result in the real perpetrator being identified (a repeat offender has been indicted for the Louisville murder).
In the face of such statistics, it is appalling that the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in June that inmates in the six states that do not allow post-conviction access to DNA evidence cannot use federal civil rights laws to obtain advanced DNA testing. (The Chandler case was rectified based on fingerprints, but DNA produces most post-conviction reversals.)
The justice system is charged with getting things right — for the benefit of victims, defendants and society. The courts must recognize that this doesn't always happen, and do whatever it can, whenever it can, to prevent or reverse life-altering errors.
A tardy exoneration
The exoneration of Edwin Chandler, who served nine years in prison for a Louisville homicide 16 years ago that he did not commit, may be an instance of justice ultimately prevailing. But it is not affirmation that the legal system worked as it should or that it has overcome inherent shortcomings.
Indeed, Mr. Chandler should never have been convicted, or probably even prosecuted. The physical evidence — fingerprints on a bottle of beer, and ownership of a knit cap and sunglasses — could not be matched to him. A man who had been pumping gasoline outside the convenience store where a clerk was shot and killed insisted that Mr. Chandler was not the perpetrator, but police largely ignored him, and he was not called to testify at trial. The police interrogator assumed from the outset that Mr. Chandler was guilty. Mr. Chandler said police used scare tactics to coerce a false confession.
The wrongful prison sentence stripped years from Mr. Chandler's life that can never be returned. It also forces the shooting victim's family to relive a nightmare that should have been closed years ago. But the biggest tragedy is that cases such as this are not a rarity in the United States.
The Innocence Project, whose Kentucky branch handled the Chandler case, says on its Web site that there have been 244 post-conviction exonerations since the venture was begun in 1992 in affiliation with Yeshiva University. Mr. Chandler's conviction seems typical of the miscarriages of justice that the project addresses. Seventy percent of the wrongfully convicted defendants are racial minorities (Mr. Chandler is black), for example, and 40 percent of the cases result in the real perpetrator being identified (a repeat offender has been indicted for the Louisville murder).
In the face of such statistics, it is appalling that the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in June that inmates in the six states that do not allow post-conviction access to DNA evidence cannot use federal civil rights laws to obtain advanced DNA testing. (The Chandler case was rectified based on fingerprints, but DNA produces most post-conviction reversals.)
The justice system is charged with getting things right — for the benefit of victims, defendants and society. The courts must recognize that this doesn't always happen, and do whatever it can, whenever it can, to prevent or reverse life-altering errors.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Paul Craig Roberts: How the Feds Imprison the Innocent
The following article was originally published on October 5, 2009 at LewRockwell.com
How the Feds Imprison the Innocent
by Paul Craig Roberts
Authors of serious books seldom have cause to celebrate, but Larry Stratton and I have two reasons to open the champagne. Crown Publishing, a division of Random House, has announced a second printing of the second edition of The Tyranny of Good Intentions, and the noted civil libertarian and defense attorney, Harvey Silverglate, has just published a book covering many of the same legal cases and vetting our conclusion that in the United States every American is in grave danger from unscrupulous prosecutors who target the innocent.
For two decades I have been attempting to make Americans aware that the danger to their liberty comes not from foreign adversaries, terrorists, or criminals, but from prosecutors, who have destroyed law as a shield of the innocent and turned law into a weapon against the innocent. The Tyranny of Good Intentions (the publisher’s title) documents how the legal principles that protect our civil liberties were eroded by prosecutors even before the Bush regime obliterated what remained of the Bill of Rights.
The struggle has been uphill, because neither the right-wing nor the left-wing is emotionally content with the facts that Stratton and I present. Conservatives tend to see civil liberties as liberal coddling devices for criminals and, today, for terrorists. Predisposed to "law and order," conservatives align with police and prosecutors. They object to accounts of police misbehavior and prosecutorial abuse as propaganda in behalf of the criminal class.
The left-wing tends to see law as a tool of oppression that "the rich" use to control the lower classes, and liberals fret that "the rich" get off by hiring good lawyers, while the poor and minorities are ground under. Consequently, leftists object to the demonstration that even the very rich, such as Michael Milken, Martha Stewart, and Leona Helmsley, and even law and accounting firms, are victims of wrongful prosecution. Confusing wealth with villainy, leftists cannot free themselves from the emotional predilection that a convicted rich person must have been so guilty that not even the best lawyers could get them off.
The Tyranny of Good Intentions had a second printing of a second edition because of word of mouth, not because of reviews. Neither the right nor the left objects to wrongful prosecution as long as the victim is a bête noire. Sir Thomas More’s question (A Man For All Seasons) – what will happen to the innocent if we cut down the law in pursuit of devils? – rings no warning among right or left.
With this point made, I have come not to praise myself and my coauthor, but to praise Harvey Silverglate. If The Tyranny of Good Intentions cannot convince you, then perhaps Three Felonies A Day: How the Feds Target the Innocent can, and, if not, then both together surely will.
The Tyranny of Good Intentions is a broad stroke. It demonstrates how each civil liberty has been eroded away. Prosecutorial abuse is one chapter in the book.
Silverglate’s Three Felonies A Day focuses on how federal prosecutors invent creative interpretations of statutes, sometimes creating new felonies out of vague language or thin air, felonies never legislated by Congress. Federal criminal law is today so vast and so poorly worded that Silverglate reports, truthfully, that each of us, every American, commits three felonies every day without knowing it.
Federal judges, an increasing number of whom are former federal prosecutors, permit the prosecution of Americans for crimes that the defendants did not know were crimes, crimes that never before existed until the federal prosecutor brought the charge. The invention of crimes by prosecutors violates every known legal principle in Anglo-American law. Yet, it has become commonplace. Defense attorneys, a group that also increasingly consists of former federal prosecutors, as Silverglate accurately reports, have lost confidence that it is possible to defend a client from a federal prosecution and see their role, not as the defense, but as negotiator of a plea bargain that reduces the charges and prison time of the defendant, no matter how innocent.
Silverglate shows that many of the plea bargains create precedents that prosecutors can exploit to trap more innocent victims.
The reader by now is asking why prosecutors would waste time on the innocent when there are so many real crimes. Silverglate provides conclusive answers. For example, politically ambitious federal prosecutors, such as Rudy Giuliani and William Weld, pick high-profile targets to frame in order to build name recognition for political careers. Giuliani picked Michael Milken and Leona Helmsley. Weld picked Boston mayor Kevin White. Giuliani went on to be Mayor of New York and a candidate for the Republican presidential nomination. Weld went on to be a two-term governor of Massachusetts. Leura Canary, perhaps at the urging of Karl Rove, picked Alabama Governor Don Siegelman. Michael J. Sullivan picked Thomas Finneran, Speaker of the Massachusetts House of Representatives, and so on.
From Silverglate’s book, the reader can learn how federal prosecutors manage their frame-ups of innocents. For a targeted city or state political figure, the prosecutor first hunts for a criminal act somewhere in the bureaucracy. Perhaps some low-level person has extorted a bribe for a permit. Once such a person is caught, he or she is told that charges will be dropped if information is given that can be used to implicate the mayor or Speaker of the House or governor. As federal district court judges now permit hearsay and uncorroborated testimony, a totally innocent high-profile person can be snared on the basis of testimony by a petty crook low in the bureaucracy.
This is the way America works today. Just as state and local police cannot stand up to the FBI, elected state and local officials are powerless in the face of their pursuit by corrupt federal prosecutors.
Silverglate himself was the attorney in some of the landmark cases that he reports. The reader, even one with the usual illusions and delusions that blind Americans to their predicament, will be scared by Silverglate’s documented account, case by case, of how easy it is in "freedom and democracy" America to frame the totally innocent.
In Silverglate’s concluding chapter, "For Whom the Bell Tolls," the answer is obvious even to a naïf: "It tolls for all."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Paul Craig Roberts, a former Assistant Secretary of the US Treasury and former associate editor of the Wall Street Journal, has been reporting shocking cases of prosecutorial abuse for two decades. A new edition of his book, The Tyranny of Good Intentions, co-authored with Lawrence Stratton, a documented account of how Americans lost the protection of law, has been released by Random House.
How the Feds Imprison the Innocent
by Paul Craig Roberts
Authors of serious books seldom have cause to celebrate, but Larry Stratton and I have two reasons to open the champagne. Crown Publishing, a division of Random House, has announced a second printing of the second edition of The Tyranny of Good Intentions, and the noted civil libertarian and defense attorney, Harvey Silverglate, has just published a book covering many of the same legal cases and vetting our conclusion that in the United States every American is in grave danger from unscrupulous prosecutors who target the innocent.
For two decades I have been attempting to make Americans aware that the danger to their liberty comes not from foreign adversaries, terrorists, or criminals, but from prosecutors, who have destroyed law as a shield of the innocent and turned law into a weapon against the innocent. The Tyranny of Good Intentions (the publisher’s title) documents how the legal principles that protect our civil liberties were eroded by prosecutors even before the Bush regime obliterated what remained of the Bill of Rights.
The struggle has been uphill, because neither the right-wing nor the left-wing is emotionally content with the facts that Stratton and I present. Conservatives tend to see civil liberties as liberal coddling devices for criminals and, today, for terrorists. Predisposed to "law and order," conservatives align with police and prosecutors. They object to accounts of police misbehavior and prosecutorial abuse as propaganda in behalf of the criminal class.
The left-wing tends to see law as a tool of oppression that "the rich" use to control the lower classes, and liberals fret that "the rich" get off by hiring good lawyers, while the poor and minorities are ground under. Consequently, leftists object to the demonstration that even the very rich, such as Michael Milken, Martha Stewart, and Leona Helmsley, and even law and accounting firms, are victims of wrongful prosecution. Confusing wealth with villainy, leftists cannot free themselves from the emotional predilection that a convicted rich person must have been so guilty that not even the best lawyers could get them off.
The Tyranny of Good Intentions had a second printing of a second edition because of word of mouth, not because of reviews. Neither the right nor the left objects to wrongful prosecution as long as the victim is a bête noire. Sir Thomas More’s question (A Man For All Seasons) – what will happen to the innocent if we cut down the law in pursuit of devils? – rings no warning among right or left.
With this point made, I have come not to praise myself and my coauthor, but to praise Harvey Silverglate. If The Tyranny of Good Intentions cannot convince you, then perhaps Three Felonies A Day: How the Feds Target the Innocent can, and, if not, then both together surely will.
The Tyranny of Good Intentions is a broad stroke. It demonstrates how each civil liberty has been eroded away. Prosecutorial abuse is one chapter in the book.
Silverglate’s Three Felonies A Day focuses on how federal prosecutors invent creative interpretations of statutes, sometimes creating new felonies out of vague language or thin air, felonies never legislated by Congress. Federal criminal law is today so vast and so poorly worded that Silverglate reports, truthfully, that each of us, every American, commits three felonies every day without knowing it.
Federal judges, an increasing number of whom are former federal prosecutors, permit the prosecution of Americans for crimes that the defendants did not know were crimes, crimes that never before existed until the federal prosecutor brought the charge. The invention of crimes by prosecutors violates every known legal principle in Anglo-American law. Yet, it has become commonplace. Defense attorneys, a group that also increasingly consists of former federal prosecutors, as Silverglate accurately reports, have lost confidence that it is possible to defend a client from a federal prosecution and see their role, not as the defense, but as negotiator of a plea bargain that reduces the charges and prison time of the defendant, no matter how innocent.
Silverglate shows that many of the plea bargains create precedents that prosecutors can exploit to trap more innocent victims.
The reader by now is asking why prosecutors would waste time on the innocent when there are so many real crimes. Silverglate provides conclusive answers. For example, politically ambitious federal prosecutors, such as Rudy Giuliani and William Weld, pick high-profile targets to frame in order to build name recognition for political careers. Giuliani picked Michael Milken and Leona Helmsley. Weld picked Boston mayor Kevin White. Giuliani went on to be Mayor of New York and a candidate for the Republican presidential nomination. Weld went on to be a two-term governor of Massachusetts. Leura Canary, perhaps at the urging of Karl Rove, picked Alabama Governor Don Siegelman. Michael J. Sullivan picked Thomas Finneran, Speaker of the Massachusetts House of Representatives, and so on.
From Silverglate’s book, the reader can learn how federal prosecutors manage their frame-ups of innocents. For a targeted city or state political figure, the prosecutor first hunts for a criminal act somewhere in the bureaucracy. Perhaps some low-level person has extorted a bribe for a permit. Once such a person is caught, he or she is told that charges will be dropped if information is given that can be used to implicate the mayor or Speaker of the House or governor. As federal district court judges now permit hearsay and uncorroborated testimony, a totally innocent high-profile person can be snared on the basis of testimony by a petty crook low in the bureaucracy.
This is the way America works today. Just as state and local police cannot stand up to the FBI, elected state and local officials are powerless in the face of their pursuit by corrupt federal prosecutors.
Silverglate himself was the attorney in some of the landmark cases that he reports. The reader, even one with the usual illusions and delusions that blind Americans to their predicament, will be scared by Silverglate’s documented account, case by case, of how easy it is in "freedom and democracy" America to frame the totally innocent.
In Silverglate’s concluding chapter, "For Whom the Bell Tolls," the answer is obvious even to a naïf: "It tolls for all."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Paul Craig Roberts, a former Assistant Secretary of the US Treasury and former associate editor of the Wall Street Journal, has been reporting shocking cases of prosecutorial abuse for two decades. A new edition of his book, The Tyranny of Good Intentions, co-authored with Lawrence Stratton, a documented account of how Americans lost the protection of law, has been released by Random House.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Guest Shot: No help for the innocent
The following editorial was published in the Detroit (MI) Free Press on October 8, 2009.
No help for the innocent
Freed after a wrongful conviction, ex-prisoners get no redress
By JEFF GERRITT
Had DeShawn Reed been paroled from prison, instead of walking out under a court order, the state would have given him $75, a bus ride home, and maybe a little help finding a job or apartment. Instead, the wrongly convicted prisoner got nada, after serving eight years of a 20-year sentence for assault with intent to murder. Reed, 34, of Ecorse, who's unemployed and living with his disabled mother, wasn't even eligible for a boost from the Michigan Prisoner Re-entry Initiative.
In July, Wayne County Circuit Judge Patricia Fresard threw out the conviction of Reed and his uncle Marvin Reed for a 2000 shooting that left Shannon Gholston a quadriplegic. Gholston recanted his testimony, and the Michigan Innocence Clinic at the University of Michigan Law School produced evidence that another man -- found dead with the gun that was used in Gholston's shooting -- was the shooter. On July 31, inmate number 376440 became a free man.
"At least someone should have apologized to my mother and kids," Reed, who had maintained his innocence in prison, told me last week. "I heard nothing from the governor, nothing from (Wayne County Prosecutor) Kym Worthy."
And nothing from the Michigan Department of Treasury.
Nearly 20 states now have laws granting compensation to people wrongly convicted. Even Texas, with an express lane to Death Row, pays $25,000 a year.
It's time this state did what politicians and the state Parole Board expect prisoners to do: Admit a mistake and own up to it.
A bill introduced by state Sen. Martha Scott, D-Highland Park, would bring Michigan in line with the federal Innocence Protection Act, which gives the wrongly convicted $50,000 for every year they were in prison. It would also make inmates with court-vacated convictions eligible for education benefits and court costs.
Wrongful convictions occur far more often than people realize, especially with Michigan's limp indigent defense system. Incontestable DNA or other compelling evidence reverses only a tiny fraction of wrongful conviction cases. Still, dozens of Michigan inmates have had convictions overturned, including the high-profile DNA exonerations of Kenneth Wyniemko, who served nine years for a rape he didn't commit, and Eddie Joe Lloyd, wrongly imprisoned for 17 years for rape and murder.
More are coming. The new Michigan Innocence Clinic may be the nation's sole innocence project that takes only non-DNA cases, said co-founder David Moran. The clinic is now pressing for the release of another prisoner, Karl Vinson, 54, who was wrongly convicted 23 years ago of rape.
Nothing can repay people for time spent in prison for a crime they didn't commit. Still, the government that carried out the injustice should help them get their lives back. The money acknowledges a wrong and gives much needed assistance to ex-inmates who have lost their assets and savings.
"Someone should pay," Reed told me. "It's really easy to go to prison for something you didn't do. Unless it happens to you or to someone you love, you don't think about it."
JEFF GERRITT is a Free Press editorial writer. Contact him at gerritt@freepress.com or 313-222-6585.
No help for the innocent
Freed after a wrongful conviction, ex-prisoners get no redress
By JEFF GERRITT
Had DeShawn Reed been paroled from prison, instead of walking out under a court order, the state would have given him $75, a bus ride home, and maybe a little help finding a job or apartment. Instead, the wrongly convicted prisoner got nada, after serving eight years of a 20-year sentence for assault with intent to murder. Reed, 34, of Ecorse, who's unemployed and living with his disabled mother, wasn't even eligible for a boost from the Michigan Prisoner Re-entry Initiative.
In July, Wayne County Circuit Judge Patricia Fresard threw out the conviction of Reed and his uncle Marvin Reed for a 2000 shooting that left Shannon Gholston a quadriplegic. Gholston recanted his testimony, and the Michigan Innocence Clinic at the University of Michigan Law School produced evidence that another man -- found dead with the gun that was used in Gholston's shooting -- was the shooter. On July 31, inmate number 376440 became a free man.
"At least someone should have apologized to my mother and kids," Reed, who had maintained his innocence in prison, told me last week. "I heard nothing from the governor, nothing from (Wayne County Prosecutor) Kym Worthy."
And nothing from the Michigan Department of Treasury.
Nearly 20 states now have laws granting compensation to people wrongly convicted. Even Texas, with an express lane to Death Row, pays $25,000 a year.
It's time this state did what politicians and the state Parole Board expect prisoners to do: Admit a mistake and own up to it.
A bill introduced by state Sen. Martha Scott, D-Highland Park, would bring Michigan in line with the federal Innocence Protection Act, which gives the wrongly convicted $50,000 for every year they were in prison. It would also make inmates with court-vacated convictions eligible for education benefits and court costs.
Wrongful convictions occur far more often than people realize, especially with Michigan's limp indigent defense system. Incontestable DNA or other compelling evidence reverses only a tiny fraction of wrongful conviction cases. Still, dozens of Michigan inmates have had convictions overturned, including the high-profile DNA exonerations of Kenneth Wyniemko, who served nine years for a rape he didn't commit, and Eddie Joe Lloyd, wrongly imprisoned for 17 years for rape and murder.
More are coming. The new Michigan Innocence Clinic may be the nation's sole innocence project that takes only non-DNA cases, said co-founder David Moran. The clinic is now pressing for the release of another prisoner, Karl Vinson, 54, who was wrongly convicted 23 years ago of rape.
Nothing can repay people for time spent in prison for a crime they didn't commit. Still, the government that carried out the injustice should help them get their lives back. The money acknowledges a wrong and gives much needed assistance to ex-inmates who have lost their assets and savings.
"Someone should pay," Reed told me. "It's really easy to go to prison for something you didn't do. Unless it happens to you or to someone you love, you don't think about it."
JEFF GERRITT is a Free Press editorial writer. Contact him at gerritt@freepress.com or 313-222-6585.
Guest Shot: 'Due process' often sends the innocent to jail
The following editorial was published in the Miami (FL) Herald on October 6, 2009.
'Due process' often sends the innocent to jail
By RONALD FRASER Guest Columnist
On paper at least, the Constitution's "due process" clause is the citizen's guarantee against wrongful conviction and imprisonment. But once inside a courtroom, all bets are off. Research shows that eyewitness misidentification, false confessions and government use of snitches as witnesses -- all part of due process -- too often put innocent people behind bars.
According to Innocence Project attorneys at the Cardozo School of Law in New York City, courts in 34 states have used DNA testing to reverse more than 230 criminal convictions and free wrongly convicted persons who, on average, spent 12 years in prison.
In Florida, 10 prior convictions have been nullified. The state's first reversal took place in 2000 but was too late to free Frank Lee Smith, who died of cancer in prison after serving 14 years for a murder he did not commit. In part, Smith was convicted based on eyewitness testimony that he was seen leaving the scene of the crime.
The latest reversal in Florida occurred in 2008 when, after serving 26 years in prison, William Dillon was cleared of a 1981 murder conviction. Prosecutors had used eyewitness testimony from a former girlfriend that placed Dillon at the crime scene and the testimony of a jailhouse snitch who said Dillon admitted guilt while in jail awaiting trial.
These cases expose serious breakdowns in America's justice systems. If the courtroom failures found in these cases are at work in all state and local justice systems, what good are constitutional guarantees?
Each year many thousands of cases are decided in which DNA evidence is not available as a technical check on the reliability of traditional evidence. In these cases a person's guilt or innocence may very well be determined by error-prone eyewitness testimony, unreliable forensic procedures, government snitches and false, self-incriminating statements often obtained under heavy duress.
"These DNA exoneration cases," says the Innocence Project, "have provided irrefutable proof that wrongful convictions are not isolated or rare events, but arise from systemic defects that can be precisely identified and addressed."
Eyewitness misidentification testimony was a factor in 74 percent of post-conviction DNA exoneration cases, making it the leading cause of these wrongful convictions. And two in five of these eyewitness identifications involved cross-racial identification. Studies have shown that people are less able to recognize faces of a different race than their own.
Traditional eyewitness identification procedures are known to give unintended clues that result in misidentifications. The project recommends using double-blind lineups, where neither the witness nor the lineup administrators know the suspect.
Invalidated forensic evidence played a role in about 50 percent of the wrongful convictions later overturned by DNA testing. Unlike DNA testing, which is based on solid scientific research, according to the project, other forensic techniques used in courtrooms, such as hair microscopy, bite-mark comparisons and shoe-print comparisons have never been subjected to rigorous scientific evaluation.
In addition to the need to validate all forensic techniques scientifically, the technicians using techniques that are already validated, such as blood typing, need to be well trained to ensure that test results are accurate.
False confessions lead to wrongful convictions in approximately 25 percent of the cases, many involving defendants under 18 years of age or younger or developmentally disabled persons. To prevent coercion and to provide an accurate record, all police interrogations should be electronically recorded, says the project. In homicide cases, the states of Illinois, Maine and New Mexico already require taping of interrogations.
Snitches contributed to wrongful conviction in 16 percent of the cases. Snitch testimony is unreliable because it may be offered in return for deals, special treatment or the dropping of charges. All communications between snitches and prosecutors should be recorded and judges should instruct juries that snitch testimony is unreliable.
Governments exist to protect the rights of individuals. But when federal, state and local government prosecutors and judges knowingly tolerate judicial processes that violate the constitutional rights of citizens they, themselves, become rights violators.
Ronald Fraser, Ph.D., writes on public policy issues for the DKT Liberty Project, a Washington- based civil liberties organization. E-mail: fraserr@erols.com
'Due process' often sends the innocent to jail
By RONALD FRASER Guest Columnist
On paper at least, the Constitution's "due process" clause is the citizen's guarantee against wrongful conviction and imprisonment. But once inside a courtroom, all bets are off. Research shows that eyewitness misidentification, false confessions and government use of snitches as witnesses -- all part of due process -- too often put innocent people behind bars.
According to Innocence Project attorneys at the Cardozo School of Law in New York City, courts in 34 states have used DNA testing to reverse more than 230 criminal convictions and free wrongly convicted persons who, on average, spent 12 years in prison.
In Florida, 10 prior convictions have been nullified. The state's first reversal took place in 2000 but was too late to free Frank Lee Smith, who died of cancer in prison after serving 14 years for a murder he did not commit. In part, Smith was convicted based on eyewitness testimony that he was seen leaving the scene of the crime.
The latest reversal in Florida occurred in 2008 when, after serving 26 years in prison, William Dillon was cleared of a 1981 murder conviction. Prosecutors had used eyewitness testimony from a former girlfriend that placed Dillon at the crime scene and the testimony of a jailhouse snitch who said Dillon admitted guilt while in jail awaiting trial.
These cases expose serious breakdowns in America's justice systems. If the courtroom failures found in these cases are at work in all state and local justice systems, what good are constitutional guarantees?
Each year many thousands of cases are decided in which DNA evidence is not available as a technical check on the reliability of traditional evidence. In these cases a person's guilt or innocence may very well be determined by error-prone eyewitness testimony, unreliable forensic procedures, government snitches and false, self-incriminating statements often obtained under heavy duress.
"These DNA exoneration cases," says the Innocence Project, "have provided irrefutable proof that wrongful convictions are not isolated or rare events, but arise from systemic defects that can be precisely identified and addressed."
Eyewitness misidentification testimony was a factor in 74 percent of post-conviction DNA exoneration cases, making it the leading cause of these wrongful convictions. And two in five of these eyewitness identifications involved cross-racial identification. Studies have shown that people are less able to recognize faces of a different race than their own.
Traditional eyewitness identification procedures are known to give unintended clues that result in misidentifications. The project recommends using double-blind lineups, where neither the witness nor the lineup administrators know the suspect.
Invalidated forensic evidence played a role in about 50 percent of the wrongful convictions later overturned by DNA testing. Unlike DNA testing, which is based on solid scientific research, according to the project, other forensic techniques used in courtrooms, such as hair microscopy, bite-mark comparisons and shoe-print comparisons have never been subjected to rigorous scientific evaluation.
In addition to the need to validate all forensic techniques scientifically, the technicians using techniques that are already validated, such as blood typing, need to be well trained to ensure that test results are accurate.
False confessions lead to wrongful convictions in approximately 25 percent of the cases, many involving defendants under 18 years of age or younger or developmentally disabled persons. To prevent coercion and to provide an accurate record, all police interrogations should be electronically recorded, says the project. In homicide cases, the states of Illinois, Maine and New Mexico already require taping of interrogations.
Snitches contributed to wrongful conviction in 16 percent of the cases. Snitch testimony is unreliable because it may be offered in return for deals, special treatment or the dropping of charges. All communications between snitches and prosecutors should be recorded and judges should instruct juries that snitch testimony is unreliable.
Governments exist to protect the rights of individuals. But when federal, state and local government prosecutors and judges knowingly tolerate judicial processes that violate the constitutional rights of citizens they, themselves, become rights violators.
Ronald Fraser, Ph.D., writes on public policy issues for the DKT Liberty Project, a Washington- based civil liberties organization. E-mail: fraserr@erols.com
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Guest Shot: Why Wrongful Convictions Must Decrease
Why Wrongful Convictions Must Decrease
by Adrienne Carlson
It’s worse when an innocent person is convicted than when a guilty one is let free, as any victim of a wrongful conviction will tell you. When you know in your heart that you’re innocent, when the system has worked against you simply because you were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, you feel a burning sense of anger and helplessness at the criminal justice system that ruined your life. Wrongful convictions are now being overthrown with the surfacing of new evidence, mainly where DNA is available and can clear innocent people of crimes they had been convicted for when forensic science was not as developed as it is now.
While the guilty must be punished, the innocent must not be convicted, and the number of wrongful convictions must decrease because:
• They let the guilty party get away: This is the worst side effect of wrongful convictions – when an innocent person is convicted, it automatically implies that the one guilty of the crime goes scot-free. This allows him or her to continue to perpetrate crimes and bringing disaster to the lives of many others. When law enforcement officers let down their guard thinking that they have the guilty person, the one who actually committed the crime becomes emboldened to continue to hurt more innocent people.
• They ruin lives: The conviction of an innocent person is devastating for the victim and their family. Their entire lives are changed; for the victim, a life in jail is torture and sheer misery – he or she is not used to the rigors of the system and are broken mentally and physically by the time they complete their sentence or are released for good behavior or by new evidence which helps in their exoneration. As for the families, they are treated as outcasts by society and are shunned in their social and other circles. Their lives are never the same again, and even if the victim is exonerated, in the eyes of society, he or she is branded a criminal for life.
• They erode confidence in the legal system: When wrongful convictions happen, they decrease the confidence that the public has in the legal and criminal justice system. People start to believe that the system is deficient and full of faults; they are hesitant to report crimes and other offenses because they do not believe in the ability of the law enforcement officers to bring the right person to book.
• They dilute the authority of law enforcement officers: Most wrongful convictions happen because of cops and other law enforcement officers who do not do their job correctly and are misled by evidence that points to the wrong person. All they are interested in is convicting someone, and to them, it need not be the guilty party. Others are guilty of not investigating enough to find the real criminal. This dilutes their standing as authoritative figures in the public eye, and the entire community of law enforcement takes a beating.
By-line:
This guest article was written by Adrienne Carlson, who regularly writes on the topic of forensic scientist schools. Adrienne welcomes your comments and questions at her email address: adrienne.carlson83@yahoo.com
by Adrienne Carlson
It’s worse when an innocent person is convicted than when a guilty one is let free, as any victim of a wrongful conviction will tell you. When you know in your heart that you’re innocent, when the system has worked against you simply because you were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, you feel a burning sense of anger and helplessness at the criminal justice system that ruined your life. Wrongful convictions are now being overthrown with the surfacing of new evidence, mainly where DNA is available and can clear innocent people of crimes they had been convicted for when forensic science was not as developed as it is now.
While the guilty must be punished, the innocent must not be convicted, and the number of wrongful convictions must decrease because:
• They let the guilty party get away: This is the worst side effect of wrongful convictions – when an innocent person is convicted, it automatically implies that the one guilty of the crime goes scot-free. This allows him or her to continue to perpetrate crimes and bringing disaster to the lives of many others. When law enforcement officers let down their guard thinking that they have the guilty person, the one who actually committed the crime becomes emboldened to continue to hurt more innocent people.
• They ruin lives: The conviction of an innocent person is devastating for the victim and their family. Their entire lives are changed; for the victim, a life in jail is torture and sheer misery – he or she is not used to the rigors of the system and are broken mentally and physically by the time they complete their sentence or are released for good behavior or by new evidence which helps in their exoneration. As for the families, they are treated as outcasts by society and are shunned in their social and other circles. Their lives are never the same again, and even if the victim is exonerated, in the eyes of society, he or she is branded a criminal for life.
• They erode confidence in the legal system: When wrongful convictions happen, they decrease the confidence that the public has in the legal and criminal justice system. People start to believe that the system is deficient and full of faults; they are hesitant to report crimes and other offenses because they do not believe in the ability of the law enforcement officers to bring the right person to book.
• They dilute the authority of law enforcement officers: Most wrongful convictions happen because of cops and other law enforcement officers who do not do their job correctly and are misled by evidence that points to the wrong person. All they are interested in is convicting someone, and to them, it need not be the guilty party. Others are guilty of not investigating enough to find the real criminal. This dilutes their standing as authoritative figures in the public eye, and the entire community of law enforcement takes a beating.
By-line:
This guest article was written by Adrienne Carlson, who regularly writes on the topic of forensic scientist schools. Adrienne welcomes your comments and questions at her email address: adrienne.carlson83@yahoo.com
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Charlotte (NC) News & Observer Editorial
The following editorial was published in the Charlotte (NC) News & Observer on October 6, 2009.
Not pretty
A $3.9 million settlement by the SBI and its insurance companies may offer lifetime security for Alan Gell, a Bertie County man (he's now 35) who was charged with murder in 1995, sentenced to death, and then acquitted in a new trial in 2004. But the Gell case itself cast disturbing clouds over a justice system that managed to put Gell's life in jeopardy because of what appears to be seriously flawed investigative work on the part of the State Bureau of Investigation and prosecutors too eager to obtain a conviction.
Those prosecutors, David Hoke and Debra Graves of the state Attorney General's Office, were reprimanded by the State Bar for withholding evidence and not reading their files. A suit by Gell against the prosecutors was dismissed because they enjoyed absolute immunity under the law.
SBI investigator Dwight Ransome, however, was seen by his attorney to be at risk in a suit, and so a settlement was made.
The News & Observer's Joseph Neff, whose 2002 series, "Time of Death," on the murder of retired truck driver Allen Ray Jenkins and Gell's wrongful conviction in that murder helped to bring about the new trial, reported last week on the settlement and then on Ransome's conduct of the investigation. It was not a pretty picture.
Ransome, who joined the SBI in 1983, has conducted more than 50 murder investigations, including the Jenkins case. The victim, a former truck driver known for wild parties and trading drugs for sex, was killed in April of 1995 in Aulander, a Bertie town in northeastern North Carolina.
Ransome pegged Gell for the crime based on what two teenage girls said at the time. The testimony of one of them was the only evidence that supposedly tied Gell to the murder.
What didn't tie him to the slaying were statements from 17 other witnesses who said they had seen Jenkins alive after the date Gell was alleged to have killed him. That was important, because Gell was either in jail or out of state on the days these witnesses said they'd seen Jenkins. Despite those statements, Ransome, who is still with the SBI but no longer conducting investigations, pressed on. Gell was tried and convicted.
The investigation was sloppy by a veteran SBI agent, and that's disturbing. Prosecutors did not cover themselves in glory, and that's equally disturbing. But most disturbing of all, in terms of seriously calling into question the fairness of the justice system, is that Alan Gell might have been put to death by the state. (He's now in prison serving time for having sex with a 15-year-old girlfriend.)
The way this case was handled was disgraceful, but what might have been a grave outcome amplifies the magnitude of mistakes made and frankly demands a vast review of other investigations in which Ransome might have been involved.
Alan Gell might have been a troubled young man, but he didn't deserve to die for a crime for which all sorts of doubts as to his guilt were in play. The district attorney of Bertie County has since said he probably would not have ever charged Gell if he'd known about all the evidence in his favor.
For state officials, including Attorney General Roy Cooper, the financial settlement should not be the end of this. Not if he and others involved in the case, and in other cases ongoing all over the state, wish to restore confidence in the system and their own credibility.
Not pretty
A $3.9 million settlement by the SBI and its insurance companies may offer lifetime security for Alan Gell, a Bertie County man (he's now 35) who was charged with murder in 1995, sentenced to death, and then acquitted in a new trial in 2004. But the Gell case itself cast disturbing clouds over a justice system that managed to put Gell's life in jeopardy because of what appears to be seriously flawed investigative work on the part of the State Bureau of Investigation and prosecutors too eager to obtain a conviction.
Those prosecutors, David Hoke and Debra Graves of the state Attorney General's Office, were reprimanded by the State Bar for withholding evidence and not reading their files. A suit by Gell against the prosecutors was dismissed because they enjoyed absolute immunity under the law.
SBI investigator Dwight Ransome, however, was seen by his attorney to be at risk in a suit, and so a settlement was made.
The News & Observer's Joseph Neff, whose 2002 series, "Time of Death," on the murder of retired truck driver Allen Ray Jenkins and Gell's wrongful conviction in that murder helped to bring about the new trial, reported last week on the settlement and then on Ransome's conduct of the investigation. It was not a pretty picture.
Ransome, who joined the SBI in 1983, has conducted more than 50 murder investigations, including the Jenkins case. The victim, a former truck driver known for wild parties and trading drugs for sex, was killed in April of 1995 in Aulander, a Bertie town in northeastern North Carolina.
Ransome pegged Gell for the crime based on what two teenage girls said at the time. The testimony of one of them was the only evidence that supposedly tied Gell to the murder.
What didn't tie him to the slaying were statements from 17 other witnesses who said they had seen Jenkins alive after the date Gell was alleged to have killed him. That was important, because Gell was either in jail or out of state on the days these witnesses said they'd seen Jenkins. Despite those statements, Ransome, who is still with the SBI but no longer conducting investigations, pressed on. Gell was tried and convicted.
The investigation was sloppy by a veteran SBI agent, and that's disturbing. Prosecutors did not cover themselves in glory, and that's equally disturbing. But most disturbing of all, in terms of seriously calling into question the fairness of the justice system, is that Alan Gell might have been put to death by the state. (He's now in prison serving time for having sex with a 15-year-old girlfriend.)
The way this case was handled was disgraceful, but what might have been a grave outcome amplifies the magnitude of mistakes made and frankly demands a vast review of other investigations in which Ransome might have been involved.
Alan Gell might have been a troubled young man, but he didn't deserve to die for a crime for which all sorts of doubts as to his guilt were in play. The district attorney of Bertie County has since said he probably would not have ever charged Gell if he'd known about all the evidence in his favor.
For state officials, including Attorney General Roy Cooper, the financial settlement should not be the end of this. Not if he and others involved in the case, and in other cases ongoing all over the state, wish to restore confidence in the system and their own credibility.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Houston Chronicle Editorial: Bad Smell
The following Houston Chronicle editorial was published on September 30, 2009.
Bad smell
We love dogs, but we have our limits. We don't think they should be allowed to vote, hold public office or provide court testimony.
The problem is, that last bit — the part about court testimony — isn't a joke. Like most other states, Texas allows its courts to use evidence from “scent lineups,” in which dogs supposedly match a suspect's scent to items found at a crime scene.
A new report by the Innocence Project of Texas shows that scent lineups don't pass the smell test. Whether accidentally or on purpose, it's easy for handlers to cue eager-to-please dogs to give whatever answer the handler wants. Experts say that rigorously trained dogs, working under perfect conditions, are right only about 85 percent of the time. And because so few dog-and-handler teams could perform the lineups successfully, the National Police Bloodhound Association no longer teaches dog handlers how to do them.
The Innocence Project proclaims scent lineups “junk science,” and in some depth, the report describes the career of dog handler Keith Pikett, a deputy with the Fort Bend County Sheriff's Department who's done scent lineups all over Texas.
The report tells a disturbing story. Earlier this year, based on scent matches from Pikett's dogs, a man was charged with rape and robbery in Yoakum County — but DNA evidence later cleared him. After a 2006 Pikett scent lineup, a man was named the prime suspect in a Victoria murder — but then someone else confessed to it. Yet another Pikett scent lineup following a 2007 string of Houston burglaries led to an incorrect arrest. Vic Wisner, the Harris County prosecutor in charge of that case, was so disgusted that he e-mailed other prosecutors to warn them about Pikett.
In relation to a recent lawsuit against Pikett, Bob Coote, formerly the United Kingdom's head of police-dog training, reviewed a tape of one of Pikett's scent lineups. Coote called it “the most primitive evidential police procedure I have ever witnessed.”
He added: “I could have been watching a comedy.”
We wish that he had been. Dogs doing human stuff can be hilarious. (Where would YouTube be without canine skateboarding?) But in a courtroom, their evidence isn't funny at all.
Bad smell
We love dogs, but we have our limits. We don't think they should be allowed to vote, hold public office or provide court testimony.
The problem is, that last bit — the part about court testimony — isn't a joke. Like most other states, Texas allows its courts to use evidence from “scent lineups,” in which dogs supposedly match a suspect's scent to items found at a crime scene.
A new report by the Innocence Project of Texas shows that scent lineups don't pass the smell test. Whether accidentally or on purpose, it's easy for handlers to cue eager-to-please dogs to give whatever answer the handler wants. Experts say that rigorously trained dogs, working under perfect conditions, are right only about 85 percent of the time. And because so few dog-and-handler teams could perform the lineups successfully, the National Police Bloodhound Association no longer teaches dog handlers how to do them.
The Innocence Project proclaims scent lineups “junk science,” and in some depth, the report describes the career of dog handler Keith Pikett, a deputy with the Fort Bend County Sheriff's Department who's done scent lineups all over Texas.
The report tells a disturbing story. Earlier this year, based on scent matches from Pikett's dogs, a man was charged with rape and robbery in Yoakum County — but DNA evidence later cleared him. After a 2006 Pikett scent lineup, a man was named the prime suspect in a Victoria murder — but then someone else confessed to it. Yet another Pikett scent lineup following a 2007 string of Houston burglaries led to an incorrect arrest. Vic Wisner, the Harris County prosecutor in charge of that case, was so disgusted that he e-mailed other prosecutors to warn them about Pikett.
In relation to a recent lawsuit against Pikett, Bob Coote, formerly the United Kingdom's head of police-dog training, reviewed a tape of one of Pikett's scent lineups. Coote called it “the most primitive evidential police procedure I have ever witnessed.”
He added: “I could have been watching a comedy.”
We wish that he had been. Dogs doing human stuff can be hilarious. (Where would YouTube be without canine skateboarding?) But in a courtroom, their evidence isn't funny at all.
Monday, September 21, 2009
LA Times Editorial: Making forensic science scientific
The following editorial was published by the Los Angeles Times on September 21, 2009.
Making forensic science scientific
Establishing national forensic science standards is crucial when evidence determines life or death.
September 21, 2009
With the busiest death chamber in the nation, it was only a matter of time before Texas positioned itself to become the first state to admit that it executed a person who was wrongfully convicted. And now that day is at hand.
According to a nationally respected fire engineer, the so-called scientific evidence used to convict Cameron Todd Willingham of setting a blaze that killed his three daughters in 1995 was not scientific at all. In his scathing report to the Texas Forensic Science Commission, Craig Beyler found that the arson investigators on the case had a poor understanding of fire dynamics and based their conclusions on erroneous assumptions, sloppy research and a dash of mysticism. For example, one investigator determined that, because the house fire burned "hot and fast," an accelerant such as gasoline had been used to set it. But that theory -- still given credence in some investigatory circles -- is not factual. Gasoline fires are not significantly hotter than those started with wood, Beyler reported.
Willingham's case is heartbreaking: He lost his children to fire and his wife to divorce, spent 12 years in prison and died still protesting his innocence. But his is not an isolated case. There are thousands of Willinghams in prisons across the country. If not on death row, they are nonetheless serving decades-long or even life sentences after having been convicted on the basis of erroneous scientific conclusions made by poorly trained "experts."
In 2006, Congress charged the National Academy of Sciences with studying the application of forensic science in the U.S. judicial system. Its findings, released last year, are grim. Almost every branch of forensics but DNA testing -- hair and fiber analysis, arson investigations, comparisons of bite marks -- lacks the extensive scientific research and established standards to be used in court conclusively.
Consider: Last year, the Innocence Project, a New York-based public policy and litigation organization, helped exonerate Kennedy Brewer, a Mississippi man who had been convicted in 1992 of raping and killing a 3-year-old girl. DNA testing was not available at the time, and the primary evidence against him was that bite marks on the child's body matched his teeth. Examination of the marks by national forensics experts determined that they were not even made by a human mouth: Her body had been dumped in a pond and insects had attacked it. Subsequent DNA testing also excluded Brewer as the rapist.
In February, the science academy issued a report calling for Congress to create a national institute of forensic science, and there is more than enough evidence that one is desperately needed. As an independent agency, not part of the Justice Department, it would be charged with conducting research, setting national standards for forensic disciplines and enforcing those standards. Right now, standards vary wildly. An expert in San Diego, for example, might testify that a fiber is similar to one found at a crime scene, while an expert in San Bernardino might testify that a match is impossible to determine.
Advances in forensics have revolutionized the judicial system, aiding both prosecutors and defense attorneys, exonerating the innocent and confirming the guilty in ways that were impossible just a generation ago. The patchwork state of forensic science should not become an excuse to shy away from its use; rather, the nation should invest in the rigorous research required to standardize techniques and application.
The Senate Judiciary Committee held hearings on the science academy's recommendations this month, and it is to be hoped that the end result is a national forensics institute. The fate of thousands hangs on the correct analysis of a thread, a hair, the fibers of a rug. We can do better by them, even if it's too late for Willingham.
Making forensic science scientific
Establishing national forensic science standards is crucial when evidence determines life or death.
September 21, 2009
With the busiest death chamber in the nation, it was only a matter of time before Texas positioned itself to become the first state to admit that it executed a person who was wrongfully convicted. And now that day is at hand.
According to a nationally respected fire engineer, the so-called scientific evidence used to convict Cameron Todd Willingham of setting a blaze that killed his three daughters in 1995 was not scientific at all. In his scathing report to the Texas Forensic Science Commission, Craig Beyler found that the arson investigators on the case had a poor understanding of fire dynamics and based their conclusions on erroneous assumptions, sloppy research and a dash of mysticism. For example, one investigator determined that, because the house fire burned "hot and fast," an accelerant such as gasoline had been used to set it. But that theory -- still given credence in some investigatory circles -- is not factual. Gasoline fires are not significantly hotter than those started with wood, Beyler reported.
Willingham's case is heartbreaking: He lost his children to fire and his wife to divorce, spent 12 years in prison and died still protesting his innocence. But his is not an isolated case. There are thousands of Willinghams in prisons across the country. If not on death row, they are nonetheless serving decades-long or even life sentences after having been convicted on the basis of erroneous scientific conclusions made by poorly trained "experts."
In 2006, Congress charged the National Academy of Sciences with studying the application of forensic science in the U.S. judicial system. Its findings, released last year, are grim. Almost every branch of forensics but DNA testing -- hair and fiber analysis, arson investigations, comparisons of bite marks -- lacks the extensive scientific research and established standards to be used in court conclusively.
Consider: Last year, the Innocence Project, a New York-based public policy and litigation organization, helped exonerate Kennedy Brewer, a Mississippi man who had been convicted in 1992 of raping and killing a 3-year-old girl. DNA testing was not available at the time, and the primary evidence against him was that bite marks on the child's body matched his teeth. Examination of the marks by national forensics experts determined that they were not even made by a human mouth: Her body had been dumped in a pond and insects had attacked it. Subsequent DNA testing also excluded Brewer as the rapist.
In February, the science academy issued a report calling for Congress to create a national institute of forensic science, and there is more than enough evidence that one is desperately needed. As an independent agency, not part of the Justice Department, it would be charged with conducting research, setting national standards for forensic disciplines and enforcing those standards. Right now, standards vary wildly. An expert in San Diego, for example, might testify that a fiber is similar to one found at a crime scene, while an expert in San Bernardino might testify that a match is impossible to determine.
Advances in forensics have revolutionized the judicial system, aiding both prosecutors and defense attorneys, exonerating the innocent and confirming the guilty in ways that were impossible just a generation ago. The patchwork state of forensic science should not become an excuse to shy away from its use; rather, the nation should invest in the rigorous research required to standardize techniques and application.
The Senate Judiciary Committee held hearings on the science academy's recommendations this month, and it is to be hoped that the end result is a national forensics institute. The fate of thousands hangs on the correct analysis of a thread, a hair, the fibers of a rug. We can do better by them, even if it's too late for Willingham.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Guest Shot: A missed chance for compassion
The following commentary was originally published in the Philadelphia Inquirer on September 14, 2009.
Commentary
A missed chance for compassion
An American Indian activist is denied parole. The sad fact: Nobody notices.
By David Biddle
Saturday was Leonard Peltier's 65th birthday, and he has spent almost half his life in jail.
Peltier, an American Indian Movement (AIM) activist, has been in prison since 1977, found guilty of executing two FBI agents during a shootout at Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.
His case is marred by allegations of witness coercion, judicial fiat, FBI incompetence, and an anti-Indian vigilante mentality. Those of us who followed the militant days of AIM waited hopefully on July 28 for the parole commission to determine whether Peltier had finally paid his dues to society.
Federal parole eligibility for life sentence offenders does not mean freedom or exoneration; it means serving the remainder of a life sentence under supervision of one's community. Eric Seitz, Peltier's attorney, said that his client spoke for more than an hour with "great eloquence . . . we thought it went very well."
Peltier represents one of America's most complex and controversial face-offs between the law-and-order perspective and minority community rights. June 26, 1975, was the culmination of a three-year mini-war between traditionalist and assimilationist factions on the reservation. The assimilationists were using vigilante enforcers to terrorize the traditionalists. AIM, a nationally recognized Indian's rights group that used civil disobedience - and, in those days, weapons - was called in to protect the traditionalists.
The details of that day are twisted now in myth, legend, and distortion - on both sides. We know that two young FBI agents, Jack Coler and Ronald Williams, followed a truck in separate cars onto the Jumping Bull compound and that the truck's occupants eventually jumped out and opened fire on the agents from high ground. Both agents were wounded in this first volley. The truck occupants were joined by a number of AIM members staying in tents on the compound. All were armed, many with high-powered rifles.
Some time after wounding the agents, Peltier and two other AIM members went down to the cars. This is where the story gets twisted up. The government prosecuted Peltier using circumstantial evidence to prove he executed the agents at point-blank range. Peltier and others who were there that day say the agents had already been shot. An AIM member was also killed in the shootout. His death was never investigated. There is no question that this was a senseless, destructive scene arising out of a time of great frustration and fear.
On Aug. 21, we learned that Peltier had been denied parole. The Associated Press offered a brief synopsis of the decision, but few mainstream publications printed this. Most national broadcast outlets posted the AP story online, but offered no TV or radio coverage.
How could Peltier's parole hearing not stir the national media into at least a small frenzy? Forget which side is right. The outcome of that hearing was real news. Peltier's case is the most poignant and powerful reminder of what this society has done to Indian tribes for nearly half a millennium - also what Indians have done to themselves. And we choose, sadly, to ignore all of this.
To grant Peltier parole was an opportunity, albeit very small, for the United States to begin to turn the page on its history with Native America - to show mercy and compassion. Why was this opportunity not news?
But even the denial of parole was a story: law and order trumps human rights; punishment vs. rehabilitation; forgetting the FBI's dark record; one man's political prisoner is another's thug.
What does virtually ignoring this case say about the media? About us as a nation? Do we just not care? Is all that Indian stuff now just water under the bridge?
Media companies are very concerned about profits these days. Maybe if there were more concern about covering issues that no one knows about, rather than issues where everyone thinks he knows everything, people would buy more papers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
David Biddle writes the blog "The Formality of Occurrence" at www.formalityoccurrence.blogspot.com.
Commentary
A missed chance for compassion
An American Indian activist is denied parole. The sad fact: Nobody notices.
By David Biddle
Saturday was Leonard Peltier's 65th birthday, and he has spent almost half his life in jail.
Peltier, an American Indian Movement (AIM) activist, has been in prison since 1977, found guilty of executing two FBI agents during a shootout at Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.
His case is marred by allegations of witness coercion, judicial fiat, FBI incompetence, and an anti-Indian vigilante mentality. Those of us who followed the militant days of AIM waited hopefully on July 28 for the parole commission to determine whether Peltier had finally paid his dues to society.
Federal parole eligibility for life sentence offenders does not mean freedom or exoneration; it means serving the remainder of a life sentence under supervision of one's community. Eric Seitz, Peltier's attorney, said that his client spoke for more than an hour with "great eloquence . . . we thought it went very well."
Peltier represents one of America's most complex and controversial face-offs between the law-and-order perspective and minority community rights. June 26, 1975, was the culmination of a three-year mini-war between traditionalist and assimilationist factions on the reservation. The assimilationists were using vigilante enforcers to terrorize the traditionalists. AIM, a nationally recognized Indian's rights group that used civil disobedience - and, in those days, weapons - was called in to protect the traditionalists.
The details of that day are twisted now in myth, legend, and distortion - on both sides. We know that two young FBI agents, Jack Coler and Ronald Williams, followed a truck in separate cars onto the Jumping Bull compound and that the truck's occupants eventually jumped out and opened fire on the agents from high ground. Both agents were wounded in this first volley. The truck occupants were joined by a number of AIM members staying in tents on the compound. All were armed, many with high-powered rifles.
Some time after wounding the agents, Peltier and two other AIM members went down to the cars. This is where the story gets twisted up. The government prosecuted Peltier using circumstantial evidence to prove he executed the agents at point-blank range. Peltier and others who were there that day say the agents had already been shot. An AIM member was also killed in the shootout. His death was never investigated. There is no question that this was a senseless, destructive scene arising out of a time of great frustration and fear.
On Aug. 21, we learned that Peltier had been denied parole. The Associated Press offered a brief synopsis of the decision, but few mainstream publications printed this. Most national broadcast outlets posted the AP story online, but offered no TV or radio coverage.
How could Peltier's parole hearing not stir the national media into at least a small frenzy? Forget which side is right. The outcome of that hearing was real news. Peltier's case is the most poignant and powerful reminder of what this society has done to Indian tribes for nearly half a millennium - also what Indians have done to themselves. And we choose, sadly, to ignore all of this.
To grant Peltier parole was an opportunity, albeit very small, for the United States to begin to turn the page on its history with Native America - to show mercy and compassion. Why was this opportunity not news?
But even the denial of parole was a story: law and order trumps human rights; punishment vs. rehabilitation; forgetting the FBI's dark record; one man's political prisoner is another's thug.
What does virtually ignoring this case say about the media? About us as a nation? Do we just not care? Is all that Indian stuff now just water under the bridge?
Media companies are very concerned about profits these days. Maybe if there were more concern about covering issues that no one knows about, rather than issues where everyone thinks he knows everything, people would buy more papers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
David Biddle writes the blog "The Formality of Occurrence" at www.formalityoccurrence.blogspot.com.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Bill Lueders: Justice is everybody's business
The following editorial was published in the September 3, 2009 issue of the Isthmus, Madison, Wisconsin. Bill Lueders is News Editor of the Isthmus.
Justice is everybody's business
The public needs to hold police and prosecutors accountable
Bill Lueders on Thursday 09/03/2009
In April 2008 I wrote a web article about an astonishing legal filing in the Ralph Armstrong case. It alleged that a Dane County prosecutor, by then retired, not only failed to investigate a tip that pointed to a wrongful conviction but set out to destroy evidence that might have proven this.
The article did not take sides. It merely reported what the filing alleged: In the mid-1990s, Dane County prosecutor John Norsetter was contacted by a woman from Texas who said Steve Armstrong had admitted to the 1980 rape and murder of which his brother Ralph was convicted.
Accompanying the filing were detailed affidavits from two women who described this confession, and their efforts to call attention to it. One of them purportedly spoke to Norsetter, Ralph Armstrong's original prosecutor.
Norsetter failed to pass on this information and in 2006 ordered testing that destroyed what remained of a DNA sample, in violation of an existing court order.
Steve Armstrong died in 2005, the same year that the state Supreme Court overturned Ralph Armstrong's conviction on other grounds. He was awaiting retrial when the revelations about his brother came to light.
My article promoted an outraged reaction — but not the sort you might expect.
"Sure we've had our share of mistaken convictions and overzealous prosecution in Dane County, but this is one [case] where people need to tread carefully," wrote one poster on TheDailyPage.com Forum. "What I see is Leuders [real accuracy buff here] being used by Armstrong's defense attorneys in a PR campaign to make Armstrong look like a victim of a corrupt DA.... Shame on you Leuders and shame on Isthmus." Other respondents voiced similar criticisms.
In late July, Reserve Judge Robert Kinney, having heard the allegations against Norsetter, as well as a vigorous defense of his actions by the state, agreed that "a series of conscious decisions" had tainted the conviction beyond redemption. He dismissed the charges, a decision the DA's office has decided not to appeal.
Ralph Armstrong, who has always maintained his innocence (even though it's meant a longer sentence), is on his way to becoming a free man, due to prosecutorial actions Isthmus was skewered for even mentioning.
I tell this story because it points to a larger issue, one that ought to concern the entire community.
Ordinary citizens and even political leaders rarely challenge the criminal justice system, no matter how often we're reminded of its fallibility. Even folks who flock to public meetings on other local issues sit on their hands when it comes to prosecutors and police.
It's a real problem.
Already, we give these people vast powers — to arrest, to prosecute, to overlook transgression, to deprive of liberty — and immunize them from most lawsuits when they screw up. And then, on top of that, we spare them the bother of having to explain themselves. Indeed, the most common public reaction to allegations of injustice is to reflexively defend the system, as though it were too fragile to withstand scrutiny.
In announcing that it was not appealing Judge Kinney's decision, the Dane County District Attorney's Office issued a statement, which read in part:
"[The] record demonstrates that prosecuting attorneys and their colleagues in the Madison Police Department pursued this case in good faith at every stage of the process, and that any errors that occurred during the course of the investigation and prosecution were the product of innocent mistake or oversight."
That settles that. Thanks.
Except, as Columbo might say, for one little thing: Norsetter heard from a woman who said Steve Armstrong had credibly confessed, providing explicit details. He later ordered a DNA test that could not distinguish between brothers but used up the sample.
What makes the system so certain this was an innocent mistake?
Even if it were, that doesn't eliminate the need for answers and accountability. Where are the editorials from Neil Heinen and the dailies? Why hasn't noted local blogger Dave Cieslewicz weighed in?
Because the justice system always gets a pass. We snooze, we lose.
A decade ago I wrote several articles about a 15-year-old girl who was charged with a crime for slightly changing her account of a sexual assault. The person she accused was convicted of a crime. So was the girl's father, for calling her a slut and beating her up after the DA's charges were filed.
Dane County Judge Maryann Sumi dismissed the charge against the girl and chided the DA's office for bringing it. Then it was up to the community to respond. So far as I know, only one person did. Madison resident Moria Cue circulated a petition expressing outrage. She ultimately forced a high-level meeting with the DA's office, and I believe made it less likely that future rape victims will be treated this way.
We need police and prosecutors, and no community has more honorable people at the helm than Madison Police Chief Noble Wray and Dane County DA Brian Blanchard. But we also need citizens like Moria Cue, looking over their shoulders, asking for explanations.
Justice is everybody's business
The public needs to hold police and prosecutors accountable
Bill Lueders on Thursday 09/03/2009
In April 2008 I wrote a web article about an astonishing legal filing in the Ralph Armstrong case. It alleged that a Dane County prosecutor, by then retired, not only failed to investigate a tip that pointed to a wrongful conviction but set out to destroy evidence that might have proven this.
The article did not take sides. It merely reported what the filing alleged: In the mid-1990s, Dane County prosecutor John Norsetter was contacted by a woman from Texas who said Steve Armstrong had admitted to the 1980 rape and murder of which his brother Ralph was convicted.
Accompanying the filing were detailed affidavits from two women who described this confession, and their efforts to call attention to it. One of them purportedly spoke to Norsetter, Ralph Armstrong's original prosecutor.
Norsetter failed to pass on this information and in 2006 ordered testing that destroyed what remained of a DNA sample, in violation of an existing court order.
Steve Armstrong died in 2005, the same year that the state Supreme Court overturned Ralph Armstrong's conviction on other grounds. He was awaiting retrial when the revelations about his brother came to light.
My article promoted an outraged reaction — but not the sort you might expect.
"Sure we've had our share of mistaken convictions and overzealous prosecution in Dane County, but this is one [case] where people need to tread carefully," wrote one poster on TheDailyPage.com Forum. "What I see is Leuders [real accuracy buff here] being used by Armstrong's defense attorneys in a PR campaign to make Armstrong look like a victim of a corrupt DA.... Shame on you Leuders and shame on Isthmus." Other respondents voiced similar criticisms.
In late July, Reserve Judge Robert Kinney, having heard the allegations against Norsetter, as well as a vigorous defense of his actions by the state, agreed that "a series of conscious decisions" had tainted the conviction beyond redemption. He dismissed the charges, a decision the DA's office has decided not to appeal.
Ralph Armstrong, who has always maintained his innocence (even though it's meant a longer sentence), is on his way to becoming a free man, due to prosecutorial actions Isthmus was skewered for even mentioning.
I tell this story because it points to a larger issue, one that ought to concern the entire community.
Ordinary citizens and even political leaders rarely challenge the criminal justice system, no matter how often we're reminded of its fallibility. Even folks who flock to public meetings on other local issues sit on their hands when it comes to prosecutors and police.
It's a real problem.
Already, we give these people vast powers — to arrest, to prosecute, to overlook transgression, to deprive of liberty — and immunize them from most lawsuits when they screw up. And then, on top of that, we spare them the bother of having to explain themselves. Indeed, the most common public reaction to allegations of injustice is to reflexively defend the system, as though it were too fragile to withstand scrutiny.
In announcing that it was not appealing Judge Kinney's decision, the Dane County District Attorney's Office issued a statement, which read in part:
"[The] record demonstrates that prosecuting attorneys and their colleagues in the Madison Police Department pursued this case in good faith at every stage of the process, and that any errors that occurred during the course of the investigation and prosecution were the product of innocent mistake or oversight."
That settles that. Thanks.
Except, as Columbo might say, for one little thing: Norsetter heard from a woman who said Steve Armstrong had credibly confessed, providing explicit details. He later ordered a DNA test that could not distinguish between brothers but used up the sample.
What makes the system so certain this was an innocent mistake?
Even if it were, that doesn't eliminate the need for answers and accountability. Where are the editorials from Neil Heinen and the dailies? Why hasn't noted local blogger Dave Cieslewicz weighed in?
Because the justice system always gets a pass. We snooze, we lose.
A decade ago I wrote several articles about a 15-year-old girl who was charged with a crime for slightly changing her account of a sexual assault. The person she accused was convicted of a crime. So was the girl's father, for calling her a slut and beating her up after the DA's charges were filed.
Dane County Judge Maryann Sumi dismissed the charge against the girl and chided the DA's office for bringing it. Then it was up to the community to respond. So far as I know, only one person did. Madison resident Moria Cue circulated a petition expressing outrage. She ultimately forced a high-level meeting with the DA's office, and I believe made it less likely that future rape victims will be treated this way.
We need police and prosecutors, and no community has more honorable people at the helm than Madison Police Chief Noble Wray and Dane County DA Brian Blanchard. But we also need citizens like Moria Cue, looking over their shoulders, asking for explanations.
Dahlia Lithwick: Innocent Until Executed
The following was published September 3, 2009 in Newsweek Magazine, magazine issue dated Sep. 14, 2009.
Innocent Until Executed
We have no right to exoneration.
By Dahlia Lithwick
For years, death-penalty opponents and supporters have been working their way toward a moment in which each side would rethink things. They were seeking a case in which a clearly innocent defendant was wrongly put to death. In a 2005 Supreme Court case that actually had nothing to do with the execution of innocents, Justices David Souter and Antonin Scalia tangled over the possibility that such a creature even existed. Souter fretted that "the period starting in 1989 has seen repeated exonerations of convicts under death sentences, in numbers never imagined before the development of DNA tests." To which Scalia retorted: "The dissent makes much of the newfound capacity of DNA testing to establish innocence. But in every case of an executed defendant of which I am aware, that technology has confirmed guilt." Scalia went on to blast "sanctimonious" death-penalty opponents and a 1987 study on innocent exonerations whose "obsolescence began at the moment of publication," then concluded that there was not "a single case—not one—in which it is clear that a person was executed for a crime he did not commit."
This suggested that if anyone found such a case, the Scalias of the world would rethink matters. As of today, the Innocence Project, a national organization dedicated to exonerating the wrongfully convicted through DNA testing, claims there have been 241 postconviction DNA exonerations, of which 17 were former death-row inmates spared execution. The gap between their facts and Scalia's widens every year. And now we may have found that case of an innocent put to death: Cameron Todd Willingham, executed by the state of Texas in 2004 for allegedly setting a 1991 house fire that killed his three young daughters.
Click here to find out more!
David Grann, who wrote a remarkable piece about the case in last week's New Yorker, sifted through the evidence against Willingham to reveal that the entire prosecution was a train wreck. And at every step in his appeal, Willingham's claims of innocence were met with the response that he'd already had more than enough due process for a baby killer.
But you needn't take Grann's word for it. In 2004 Gerald Hurst, an acclaimed scientist and fire investigator, conducted an independent investigation of the evidence in the Willingham case and came away with little doubt that it was an accidental fire—likely caused by a space heater or bad wiring. Hurst found no evidence of arson, and wrote a report to try to stay the execution. According to documents obtained by the Innocence Project, it appears nobody at the state Board of Pardons and Paroles or the Texas governor's office even took note of Hurst's conclusions. Just before Willingham was executed, he told the Associated Press, "[T]he most distressing thing is the state of Texas will kill an innocent man and doesn't care they're making a mistake."
Since Willingham's death, two other independent inquiries found no evidence of arson. In 2007 the state of Texas commissioned another renowned arson expert, Craig Beyler, to examine the Willingham evidence. Beyler's report, issued two weeks ago, concluded that investigators had no scientific basis for claiming the fire was arson.
One might think that all this would give a boost to death-penalty opponents, who have long contended that conclusive proof of an innocent murdered by the state would fundamentally change the debate. But that was before the goalposts began to shift this summer. In June, by a 5–4 margin, the Supreme Court ruled that a prisoner did not have a constitutional right to demand DNA testing of evidence in police files, even at his own expense. "A criminal defendant proved guilty after a fair trial does not have the same liberty interests as a free man," wrote Chief Justice John Roberts. And two months later, Justices Scalia and Clarence Thomas went even further when the Supreme Court ordered a new hearing in Troy Davis's murder case, after seven of nine eyewitnesses recanted their testimony. Justice Scalia, dissenting from that order, wrote for himself and Thomas, "[T]his court has never held that the Constitution forbids the execution of a convicted defendant who has had a full and fair trial but is later able to convince a habeas court that he is 'actually' innocent."
As a constitutional matter, Scalia's assertion is not wrong. The court has never found a constitutional right for the actually innocent to be free from execution. When the court flirted with the question in 1993, a majority ruled against the accused, but Chief Justice William Rehnquist left open the possibility that it may be unconstitutional to execute someone with a "truly persuasive demonstration" of innocence. Now, in Scalia's America, the Cameron Todd Willingham whose very existence was once in doubt is legally irrelevant. We may execute a man for an accidental house fire, while the Constitution itself stands silently by.
Lithwick also writes for slate.com.
Innocent Until Executed
We have no right to exoneration.
By Dahlia Lithwick
For years, death-penalty opponents and supporters have been working their way toward a moment in which each side would rethink things. They were seeking a case in which a clearly innocent defendant was wrongly put to death. In a 2005 Supreme Court case that actually had nothing to do with the execution of innocents, Justices David Souter and Antonin Scalia tangled over the possibility that such a creature even existed. Souter fretted that "the period starting in 1989 has seen repeated exonerations of convicts under death sentences, in numbers never imagined before the development of DNA tests." To which Scalia retorted: "The dissent makes much of the newfound capacity of DNA testing to establish innocence. But in every case of an executed defendant of which I am aware, that technology has confirmed guilt." Scalia went on to blast "sanctimonious" death-penalty opponents and a 1987 study on innocent exonerations whose "obsolescence began at the moment of publication," then concluded that there was not "a single case—not one—in which it is clear that a person was executed for a crime he did not commit."
This suggested that if anyone found such a case, the Scalias of the world would rethink matters. As of today, the Innocence Project, a national organization dedicated to exonerating the wrongfully convicted through DNA testing, claims there have been 241 postconviction DNA exonerations, of which 17 were former death-row inmates spared execution. The gap between their facts and Scalia's widens every year. And now we may have found that case of an innocent put to death: Cameron Todd Willingham, executed by the state of Texas in 2004 for allegedly setting a 1991 house fire that killed his three young daughters.
Click here to find out more!
David Grann, who wrote a remarkable piece about the case in last week's New Yorker, sifted through the evidence against Willingham to reveal that the entire prosecution was a train wreck. And at every step in his appeal, Willingham's claims of innocence were met with the response that he'd already had more than enough due process for a baby killer.
But you needn't take Grann's word for it. In 2004 Gerald Hurst, an acclaimed scientist and fire investigator, conducted an independent investigation of the evidence in the Willingham case and came away with little doubt that it was an accidental fire—likely caused by a space heater or bad wiring. Hurst found no evidence of arson, and wrote a report to try to stay the execution. According to documents obtained by the Innocence Project, it appears nobody at the state Board of Pardons and Paroles or the Texas governor's office even took note of Hurst's conclusions. Just before Willingham was executed, he told the Associated Press, "[T]he most distressing thing is the state of Texas will kill an innocent man and doesn't care they're making a mistake."
Since Willingham's death, two other independent inquiries found no evidence of arson. In 2007 the state of Texas commissioned another renowned arson expert, Craig Beyler, to examine the Willingham evidence. Beyler's report, issued two weeks ago, concluded that investigators had no scientific basis for claiming the fire was arson.
One might think that all this would give a boost to death-penalty opponents, who have long contended that conclusive proof of an innocent murdered by the state would fundamentally change the debate. But that was before the goalposts began to shift this summer. In June, by a 5–4 margin, the Supreme Court ruled that a prisoner did not have a constitutional right to demand DNA testing of evidence in police files, even at his own expense. "A criminal defendant proved guilty after a fair trial does not have the same liberty interests as a free man," wrote Chief Justice John Roberts. And two months later, Justices Scalia and Clarence Thomas went even further when the Supreme Court ordered a new hearing in Troy Davis's murder case, after seven of nine eyewitnesses recanted their testimony. Justice Scalia, dissenting from that order, wrote for himself and Thomas, "[T]his court has never held that the Constitution forbids the execution of a convicted defendant who has had a full and fair trial but is later able to convince a habeas court that he is 'actually' innocent."
As a constitutional matter, Scalia's assertion is not wrong. The court has never found a constitutional right for the actually innocent to be free from execution. When the court flirted with the question in 1993, a majority ruled against the accused, but Chief Justice William Rehnquist left open the possibility that it may be unconstitutional to execute someone with a "truly persuasive demonstration" of innocence. Now, in Scalia's America, the Cameron Todd Willingham whose very existence was once in doubt is legally irrelevant. We may execute a man for an accidental house fire, while the Constitution itself stands silently by.
Lithwick also writes for slate.com.
Fred Grimm: Case is among string of bogus convictions
The following op-ed column was published by the Miami Herald on September 5, 2009.
Case is among string of bogus convictions
By FRED GRIMM
fgrimm@MiamiHerald.com
The kid they tried to execute was just 15. An IQ of 67.
The Broward prosecutor demanded the death penalty. But the jury, queasy about killing a mentally deficient teenager with no more evidence than a questionable confession, voted to spare Anthony Caravella's life.
Circuit Judge Arthur J. Franza seemed disappointed. ``I'll tell you this, Anthony: If the jury had recommended death, I would have had you electrocuted.''
Broward was that close to executing an innocent teenager.
Twenty-six years after Caravella was sent off for life, Edward Blake, a leading forensic scientist and a pioneer in DNA analysis, obtained a genetic profile from sperm left by the man who raped and murdered Ada Jankowski behind Miramar Elementary School in 1982. Blake concluded: ``Anthony Caravella is eliminated as the source of the spermatozoa.''
So Caravella's case becomes yet another among the Broward state attorney's string of ignominious convictions of mentally challenged defendants, later found to be innocent.
SHAM CONFESSION
Once again, the deciding ``evidence'' was a sham confession elicited from a feeble-minded suspect after hours of interrogation.
The confession, of course, was the only actual evidence against Caravella. In fact, the cops elicited five contradictory confessions from the teenager, but the last, finally, coincided with the crime-scene evidence.
The new DNA findings suggest the interrogators provided the incriminating information. It must have been easy stuff, manipulating a frightened, mentally deficient suspect into self-incriminating statements. Just like John Purvis, a schizophrenic with the mind of a 12-year-old, who after a rambling, barely coherent confession, did nine years for a murder finally linked to someone else. Jerry Frank Townsend, IQ of 50, served 22 years after confessing to murders committed by Fort Lauderdale serial killer Eddie Lee Mosley. Frank Lee Smith, so mentally disturbed he shouted incoherent inanities at his jury, died of cancer after a dozen years on Death Row before DNA evidence cleared him.
FINE CAREER MOVE
Cops got their bogus statements. Prosecutors got their bogus convictions. And convicting mentally defective innocents proved a fine career move. Prosecutor Robert Carney, who nailed both Purvis and Carvella, now sits as a Broward circuit judge. William Dimitrouleas, who prosecuted Frank Lee Smith, has a lifetime appointment as a federal judge. Meanwhile, actual killers went free. Eddie Lee Mosley continued his hideous rape and murder spree. Miramar police never bothered to discover who stabbed Ada Jankowski 28 times.
In 2001, the Broward Sheriff's Office crime lab was persuaded to reexamine evidence from the Caravella case but failed, mysteriously, to isolate any DNA. Blake said Friday he received a ``harassing'' e-mail this week from the Broward state attorney's office indicating that, contrary to public statements about undoing a terrible injustice, the office would try to undermine his lab's credibility. If so, it would be a stunning tactic, given his national reputation. (With a list of high profile DNA cases that runs 51 pages, including the lab work that cleared Allen Crotzer and Luis Diaz, the wrongly accused Bird Road Rapist.)
``It appears they've gone into full scale cover-up mode,'' Blake said Friday. In Broward, we've been there before.
Case is among string of bogus convictions
By FRED GRIMM
fgrimm@MiamiHerald.com
The kid they tried to execute was just 15. An IQ of 67.
The Broward prosecutor demanded the death penalty. But the jury, queasy about killing a mentally deficient teenager with no more evidence than a questionable confession, voted to spare Anthony Caravella's life.
Circuit Judge Arthur J. Franza seemed disappointed. ``I'll tell you this, Anthony: If the jury had recommended death, I would have had you electrocuted.''
Broward was that close to executing an innocent teenager.
Twenty-six years after Caravella was sent off for life, Edward Blake, a leading forensic scientist and a pioneer in DNA analysis, obtained a genetic profile from sperm left by the man who raped and murdered Ada Jankowski behind Miramar Elementary School in 1982. Blake concluded: ``Anthony Caravella is eliminated as the source of the spermatozoa.''
So Caravella's case becomes yet another among the Broward state attorney's string of ignominious convictions of mentally challenged defendants, later found to be innocent.
SHAM CONFESSION
Once again, the deciding ``evidence'' was a sham confession elicited from a feeble-minded suspect after hours of interrogation.
The confession, of course, was the only actual evidence against Caravella. In fact, the cops elicited five contradictory confessions from the teenager, but the last, finally, coincided with the crime-scene evidence.
The new DNA findings suggest the interrogators provided the incriminating information. It must have been easy stuff, manipulating a frightened, mentally deficient suspect into self-incriminating statements. Just like John Purvis, a schizophrenic with the mind of a 12-year-old, who after a rambling, barely coherent confession, did nine years for a murder finally linked to someone else. Jerry Frank Townsend, IQ of 50, served 22 years after confessing to murders committed by Fort Lauderdale serial killer Eddie Lee Mosley. Frank Lee Smith, so mentally disturbed he shouted incoherent inanities at his jury, died of cancer after a dozen years on Death Row before DNA evidence cleared him.
FINE CAREER MOVE
Cops got their bogus statements. Prosecutors got their bogus convictions. And convicting mentally defective innocents proved a fine career move. Prosecutor Robert Carney, who nailed both Purvis and Carvella, now sits as a Broward circuit judge. William Dimitrouleas, who prosecuted Frank Lee Smith, has a lifetime appointment as a federal judge. Meanwhile, actual killers went free. Eddie Lee Mosley continued his hideous rape and murder spree. Miramar police never bothered to discover who stabbed Ada Jankowski 28 times.
In 2001, the Broward Sheriff's Office crime lab was persuaded to reexamine evidence from the Caravella case but failed, mysteriously, to isolate any DNA. Blake said Friday he received a ``harassing'' e-mail this week from the Broward state attorney's office indicating that, contrary to public statements about undoing a terrible injustice, the office would try to undermine his lab's credibility. If so, it would be a stunning tactic, given his national reputation. (With a list of high profile DNA cases that runs 51 pages, including the lab work that cleared Allen Crotzer and Luis Diaz, the wrongly accused Bird Road Rapist.)
``It appears they've gone into full scale cover-up mode,'' Blake said Friday. In Broward, we've been there before.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Byron Williams: Time to do away with the death penalty
The following op-ed was published in the Oakland (California) Tribune on September 3, 2009.
SEPTEMBER 3, 2009
Byron Williams: Time to do away with the death penalty
Contributing columnist
REGARDLESS OF where you come down on the death penalty, Cameron Todd Willingham is a name you should not forget. In this week's New Yorker, investigative reporter David Grann writes a very convincing article that Willingham, who was executed by the state of Texas in 2004, was most likely an innocent man.
Willingham was convicted of murdering his three children by setting fire to his wood-frame house in Corsicana, Texas.
The first problem Willingham faced was an inability to afford legal representation. Death rows across the country are filled with those who must rely on public defenders.
After reading Willingham's story in The New Yorker, one can't help but ask, at a minimum, have innocent people been executed?
It is a question death-penalty advocates are unable to address without sinking to the depths of the gruesome and barbaric. Since it is impossible to avoid error, the only way one can support the death penalty is to suggest that we have expendable portions of society.
That may sound over-the-top, but what else could explain supporting a policy that is costly, inefficient, economically subjective and, if carried out, offers no adequate recourse should the ultimate mistake be made?
There is no dependable data that proves the death penalty saves lives, as some would suggest. But it has been proven that capital punishment is more costly than life without the possibility of parole because of the expensive appeal process. This leaves some death-penalty advocates to suggest limiting the appeal process.
This option — which is a proven applause line on the campaign trail — reveals the extent to which some people are willing to go to maintain a system that does not work.
Anyone who cavalierly recommends reducing the appeal process is, in effect, arguing on behalf of the best way to ensure more innocent people are put to death.
Since 1976, more than 130 individuals on death row have been exonerated. DNA testing, which was developed in the 1980s, has definitely changed the dynamics. But DNA testing is used sparingly.
Barry Scheck, a co-founder of the Innocence Project, which has used DNA testing to exonerate prisoners, estimates that roughly 80 percent of felonies do not involve biological evidence.
In 2000, former Illinois Gov. George Ryan exonerated 13 individuals on death row and then suspended the state's death penalty. Ryan had been a longtime advocate of capital punishment, but he declared that he could no longer support a system that has "come so close to the ultimate nightmare — the state's taking of innocent life."
Former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor has said that the "execution of a legally and factually innocent person would be a constitutionally intolerable event." But our continued support of the death penalty suggests that it is not intolerable.
A majority of Californians still favor the death penalty, but a new public-opinion poll by UC Professor Craig Haney reveals that support for capital punishment has eroded significantly since 1989, the last time a detailed statewide survey on the topic was conducted.
Sixty-six percent of 800 respondents in the new poll expressed support for the death penalty, compared to 79 percent in 1989.
Haney's findings are consistent with the findings of a recent statewide Field Poll that asked one question about capital punishment. Sixty-seven percent of respondents to that survey support the death penalty, the Field Poll found.
The proportion of adult Californians who view themselves as "strong" supporters of the death penalty has dropped from 50 percent in 1989 to 38 percent today. Conversely, fewer than 9 percent were "strongly opposed" to capital punishment 20 years ago, compared to 21 percent today.
"These changes appear to be related to changes in the way Californians view the system of death sentencing, rather than just the punishment itself," said Haney.
It is easy to parse out the most heinous crimes as Exhibit A as to why we need to maintain the death penalty. Public policy, however, cannot be based on the exception.
Continued support of a system that can possibly execute an innocent person means there is an error percentage higher than zero that one is willing to live with. If there can be no perfect system, why not discontinue the barbarity?
That way, on the rare occasion that an innocent person is wrongfully convicted, there remains the possibility of proving that person's innocence while that person is still alive.
Byron Williams is an Oakland pastor and columnist for Bay Area News Group-East Bay. E-mail him at byron@byronspeaks.com or leave a message at 510-208-6417.
SEPTEMBER 3, 2009
Byron Williams: Time to do away with the death penalty
Contributing columnist
REGARDLESS OF where you come down on the death penalty, Cameron Todd Willingham is a name you should not forget. In this week's New Yorker, investigative reporter David Grann writes a very convincing article that Willingham, who was executed by the state of Texas in 2004, was most likely an innocent man.
Willingham was convicted of murdering his three children by setting fire to his wood-frame house in Corsicana, Texas.
The first problem Willingham faced was an inability to afford legal representation. Death rows across the country are filled with those who must rely on public defenders.
After reading Willingham's story in The New Yorker, one can't help but ask, at a minimum, have innocent people been executed?
It is a question death-penalty advocates are unable to address without sinking to the depths of the gruesome and barbaric. Since it is impossible to avoid error, the only way one can support the death penalty is to suggest that we have expendable portions of society.
That may sound over-the-top, but what else could explain supporting a policy that is costly, inefficient, economically subjective and, if carried out, offers no adequate recourse should the ultimate mistake be made?
There is no dependable data that proves the death penalty saves lives, as some would suggest. But it has been proven that capital punishment is more costly than life without the possibility of parole because of the expensive appeal process. This leaves some death-penalty advocates to suggest limiting the appeal process.
This option — which is a proven applause line on the campaign trail — reveals the extent to which some people are willing to go to maintain a system that does not work.
Anyone who cavalierly recommends reducing the appeal process is, in effect, arguing on behalf of the best way to ensure more innocent people are put to death.
Since 1976, more than 130 individuals on death row have been exonerated. DNA testing, which was developed in the 1980s, has definitely changed the dynamics. But DNA testing is used sparingly.
Barry Scheck, a co-founder of the Innocence Project, which has used DNA testing to exonerate prisoners, estimates that roughly 80 percent of felonies do not involve biological evidence.
In 2000, former Illinois Gov. George Ryan exonerated 13 individuals on death row and then suspended the state's death penalty. Ryan had been a longtime advocate of capital punishment, but he declared that he could no longer support a system that has "come so close to the ultimate nightmare — the state's taking of innocent life."
Former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor has said that the "execution of a legally and factually innocent person would be a constitutionally intolerable event." But our continued support of the death penalty suggests that it is not intolerable.
A majority of Californians still favor the death penalty, but a new public-opinion poll by UC Professor Craig Haney reveals that support for capital punishment has eroded significantly since 1989, the last time a detailed statewide survey on the topic was conducted.
Sixty-six percent of 800 respondents in the new poll expressed support for the death penalty, compared to 79 percent in 1989.
Haney's findings are consistent with the findings of a recent statewide Field Poll that asked one question about capital punishment. Sixty-seven percent of respondents to that survey support the death penalty, the Field Poll found.
The proportion of adult Californians who view themselves as "strong" supporters of the death penalty has dropped from 50 percent in 1989 to 38 percent today. Conversely, fewer than 9 percent were "strongly opposed" to capital punishment 20 years ago, compared to 21 percent today.
"These changes appear to be related to changes in the way Californians view the system of death sentencing, rather than just the punishment itself," said Haney.
It is easy to parse out the most heinous crimes as Exhibit A as to why we need to maintain the death penalty. Public policy, however, cannot be based on the exception.
Continued support of a system that can possibly execute an innocent person means there is an error percentage higher than zero that one is willing to live with. If there can be no perfect system, why not discontinue the barbarity?
That way, on the rare occasion that an innocent person is wrongfully convicted, there remains the possibility of proving that person's innocence while that person is still alive.
Byron Williams is an Oakland pastor and columnist for Bay Area News Group-East Bay. E-mail him at byron@byronspeaks.com or leave a message at 510-208-6417.
Guest Shot: Sex-Registry Flaws Stand Out
The following news article was originally published in the Wall Street Journal on September 3, 2009.
Sex-Registry Flaws Stand Out
By RYAN KNUTSON and JUSTIN SCHECK
The case of Phillip Garrido, who allegedly held Jaycee Dugard in his backyard for 18 years despite monthly law-enforcement visits, is forcing California officials to acknowledge a fundamental problem with the state's sex-offender registry: The list keeps expanding, while the number of officials who monitor sex offenders has grown at a much slower rate.
There are now so many people on the registry it's difficult for law enforcement to effectively track them all, and "it's more helpful for law enforcement to know...who the highest-risk offenders are," said Janet Neeley, a deputy California attorney general and member of the state's sex offender board.
A December study of roughly 20,000 registered sex offenders on parole in California found 9% posed a "high risk" of reoffending, and 29% posed a "moderate-high" to "high" risk, said Ms. Neeley. But law-enforcement officials and academics say vast resources are spent monitoring nonviolent offenders rather than keeping closer tabs on more-dangerous ones.
California's sex-offender registry has ballooned to more than 90,000 people now from about 45,000 in 1994, according to the California attorney general's office. Not only has the number of law-enforcement officers failed to keep pace, but recent state budget cuts have forced some local agencies to cut officers assigned to sex offenders, according to the California Commission on Peace Officer Standards and Training.
The Santa Clara County Sheriff's Office, for example, said funding cuts have forced it to field only five officers dedicated to tracking sex offenders in the county, down from eight officers five years ago.
Last year, California's Sex Offender Management Board criticized the system as it stands in a 225-page assessment, highlighting failures in the collection and analysis of data on sex offenders. It's "difficult if not impossible" to track the effectiveness of registry laws, the report said.
Mr. Garrido, who allegedly kidnapped the 11-year-old girl in 1991, was considered high-risk because of a 1977 conviction for rape and kidnapping. But he received about the same number of visits from officers at his Antioch, Calif., home as the 200 or so other sex offenders in Antioch and adjacent Pittsburg, said the Contra Costa County Sheriff, even though many weren't convicted of violent offenses. During dozens of visits to Mr. Garrido's home, authorities never found the tents and shacks hidden behind a backyard fence.
The growing sex-offender list can dilute the amount of attention on the most dangerous offenders, said Nora Demleitner, the dean of Hofstra University Law School who studies sentencing. Some sex offenders "tend to be not dangerous at all," she said. "You have them register as sex offenders, so when you're law enforcement, all these people look the same. If you had much more focused sex-offender laws, maybe they would have been bothered to go into the shack" in Mr. Garrido's back yard.
California has been trying to sharpen its focus, but federal and state laws passed in 2006 offer conflicting rules for monitoring sex offenders, Ms. Neeley said.
Under its law, California has chosen to use a program called Static 99, which categorizes sex offenders based on their likelihood to reoffend. To predict risk, it looks at things like the nature of the crime, the offender's relationship with the victim and whether the offender has been able to form long-term intimate relationships. But the system hasn't been introduced by most local jurisdictions for those convicted before 2007.
Provisions in the federal Adam Walsh Act aim to move monitoring in the opposite direction, so that it's based solely on an offender's type of conviction, not on a complex assessment of risk.
That's problematic, said Jill Levenson, an associate professor at Lynn University in Florida who studies sex-offender registries, since it "overestimates risk for most people, and underestimates risk for people who pleaded down," or struck plea deals by admitting to lower-level crimes.
Now, the state Sex Offender Management Board is recommending that California forgo some federal funds and not adopt the law, which would add to the number of crimes requiring registration.
"There is no available evidence to indicate that expanding California's list of registerable crimes would promote public safety," the board wrote in a recommendation, noting the federal law would create at least $32 million in costs to the attorney general's office and law-enforcement agencies without improving the system.
Write to Ryan Knutson at ryan.knutson@wsj.com and Justin Scheck at justin.scheck@wsj.com
Sex-Registry Flaws Stand Out
By RYAN KNUTSON and JUSTIN SCHECK
The case of Phillip Garrido, who allegedly held Jaycee Dugard in his backyard for 18 years despite monthly law-enforcement visits, is forcing California officials to acknowledge a fundamental problem with the state's sex-offender registry: The list keeps expanding, while the number of officials who monitor sex offenders has grown at a much slower rate.
There are now so many people on the registry it's difficult for law enforcement to effectively track them all, and "it's more helpful for law enforcement to know...who the highest-risk offenders are," said Janet Neeley, a deputy California attorney general and member of the state's sex offender board.
A December study of roughly 20,000 registered sex offenders on parole in California found 9% posed a "high risk" of reoffending, and 29% posed a "moderate-high" to "high" risk, said Ms. Neeley. But law-enforcement officials and academics say vast resources are spent monitoring nonviolent offenders rather than keeping closer tabs on more-dangerous ones.
California's sex-offender registry has ballooned to more than 90,000 people now from about 45,000 in 1994, according to the California attorney general's office. Not only has the number of law-enforcement officers failed to keep pace, but recent state budget cuts have forced some local agencies to cut officers assigned to sex offenders, according to the California Commission on Peace Officer Standards and Training.
The Santa Clara County Sheriff's Office, for example, said funding cuts have forced it to field only five officers dedicated to tracking sex offenders in the county, down from eight officers five years ago.
Last year, California's Sex Offender Management Board criticized the system as it stands in a 225-page assessment, highlighting failures in the collection and analysis of data on sex offenders. It's "difficult if not impossible" to track the effectiveness of registry laws, the report said.
Mr. Garrido, who allegedly kidnapped the 11-year-old girl in 1991, was considered high-risk because of a 1977 conviction for rape and kidnapping. But he received about the same number of visits from officers at his Antioch, Calif., home as the 200 or so other sex offenders in Antioch and adjacent Pittsburg, said the Contra Costa County Sheriff, even though many weren't convicted of violent offenses. During dozens of visits to Mr. Garrido's home, authorities never found the tents and shacks hidden behind a backyard fence.
The growing sex-offender list can dilute the amount of attention on the most dangerous offenders, said Nora Demleitner, the dean of Hofstra University Law School who studies sentencing. Some sex offenders "tend to be not dangerous at all," she said. "You have them register as sex offenders, so when you're law enforcement, all these people look the same. If you had much more focused sex-offender laws, maybe they would have been bothered to go into the shack" in Mr. Garrido's back yard.
California has been trying to sharpen its focus, but federal and state laws passed in 2006 offer conflicting rules for monitoring sex offenders, Ms. Neeley said.
Under its law, California has chosen to use a program called Static 99, which categorizes sex offenders based on their likelihood to reoffend. To predict risk, it looks at things like the nature of the crime, the offender's relationship with the victim and whether the offender has been able to form long-term intimate relationships. But the system hasn't been introduced by most local jurisdictions for those convicted before 2007.
Provisions in the federal Adam Walsh Act aim to move monitoring in the opposite direction, so that it's based solely on an offender's type of conviction, not on a complex assessment of risk.
That's problematic, said Jill Levenson, an associate professor at Lynn University in Florida who studies sex-offender registries, since it "overestimates risk for most people, and underestimates risk for people who pleaded down," or struck plea deals by admitting to lower-level crimes.
Now, the state Sex Offender Management Board is recommending that California forgo some federal funds and not adopt the law, which would add to the number of crimes requiring registration.
"There is no available evidence to indicate that expanding California's list of registerable crimes would promote public safety," the board wrote in a recommendation, noting the federal law would create at least $32 million in costs to the attorney general's office and law-enforcement agencies without improving the system.
Write to Ryan Knutson at ryan.knutson@wsj.com and Justin Scheck at justin.scheck@wsj.com
Thursday, August 27, 2009
News Release: Faulty fire investigation led to execution
The following news report was written byu Jamie Stengle and published by the Associated Press on August 27, 2009.
Report: Faulty fire investigation led to execution
By JAMIE STENGLE (AP)
August 27, 2009
DALLAS — A fire investigation that led to the execution of a man in the deaths of his three young children was so seriously flawed that its conclusion of arson can't be supported, a fire expert hired by the state said in a new report.
In a report to the Texas Forensic Science Commission released Tuesday, Craig Beyler said the fire investigation in Cameron Todd Willingham's case didn't adhere to the standards of care in place at the time, nor to current standards.
Beyler, chairman of the London-based International Association for Fire Safety Science, said in the report that the opinions of a state fire official in the case were "nothing more than a collection of personal beliefs that have nothing to do with science-based fire investigation."
The commission, created in 2005 to review forensic misconduct allegations, requested the independent analysis after the Innocence Project submitted claims of questionable evidence in the cases of Willingham and another man who was convicted in a similar case but was later released.
Commission Chairman Sam Bassett called Beyler's report "a major step" in the panel's review of both cases.
Before issuing its final report, the commission will seek responses from the State Fire Marshal's Office and other parties, and will interview Beyler in October, Bassett said.
He said he expects the commission to release its report next spring.
Beyler said that in both cases, "The investigators had poor understandings of fire science ... Their methodologies did not comport with the scientific method or the process of elimination."
He said Manuel Vasquez, a deputy state fire marshal who investigated the Willingham case, appeared "wholly without any realistic understanding of fires and how fire injuries are created."
Beyler said witnesses contradicted Vasquez's arson hypothesis and that Vasquez admitted he had not eliminated other possible causes.
Eric Ferrero, spokesman for the Innocence Project, a New York-based organization dedicated to exonerating wrongfully convicted people, said Beyler's findings on the Willingham case "confirms what several experts have found over the last five years after reviewing thousands of pages of evidence."
"Every expert who has looked at this case has determined there was no reason to call it arson," he said.
Willingham, 36, was executed in 2004. He was convicted of setting the fire that killed 2-year-old Amber and 1-year-old twins Karmon and Kameron two days before Christmas 1991 in their Corsicana home.
He told The Associated Press before his execution that he was innocent, calling his 1992 trial "a joke." "The most distressing thing is the state of Texas will kill an innocent man and doesn't care they're making a mistake," he said.
Willingham's cousin, Patricia Cox, of Ardmore, Okla., said she has never doubted her cousin's innocence. Family members tried for years to free him.
"I would definitely like the state of Texas to take responsibility and admit in fact they wrongfully executed Todd Willingham," she said. "Is that going to happen? Probably not. I'm not optimistic."
Vasquez investigated the case with Douglas Fogg, the assistant Corsicana fire chief. The report said both cited burn patterns on the floor of the children's room, hallway and porch, indicating an accelerant spill. Beyler said those determinations have no basis in modern fire science.
Ben Gonzalez, a spokesman for the Texas Department of Insurance, of which the State Fire Marshal's Office is a part, said he had no comment on the report, adding that officials there had not yet seen it. He said Vasquez died in 1994.
A call to a Douglas Fogg in Corsicana was not immediately returned Wednesday.
In the other case cited in the report, Ernest Ray Willis was convicted in 1987 in a fatal house fire in Iraan, but was freed after 17 years on death row when a federal judge ruled that authorities concealed evidence and needlessly drugged him during his trial.
Report: Faulty fire investigation led to execution
By JAMIE STENGLE (AP)
August 27, 2009
DALLAS — A fire investigation that led to the execution of a man in the deaths of his three young children was so seriously flawed that its conclusion of arson can't be supported, a fire expert hired by the state said in a new report.
In a report to the Texas Forensic Science Commission released Tuesday, Craig Beyler said the fire investigation in Cameron Todd Willingham's case didn't adhere to the standards of care in place at the time, nor to current standards.
Beyler, chairman of the London-based International Association for Fire Safety Science, said in the report that the opinions of a state fire official in the case were "nothing more than a collection of personal beliefs that have nothing to do with science-based fire investigation."
The commission, created in 2005 to review forensic misconduct allegations, requested the independent analysis after the Innocence Project submitted claims of questionable evidence in the cases of Willingham and another man who was convicted in a similar case but was later released.
Commission Chairman Sam Bassett called Beyler's report "a major step" in the panel's review of both cases.
Before issuing its final report, the commission will seek responses from the State Fire Marshal's Office and other parties, and will interview Beyler in October, Bassett said.
He said he expects the commission to release its report next spring.
Beyler said that in both cases, "The investigators had poor understandings of fire science ... Their methodologies did not comport with the scientific method or the process of elimination."
He said Manuel Vasquez, a deputy state fire marshal who investigated the Willingham case, appeared "wholly without any realistic understanding of fires and how fire injuries are created."
Beyler said witnesses contradicted Vasquez's arson hypothesis and that Vasquez admitted he had not eliminated other possible causes.
Eric Ferrero, spokesman for the Innocence Project, a New York-based organization dedicated to exonerating wrongfully convicted people, said Beyler's findings on the Willingham case "confirms what several experts have found over the last five years after reviewing thousands of pages of evidence."
"Every expert who has looked at this case has determined there was no reason to call it arson," he said.
Willingham, 36, was executed in 2004. He was convicted of setting the fire that killed 2-year-old Amber and 1-year-old twins Karmon and Kameron two days before Christmas 1991 in their Corsicana home.
He told The Associated Press before his execution that he was innocent, calling his 1992 trial "a joke." "The most distressing thing is the state of Texas will kill an innocent man and doesn't care they're making a mistake," he said.
Willingham's cousin, Patricia Cox, of Ardmore, Okla., said she has never doubted her cousin's innocence. Family members tried for years to free him.
"I would definitely like the state of Texas to take responsibility and admit in fact they wrongfully executed Todd Willingham," she said. "Is that going to happen? Probably not. I'm not optimistic."
Vasquez investigated the case with Douglas Fogg, the assistant Corsicana fire chief. The report said both cited burn patterns on the floor of the children's room, hallway and porch, indicating an accelerant spill. Beyler said those determinations have no basis in modern fire science.
Ben Gonzalez, a spokesman for the Texas Department of Insurance, of which the State Fire Marshal's Office is a part, said he had no comment on the report, adding that officials there had not yet seen it. He said Vasquez died in 1994.
A call to a Douglas Fogg in Corsicana was not immediately returned Wednesday.
In the other case cited in the report, Ernest Ray Willis was convicted in 1987 in a fatal house fire in Iraan, but was freed after 17 years on death row when a federal judge ruled that authorities concealed evidence and needlessly drugged him during his trial.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
LA Times Editorial: Wrongful convictions: California is guilty of injustice
The following editorial was originally published by the Los Angeles Times on August 11, 2009.
Editorial
Wrongful convictions: California is guilty of injustice
The Bruce Lisker case is a reminder that state officials have made little progress in dealing with the problem.
Twenty-four years after being sent to prison for murder, Bruce Lisker has finally had his conviction overturned. In her ruling Friday, U.S. District Judge Virginia A. Phillips concluded that Lisker, a San Fernando man who was serving a life sentence for the murder of his 66-year-old mother, had been convicted as a result of "false evidence" and inadequate representation by his attorney.
The judge's findings matched those of Times reporters Scott Glover and Matt Lait, who four years ago retraced the police investigation and found significant errors. On Monday, Phillips said she intended to release Lisker on bail while prosecutors decided whether to appeal her decision, retry Lisker or drop the case against him.
The case is deeply disturbing; there is strong reason to fear that an innocent man spent more than two decades behind bars. What is certain is that Lisker, who was a troubled 17-year-old at the time of his mother's murder, did not get a fair shake at his trial. Even if he does eventually go free, the righting of this one wrong is not reason to celebrate.
What's even more disturbing is that such miscarriages of justice are being uncovered with troubling regularity these days, especially now that DNA evidence is being used to reopen old cases. The public appears to be shocked with each new revelation, but perhaps it is time to get over that. The truth is that this is an ongoing problem in California. And thanks to knee-jerk obstruction by district attorneys and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, the state has made little progress in fixing it.
Last year, the California Commission on the Fair Administration of Justice issued a 196-page report outlining procedural and structural flaws in the state's criminal justice system, along with recommendations to ameliorate them. The Legislature responded by passing bills in 2006 and 2007 regarding eyewitness identification and the video recording of police interrogations, but Schwarzenegger vetoed both. Legislation regulating the use of jailhouse informants passed as well, but met the same fate as did a bill increasing compensation for wrongfully convicted people.
The state's unwillingness to provide meaningful compensation and social services to help the wrongly convicted is particularly galling; it means that even if he is set free, Lisker's only compensation may be a handshake and $200. And don't count on the handshake.
Given California's unwillingness to take the necessary steps to reduce wrongful convictions -- or to pay the price when it errs -- it's a sure bet we'll be hearing about more Bruce Liskers. Perhaps next time we won't be so shocked.
Editorial
Wrongful convictions: California is guilty of injustice
The Bruce Lisker case is a reminder that state officials have made little progress in dealing with the problem.
Twenty-four years after being sent to prison for murder, Bruce Lisker has finally had his conviction overturned. In her ruling Friday, U.S. District Judge Virginia A. Phillips concluded that Lisker, a San Fernando man who was serving a life sentence for the murder of his 66-year-old mother, had been convicted as a result of "false evidence" and inadequate representation by his attorney.
The judge's findings matched those of Times reporters Scott Glover and Matt Lait, who four years ago retraced the police investigation and found significant errors. On Monday, Phillips said she intended to release Lisker on bail while prosecutors decided whether to appeal her decision, retry Lisker or drop the case against him.
The case is deeply disturbing; there is strong reason to fear that an innocent man spent more than two decades behind bars. What is certain is that Lisker, who was a troubled 17-year-old at the time of his mother's murder, did not get a fair shake at his trial. Even if he does eventually go free, the righting of this one wrong is not reason to celebrate.
What's even more disturbing is that such miscarriages of justice are being uncovered with troubling regularity these days, especially now that DNA evidence is being used to reopen old cases. The public appears to be shocked with each new revelation, but perhaps it is time to get over that. The truth is that this is an ongoing problem in California. And thanks to knee-jerk obstruction by district attorneys and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, the state has made little progress in fixing it.
Last year, the California Commission on the Fair Administration of Justice issued a 196-page report outlining procedural and structural flaws in the state's criminal justice system, along with recommendations to ameliorate them. The Legislature responded by passing bills in 2006 and 2007 regarding eyewitness identification and the video recording of police interrogations, but Schwarzenegger vetoed both. Legislation regulating the use of jailhouse informants passed as well, but met the same fate as did a bill increasing compensation for wrongfully convicted people.
The state's unwillingness to provide meaningful compensation and social services to help the wrongly convicted is particularly galling; it means that even if he is set free, Lisker's only compensation may be a handshake and $200. And don't count on the handshake.
Given California's unwillingness to take the necessary steps to reduce wrongful convictions -- or to pay the price when it errs -- it's a sure bet we'll be hearing about more Bruce Liskers. Perhaps next time we won't be so shocked.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Guest Shot: Once rock-solid child abuse signs now uncertain
The following op-ed was originally published on August 7, 2009 in the Las Vegas Sun.
Once rock-solid child abuse signs now uncertain
By Abigail Goldman
Friday, Aug. 7, 2009
Audrey Edmunds was charged with murdering an infant in her Wisconsin day care center in 1995. At trial, medical experts testified the child’s injuries were pathognomonic — meaning exclusively characteristic — of shaken baby syndrome: retinal bleeding, brain bleeding and brain swelling, conditions sometimes called “the triad.”
Edmunds pleaded not guilty, went to prison and remained there until last year when her conviction was overturned. A court ruled medical and scientific opinions on shaken baby syndrome had changed so much that a new jury might have reasonable doubt about Edmunds’ guilt.
In fact, one of the doctors who initially testified against Edmunds told the judge he was no longer certain she shook the child.
This is a remarkable development, not just for the accused, but for thousands similarly charged. It’s also, some argue, an indication the legal system lags the science. If one-time medical certainties have been undermined, then why are an estimated 95 percent of people prosecuted on the basis of shaken baby syndrome symptoms still being convicted? Was Edmunds an exception to the rule, or has the science expanded such that other wrongly accused people must now be freed, like death row inmates in the wake of DNA evidence?
As is true just about everywhere, the revelation of the Edmunds case has yet to fully play out in Nevada’s courts.
What remains clear, though, is that absent witnesses, shaken baby syndrome is a medical diagnosis of homicide. The victim’s injuries are the evidence, which is complicated when our understanding of those injuries changes. It’s now understood that the triad may indicate something other than child abuse. Some scientists say short falls can cause retinal or brain bleeding. Some doctors say medical disorders, such as blood or infectious diseases, mimic parts of the triad.
And even if it were possible to prove shaking occurred, techniques used to identify who did it may be flawed. Usually, it’s the last person with the baby who is accused of shaking the child. The belief is such violence quickly renders a victim unconscious or worse.
But new studies suggest children who suffer fatal head trauma can appear lucid for up to 72 hours before death. This expanded time line raises a serious question: Did the trauma happen a day or two earlier?
In recent years physicians have replaced “shaken baby syndrome” with other phrases — “abusive head trauma,” for example. The Clark County coroner prefers “blunt force trauma” or “inflicted abusive injuries.” These changes reflect an expanded understanding of the injury, although some note that replacing too-rigid definitions with loose phraseology isn’t really a refinement.
Although the media are raising questions in the wake of a recent study by DePaul University law professor Deborah Tuerkheimer, Clark County Medical Examiner Alane Olson notes that the debate has been ongoing for some time. What is different is Edmunds’ story. Observers such as Tuerkheimer hope it forces the justice system and well-meaning people eager to identify child abusers to recognize their absolutes may be eroding.
Clark County Deputy Public Defender Scott Coffee has been handling “inflicted abusive injury” cases for about eight years, but only gets one about every 18 months. He has never taken one to trial. The defendants usually strike a plea bargain with prosecutors.
Shaken baby syndrome is a loaded issue and the new research is far from perfect. Experts who testify against shaken baby syndrome diagnoses are ostracized and outnumbered by those who defend them, even when there is evidence to the contrary, Coffee says. Defendants would rather spend a few years than risk a lifetime in prison.
Those convictions, Coffee says, even the no contest pleas, where defendants admit nothing, are seen as proof of guilt, when all we really know is that at least one tragedy occurred — and maybe two.
Once rock-solid child abuse signs now uncertain
By Abigail Goldman
Friday, Aug. 7, 2009
Audrey Edmunds was charged with murdering an infant in her Wisconsin day care center in 1995. At trial, medical experts testified the child’s injuries were pathognomonic — meaning exclusively characteristic — of shaken baby syndrome: retinal bleeding, brain bleeding and brain swelling, conditions sometimes called “the triad.”
Edmunds pleaded not guilty, went to prison and remained there until last year when her conviction was overturned. A court ruled medical and scientific opinions on shaken baby syndrome had changed so much that a new jury might have reasonable doubt about Edmunds’ guilt.
In fact, one of the doctors who initially testified against Edmunds told the judge he was no longer certain she shook the child.
This is a remarkable development, not just for the accused, but for thousands similarly charged. It’s also, some argue, an indication the legal system lags the science. If one-time medical certainties have been undermined, then why are an estimated 95 percent of people prosecuted on the basis of shaken baby syndrome symptoms still being convicted? Was Edmunds an exception to the rule, or has the science expanded such that other wrongly accused people must now be freed, like death row inmates in the wake of DNA evidence?
As is true just about everywhere, the revelation of the Edmunds case has yet to fully play out in Nevada’s courts.
What remains clear, though, is that absent witnesses, shaken baby syndrome is a medical diagnosis of homicide. The victim’s injuries are the evidence, which is complicated when our understanding of those injuries changes. It’s now understood that the triad may indicate something other than child abuse. Some scientists say short falls can cause retinal or brain bleeding. Some doctors say medical disorders, such as blood or infectious diseases, mimic parts of the triad.
And even if it were possible to prove shaking occurred, techniques used to identify who did it may be flawed. Usually, it’s the last person with the baby who is accused of shaking the child. The belief is such violence quickly renders a victim unconscious or worse.
But new studies suggest children who suffer fatal head trauma can appear lucid for up to 72 hours before death. This expanded time line raises a serious question: Did the trauma happen a day or two earlier?
In recent years physicians have replaced “shaken baby syndrome” with other phrases — “abusive head trauma,” for example. The Clark County coroner prefers “blunt force trauma” or “inflicted abusive injuries.” These changes reflect an expanded understanding of the injury, although some note that replacing too-rigid definitions with loose phraseology isn’t really a refinement.
Although the media are raising questions in the wake of a recent study by DePaul University law professor Deborah Tuerkheimer, Clark County Medical Examiner Alane Olson notes that the debate has been ongoing for some time. What is different is Edmunds’ story. Observers such as Tuerkheimer hope it forces the justice system and well-meaning people eager to identify child abusers to recognize their absolutes may be eroding.
Clark County Deputy Public Defender Scott Coffee has been handling “inflicted abusive injury” cases for about eight years, but only gets one about every 18 months. He has never taken one to trial. The defendants usually strike a plea bargain with prosecutors.
Shaken baby syndrome is a loaded issue and the new research is far from perfect. Experts who testify against shaken baby syndrome diagnoses are ostracized and outnumbered by those who defend them, even when there is evidence to the contrary, Coffee says. Defendants would rather spend a few years than risk a lifetime in prison.
Those convictions, Coffee says, even the no contest pleas, where defendants admit nothing, are seen as proof of guilt, when all we really know is that at least one tragedy occurred — and maybe two.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Guest Shot: Forensic science institute could spare future victims
The following op-ed article was published in the Houston Chronicle on July 31, 2009.
Forensic science institute could spare future victims
By MICHELLE MALLIN
HOUSTON CHRONICLE
July 31, 2009, 9:02PM
It's been more than two decades, but it is still as fresh and as vivid in my mind as it was that night in 1985.
I was a sophomore at Texas Tech, coming back to my dorm on a Sunday night after visiting my family. A man forced his way into my car and put a knife to my throat. He pushed me into the passenger seat, began to drive, and told me he would kill me if I didn't stop screaming. I believed him. He drove to a field in a remote part of town, where he raped me.
Later, I learned that I was the fifth victim of a serial rapist on campus. A man named Timothy Cole was convicted of raping me and sentenced to 25 years in prison. I was relieved that he had been apprehended, that he would pay for what he did to me, and that our criminal justice system had gotten him off the streets. But I also knew my life would never be the same again. I spent years in counseling and tried to move on with my life.
Then, last summer, I was forced to relive the entire nightmare — this time with the added tragedy of knowing that Timothy Cole had been innocent and died in prison before he could be exonerated. New DNA testing proved that another man, not Cole, raped me. I was stunned. And I was determined to get answers.
I put my faith in the criminal justice system, and it failed me. I am back in counseling to grapple with the renewed trauma of the rape and the knowledge that I played a role in Cole's wrongful conviction by identifying him as the man who attacked me.
I have learned a great deal over the last year — about myself, about Cole and about our system of justice. One of the most troubling things I've learned is that juries often hear evidence that is not as solid as it sounds.
In case after case, scientists testify that a hair from a crime scene is similar to the defendant's hair, or that markings on a bullet match a particular gun. These and other forms of forensic science can be persuasive to a jury, but nobody knows how accurate the science is (including the forensic analyst who conducted the tests).
Earlier this year, the National Academy of Sciences released a major report finding serious problems with much of the forensic science that our criminal justice system uses every day. The report urged Congress to create a National Institute of Forensic Science to oversee research that can determine how accurate these scientific disciplines are, set standards for what kind of science should be used and how it should be presented, and oversee the enforcement of those standards.
I hope Congress takes action on this soon, and I hope members of the House and Senate from Texas take the lead, in the name of everyone in our state who has been touched by this issue.
Cole and I weren't the only ones whose lives were forever changed by what happened in 1985. We now know, through DNA testing and his own confession, that Jerry Wayne Johnson raped me. After Cole was convicted, Johnson abducted a couple and raped the woman in a cotton field. When he was out on bond awaiting trial for that rape, he raped a 15-year old girl at knifepoint.
Eventually, Johnson was convicted for those crimes. But they could have been prevented entirely if he had been apprehended after he raped me. It's hard for me to think about that woman and her husband, or that 15-year-old girl. I know what they went through — and, today, we know that they could have been spared the unspeakable horror.
We need to make sure our criminal justice system uses reliable, solid evidence to accurately identify suspects and convict criminals. Right now, forensic science is badly lacking, but creating a National Institute of Forensic Science can start to change that. The stakes are too high to do anything less.
Mallin was born in Houston and raised in Baytown. She resides in Baytown with her husband of 19 years, Jim Mallin.
Forensic science institute could spare future victims
By MICHELLE MALLIN
HOUSTON CHRONICLE
July 31, 2009, 9:02PM
It's been more than two decades, but it is still as fresh and as vivid in my mind as it was that night in 1985.
I was a sophomore at Texas Tech, coming back to my dorm on a Sunday night after visiting my family. A man forced his way into my car and put a knife to my throat. He pushed me into the passenger seat, began to drive, and told me he would kill me if I didn't stop screaming. I believed him. He drove to a field in a remote part of town, where he raped me.
Later, I learned that I was the fifth victim of a serial rapist on campus. A man named Timothy Cole was convicted of raping me and sentenced to 25 years in prison. I was relieved that he had been apprehended, that he would pay for what he did to me, and that our criminal justice system had gotten him off the streets. But I also knew my life would never be the same again. I spent years in counseling and tried to move on with my life.
Then, last summer, I was forced to relive the entire nightmare — this time with the added tragedy of knowing that Timothy Cole had been innocent and died in prison before he could be exonerated. New DNA testing proved that another man, not Cole, raped me. I was stunned. And I was determined to get answers.
I put my faith in the criminal justice system, and it failed me. I am back in counseling to grapple with the renewed trauma of the rape and the knowledge that I played a role in Cole's wrongful conviction by identifying him as the man who attacked me.
I have learned a great deal over the last year — about myself, about Cole and about our system of justice. One of the most troubling things I've learned is that juries often hear evidence that is not as solid as it sounds.
In case after case, scientists testify that a hair from a crime scene is similar to the defendant's hair, or that markings on a bullet match a particular gun. These and other forms of forensic science can be persuasive to a jury, but nobody knows how accurate the science is (including the forensic analyst who conducted the tests).
Earlier this year, the National Academy of Sciences released a major report finding serious problems with much of the forensic science that our criminal justice system uses every day. The report urged Congress to create a National Institute of Forensic Science to oversee research that can determine how accurate these scientific disciplines are, set standards for what kind of science should be used and how it should be presented, and oversee the enforcement of those standards.
I hope Congress takes action on this soon, and I hope members of the House and Senate from Texas take the lead, in the name of everyone in our state who has been touched by this issue.
Cole and I weren't the only ones whose lives were forever changed by what happened in 1985. We now know, through DNA testing and his own confession, that Jerry Wayne Johnson raped me. After Cole was convicted, Johnson abducted a couple and raped the woman in a cotton field. When he was out on bond awaiting trial for that rape, he raped a 15-year old girl at knifepoint.
Eventually, Johnson was convicted for those crimes. But they could have been prevented entirely if he had been apprehended after he raped me. It's hard for me to think about that woman and her husband, or that 15-year-old girl. I know what they went through — and, today, we know that they could have been spared the unspeakable horror.
We need to make sure our criminal justice system uses reliable, solid evidence to accurately identify suspects and convict criminals. Right now, forensic science is badly lacking, but creating a National Institute of Forensic Science can start to change that. The stakes are too high to do anything less.
Mallin was born in Houston and raised in Baytown. She resides in Baytown with her husband of 19 years, Jim Mallin.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Guest Shot: Hidden Evidence
The following editorial was originally published in the print edition of The Economist on July 30, 2009.
Hidden evidence
DNA is changing the way America fights crime, not its policies towards convicts
A JUDGE can tell prospective jurors that in a criminal trial, unlike an episode of “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation”, scientific evidence is not necessary to secure a conviction, an appeals court in Baltimore ruled on July 7th. Quite right, too. The evidence submitted in real courts is often not as cut-and-dried as it seems on television. Yet the use of DNA to secure convictions is growing fast. The people not benefiting from this are those who may have been wrongfully convicted before DNA was routinely examined, and who are being denied access to evidence that could set them free.
Much is being made of a recent Supreme Court ruling that William Osborne, a prisoner in Alaska, has no constitutional right to DNA testing to prove his innocence of the 1994 rape for which he was convicted and jailed. Nina Morrison of the Innocence Project, a New York-based non-profit legal outfit that represents Mr Osborne, fears the decision could lead to many innocent prisoners remaining in jail—or even facing execution.
Since Congress passed the DNA Fingerprint Act in 2005, federal authorities have been collecting DNA samples from everyone they arrest or detain. The FBI’s national DNA database (NDIS) gets more than 1m DNA profiles a year. By last May CODIS, an FBI index that compares forensic evidence at local, state and national level, resulted in 90,900 “cold hits”, where biological evidence from an unsolved crime matches a profile in the database. This has led to many arrests and convictions.
But three states (Alaska, Massachusetts and Oklahoma) give prisoners no statutory rights to a DNA test, even though such a test might exonerate them. Though exonerations have occurred in Massachusetts and Oklahoma by way of appeals from defence attorneys, access to testing is still hard to get. Many other states allow testing only in limited circumstances. Kentucky, for instance, restricts its DNA testing to death-row inmates. Someone serving a life sentence is not eligible.
Texas and Illinois, whose laws do permit simple post-conviction access to testing, boast the highest number of convictions that have been overturned thanks to DNA evidence: 38 and 29 respectively, says the Innocence Project. Texas, which accounts for half of all executions in America, passed a bill in May establishing the Timothy Cole Advisory Panel on Wrongful Convictions, named after a man posthumously exonerated through DNA testing. A team set up to study the causes of wrongful convictions and to devise ways of preventing them is to report to the governor no later than 2011.
Prosecutors can use their state’s statutes of limitations (which set time limits for the introduction of new evidence after sentencing) to decline prisoners’ requests for DNA testing. They argue that cases could be strung along endlessly and expensively by frivolous appeals if there are no such limits. Yet this seems a weak argument when it comes to DNA, which might establish innocence or guilt without much scope for prolonged debate.
Many prisoners might be cleared were DNA testing more routinely available. The American legal system encourages plea bargains, whereby accused people accept a much lower sentence than would be imposed if they were found guilty. In the absence of the DNA evidence that would clear them, even innocent people may conclude that a plea bargain is the safer option. More than 90% of convictions in the United States result from such bargains.
Steven Benjamin of the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers contends that the restrictions on post-conviction testing amount to a fear of the truth. He may be right.
Hidden evidence
DNA is changing the way America fights crime, not its policies towards convicts
A JUDGE can tell prospective jurors that in a criminal trial, unlike an episode of “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation”, scientific evidence is not necessary to secure a conviction, an appeals court in Baltimore ruled on July 7th. Quite right, too. The evidence submitted in real courts is often not as cut-and-dried as it seems on television. Yet the use of DNA to secure convictions is growing fast. The people not benefiting from this are those who may have been wrongfully convicted before DNA was routinely examined, and who are being denied access to evidence that could set them free.
Much is being made of a recent Supreme Court ruling that William Osborne, a prisoner in Alaska, has no constitutional right to DNA testing to prove his innocence of the 1994 rape for which he was convicted and jailed. Nina Morrison of the Innocence Project, a New York-based non-profit legal outfit that represents Mr Osborne, fears the decision could lead to many innocent prisoners remaining in jail—or even facing execution.
Since Congress passed the DNA Fingerprint Act in 2005, federal authorities have been collecting DNA samples from everyone they arrest or detain. The FBI’s national DNA database (NDIS) gets more than 1m DNA profiles a year. By last May CODIS, an FBI index that compares forensic evidence at local, state and national level, resulted in 90,900 “cold hits”, where biological evidence from an unsolved crime matches a profile in the database. This has led to many arrests and convictions.
But three states (Alaska, Massachusetts and Oklahoma) give prisoners no statutory rights to a DNA test, even though such a test might exonerate them. Though exonerations have occurred in Massachusetts and Oklahoma by way of appeals from defence attorneys, access to testing is still hard to get. Many other states allow testing only in limited circumstances. Kentucky, for instance, restricts its DNA testing to death-row inmates. Someone serving a life sentence is not eligible.
Texas and Illinois, whose laws do permit simple post-conviction access to testing, boast the highest number of convictions that have been overturned thanks to DNA evidence: 38 and 29 respectively, says the Innocence Project. Texas, which accounts for half of all executions in America, passed a bill in May establishing the Timothy Cole Advisory Panel on Wrongful Convictions, named after a man posthumously exonerated through DNA testing. A team set up to study the causes of wrongful convictions and to devise ways of preventing them is to report to the governor no later than 2011.
Prosecutors can use their state’s statutes of limitations (which set time limits for the introduction of new evidence after sentencing) to decline prisoners’ requests for DNA testing. They argue that cases could be strung along endlessly and expensively by frivolous appeals if there are no such limits. Yet this seems a weak argument when it comes to DNA, which might establish innocence or guilt without much scope for prolonged debate.
Many prisoners might be cleared were DNA testing more routinely available. The American legal system encourages plea bargains, whereby accused people accept a much lower sentence than would be imposed if they were found guilty. In the absence of the DNA evidence that would clear them, even innocent people may conclude that a plea bargain is the safer option. More than 90% of convictions in the United States result from such bargains.
Steven Benjamin of the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers contends that the restrictions on post-conviction testing amount to a fear of the truth. He may be right.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Guest Shot - You're Probably a Federal Criminal
The following editorial by Brian W. Walsh was originally broadcast on Fox News on July 21, 2009.
You're (Probably) a Federal Criminal
Federal law now criminalizes activities that the average person would never dream would land him in prison. Consequently, every year, thousands of upstanding, responsible Americans run afoul of some incomprehensible federal law and end up serving time in federal prison.
With all the attention that's been paid lately to long federal sentences for drug offenders, it's surprising that a far more troubling phenomenon has barely hit the media's radar screen. Every year, thousands of upstanding, responsible Americans run afoul of some incomprehensible federal law or regulation and end up serving time in federal prison.
What is especially disturbing is that it could happen to anyone at all -- and it has.
We should applaud Reps. Bobby Scott (D-Va.) and Louie Gohmert (R-Texas), then, for holding a bipartisan hearing today to examine how federal law can make a criminal out of anyone, for even the most mundane conduct.
Federal law in particular now criminalizes entire categories of activities that the average person would never dream would land him in prison. This is an inevitable result of the fact that the criminal law is no longer restricted to punishing inherently wrongful conduct -- such as murder, rape, robbery, and the like.
Moreover, under these new laws, the government can often secure a conviction without having to prove that the person accused even intended to commit a bad act, historically a protection against wrongful conviction.
Laws like this are dangerous in the hands of social engineers and ambitious lawmakers -- not to mention overzealous prosecutors -- bent on using government's greatest civilian power to punish any activity they dislike. So many thousands of criminal offenses are now in federal law that a prominent federal appeals court judge titled his recent essay on this overcriminalization problem, "You're (Probably) a Federal Criminal."
Consider small-time inventor and entrepreneur Krister Evertson, who will testify at today's hearing. Krister never had so much as a traffic ticket before he was run off the road near his mother's home in Wasilla, Alaska, by SWAT-armored federal agents in large black SUVs training automatic weapons on him.
Evertson, who had been working on clean-energy fuel cells since he was in high school, had no idea what he'd done wrong. It turned out that when he legally sold some sodium (part of his fuel-cell materials) to raise cash, he forgot to put a federally mandated safety sticker on the UPS package he sent to the lawful purchaser.
Krister's lack of a criminal record did nothing to prevent federal agents from ransacking his mother's home in their search for evidence on this oh-so-dangerous criminal.
The good news is that a federal jury in Alaska acquitted Krister of all charges. The jurors saw through the charges and realized that Krister had done nothing wrong.
The bad news, however, is that the feds apparently had it in for Krister. Federal criminal law is so broad that it gave prosecutors a convenient vehicle to use to get their man.
Two years after arresting him, the feds brought an entirely new criminal prosecution against Krister on entirely new grounds. They used the fact that before Krister moved back to Wasilla to care for his 80-year-old mother, he had safely and securely stored all of his fuel-cell materials in Salmon, Idaho.
According to the government, when Krister was in jail in Alaska due to the first unjust charges, he had "abandoned" his fuel-cell materials in Idaho. Unfortunately for Krister, federal lawmakers had included in the Resource Recovery and Conservation Act a provision making it a crime to abandon "hazardous waste." According to the trial judge, the law didn't require prosecutors to prove that Krister had intended to abandon the materials (he hadn't) or that they were waste at all -- in reality, they were quite valuable and properly stored away for future use.
With such a broad law, the second jury didn't have much of a choice, and it convicted him. He spent almost two years locked up with real criminals in a federal prison. After he testifies today, he will have to return to his halfway house in Idaho and serve another week before he is released.
The other hardened criminal whose story members of Congress will hear today is retiree George Norris. A longtime resident of Spring, Texas, Norris made the mistake of not knowing and keeping track of all of the details of federal and international law on endangered species -- mostly paperwork requirements -- before he decided to turn his orchid hobby into a small business. What was Norris's goal? To earn a little investment income while his wife neared retirement.
The Lacey Act is an example of the dangerous overbreadth of federal criminal law. Incredibly, Congress has made it a federal crime to violate any fish or wildlife law or regulation of any nation on earth.
Facing 10 years in federal prison, Norris pled guilty and served almost two. His wife, Kathy, describes the pain of losing their life savings to pay for attorneys and trying to explain to grandchildren why for so long Poppa George couldn't see them.
Federal criminal law did not get so badly broken overnight, and it will take hard work to get it fixed. It is encouraging that members of Congress such as Reps. Scott and Gohmert are now paying attention to the toll overcriminalization takes on ordinary Americans. Congress needs to begin fixing the damage it has done by starting to restore a more reasonable, limited and just federal criminal law. Today's hearing is an excellent first step.
Brian W. Walsh is Senior Legal Research Fellow in the Center for Legal and Judicial Studies at The Heritage Foundation (heritage.org).
You're (Probably) a Federal Criminal
Federal law now criminalizes activities that the average person would never dream would land him in prison. Consequently, every year, thousands of upstanding, responsible Americans run afoul of some incomprehensible federal law and end up serving time in federal prison.
With all the attention that's been paid lately to long federal sentences for drug offenders, it's surprising that a far more troubling phenomenon has barely hit the media's radar screen. Every year, thousands of upstanding, responsible Americans run afoul of some incomprehensible federal law or regulation and end up serving time in federal prison.
What is especially disturbing is that it could happen to anyone at all -- and it has.
We should applaud Reps. Bobby Scott (D-Va.) and Louie Gohmert (R-Texas), then, for holding a bipartisan hearing today to examine how federal law can make a criminal out of anyone, for even the most mundane conduct.
Federal law in particular now criminalizes entire categories of activities that the average person would never dream would land him in prison. This is an inevitable result of the fact that the criminal law is no longer restricted to punishing inherently wrongful conduct -- such as murder, rape, robbery, and the like.
Moreover, under these new laws, the government can often secure a conviction without having to prove that the person accused even intended to commit a bad act, historically a protection against wrongful conviction.
Laws like this are dangerous in the hands of social engineers and ambitious lawmakers -- not to mention overzealous prosecutors -- bent on using government's greatest civilian power to punish any activity they dislike. So many thousands of criminal offenses are now in federal law that a prominent federal appeals court judge titled his recent essay on this overcriminalization problem, "You're (Probably) a Federal Criminal."
Consider small-time inventor and entrepreneur Krister Evertson, who will testify at today's hearing. Krister never had so much as a traffic ticket before he was run off the road near his mother's home in Wasilla, Alaska, by SWAT-armored federal agents in large black SUVs training automatic weapons on him.
Evertson, who had been working on clean-energy fuel cells since he was in high school, had no idea what he'd done wrong. It turned out that when he legally sold some sodium (part of his fuel-cell materials) to raise cash, he forgot to put a federally mandated safety sticker on the UPS package he sent to the lawful purchaser.
Krister's lack of a criminal record did nothing to prevent federal agents from ransacking his mother's home in their search for evidence on this oh-so-dangerous criminal.
The good news is that a federal jury in Alaska acquitted Krister of all charges. The jurors saw through the charges and realized that Krister had done nothing wrong.
The bad news, however, is that the feds apparently had it in for Krister. Federal criminal law is so broad that it gave prosecutors a convenient vehicle to use to get their man.
Two years after arresting him, the feds brought an entirely new criminal prosecution against Krister on entirely new grounds. They used the fact that before Krister moved back to Wasilla to care for his 80-year-old mother, he had safely and securely stored all of his fuel-cell materials in Salmon, Idaho.
According to the government, when Krister was in jail in Alaska due to the first unjust charges, he had "abandoned" his fuel-cell materials in Idaho. Unfortunately for Krister, federal lawmakers had included in the Resource Recovery and Conservation Act a provision making it a crime to abandon "hazardous waste." According to the trial judge, the law didn't require prosecutors to prove that Krister had intended to abandon the materials (he hadn't) or that they were waste at all -- in reality, they were quite valuable and properly stored away for future use.
With such a broad law, the second jury didn't have much of a choice, and it convicted him. He spent almost two years locked up with real criminals in a federal prison. After he testifies today, he will have to return to his halfway house in Idaho and serve another week before he is released.
The other hardened criminal whose story members of Congress will hear today is retiree George Norris. A longtime resident of Spring, Texas, Norris made the mistake of not knowing and keeping track of all of the details of federal and international law on endangered species -- mostly paperwork requirements -- before he decided to turn his orchid hobby into a small business. What was Norris's goal? To earn a little investment income while his wife neared retirement.
The Lacey Act is an example of the dangerous overbreadth of federal criminal law. Incredibly, Congress has made it a federal crime to violate any fish or wildlife law or regulation of any nation on earth.
Facing 10 years in federal prison, Norris pled guilty and served almost two. His wife, Kathy, describes the pain of losing their life savings to pay for attorneys and trying to explain to grandchildren why for so long Poppa George couldn't see them.
Federal criminal law did not get so badly broken overnight, and it will take hard work to get it fixed. It is encouraging that members of Congress such as Reps. Scott and Gohmert are now paying attention to the toll overcriminalization takes on ordinary Americans. Congress needs to begin fixing the damage it has done by starting to restore a more reasonable, limited and just federal criminal law. Today's hearing is an excellent first step.
Brian W. Walsh is Senior Legal Research Fellow in the Center for Legal and Judicial Studies at The Heritage Foundation (heritage.org).
Friday, July 10, 2009
Guest Shot: Judge Sonia Sotomayor Denied My Appeal and I Spent 16 Years in Prison For a Crime I Didn't Commit
The following was originally published at www.alternet.org on July 10, 2009.
Sotomayor put procedure over innocence as a federal judge.
My name is Jeffrey Deskovic. At age 17, I was wrongfully convicted of murder and rape, a conviction that was based upon a coerced, false confession, the fabrication of evidence, prosecutorial misconduct and fraud by a medical examiner. I was cleared 16 years later -- almost three years ago -- when DNA evidence proved my innocence, while also identifying the real perpetrator, who subsequently confessed to the crime. Since my release, I have made it my life's mission to battle against wrongful convictions and fight for legislation that would minimize the chances of what happened to me happening to someone else. It is this fight that compels me to speak out about Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayor.
Before I was exonerated, I sought out every legal avenue I could to win my freedom. I defended my innocence before the New York Appellate Division, raising such proof as the fact that the physical evidence found did not match me and arguing that the police violated my rights by coercing a false confession from me at the age of 16. The court ruled against me 5 to 0, concluding that there was nothing wrong with my interrogation and stating that there was "overwhelming evidence of guilt," despite the fact that there was no evidence beyond my forced confession. In truth, the DNA and the hairs found on the victim's body were evidence of my innocence.
When my lawyer was denied a chance to reargue the case on the grounds that the court's decision ran counter to the law and to the facts, we moved to the Court Of Appeals, the highest court in New York. I filed a Writ Of Habeas Corpus, in which I argued that my conviction was a violation of the U.S. Constitution. The year was 1997. The year before, Congress had passed Bill Clinton's Anti-Terrorism-Effective-Death-Penalty Act (often called AEDPA in legalese), which mandated that from then on, all state prisoners would have only one year to appeal to a federal court after being denied an appeal by their state's highest court. As a result, there was some confusion in the federal courts regarding the filing procedure; it was not clear how this new law would apply to cases already in the system. Different jurisdictions were answering the question in different ways; my lawyer called the court clerk and asked whether it was enough that my petition be post-marked on the due date, or if it had to physically be filed and in the building on the due date. The court clerk told my attorney that it was enough that it be postmarked. That information turned out to be false. Consequently, my petition arrived four days too late.
Westchester District Attorney Jeanine Pirro seized on the late petition, arguing that the court should dismiss my case without even considering my innocence claim. The court sided agreed. I then appealed my case to the 2nd Circuit. It was there that I first met Judge Sonia Sotomayor.
My lawyer gave three reasons why Judge Sotomayor and her colleague should overturn the procedural ruling: 1) Upholding such a ruling would cause a miscarriage of justice to continue; 2) Reversing the procedural ruling could open the door to more sophisticated DNA Testing; 3) The late petition was not my fault or my attorney's. To our dismay, Judge Sotomayor and her colleague refused to reverse the ruling. "The alleged reliance of Deskovic's attorney on verbal misinformation from the court clerk constitutes excusable neglect that does not rise to the level of an extraordinary circumstance," they wrote. "Similarly, we are not persuaded that … his situation is unique and his petition has substantive merit." A second appeal to Sotomayor's court resulted in the same decision. The U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear my case, and I remained in prison for six more years.
When I first learned that Judge Sotomayor was nominated to the U.S. Supreme Court, I was immediately alarmed. What would it mean for other people who were wrongfully convicted? Judge Sotomayor put procedure over innocence in my case. Could she be trusted not to do so again in the future? Could she be counted on to correct injustices when the facts indicated that and/or the legal arguments could demonstrate that a trial was unfair?
Judge Sotomayor condemned me to serve a life sentence for a murder and rape that I did not commit. That other innocent people could be denied relief based on procedural technicalities is no mere possibility; Take the case of Troy Davis, who faces execution in Georgia despite overwhelming proof of his innocence -- proof that has never been allowed in a court room. Consider, too, the recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling in Alaska V.S. Osbourne, in which the U.S. Supreme Court stated that no prisoner has a constitutional right to access DNA Testing even when such testing could demonstrate innocence. That decision came down to a 5 to 4 vote; if Judge Sotomayor had been on the court, can anybody say with confidence that she would have voted in favor of DNA access?
There are human consequences to these decisions. I can still see the prison cell, the barbed wire, the isolation from my family, the depression, helplessness, frustration, abuse by prison guards, the constant physical danger in prison, no opportunities to build for my future, missing births, deaths, and holidays. We need to awaken this country to the role that judges play in perpetuating wrongful convictions by putting procedure over innocence, by putting finality of conviction over accuracy, and by rubber stamping appeal denials regardless of whether a trial was truly fair.
Judge Sotomayor will appear before the Senate next week. Given that she has been nominated to a lifetime appointment that affects all of our rights, what she did in my case -- condemning me to a life sentence based on procedure in the face of an airtight innocence claim -- should be part of the discussion. I want my case to be a part of the national discussion. I want Senators to ask Judge Sotomayor if she stands by her ruling, and whether she would rule that way in the future. If I could I would testify at the Senate confirmation hearing, about the human impact of Judge Sotomayor's putting procedure over innocence. Thus far, however, I have gotten no response from either side on Capitol Hill.
It is deeply dismaying that neither the Republicans nor the Democrats have introduced my case to the national conversation about Judge Sotomayor. Do people remember Anita Hill? As serious as her allegations of sexual harassment were, I would think that my serving time in prison wrongfully and being condemned to a life sentence for a crime that I was innocent of would be even more serious. I lost 16 years of my life. It seems evident that politics is trumping justice; that I am once again being wronged by the system.
Sotomayor put procedure over innocence as a federal judge.
My name is Jeffrey Deskovic. At age 17, I was wrongfully convicted of murder and rape, a conviction that was based upon a coerced, false confession, the fabrication of evidence, prosecutorial misconduct and fraud by a medical examiner. I was cleared 16 years later -- almost three years ago -- when DNA evidence proved my innocence, while also identifying the real perpetrator, who subsequently confessed to the crime. Since my release, I have made it my life's mission to battle against wrongful convictions and fight for legislation that would minimize the chances of what happened to me happening to someone else. It is this fight that compels me to speak out about Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayor.
Before I was exonerated, I sought out every legal avenue I could to win my freedom. I defended my innocence before the New York Appellate Division, raising such proof as the fact that the physical evidence found did not match me and arguing that the police violated my rights by coercing a false confession from me at the age of 16. The court ruled against me 5 to 0, concluding that there was nothing wrong with my interrogation and stating that there was "overwhelming evidence of guilt," despite the fact that there was no evidence beyond my forced confession. In truth, the DNA and the hairs found on the victim's body were evidence of my innocence.
When my lawyer was denied a chance to reargue the case on the grounds that the court's decision ran counter to the law and to the facts, we moved to the Court Of Appeals, the highest court in New York. I filed a Writ Of Habeas Corpus, in which I argued that my conviction was a violation of the U.S. Constitution. The year was 1997. The year before, Congress had passed Bill Clinton's Anti-Terrorism-Effective-Death-Penalty Act (often called AEDPA in legalese), which mandated that from then on, all state prisoners would have only one year to appeal to a federal court after being denied an appeal by their state's highest court. As a result, there was some confusion in the federal courts regarding the filing procedure; it was not clear how this new law would apply to cases already in the system. Different jurisdictions were answering the question in different ways; my lawyer called the court clerk and asked whether it was enough that my petition be post-marked on the due date, or if it had to physically be filed and in the building on the due date. The court clerk told my attorney that it was enough that it be postmarked. That information turned out to be false. Consequently, my petition arrived four days too late.
Westchester District Attorney Jeanine Pirro seized on the late petition, arguing that the court should dismiss my case without even considering my innocence claim. The court sided agreed. I then appealed my case to the 2nd Circuit. It was there that I first met Judge Sonia Sotomayor.
My lawyer gave three reasons why Judge Sotomayor and her colleague should overturn the procedural ruling: 1) Upholding such a ruling would cause a miscarriage of justice to continue; 2) Reversing the procedural ruling could open the door to more sophisticated DNA Testing; 3) The late petition was not my fault or my attorney's. To our dismay, Judge Sotomayor and her colleague refused to reverse the ruling. "The alleged reliance of Deskovic's attorney on verbal misinformation from the court clerk constitutes excusable neglect that does not rise to the level of an extraordinary circumstance," they wrote. "Similarly, we are not persuaded that … his situation is unique and his petition has substantive merit." A second appeal to Sotomayor's court resulted in the same decision. The U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear my case, and I remained in prison for six more years.
When I first learned that Judge Sotomayor was nominated to the U.S. Supreme Court, I was immediately alarmed. What would it mean for other people who were wrongfully convicted? Judge Sotomayor put procedure over innocence in my case. Could she be trusted not to do so again in the future? Could she be counted on to correct injustices when the facts indicated that and/or the legal arguments could demonstrate that a trial was unfair?
Judge Sotomayor condemned me to serve a life sentence for a murder and rape that I did not commit. That other innocent people could be denied relief based on procedural technicalities is no mere possibility; Take the case of Troy Davis, who faces execution in Georgia despite overwhelming proof of his innocence -- proof that has never been allowed in a court room. Consider, too, the recent U.S. Supreme Court ruling in Alaska V.S. Osbourne, in which the U.S. Supreme Court stated that no prisoner has a constitutional right to access DNA Testing even when such testing could demonstrate innocence. That decision came down to a 5 to 4 vote; if Judge Sotomayor had been on the court, can anybody say with confidence that she would have voted in favor of DNA access?
There are human consequences to these decisions. I can still see the prison cell, the barbed wire, the isolation from my family, the depression, helplessness, frustration, abuse by prison guards, the constant physical danger in prison, no opportunities to build for my future, missing births, deaths, and holidays. We need to awaken this country to the role that judges play in perpetuating wrongful convictions by putting procedure over innocence, by putting finality of conviction over accuracy, and by rubber stamping appeal denials regardless of whether a trial was truly fair.
Judge Sotomayor will appear before the Senate next week. Given that she has been nominated to a lifetime appointment that affects all of our rights, what she did in my case -- condemning me to a life sentence based on procedure in the face of an airtight innocence claim -- should be part of the discussion. I want my case to be a part of the national discussion. I want Senators to ask Judge Sotomayor if she stands by her ruling, and whether she would rule that way in the future. If I could I would testify at the Senate confirmation hearing, about the human impact of Judge Sotomayor's putting procedure over innocence. Thus far, however, I have gotten no response from either side on Capitol Hill.
It is deeply dismaying that neither the Republicans nor the Democrats have introduced my case to the national conversation about Judge Sotomayor. Do people remember Anita Hill? As serious as her allegations of sexual harassment were, I would think that my serving time in prison wrongfully and being condemned to a life sentence for a crime that I was innocent of would be even more serious. I lost 16 years of my life. It seems evident that politics is trumping justice; that I am once again being wronged by the system.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Guest Shot: Again, man wrongfully imprisoned faces undeserved trouble
The following editorial was published in The Virginian-Pilot on July 8, 2009.
Arthur Whitfield, 55, has spent half his life trying to undo the damage from wrongful convictions for two rapes in 1981. The documented miscarriages of justice include nearly 22 years in prison before DNA test results set him free, a subsequent pardon that took more than four years, and now, absurd legal technicalities that prevent him from getting a paltry $15,000 from the state for the decades he wrongly spent in prison.
Despite all this, Whitfield remains remarkably free of anger and bitterness. He told The Pilot's Michelle Washington, "I understand that life isn't easy, but I thought it would be a little bit better than what it is."
It should be. Whitfield was 27 when he was sent to prison for 63 years for two rapes in Norfolk's Ghent neighborhood, largely on the basis of an identification by a victim. That was before DNA tests were commonplace, before evidence from a crime scene could provide an irrefutable link to a defendant or eliminate him as a suspect.
While in prison - two decades away from his family, away from any chance of earning a wage or putting money away for retirement - Whitfield earned his general equivalency diploma. He took classes in commercial cleaning and brick masonry.
In 2003, when DNA tests on old evidence began clearing a few defendants across Virginia, Whitfield asked the state to see whether the tests could be done in his case.
Two state officials helped Whitfield's case immeasurably. Mary Jane Burton, a state forensic lab analyst who has since died, preserved biological evidence, including Whitfield's, at a time when it was not required. And Norfolk Commonwealth's Attorney Jack Doyle pursued Whitfield's freedom as soon as the DNA tests in 2004 showed he was innocent.
Doyle, now a judge, petitioned the state parole board for Whitfield's immediate release. In April, three months ago, Gov. Tim Kaine pardoned Whitfield. The pardon erases his conviction, removes his name from the state's sex offender registry and takes him off probation.
But it doesn't result in compensation for the time Whitfield spent behind bars, even though his circumstances are exactly the kind the legislature envisioned addressing. Whitfield's lawyer applied for a $15,000 transition grant to help his client until the legislature can study his case and determine how much compensation Whitfield is owed.
Absurdly, the law says such grants can be given only to people still in prison, a condition that essentially requires Virginia to keep innocent people behind bars.
Whitfield now has a job but no car. The gas and water in his apartment have been turned off because he couldn't pay the bills.
He has suffered enough. More than enough.
This latest situation begs for a lawmaker to navigate the system on Whitfield's behalf and get him the help he needs. Sen. Ken Stolle says he will check into Whitfield's case. So should the rest of the General Assembly. Arthur Whitfield deserves help, not further delay in putting back together a life that the state helped take apart.
Arthur Whitfield, 55, has spent half his life trying to undo the damage from wrongful convictions for two rapes in 1981. The documented miscarriages of justice include nearly 22 years in prison before DNA test results set him free, a subsequent pardon that took more than four years, and now, absurd legal technicalities that prevent him from getting a paltry $15,000 from the state for the decades he wrongly spent in prison.
Despite all this, Whitfield remains remarkably free of anger and bitterness. He told The Pilot's Michelle Washington, "I understand that life isn't easy, but I thought it would be a little bit better than what it is."
It should be. Whitfield was 27 when he was sent to prison for 63 years for two rapes in Norfolk's Ghent neighborhood, largely on the basis of an identification by a victim. That was before DNA tests were commonplace, before evidence from a crime scene could provide an irrefutable link to a defendant or eliminate him as a suspect.
While in prison - two decades away from his family, away from any chance of earning a wage or putting money away for retirement - Whitfield earned his general equivalency diploma. He took classes in commercial cleaning and brick masonry.
In 2003, when DNA tests on old evidence began clearing a few defendants across Virginia, Whitfield asked the state to see whether the tests could be done in his case.
Two state officials helped Whitfield's case immeasurably. Mary Jane Burton, a state forensic lab analyst who has since died, preserved biological evidence, including Whitfield's, at a time when it was not required. And Norfolk Commonwealth's Attorney Jack Doyle pursued Whitfield's freedom as soon as the DNA tests in 2004 showed he was innocent.
Doyle, now a judge, petitioned the state parole board for Whitfield's immediate release. In April, three months ago, Gov. Tim Kaine pardoned Whitfield. The pardon erases his conviction, removes his name from the state's sex offender registry and takes him off probation.
But it doesn't result in compensation for the time Whitfield spent behind bars, even though his circumstances are exactly the kind the legislature envisioned addressing. Whitfield's lawyer applied for a $15,000 transition grant to help his client until the legislature can study his case and determine how much compensation Whitfield is owed.
Absurdly, the law says such grants can be given only to people still in prison, a condition that essentially requires Virginia to keep innocent people behind bars.
Whitfield now has a job but no car. The gas and water in his apartment have been turned off because he couldn't pay the bills.
He has suffered enough. More than enough.
This latest situation begs for a lawmaker to navigate the system on Whitfield's behalf and get him the help he needs. Sen. Ken Stolle says he will check into Whitfield's case. So should the rest of the General Assembly. Arthur Whitfield deserves help, not further delay in putting back together a life that the state helped take apart.
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