Elected officials, judges, teachers, doctors, lawyers.
Anyone, whose occupation is deemed to be a service rendered in the public interest, is considered to be the recipient of the public trust. Their conduct is extra-heavily and continuously scrutinized by the media. Fair enough. If you run for public office, you know this going in. It's a circumstance you accept, a risk you assume. It seems to me, however, that should a public figure commit a crime, the betrayal of public trust is invoked as a holy grail, spurring demands for double punishment. The outcry reminds me of spectators at a gladiator fight, flashing a thumbs-down verdict of no mercy. Throw compassion in the closet. This is not as it should be. It bothers me.
I am not advocating that the wrongdoer be given a pass. My proposal is to level the playing field of punishment. Let there be a comprehensive consideration of the offender's past conduct which has benefitted the public. Aberrations happen. The built-in stigma of public disgrace has already made its mark. Many years ago, I represented an attorney who had admitted to sufficient facts in a case involving his having pushed his wife during a heated argument. It was his wife who had called the police and pressed the charge. The attorney had been an elected town official. The Board of Bar Overseers held a hearing on the question of suspending his license. He and his wife had reconciled. She pleaded with the Board not to cut off his ability to financially support his family. I was interrupted, in my closing argument, by a Board member, who asked,"where is the punishment if we do not suspend?"
My response was to ask if he did not consider an attorney, handcuffed, in the prisoners' dock, in full view of the press and the public whom he had once represented, as constituting punishment per se. Deaf ears. Six month loss of license. This inherent double-layered punishment should not be casually ignored.
Let the punishment be in accordance with the actual harm suffered by the public.
Translate the offense into dollars and cents. Use that as the standard for determining the degree of punishment warranted for betraying the public trust. If the public has been financially defrauded, let the amount be the primary factor in promulgating a just sentence. The concept of a lenient sentence should not be dismissed "just because".
With the passage of time, the public's wound will heal.
The brand of a scarlet letter shall adorn the public figure, forever.
This is not a violent crime. We're not dealing with a danger to the community.
Compassion is not a betrayal of the public trust.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
A VERY BITTERSWEET VICTORY
It is the solemn duty of a criminal defense attorney to hold nothing back in his effort to obtain the best possible result for his client, even if he believes the client is guilty. If you recoil from such a hypothetical, if this knowledge, subjectively, prevents you from expending 100% effort, you cannot, you must not, choose criminal defense work. That is why this area of the law is undertaken by a relative few. I completely understand this disqualification of the many. Often, they will turn to another field of law and probably make a helluva lot more dough.That's the way it is.
But, every once in a while, this dormant conflict presents a moral morass, which pushes a lawyer's envelope to the limit. Tears him up inside, so that the results, although certainly a "victory", leave him soulfully branded, forever. And a brand, like a scar, is permanent. Such is the source of gray hair turning to white, and the the appearance of "crow's feet" in the eyes, as a criminal defense attorney is baptized and then matured by the agonies and ecstasies of many criminal cases. As in all things, hard work and pressure take their inevitable toil. But you know that, and, you assume that, going in. It's the juice that you dig.
A young woman was reported missing by her parents. Her father told the police that she had not come home the night before, from a date with the defendant, Smith. Shaken and angry, he set forth this scenario:
When he was first introduced to Smith by his daughter, he took an immediate dislike to him. There was something about him, something he sensed. He constantly urged his daughter to break off the relationship, but she was in love and listened only to her heart. The relationship continued while the father's anxiety steadily increased. He was obsessed by a fearful apprehension that something bad would happen. The last time he saw her was the night she had planned to meet Smith. He was certain that she was a victim of violence. Staying out all night, without calling, was something his daughter would never do. Talk to Smith he pleaded, over and over. Talk to Smith.
Two nights and no word. The detective assigned to the case interviewed Smith who acknowledged the affair but denied any wrongdoing. The absence of hard incriminating evidence obviated a right to arrest. No probable cause.
Eighteen months passed. No leads. A seemingly dead end. The father, never abandoning his accusatory accusations of Smith, had lost patience with the police. A broken man, suffering incomprehensible grief, he decided to take matters into his own hand. He enlisted the help of a "group", friends of his son. This group began following Smith, getting to know his patterns of behavior. One night, pursuant to plan, they abducted Smith on a street near his home. Four of the group jumped him and began punching him. They threw him into a waiting car and drove to an empty cabin in the northern part of the state, belonging to a member of the group. During the drive, Smith was beaten further and his life was threatened several times. He was convinced he was on a one way trip.
At the cabin, the beatings and threats to kill continued. Finally, Smith broke and confessed.
On the night in question, he had met with the daughter at a predesignated remote street corner. She told him she was pregnant. He asked if he was the father. She slapped him. He struck her in the face. She fell, hit her head on the curb, and lay motionless. He thought she was dead. He carried her down a hill to some abandoned railroad tracks, wrapped her in a blanket he found there, dug a shallow grave with his shoes and buried her. He declined to specify the exact location of the body but was willing to lead the group to where it was.
He then seemed to relax. The bullying, and threats to kill, stopped. A calmer atmosphere prevailed. The group drove Smith to the area of the attack, during which time he repeated his admission, several times. Ultimately, the grave was located and the daughter's body unearthed. The police were notified. The father was notified. Oddly, Smith was released and he went home. The legal process began. Smith was indicted for second degree murder.
His attorney correctly analyzed that his only remedy was to have the confessions suppressed. The first, on the ground of coercion, the others on the doctrine of "fruits of the poisonous tree." He filed the appropriate motion. The trial judge found that the initial confession was, indeed, involuntary and therefore, suppressed. The subsequent statements, however, were deemed to have been made of Smith's free will. The atmosphere had changed. The coercion had vanished. They were ruled admissible. The trial was, therefore, a no- brainer. Guilty as charged. Imprisonment for life. Smith's parents wanted a different lawyer. They asked me to write the brief and argue the appeal.
I read all pertinent transcripts. There was no question as to Smith's guilt. He was a psychopath. He had murdered the daughter, buried her, and walked merrily on his way. Never looked back. Continued his life without missing a beat. Decapitate you and eat spaghetti off your shoulders. But the trial judge's rulings on the motion to suppress were so tortured as to cross the border into ludicrousness. The appeal would, in no way, suggest Smith's innocence, but would focus, instead, on a constitutional question of law. This was no legal loophole. A very attractive challenge, Smith's guilt, notwithstanding. I took the case.
I worked long and hard on the brief. One could barely navigate through my office, so great was the number of law books piled on the floor. The end product mirrored the magnitude of the effort. After oral argument, the high court, in a four to three split decision, affirmed the whacky trial court's legal finding but, in its general powers of superintendence, reduced the murder conviction to one of manslaughter. It was as if the court recognized the violation of due process but, faced with Smith's unequivocal guilt, was not about to permit his return to society. It ain't supposed to happen that way and it would, of course, never be acknowledged, but the justices were, after all, human beings subject to the frailties of conscience. The matter was remitted to the trial court for re-sentencing.
What a day that was. The judge was beet-red furious at what he perceived to be a travesty of justice. The tension in the courtroom, with both sets of parents present, was so tangible that you could grab it with your hand. The judge addressed Smith directly. "We shall never know whether your victim was dead or alive when you buried her. You shall always have blood on your hands."
The sentence was the max. Eighteen to twenty in state prison. Better than life, I suppose.
I packed up my briefcase and headed for the elevators. I pushed the down button and waited. And then I heard it. A voice in anguish. Anger and pain. It was the victim's father.
"Well, do you feel proud of yourself? What kind of a lawyer are you? You're going to your nice home while my daughter rots in the ground. Shame on you. Shame on you."
I turned to face him. A spent man ravaged by grief. I said nothing. What he had been, and was, enduring was against the natural order of things. A father buries a child. My God.
I said nothing. What could I say? The elevator door opened. I entered, half expecting the father to follow me, but he didn't. I could not dare to imagine myself in his place. Could not even bear the thought.
To this day, I have remembered his words. Always will. Yes, from a legal standpoint, I could claim the results as a victory. But no, my conscience would have none of that. I had successfully discharged my duty as a defense attorney, but it had been for a rotten cause. It's never a permanent glory road. And some bumps you never forget. This is one of them.
It ain't all peaches and cream.
But, every once in a while, this dormant conflict presents a moral morass, which pushes a lawyer's envelope to the limit. Tears him up inside, so that the results, although certainly a "victory", leave him soulfully branded, forever. And a brand, like a scar, is permanent. Such is the source of gray hair turning to white, and the the appearance of "crow's feet" in the eyes, as a criminal defense attorney is baptized and then matured by the agonies and ecstasies of many criminal cases. As in all things, hard work and pressure take their inevitable toil. But you know that, and, you assume that, going in. It's the juice that you dig.
A young woman was reported missing by her parents. Her father told the police that she had not come home the night before, from a date with the defendant, Smith. Shaken and angry, he set forth this scenario:
When he was first introduced to Smith by his daughter, he took an immediate dislike to him. There was something about him, something he sensed. He constantly urged his daughter to break off the relationship, but she was in love and listened only to her heart. The relationship continued while the father's anxiety steadily increased. He was obsessed by a fearful apprehension that something bad would happen. The last time he saw her was the night she had planned to meet Smith. He was certain that she was a victim of violence. Staying out all night, without calling, was something his daughter would never do. Talk to Smith he pleaded, over and over. Talk to Smith.
Two nights and no word. The detective assigned to the case interviewed Smith who acknowledged the affair but denied any wrongdoing. The absence of hard incriminating evidence obviated a right to arrest. No probable cause.
Eighteen months passed. No leads. A seemingly dead end. The father, never abandoning his accusatory accusations of Smith, had lost patience with the police. A broken man, suffering incomprehensible grief, he decided to take matters into his own hand. He enlisted the help of a "group", friends of his son. This group began following Smith, getting to know his patterns of behavior. One night, pursuant to plan, they abducted Smith on a street near his home. Four of the group jumped him and began punching him. They threw him into a waiting car and drove to an empty cabin in the northern part of the state, belonging to a member of the group. During the drive, Smith was beaten further and his life was threatened several times. He was convinced he was on a one way trip.
At the cabin, the beatings and threats to kill continued. Finally, Smith broke and confessed.
On the night in question, he had met with the daughter at a predesignated remote street corner. She told him she was pregnant. He asked if he was the father. She slapped him. He struck her in the face. She fell, hit her head on the curb, and lay motionless. He thought she was dead. He carried her down a hill to some abandoned railroad tracks, wrapped her in a blanket he found there, dug a shallow grave with his shoes and buried her. He declined to specify the exact location of the body but was willing to lead the group to where it was.
He then seemed to relax. The bullying, and threats to kill, stopped. A calmer atmosphere prevailed. The group drove Smith to the area of the attack, during which time he repeated his admission, several times. Ultimately, the grave was located and the daughter's body unearthed. The police were notified. The father was notified. Oddly, Smith was released and he went home. The legal process began. Smith was indicted for second degree murder.
His attorney correctly analyzed that his only remedy was to have the confessions suppressed. The first, on the ground of coercion, the others on the doctrine of "fruits of the poisonous tree." He filed the appropriate motion. The trial judge found that the initial confession was, indeed, involuntary and therefore, suppressed. The subsequent statements, however, were deemed to have been made of Smith's free will. The atmosphere had changed. The coercion had vanished. They were ruled admissible. The trial was, therefore, a no- brainer. Guilty as charged. Imprisonment for life. Smith's parents wanted a different lawyer. They asked me to write the brief and argue the appeal.
I read all pertinent transcripts. There was no question as to Smith's guilt. He was a psychopath. He had murdered the daughter, buried her, and walked merrily on his way. Never looked back. Continued his life without missing a beat. Decapitate you and eat spaghetti off your shoulders. But the trial judge's rulings on the motion to suppress were so tortured as to cross the border into ludicrousness. The appeal would, in no way, suggest Smith's innocence, but would focus, instead, on a constitutional question of law. This was no legal loophole. A very attractive challenge, Smith's guilt, notwithstanding. I took the case.
I worked long and hard on the brief. One could barely navigate through my office, so great was the number of law books piled on the floor. The end product mirrored the magnitude of the effort. After oral argument, the high court, in a four to three split decision, affirmed the whacky trial court's legal finding but, in its general powers of superintendence, reduced the murder conviction to one of manslaughter. It was as if the court recognized the violation of due process but, faced with Smith's unequivocal guilt, was not about to permit his return to society. It ain't supposed to happen that way and it would, of course, never be acknowledged, but the justices were, after all, human beings subject to the frailties of conscience. The matter was remitted to the trial court for re-sentencing.
What a day that was. The judge was beet-red furious at what he perceived to be a travesty of justice. The tension in the courtroom, with both sets of parents present, was so tangible that you could grab it with your hand. The judge addressed Smith directly. "We shall never know whether your victim was dead or alive when you buried her. You shall always have blood on your hands."
The sentence was the max. Eighteen to twenty in state prison. Better than life, I suppose.
I packed up my briefcase and headed for the elevators. I pushed the down button and waited. And then I heard it. A voice in anguish. Anger and pain. It was the victim's father.
"Well, do you feel proud of yourself? What kind of a lawyer are you? You're going to your nice home while my daughter rots in the ground. Shame on you. Shame on you."
I turned to face him. A spent man ravaged by grief. I said nothing. What he had been, and was, enduring was against the natural order of things. A father buries a child. My God.
I said nothing. What could I say? The elevator door opened. I entered, half expecting the father to follow me, but he didn't. I could not dare to imagine myself in his place. Could not even bear the thought.
To this day, I have remembered his words. Always will. Yes, from a legal standpoint, I could claim the results as a victory. But no, my conscience would have none of that. I had successfully discharged my duty as a defense attorney, but it had been for a rotten cause. It's never a permanent glory road. And some bumps you never forget. This is one of them.
It ain't all peaches and cream.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
POTPOURRI
Everyday, you are the recipient of one-liners which have, apparently, become linguistic symbols. Even assuming that they are uttered with the best of intentions, they tend to drive me nuts, which doesn't require that much gas. Therefore, I shall set forth the slogans of which I complain along with my suggested responses which, if steadfastly adhered to, shall, slowly but surely, act as adhesive mouth-tape.
"OKAY?"
The person talks in question marks. After every few words, "okay" is inserted. Every time this happens, interrupt with "it's okay with me."
"HAVE A GOOD ONE."
"Do I look like I'm walking into the men's room?"
"ENJOY!"
"How did you know I was having a colonoscopy this afternoon?"
"HOWZIT GOIN'?"
"You mean with my case of the clap?"
"AT THE END OF THE DAY."
"Better to think of the end of the lay."
"IF YOU WILL."
"Dammit, I won't! I won't!"----each and every time.
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An awkward segue, to be sure, but I've exhausted my list and shall, therefore, revisit the legal arena.
A criminal defense attorney can't win 'em all. When he loses a heavy case, it is quite possible that the client will wind up in state's prison. Your first visit to him can be most awkward. Knowing you did your best is no solace to him. He's on a long stretch to nowhere. In such a situation, I would usually address him thusly:
"John, I can only imagine how depressed you must be. But, I want you to know that I have already filed an appeal to the Massachusetts Appeals Court and, failing that, I shall make further appeal to the Supreme Judicial Court, the highest court in the state. And, if necessary, I shall file a Writ of Certiorari with the United States Supreme Court. In short, John, I shall leave no legal stone unturned in my efforts to free you.
In the meantime, however, I advise you to carry on with your plans to escape!"
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'Till next time, I leave you, my readers, with this question. Ponder it carefully. The winner T/B/A. In the case of a tie, a tie shall be awarded.
In Shakespeare's MacBeth, when Lady MacBeth cries out,"Out, dammed spot!", why does she want the dog to leave?
"OKAY?"
The person talks in question marks. After every few words, "okay" is inserted. Every time this happens, interrupt with "it's okay with me."
"HAVE A GOOD ONE."
"Do I look like I'm walking into the men's room?"
"ENJOY!"
"How did you know I was having a colonoscopy this afternoon?"
"HOWZIT GOIN'?"
"You mean with my case of the clap?"
"AT THE END OF THE DAY."
"Better to think of the end of the lay."
"IF YOU WILL."
"Dammit, I won't! I won't!"----each and every time.
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An awkward segue, to be sure, but I've exhausted my list and shall, therefore, revisit the legal arena.
A criminal defense attorney can't win 'em all. When he loses a heavy case, it is quite possible that the client will wind up in state's prison. Your first visit to him can be most awkward. Knowing you did your best is no solace to him. He's on a long stretch to nowhere. In such a situation, I would usually address him thusly:
"John, I can only imagine how depressed you must be. But, I want you to know that I have already filed an appeal to the Massachusetts Appeals Court and, failing that, I shall make further appeal to the Supreme Judicial Court, the highest court in the state. And, if necessary, I shall file a Writ of Certiorari with the United States Supreme Court. In short, John, I shall leave no legal stone unturned in my efforts to free you.
In the meantime, however, I advise you to carry on with your plans to escape!"
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'Till next time, I leave you, my readers, with this question. Ponder it carefully. The winner T/B/A. In the case of a tie, a tie shall be awarded.
In Shakespeare's MacBeth, when Lady MacBeth cries out,"Out, dammed spot!", why does she want the dog to leave?
Sunday, June 19, 2011
AN ALLEGORIZATION OF THE ISRAELI DILEMMA
You live in a neighborhood where your neighbors are, uniformly, believers in a different religion. That's "religion" singular. No diversity in their faiths. Your neighbor is convinced that you have altered the plot plans set forth in your deed. He accuses you of claiming too much land. You attempt to explain that, many years ago, this issue was raised by his predecessor and went to arbitration. Your proclaimed real estate boundaries were vindicated. They were affirmed. Your neighbor disagrees, vehemently and violently. He attacks you and a horrific fight ensues. You kick his butt, decisively, and you view the matter as settled. But, defeat is non-digestible to your neighbor. Too humiliating. His emotions boil over. His mistrust and dislike for you intensifies. Now, he is driven by hatred. Unrestrained. A helluva situation in which to expect two neighbors to put aside their differences and live peacefully, side by side. You try to talk with him. Let's accept each other for what we are, and call it a truce. He will have none of it.
Now, all the other residents join the dispute. They unequivocally agree with your neighbor. They are united by the common denominator of hatred of you. The next attack will significantly increase the odds against you. Suddenly, the stakes are not just land, but rather, survival. The readily acknowledged position of the neighborhood is not to merely take away your land, but also, to kill you. They will use deadly force, justifying your relying on same for self defense. You remember that, years ago, you had been in a situation where you were very late to stand up to a bully. That won't happen again.
You continue to press for a dialogue with those around you with two pre-conditions: you all agree to recognize each other's existence, and, that they forswear their intent to kill you. This proffer is rejected out of hand. How then, you ask yourself, can you negotiate with people who refuse to negotiate. You want to discuss compromise, but the word is an anathema to them. Your only alternative is to punch back when punched, stay alert and still cling to the hope that the table of discussion and compromise shall one day be embraced as the only way to even begin to resolve this complicated scenario.
But, you won't be unresponsive to bullying.
Now, all the other residents join the dispute. They unequivocally agree with your neighbor. They are united by the common denominator of hatred of you. The next attack will significantly increase the odds against you. Suddenly, the stakes are not just land, but rather, survival. The readily acknowledged position of the neighborhood is not to merely take away your land, but also, to kill you. They will use deadly force, justifying your relying on same for self defense. You remember that, years ago, you had been in a situation where you were very late to stand up to a bully. That won't happen again.
You continue to press for a dialogue with those around you with two pre-conditions: you all agree to recognize each other's existence, and, that they forswear their intent to kill you. This proffer is rejected out of hand. How then, you ask yourself, can you negotiate with people who refuse to negotiate. You want to discuss compromise, but the word is an anathema to them. Your only alternative is to punch back when punched, stay alert and still cling to the hope that the table of discussion and compromise shall one day be embraced as the only way to even begin to resolve this complicated scenario.
But, you won't be unresponsive to bullying.
Friday, June 17, 2011
"OURS IS NOT TO WONDER WHY........."
Many years ago. The British army stationed in India. A new Lieutenant was assigned for duty and, in conformance with custom, reported to the commanding Colonel and presented his credentials. He stood before the colonel's desk, smartly snapped his heels and announced, "Lieut. Faversham reporting for duty, sir!"
The aging, mustached Colonel, in deep study of papers before him, slowly looked up.
"Faversham! Welcome to India! I've been looking over your papers and taken note of your splendid background. Now, I must tell you one thing, straight away. Sooner or later, during your tour here, you will come upon the dread punji snake. You can't miss it when you see it, Faversham, it's a long yellow snake with black stripes around it. If ever you come upon this snake, do not run from it, for with its superior speed, it shall surely overtake you and kill you. If ever you encounter this snake, you must stand your ground, grab the snake with your wrist, slide your wrist up to its neck, and with your forefinger, pierce its jugular!!"
The Lieutenant, at ramrod straight attention, firmly replied,"Very good, sir!!!"
Three weeks later, the Colonel saw the Lieutenant, covered, from head to toe, with bandages, splints and plaster casts.
"My word, Faversham, what's happened to you, old boy?"
"Sir, just two weeks after our initial meeting of three weeks ago, I was leading a patrol across an open field, when suddenly, darting its head above the knee-high grass, was the punji snake, just as you described it, sir, a long yellow snake with black stripes around it. Remembering your advice, I did not run from it for fear that, with its superior speed, it would surely overtake me and kill me. I rather stood my ground, grabbed the snake by my wrist, slid my wrist up to its neck, attempted to pierce its jugular with my forefinger, and found that I had injected my finger into the a-hole of a tiger!!!"
The aging, mustached Colonel, in deep study of papers before him, slowly looked up.
"Faversham! Welcome to India! I've been looking over your papers and taken note of your splendid background. Now, I must tell you one thing, straight away. Sooner or later, during your tour here, you will come upon the dread punji snake. You can't miss it when you see it, Faversham, it's a long yellow snake with black stripes around it. If ever you come upon this snake, do not run from it, for with its superior speed, it shall surely overtake you and kill you. If ever you encounter this snake, you must stand your ground, grab the snake with your wrist, slide your wrist up to its neck, and with your forefinger, pierce its jugular!!"
The Lieutenant, at ramrod straight attention, firmly replied,"Very good, sir!!!"
Three weeks later, the Colonel saw the Lieutenant, covered, from head to toe, with bandages, splints and plaster casts.
"My word, Faversham, what's happened to you, old boy?"
"Sir, just two weeks after our initial meeting of three weeks ago, I was leading a patrol across an open field, when suddenly, darting its head above the knee-high grass, was the punji snake, just as you described it, sir, a long yellow snake with black stripes around it. Remembering your advice, I did not run from it for fear that, with its superior speed, it would surely overtake me and kill me. I rather stood my ground, grabbed the snake by my wrist, slid my wrist up to its neck, attempted to pierce its jugular with my forefinger, and found that I had injected my finger into the a-hole of a tiger!!!"
Thursday, June 16, 2011
POT LUCK
On August 11, 2011, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial ruled that the odor of burnt marijuana is not enough for officers to order a person out of a parked car, since the possession of one ounce, or less, of pot is no longer a crime. In 2008, the voters voted to decriminalize the possession of this limited amount. It is, now, a civil offense punishing an adult with a $100.00 fine.
A close examination of the facts of the case is mandatory.
Two police officers spotted a car illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant. The officers approached the two people seated in the car. One officer stood next to the driver's side, while the second officer stood near the passenger side. As they spoke to the occupants, one officer smelled a "faint odor" of burnt pot. When asked whether they had been smoking pot, the driver said that he had smoked earlier that day. The officers ordered the driver and passenger out of the car. One cop asked the passenger whether he "had anything on him." He told the officer that he had some drugs with him. The officer searched the passenger and found crack cocaine in his pocket. The Court ruled that the odor of burnt marijuana, alone, was not a sufficient reason for the police to order the passenger out of the car. It held that to order an occupant out of a car, based merely on suspicion of an offense, that offense must be criminal.
The cocaine possession conviction was tossed.
This is tortured judicial reasoning. Nevertheless, as a criminal defense attorney, this decision is music to my ears. But, as an objective blogger (an oxymoron), my common sense is swooning.
I believe that the intent of the Massachusetts voters was to decriminalize getting high in your home, possessing no more than an ounce of pot. No, the referendum was not worded that way, but consider the alternative: walking around in public, stoned, and carrying an ounce or less. If you feel the buzz to be declining, you turn on again, and so on, and so on. Your goal is to get and stay as high as possible. You're the guy giggling with every step. And I, for one, would rather not bump into you, especially if I were with family. I condone doing a joint in your own pad. Digging sounds or laughing at atrocity films.
If you venture out, let someone else drive, for to do so under the influence of pot is a crime. I am advocating staying cool, and not calling public attention to yourself. If you're going out to a music scene, smoke at home before you leave and don't drive. You can legally carry less than an ounce, but don't use in public, unless it's a Woodstock scene.
Now, for the case at hand. The car was illegally parked, with two occupants.This justified a approach by the two cops. Then they smelled burnt marijuana. The suspicion that more than one ounce of marijuana could be involved was not unreasonable. Therefore, ordering the occupants out of the car was o.k. Accordingly, finding the cocaine should have been deemed o.k., as well. I'm not saying that the end justifies the means, but the crux of the case is whether the police had the right to order the occupants out of the car. I' no prude, but I say they did.
For what if either of them were in possession of more than one ounce? That's criminal, and the cops were entitled to determine this, having been put on notice by the odor of burnt pot.
Point being made: stay cool and stay in. Just make sure that the 'fridge is fully stocked with twinkies
A close examination of the facts of the case is mandatory.
Two police officers spotted a car illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant. The officers approached the two people seated in the car. One officer stood next to the driver's side, while the second officer stood near the passenger side. As they spoke to the occupants, one officer smelled a "faint odor" of burnt pot. When asked whether they had been smoking pot, the driver said that he had smoked earlier that day. The officers ordered the driver and passenger out of the car. One cop asked the passenger whether he "had anything on him." He told the officer that he had some drugs with him. The officer searched the passenger and found crack cocaine in his pocket. The Court ruled that the odor of burnt marijuana, alone, was not a sufficient reason for the police to order the passenger out of the car. It held that to order an occupant out of a car, based merely on suspicion of an offense, that offense must be criminal.
The cocaine possession conviction was tossed.
This is tortured judicial reasoning. Nevertheless, as a criminal defense attorney, this decision is music to my ears. But, as an objective blogger (an oxymoron), my common sense is swooning.
I believe that the intent of the Massachusetts voters was to decriminalize getting high in your home, possessing no more than an ounce of pot. No, the referendum was not worded that way, but consider the alternative: walking around in public, stoned, and carrying an ounce or less. If you feel the buzz to be declining, you turn on again, and so on, and so on. Your goal is to get and stay as high as possible. You're the guy giggling with every step. And I, for one, would rather not bump into you, especially if I were with family. I condone doing a joint in your own pad. Digging sounds or laughing at atrocity films.
If you venture out, let someone else drive, for to do so under the influence of pot is a crime. I am advocating staying cool, and not calling public attention to yourself. If you're going out to a music scene, smoke at home before you leave and don't drive. You can legally carry less than an ounce, but don't use in public, unless it's a Woodstock scene.
Now, for the case at hand. The car was illegally parked, with two occupants.This justified a approach by the two cops. Then they smelled burnt marijuana. The suspicion that more than one ounce of marijuana could be involved was not unreasonable. Therefore, ordering the occupants out of the car was o.k. Accordingly, finding the cocaine should have been deemed o.k., as well. I'm not saying that the end justifies the means, but the crux of the case is whether the police had the right to order the occupants out of the car. I' no prude, but I say they did.
For what if either of them were in possession of more than one ounce? That's criminal, and the cops were entitled to determine this, having been put on notice by the odor of burnt pot.
Point being made: stay cool and stay in. Just make sure that the 'fridge is fully stocked with twinkies
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A CLOSER LOOK AT THE DEBATE
O.K. My John King For President campaign has failed to get off the ground. I an forlorn, emotionally crushed and clinically depressed. I may even run myself. Not into the ground but for the White House. But, consistent with my manic me, I bounce right back with a more detailed analysis.
It had been expected that Romney would be everyone's target, since he was the frontrunner. Not so. The game plan of the others was to ingratiate themselves with the heir apparent, so as to vie for the vice presidency. Romney was teflon. Everybody laid off. He was, therefore, the passive winner. But, even if nominated, he can't win. Because he's too moderate. With many years in the game, his experiences have caused him to move towards the center and that's the territory of the Prez. His extremely conservative views on social issues (pro-life, gay marriage, etc,) constitute his pitch to the radical right. He is quite aware, however, that there's a vast difference between espousing and accomplishing. And he has been quite "flexible" on the issues. He plays the room. This is an on the record vulnerability, recorded with indelible ink. He ain't gonna make it all the way. Someone else, with cleaner hands and less baggage, has yet to emerge. It will happen for the GOP.
The talk shows are proclaiming Representative Michele Bachmann as having made the best impression. As compared to whom? Admittedly, she's sailin' better than Palin. She has a more accurate knowledge of foreign affairs i,e, she knows that the Latin Quarter is more than just a foreign coin, and when asked "did the invasion of Hannibal cause the downfall of the Babylonian Empire?" she replied," it's beginning to look that way." And she does not think that "Yale" is the Swedish word for prison. Sincere, but President of the United States??????
The present candidates are honorable people but without electability. To be sure, President Obama can be criticized on certain areas of foreign policy. Like, what's our game plan re the citizenry uprisings in the Middle East? Shouldn't it be recognized that a "political vacuum" in that region is an oxymoron? Cannot any such void be immediately filled by political organizations with unlimited animosities toward the U.S. and its vital interests? See Egypt. From bad to worse is no blueprint for stability, the best of intentions, notwithstanding.
Nonetheless, with the candidates presently in play, I see the President's re-election. He's extremely intelligent, honest and moral as they come. A born leader. We've got a patriot on our hands, who doesn't shoot from the hip and whom I believe has a reasoned natural instinct to do what's right for this country.
Observe the candidates for the sake of political science, but what we've got, we should have for another four years. President Obama is made of the right stuff.
It had been expected that Romney would be everyone's target, since he was the frontrunner. Not so. The game plan of the others was to ingratiate themselves with the heir apparent, so as to vie for the vice presidency. Romney was teflon. Everybody laid off. He was, therefore, the passive winner. But, even if nominated, he can't win. Because he's too moderate. With many years in the game, his experiences have caused him to move towards the center and that's the territory of the Prez. His extremely conservative views on social issues (pro-life, gay marriage, etc,) constitute his pitch to the radical right. He is quite aware, however, that there's a vast difference between espousing and accomplishing. And he has been quite "flexible" on the issues. He plays the room. This is an on the record vulnerability, recorded with indelible ink. He ain't gonna make it all the way. Someone else, with cleaner hands and less baggage, has yet to emerge. It will happen for the GOP.
The talk shows are proclaiming Representative Michele Bachmann as having made the best impression. As compared to whom? Admittedly, she's sailin' better than Palin. She has a more accurate knowledge of foreign affairs i,e, she knows that the Latin Quarter is more than just a foreign coin, and when asked "did the invasion of Hannibal cause the downfall of the Babylonian Empire?" she replied," it's beginning to look that way." And she does not think that "Yale" is the Swedish word for prison. Sincere, but President of the United States??????
The present candidates are honorable people but without electability. To be sure, President Obama can be criticized on certain areas of foreign policy. Like, what's our game plan re the citizenry uprisings in the Middle East? Shouldn't it be recognized that a "political vacuum" in that region is an oxymoron? Cannot any such void be immediately filled by political organizations with unlimited animosities toward the U.S. and its vital interests? See Egypt. From bad to worse is no blueprint for stability, the best of intentions, notwithstanding.
Nonetheless, with the candidates presently in play, I see the President's re-election. He's extremely intelligent, honest and moral as they come. A born leader. We've got a patriot on our hands, who doesn't shoot from the hip and whom I believe has a reasoned natural instinct to do what's right for this country.
Observe the candidates for the sake of political science, but what we've got, we should have for another four years. President Obama is made of the right stuff.
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