By: Victor M. Hansen The Court’s opinion in Utah v. Strieff is the latest in a series of recent opinions in which the Court has significantly undermined Fourth Amendment protections by limiting the application of the exclusionary rule. As my colleague, Professor Friedman, noted in his recent post, the Court’s Fourth Amendment jurisprudence effectively allows the government to pursue policy goals in ways that conflict with individual privacy protections. The Court has been able to justify this by viewing the exclusionary rule as solely a tool to deter police misconduct. In situations where, in the Court’s view, the exclusionary rule would not deter police misconduct, the rule comes at too high a cost, and a number of exceptions have been judicially created to limit its application. Of course, the exclusionary rule is a judicially created rule to begin with, since nothing in the language of the Fourth Amendment suggests a remedy for violations. And it can certainly be argued that, since the rule is judicially created, the courts and specifically the U.S. Supreme Court should be able to modify it as it sees fit. However, on closer examination, the Court’s rationale for not applying the exclusionary rule in Strieff and other recent cases only makes sense if you adopt a rather narrow view of deterrence.
By: Victor M. HansenProfessor Eldred wrote that this latest decision is a missed opportunity by the Court that could undermine the long-term value of the decision, particularly when, as Professor Eldred notes, there was significant literature and research in this area available to the Court. Here, I want to address another issue raised by the facts of the case that should alarm anyone concerned about the fairness of our criminal justice system—namely, the role of the prosecutor. While I can’t say that this was another missed opportunity by the Court to address the question since it was not directly before the Court, the troubling story recounted by the facts of the case serves as an important backdrop and raises important questions about the quality of justice in death penalty and other cases. In its recounting of the facts of the case, the Court noted that the prosecutor assigned to the murder case against Williams sent a two-page memorandum to the district attorney requesting approval to seek the death penalty. The then-district attorney, later Chief Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, approved the request by writing: “Approved to proceed on the death penalty.” The case before the Court was about whether the district attorney who penned that approval could some 30 years later sit as one of the justices on the court called upon to vacate William’s stay of execution. The Supreme Court also noted a number of Brady violations that the prosecuting attorney allegedly committed in the case, as well as the fact that none of this information—the prosecution memo and approval by the district attorney or the possible Brady violations—came to light until the Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas ordered the district attorney’s office to produce previously undisclosed files, many years after Williams’ trial.
By: David M. Siegel The Sixth Amendment, which the Supreme Court has for over half a century interpreted to afford indigent criminal defendants a right to a lawyer at government expense, now also provides wealthy defendants something: protection from the government’s freezing their untainted assets (as opposed to those traceable to, or proceeds of, crime) to prevent retaining counsel of their choice. As principled—and protective of the Sixth Amendment—as this distinction may be, it reinforces something much more pernicious: there is now effectively a right of the rich to be free from impoverishment by the government, to protect their Sixth Amendment right to retain counsel of their choosing, while the identical Amendment does not provide an indigent defendant access to an actual lawyer of anyone’s choice. Luis v. United States, was quite simple: federal law permits pre-trial freezing of certain criminal defendants’ assets that are proceeds of the crime, traceable to the crime, or of equal value to either of the first categories. Ms. Luis allegedly obtained $45 million through health care-related fraud, but when indicted had only $2 million, which the government agreed was neither proceeds of nor traceable to the fraud. Freezing these funds, to satisfy what the government contended would be restitution upon conviction, would preclude her hiring counsel of her choice. If the Sixth Amendment truly conferred a right to hire counsel of one’s choice, then did it also prevent the government from vitiating this right by freezing all one’s resources with which to pay counsel? Yes, the Court found, although not for any reason that commanded a majority.
Contributing Editor: Sameera Navidi
Contributing Editor: Sarah Gage
Contributing Editor: Rebecca MushlinThe Sixth Amendment provides a criminal defendant the right to confront adverse witnesses, but this right is not absolute. In Giles v. California, the U.S. Supreme Court held a defendant will lose his or her Sixth Amendment right, under the forfeiture by wrongdoing doctrine, if the prosecution proves the defendant intended and caused a witness not to testify. Yet, the Court has not established a procedure that the trial court should use when making a forfeiture determination. The Court’s 2004 holding in Crawford v. Washington significantly diminished numerous exceptions to the Confrontation Clause, overturned most of the alternative tests, and made it more difficult for the prosecution to admit an out-of-court statement by an unavailable witness who the defense did not have an opportunity to cross-examine. Pre-Crawford, the forfeiture by wrongdoing doctrine was less prevalent because other tests allowed the prosecution to circumvent the Confrontation Clause.
Contributing Editor: Kevin MortimerPersonal interests and motivations differ from person to person. The consequences of a criminal conviction are life-altering and may include moral condemnation, retribution, and incarceration. Corporations, on the other hand, typically have one motivation: maximizing profit. Corporations, with their “vast size, wealth, and power,” do not possess a conscience. They will never face the moral condemnation, imprisonment, or death penalty that so many human beings fear. Rather, corporations face criminal fines that are often treated as “a mere cost of business or a slap on the wrist.” These fines do not serve the purpose of moral condemnation or retribution, but rather serve mere regulatory functions.