“The history of liberty has largely been the history of observance of procedural safeguards.”
~Supreme Court Justice Frankfurter
We, as Americans, like to take pride in our sense of justice. We believe that no other country in the world does a better job of protecting the rights of its citizens. For 50 years I believed this myself; then I was arrested.
Close contact with the criminal justice system exposes an ugly truth: The perception that our court system is fair and just is a myth. We want to believe that our way of doing things is righteous and good, and, thanks to a stead stream of propaganda from law and order television shows and the news, we do. Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with reality. But don’t take my word for it, rather, let us examine some of the facts.
First, I will present the myth. The hapless criminal is arrested for a felony. Overburdened with cases and dealing with an already clogged court system, the harried prosecutor is forced to offer the alleged perpetrator a deal, a plea bargain. He proposes that the defendant plead guilty to a lesser charge; sometimes it’s only a misdemeanor. Sometimes jail-time, is avoided altogether. All in all, it is a sweetheart deal for the lucky defendant, who jumps at the offer. At sentencing he gets a short sentence, sometimes just a slap on the wrist. When the criminal is released from custody, he reoffends, and the cycle starts again.
The public is outraged; the coddling of criminals must end! Stronger laws are needed, longer sentences, more prisons. Politicians latch on to a no-lose campaign slogan; “Tough On Crime.” It all makes for good T.V.
Now let us examine reality. For the sake of argument let us say that someone is arrested for the crime of aggravated Assault (assault with a weapon). Since this is a felony charge, the suspect goes straight to jail. As he languishes in his cell, the prosecutor decides to charge him with Attempted Deliberate Homicide. Overcharging a defendant is common practice in all 50 states. It is an effective way to force a plea agreement and avoid a jury trial. Attempted Deliberate Homicide is a much more serious crime so bail is higher. Now the bail is higher so the defendant is forced to rot in jail for six to eight months awaiting trial. There is no chance now to investigate or to work on his defense.
When the trial date grows near, the public defender, who the defendant has seen for a total of 30 minutes since his arrest, comes for a visit. “The prosecutor has offered you a deal,” he says. The charge will be dropped to Aggravated Assault if you sign a plea agreement and avoid a costly trial.
The defendant examines the documents. His lawyer wants him to plead guilty to a 20 year sentence, the statutory maximum for the crime. “Wait a minute,” the defendant says. “This was a case of self-defense. The other guy was trying to kill me!”
The attorney rolls his eyes. “You had a weapon; he didn’t.” Case closed. “Screw it!” says the defendant. “Let’s go to trial. I don’t want to do 20 years for defending myself.”
“Oh, you don’t want to do that,” the attorney warns. “If a jury convicts you of Attempted Deliberate Homicide, you could get 100-years.”
The defendant is stubborn; he thinks he is innocent, so he balks. Being a naive first-time offender, he insists on going to trial. He tells his attorney that a jury would never convict him of a crime he didn’t commit. The public defender shakes his head, then stomps out of the room, mumbling to himself.
A couple of days later his attorney returns. He’s talked to the prosecutor and got a better deal: 10 years, with the other 10 suspended. The defendant laughs because he doesn’t want to cry. “That’s a deal?”
“It’s the best you’re going to get,” his attorney assures him. “Besides, you only have to do one-quarter of you’re sentence to parole. You’ll be out in two and a half years.”
It finally dawns on the defendant that this is the best that he can hope for, so he agrees to a plea agreement. In good faith, he signs his life away.
At the sentencing hearing the public defender tells his client to keep his mouth shut, and he follows his advice. After all, he is an attorney, and he should know what he’s doing. Several people take the stand and give victim impact statements. Some of them lie. The defendant whispers this to his lawyer, but he remains silent. When the defendant’s time to speak comes, he expresses remorse and throws himself at the mercy of the court; he still believes. The whole hearing lasts less than 30 minutes.
At the end of the hearing the judge rejects the plea agreement and sentences the defendant to the maximum, 20 years. Though it all seems like a well camouflaged trap to the defendant, it is perfectly legal. The stunned defendant glances at his lawyer. He’s standing, ready to leave. He is already thinking about his next case. The bailiff leads the defendant back to his cell.
More surprises await the newly convicted felon in prison. He soon learns that the quarter time to parole promise, is an empty one. It means nothing once you are inside the prison gates. “Parole is a privilege, not a right,” he is told. He patiently bides his time and hopes for the best.
Five years pass. He has somehow managed to keep clear conduct and is even group complete. He sees the parole board for the first time. With little fanfare they flop him. “Come back in two years,” they say.
The board hands him some paperwork, and he reads it. Severity of his crime is the reason given for not paroling him. “Severity of the crime?” he wonders. “By definition a felony is a severe crime. How convenient.”
His mind is reeling. He thinks back to the lies his public defender told him in order to get him to sign the plea agreement. It is too late now, but if he had it to do over again, he would have gone to trial. But he will never have a trial now; he was duped out of it by people he trusted, people who represented the law. His faith in the system, what little he had left disintegrates completely.
One year melts into the next. the next time he sees the board, he is flopped again, this time for a year. He picks up a write-up for being caught smoking a cigarette and is flopped for another year. He ends up doing 10 years flat before he is finally paroled. He is released from prison with $400 and 10-years of paper time.
With nowhere else to go, he returns to his old hometown. he really has no choice; his parole plan limits his residency to three counties. The first order of business is to register with the police as a violent offender. It is a label he will carry for the rest of his life, because of a freak incident which happened over 10-years ago.
After being gone so long, he feels out of place. His wife left him along time ago, along with his children. His family is supportive, but he senses that they are afraid. Of him or for him, he can’t be sure; maybe it’s a little bit of both. he takes a room at a rundown hotel on the poor side of town. His neighbors are transients, drug addicts, and other lost souls fresh out of county jail or prison. Like a dark cloud, a palpable gloom hangs over the place. He takes a mindless job for lousy pay. It is a grim existence, but it still beats prison.
After a couple of months of this daily squalor, he becomes depressed. One night, his resistance breaks down, and he walks across the street to a local bar. He has a couple of mixed drinks, and it makes him feel somewhat better. Unfortunately, some good citizen sees him and reports him to the probation office. The next day his parole officer pays him a visit. Before the sun goes down, he is in a cell in the county jail. A week later he is back on fish row. Violent offenders don’t get second chances. There;s that label again.
This time he spends two years in prison. When he is finally paroled, he is bitter, angry, and hardly fit for society. With eight years of paper-time left, he is looking at “life on the installment plan.” All for protecting himself. No one, other than another unfortunate trapped in the system would believe it.
To be fair i must admit that the reality story is a work of interpretive fiction. It is still, however, much closer to the truth than the myth. Every detail of it is true and has happened to someone I know.
Americans like to believe the best about themselves and their country. If they really want the best, however, they must pull their heads out of the sand. Ignorance and apathy are double-edged swords. History teaches that many nations find this out the hard way. I don’t think it is necessary to name names.
~John Hannan MSP
