Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Open season? A short explanation of self-defense in light of Stand Your Ground

Yesterday, I attempted to defend the George Zimmerman verdict, and I was surprised that I got few negative comments. Frankly, I expected to be raked over the coals (which I welcome) for my stance. Instead, we’ve got a good discussion going, which is even better.

It’s no surprise that the main point of contention (and confusion) is self-defense and the acceptable use of deadly force, particularly in light of “Stand Your Ground” laws.

It’s confusing for everyone, including lawyers sometimes. A few years ago, my lawyer friend Drew and I overheard yet another lawyer explain her understanding of deadly force. She argued passionately (and erroneously) that she could use deadly force if, for example, she caught someone breaking into her car in her driveway. (Naturally, this has become a running joke between Drew and me: “Note to self: Don’t show up at HER house unannounced!” etc.)

It’s not that funny, though, when you consider that we appear to be a heavily-armed and increasingly nervous nation. Add to that the Trayvon Martin case, with pundits lamenting that “it’s open season on black teenagers!” and “Stand Your Ground is a get-out-of-jail-free card!” and the waters are muddied further.

Oliver Wendell Holmes famously said, “Detached reflection cannot be demanded in the presence of an uplifted knife.” Brown v. U.S., 256 U.S. 335, 343 (1921). I’m sure, therefore, that no one will consult this blog post before shooting an assailant. Still, I thought I’d try to clear up some of the confusion about self-defense, deadly force, and Stand Your Ground.

Common-law self-defense

As you can imagine, sweating over whether it’s OK to defend yourself or your property is a fairly recent concept in human history. Nonetheless, the defense of “self-defense” evolved to justify what would have normally been considered a violent criminal act.

Self-defense is an Affirmative defense and a Justification defense (“Yes, I killed him, but I had no other choice.”)

Once the prosecution proves all elements of the underlying offense (murder, say) beyond a reasonable doubt, the defense has the burden of proof to prove all elements of the self-defense claim. In other words, to successfully defend himself of the crime by using self-defense as a justification, the defendant must show that the assailant presented an unlawful threat such that the defendant believes himself to be in imminent (not future) peril of death or serious bodily harm—and that self-defense is necessary to avert the threat. The peril need not be real, but the defendant’s fear that it is real must be both honest and reasonable under the circumstances. (So… even if the defendant was being “attacked” with a dummy knife as a Halloween prank, he could still theoretically be justified in defending himself.)

The standard is both objective and subjective: In other words, the jury considers both whether the defendant truly believed that he was in danger AND whether that belief was reasonable. See People v. Goetz, 73 N.Y 2d 751 (1988).

Deadly force and the duty to retreat

In general, a defendant is justified in using only the amount of force necessary to repel the attack. If someone shoves a defendant, he is probably not justified in shooting back.

At common law, the defendant had a duty to retreat from the assault if he could do so. For example, if someone attacked the defendant on the street, the defendant was expected to run away if possible. The notable exception to this is known as the Castle Doctrine—as in, your home is your castle. The defendant had the duty to retreat only as far as his home (or, in some cases, his car or place of business), in part because, once you’ve run home (or you’re already at home), it’s not possible to retreat any farther than that.

All of the above was codified into each state’s criminal code, but some states have passed enhanced self-defense statutes that discard—in part or in total—the duty to retreat. These are the so-called Stand Your Ground laws.

Stand Your Ground

About thirty states (depending on how loosely you define “stand your ground”) now have some type of Stand Your Ground law with no duty to retreat or a limited duty to retreat from anywhere the defendant has a legal right to be. Most—if not all—of these laws place some restrictions on Stand Your Ground—the defendant can’t invoke this defense if he’s not lawfully carrying the gun he used, for example, or if he has “unclean hands”—is engaged in criminal activity at the time.

Florida’s Stand Your Ground law reads:

“A person who is not engaged in an unlawful activity and who is attacked in any other place where he or she has a right to be has no duty to retreat and has the right to stand his or her ground and meet force with force, including deadly force if he or she reasonably believes it is necessary to do so to prevent death or great bodily harm to himself or herself or another or to prevent the commission of a forcible felony.” § 776.013(3), Fla. Stat. (Supp. 2012).

Wasn’t Trayvon Martin standing his ground?

If, as Martin’s friend Rachel Jeantel testified, he was afraid of George Zimmerman, why was he not allowed to defend himself—with his punch to Zimmerman’s nose, say?

If you re-read the statute, you’ll see that it requires the person to be “attacked” and to “meet force with force.” From all evidence, George Zimmerman was at most following Martin (and may not have been doing that). This does not rise to the level of an attack or of force on Zimmerman’s part.

What about that lady who got 20 years for firing a warning shot?

On July 31, 2010, Marissa Alexander returned to her husband’s home, where she had not lived in two months. (She had a restraining order against him, but she voluntarily returned, perhaps to get some possessions.) The couple argued, and she went to her car in the garage and returned with a gun. She fired a shot into the wall (she says it was a warning shot; reports call the bullet placement “adult level”) in the direction of her husband and his two children. A judge rejected her Stand Your Ground claim.

Based on these facts, it would be hard to make a case for a Stand Your Ground. When she went into the garage, she appears to have given up her ground. (You can’t retreat and then come back and stand your ground.) Also, by coming back into the house with a gun after walking away, she appears to be the aggressor in this situation and not the victim. Further, it is unclear whether she had a legal right to be at this house, as the two were separated and she had not lived there for two months.

She was convicted of three counts (one for the husband and one for each of the two children) of aggravated assault and was sentenced to 20 years in jail under a mandatory sentencing law after she rejected a plea deal that would have reduced her jail time to three years.

While I’m sure we can find some examples of the uneven application of Stand Your Ground laws, this case clearly isn’t one of them.

It’s not open season on anyone

If you’re attacked, you are justified in using as much force as you honestly and reasonably believe is necessary to repel the attack—but no more—including deadly force if that’s what it takes. If you’re in your home, you do not have the duty to retreat. In a Stand Your Ground state, you no longer have the duty to retreat even if you’re not in your home unless you fall under your state statute’s limitations—you’re the initial aggressor, say, or you’re engaged in some illegal activity.


Hopefully, you won’t find yourself in this position.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Race to the Bottom: Why the George Zimmerman Verdict Was the Right One

“Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I’d have the facts.”
Scout Finch in Harper Lee’s “To Kill A Mockingbird”

It's always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth.”
Juror No. 8 in Reginald Rose’s “Twelve Angry Men”

“No person shall be… deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.”
U.S. Const. amend. V

As absolutely everybody knows, George Zimmerman was acquitted of the murder (and manslaughter) of Trayvon Martin July 13, 2013.

And… that’s about the only thing on which we agree. After that, our opinions—and indeed the very facts on which we’re basing those opinions—diverge wildly and widely.

It’s funny: While I almost never get caught up in these heavily-covered trials and can’t, for example, tell you anything at all about Caylee Anthony, I believe that the George Zimmerman trial has changed the way I think.

I’ve been fascinated—and frustrated—with the epidemic misstatement of the facts and the misinterpretation of the law (including my own, until I look it up and find that I am often dead-wrong about what I think I know). Frankly, it makes me question whether I’ve based any of my deeply-held political opinions on fact—or on someone else’s (maybe shaky) interpretation of the facts.

As I’ve watched various friends and family members (and myself!) age, I’ve noticed that we either get more “sure” of ourselves or less so. For me, the more I learn, the less I know. That’s unsettling, but I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, you end up rigid, bitter, and a caricature—“Kids today!” and “Get off my lawn!”

Due to both the intense media coverage and the incendiary subject matter, everyone has been discussing the case, which picks at two of our most divisive political topics (guns and race). Mix in the typically shameful way that we treat young black men in our criminal justice system, and add that a teenager is dead, it’s no wonder we’ve all felt a deeply personal reaction to the verdict.

Among my circle of Facebook and real-world friends, anyway, the divide is pretty wide, and I’m a little disturbed to find myself on the “wrong” side here—maybe for the first time. There’s no middle ground, apparently. What’s worse, your opinion says something about who you are as a person.

What my oversensitive ears are hearing is this: If you’re not willing to concede that George Zimmerman is a vigilante racist who stalked an innocent child and shot him through the heart for no other reason than because he was black, then you’re on the side of the racist-apologist gun-nuts. On the other hand, if you’re not ready to label George Zimmerman a blameless, holy creature, then you’re a likely Communist who goes for pedicures with Al Sharpton every other Saturday.

Much of this appears to come from our eagerness to make this case, this one single case, represent what is wrong—or right—with America. We’re trying to make this case fit our beliefs about whichever hot-button political issue we champion. As a result, I’ve heard that it’s now “open season on black teenagers in America!” and conversely “don’t act like a criminal and you won’t be treated like one!” Sigh.

How can this be? How can we all have the same facts but come up with opposite conclusions? The problem, I think, is that we don’t all have the same facts AND we’re not all correctly applying the law to the facts.

Rather than add to all of the noise, I hope to clarify some things. Further, as you’ve probably guessed, I want to explain my (apparently) radical viewpoint that justice was served. I don’t meant this: “Well, given the evidence, the jury did the best it could, but they weren’t able to make it stick.” Instead, I mean: While it is a terrible shame that Trayvon Martin is dead, George Zimmerman should not have been held criminally responsible for his death.

Here’s why:

What are we trying to prove?

To discuss any case meaningfully, we’ve got to lay the foundation: burden of proof, statutory elements, and standard of proof.

In general, in any type of case, the party who brings the suit is required to provide sufficient evidence to convince the trier of fact to abandon the default position.

In a criminal case in the U.S., this means that the prosecution, the People, the state (the party bringing the suit) must provide sufficient evidence (must prove that the defendant committed every element of a crime beyond a reasonable doubt) to convince the jury to abandon the default position (that the defendant is innocent).

To ensure that we’re not depriving a criminal defendant of his Fifth and Fourteenth Amendment rights to life and liberty without due process of law, we require ourselves, the People, to find him guilty of the crime to the highest standard (beyond a reasonable doubt, which means not to an absolute certainty, but that no reasonable person could come to a different conclusion given the evidence). Otherwise, we will not allow ourselves to send him to prison.

George Zimmerman was charged with second-degree murder, which in Florida is “the unlawful killing of a human being, when perpetrated by any act imminently dangerous to another and evincing a depraved mind regardless of human life, although without any premeditated design….” § 782.04(2), Fla. Stat. (Supp. 2012).

Even though Zimmerman was not originally charged with manslaughter, the judge allowed the State to add manslaughter as an option for the jury. This is technically legal, but it gave the prosecution quite an advantage over the defense. For reasons that are too complicated to discuss here, Florida is less friendly than other states are to this “if you can’t prove murder, then try manslaughter” option. This move was controversial, and it should have been, as it put the defense at quite a disadvantage AND it was contrary to the prosecution’s theory of the case. Still, the judge allowed it over the defense’s vigorous objections, so it went to the jury.

In Florida, manslaughter is: “The killing of a human being by the act, procurement, or culpable negligence of another, without lawful justification….” § 782.07(1), Fla. Stat. (Supp. 2012).

The defense of self-defense

Even if the State proves each element of the statute (and the defense doesn’t successfully refute this), the defense can raise a defense that means: “Even if I did it, I should be excused because….” These are known as “affirmative defenses” (“yes, I did it”), and self-defense is one of them.

Nearly everyone is confused about “Stand Your Ground” laws and whether they played a part in the defense. It’s no wonder people are confused, because it’s complicated.

It’s true that Florida has a “Stand Your Ground” law, and that the essence of this law was explained to the jury in the jury instructions—as it should have been, because it is the current self-defense law in Florida. It is also true that the question of whether George Zimmerman could use deadly force with no duty to retreat is a moot one: If the jury believed that Trayvon Martin was on top of George Zimmerman and was getting the better of him in the fight, then George Zimmerman had no duty to retreat because it was not possible for him to retreat.

This is crucial: For this reason, it does not matter whether George Zimmerman approached Trayvon Martin first. (This is not really disputed.) It also does not matter whether George Zimmerman is overly-suspicious of black teenagers. (The evidence does not show that he was. If you believe that he is a racist, I would ask for you to review the testimony and other evidence again. Also, read the non-emergency and 911 call logs from Zimmerman’s prior calls as a neighborhood watch coordinator. Listen to the non-emergency call that he made that night. Review Rachel Jeantel’s testimony, too. Question whether any evidence shows that Zimmerman “stalked” or even continued to follow Trayvon Martin after the dispatcher said, “We don’t need for you to do that, sir.” Despite what you’ve heard, I think you’ll be surprised.)

At any rate, this is why I chafe at the claims that Florida is somehow different and that this wouldn’t have happened in some other states or that it is “open season on black teenagers!” If someone has you pinned down and is punching you—and you fear death or great bodily harm (as any reasonable person would), you are allowed to use deadly force to defend yourself—in every state, at any time.

Like it or not, the evidence presented at trial supported George Zimmerman’s claim that this is what happened—the prosecution did not present much if any credible evidence to support any other version of events. In my opinion, the evidence that was withheld from the jury tended to be more favorable to George Zimmerman’s version.

The arguments I’ve heard against Zimmerman—that he was a racist vigilante who started the fight, pursued Trayvon Martin, and shot him for no good reason—do not stand up to (admittedly, scant) eyewitness testimony, call logs, the ballistics expert, and other evidence. There was no “getting off on legal technicalities,” and Zimmerman didn’t walk free because the prosecution was incompetent. There was not enough evidence to convict him—and it was probably because the prosecution’s theory of the case was not consistent with the facts.

So why does “Stand Your Ground” matter?

At common law, a person who was being attacked and feared death or great bodily harm could not use deadly force to defend himself if he was able to get away. In other words, before he could use deadly force, he had a “duty to retreat.” In general, a person didn’t have the same duty to retreat if he was in his home—because traditionally, your home is your castle AND if you’re already at home, you can’t very well retreat any further than that.

Several states (20 or more at last count) have expanded this in their self-defense statutes—the so-called “Stand Your Ground” laws. Generally speaking, under these laws, a person who is attacked and fears death or great bodily harm can use deadly force to defend himself and has NO duty to retreat—not only in his home, but anywhere where he has a legal right to be.

In Florida, the law reads:

“A person who is not engaged in an unlawful activity and who is attacked in any other place where he or she has a right to be has no duty to retreat and has the right to stand his or her ground and meet force with force, including deadly force if he or she reasonably believes it is necessary to do so to prevent death or great bodily harm to himself or herself or another or to prevent the commission of a forcible felony.” § 776.013(3), Fla. Stat. (Supp. 2012).

Based on this statute and the case law that interprets it, Zimmerman’s claim that he acted in self-defense would be accepted unless the jury had a reasonable doubt that he did not act in self-defense. See Murray v. State, 937 So.2d 277, 279 (Fla. 4th Dist. 2006) and Montijo v. State, 61 So.3d 424 (Fla. 5th Dist. 2011).

Apparently, this holds true UNLESS, as another part of the Florida statute has it, you’re the initial aggressor, in which case you’ve still got a duty to retreat before you can use deadly force: “The justification described in the preceding sections of this chapter is not available to a person who… Initially provokes the use of force against himself… unless… he… has exhausted every reasonable means to escape such danger….” § 776.041(2)(a), Fla. Stat. (Supp. 2012).

Oh, well, there you go, right? Zimmerman was the initial aggressor, wasn’t he? Didn’t he approach Trayvon Martin first?

Well, “initial aggressor” takes more than that. The case law that I read (and I read a lot) suggests that it requires the “initial aggressor” to actually attack the other person or to otherwise have “dirty hands”—to be breaking some law. I have heard some arguments that Zimmerman was stalking Martin or otherwise frightened him, and therefore he was the aggressor. This does not appear to rise to the level of “initial aggressor,” though—certainly Zimmerman was not breaking any laws by asking Martin what he was doing there (if that is what he did).

Anyway, for reasons stated above, this hardly matters. The evidence showed that Zimmerman had no duty to retreat—because it was impossible for him to retreat.

That’s why “Stand Your Ground” is important here—yet it did not determine the outcome of the case.

If you want to argue that “Stand Your Ground” laws encourage vigilantism or that George Zimmerman should have stayed in the car even though he had the right to decide otherwise, you can. I’m arguing that those points are irrelevant to the case.

Putting it all together

All of the above lengthy and complex legal analysis boils down to this:

The prosecution had the burden to convince the jury beyond a reasonable doubt that Zimmerman either 1) Killed Trayvon Martin because he had a “depraved mind”—so full of ill will as to be evil, corrupt, outrageously inhuman (second-degree murder) AND that he was not acting in self-defense OR 2) Was so negligent and careless of human life that he killed Trayvon Martin with no justification or provocation.

To me, and to the jury, the prosecution failed to do this.

Racism and common sense

Maybe it’s human nature, some evolutionary suspicion of “otherness”, but I believe that almost everyone is to some degree a racist, or a sexist, an ageist, a classist, etc. President Obama says that every African-American man has had the experience of being mistaken for a waiter, say, or noticing a woman clutch her purse when he walks past—and I don’t doubt it. This is shameful and damaging, but that’s not nearly as bad as it gets, e.g. “driving while black.” Even though I’m a woman and was raised not-so-wealthy in Southern Appalachia, I’ve got no idea what it’s like to automatically fall under police suspicion because of what I look like. Several parents of African-American children have reported that they feel compelled to give their sons “the talk”—how to act, where to keep your hands during a police stop so that the police don’t assume you’re reaching for a gun. This is horrifying.

George Zimmerman saw Trayvon Martin and believed that he was a suspicious person. Is this racist? I’m not so sure. The neighborhood was troubled by burglaries, and Zimmerman saw a person walking at night and called the report in—as he had been asked to do in his capacity as a neighborhood watch coordinator. (According to Zimmerman, Martin was walking slowly in the rain and looking at the houses, but there is no evidence of this other than Zimmerman’s word.) This does not seem like racism to me. Are we really saying that Zimmerman would have decided NOT to call in the report had Martin been white and yet was walking in the same place at the same time of night and behaving in the same way? Surely not.

We’ve also heard that Zimmerman (who is Hispanic in Florida and should know what prejudice feels like) mentored African-American kids and dated an African-American girl. I’m not sure we need to go that far, but I haven’t heard any evidence that convinces me that Zimmerman was a rank racist who “profiled” Martin because of race.

In fact, when I've asked people why they believe this, I've been given "facts" that bear little to no resemblance to the facts of the case.

It's also disturbing that NBC news apparently edited Zimmerman's call to make it sound as if he said: "This guy looks like he's up to no good. He looks black.” In fact, the conversation went like this:

Zimmerman: This guy looks like he's up to no good. Or he's on drugs or something. It's raining and he's just walking around, looking about.

Dispatcher: OK, and this guy - is he black, white or Hispanic?

Zimmerman: He looks black.

Why are we trying so hard to make it sound as if Zimmerman profiled Martin based on face--particularly when Zimmerman didn't appear to know what Martin's race WAS until after the fact?

Further, if he had wanted to “stalk” Martin and shoot him vigilante-style, it doesn’t make sense that he would summon the police first, does it?

As far as the racism inherent in the criminal justice system, many were outraged when the local district attorney failed to charge Zimmerman with a crime at first. Again, I’m skeptical that race played a part. Instead, I think the prosecutors were correct when they said initially that there was not enough evidence to convict Zimmerman.

Then, Florida governor Rick Scott removed local prosecutors and appointed a special prosecutor, who charged Zimmerman. In my opinion, this was in response to public and other outside forces—and I’m not comfortable with that. At any rate, Zimmerman was charged with murder—even though there was little evidence to support that charge and even though he had a compelling claim of self-defense. No grand jury necessary, even though the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments call for one. Further, the “charge” of manslaughter was added later, even though that’s an odd move for a Florida judge—and it took away the defense’s ability to attack this in pretrial.

For these reasons, I don’t see how anyone can reasonably say that the system was biased in FAVOR of George Zimmerman.

While I won’t deny that the deck is often stacked against poor people or people of color, we appear to have bent over backwards to get George Zimmerman charged and tried.

Racism is a problem. Falsely accusing people of being a racist doesn’t solve the problem.

Justice was served

In a perfect world, and based on the ideals of our criminal justice system, the State cannot take away a person’s constitutional right to life, liberty, or property without due process of law. We ensure this by requiring the State to prove—beyond a reasonable doubt—that the defendant has violated every element of a criminal statute. Further, we require the trier of fact to weigh any defenses that the defendant may offer, and to apply the appropriate standard of proof to those claims. Then and only then, do we have the right to imprison a defendant.

We require this of ourselves even if we don’t like the defendant, or if we’re horrified that a teenager is dead, or if we are ashamed of our society’s racist past or of the racist and classist tendencies of our criminal justice system. We can’t right other wrongs on the back of THIS criminal defendant.

Is it sad that Trayvon Martin died? Horribly sad. Is our criminal justice system always fair? No! Is George Zimmerman a prudent man who used the very best judgment? Almost certainly not.

In this case, however, despite intense media coverage and pressure from the public and perhaps from the federal government, a properly-seated jury weighed the evidence and decided that the prosecution did not prove beyond a reasonable doubt that George Zimmerman committed murder or manslaughter.

We’ve got plenty of examples of cases in every state of the flaws in our criminal justice system.

This case is not one of them.

Monday, June 10, 2013

A logical conclusion: the slippery slope of logical fallacies

My dorky friends and I love to talk about what makes a good argument and the pitfalls of logical fallacies. This is one of my all-time favorite topics of discussion, which is no doubt why I’m widely regarded to be so hip and cool. (Note: Anyone who calls herself “hip and cool”… is not.)

Anyway, I’ve wanted to write a blog post for some time on logical fallacies, but I didn’t think I had any original thought to add to the subject. I needed a good, solid example with a common thread running through it—and boy, have I found it.

In response to a controversy that is brewing in my hometown of Dahlonega, Ga., regarding teacher-led prayer in school, I started a new Facebook page called LC True. The “yes to teacher-led prayer in school” crowd has plenty of support (including that of the principal and school board), so I wanted to provide a place for students, teachers, parents, community members, and anyone else to come together and discuss the issues. I hoped, among other things, to provide high school students with support and to let them know that someone out there is listening to them. As a side-effect, I hoped to deflect some wrath away from 15-year-olds and onto myself, ‘cause I can take it. (Mission accomplished!)

In all of the arguing back and forth, I’ve been fascinated by the logical fallacies that have hit the table. I think it’s an interesting illustration, so I wanted to share some of them. (I’m not saying that I’m immune to logical fallacies. My friend Tim had diagnosed me with a Straw Man problem at one time, and he was right!)

How do you know?

One of my Criminal Justice professors used to challenge us like this: “How do you KNOW what you know?” This was a life-changing question for me, because until that point, I could get away with bad argument. At that moment, I became fascinated with what makes a good argument—in other words, are we weighing the facts and truly proving or disproving a premise to get closer to the truth? When people utter that obnoxious phrase “education teaches you how to think!,” this is what they mean, I believe.

A sound argument is based on a fact which supports a premise, which leads in turn to a conclusion. If the facts are sound and the premise is sound, the conclusion will be true. For example: All humans are mammals. If Robin is a human, then Robin must also be a mammal.

This example is so simple as to be silly, but what if we say this:

It is a violation of the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause for public school teachers to lead students in school prayer.
The teachers at LCHS led students in a Christian prayer at LCHS on Wednesday, May 1, 2013.
The teachers therefore violated the First Amendment.

(Now, of course, there are many mini-arguments to be made here. The first statement is not really valid unless you first show that the Supreme Court has held that public schoolteachers are agents of the state, and that as such, if they lead students in religious activities, it’s the same as the state sponsoring a religion. Also, you’d need to show that teachers were present and led or aided in the prayer. Plus, you’ll want to discuss the Establishment Clause and cite Supreme Court cases holding that the Establishment Clause says what you think it says.)

Fighting fair

In a previous blog post and on the LC True page, I’m making the above argument. A lot of people have disagreed with me, as I hoped they would. It can be frustrating, though, that we’re not arguing about the same thing. In fact, we appear to agree on some key points, and yet disagreement persists in spite of that. Why is this? How can we agree and disagree at the same time?

Religion is the most emotional subject around, and by definition we have deeply-held beliefs about it. I suspect our arguments often fail because not only are we not playing by the same rules, we’re not even playing the same game. For example, I once heard a brilliant scientist discuss evolution. She carefully laid out her premises, which included key points from the fossil record. An audience member said, “That stuff is not true. Satan put those fossils there to fool you!” She responded: “I can’t argue with that logic,” and the man left, satisfied that he had won the argument. The audience were outraged! How could this brilliant woman fail to put this clown in his place? She explained: He’s using a different system of logic. If he’s allowed to punt in favor of the supernatural, we’re not arguing about the same thing at all. There’s no use arguing.

With that in mind, here are some examples of a few logical fallacies from the LC True movement. (Fair is fair: I’ve tried to find examples from all sides of the issue.)

Ad hominem

Latin for “to the man,” this method attempts to refute a person’s premise by attacking the person herself and not the premise.

Example: “You’re wrong. You can’t see the truth because you’re not a Christian. You are arrogant; you think you’re so smart, etc.” and from the other side: “(A certain teacher) once made a racist, sexist, etc., comment to me when I was in school there, so you can see he doesn’t care about children.”

I will note here that I’ve been tempted to make one of these arguments myself. When more than one person demanded that I declare my religion, prayer habits, and plans for the afterlife in public, I had to refrain from comparing this tactic to Nazism. Also, it’s easy (but wrong) to make someone look stupid by attacking poor spelling and grammar.

Ad ignorantium

Because we don’t know it’s NOT true, it must be true.

Example: “You weren’t there, so you can’t say that God wasn’t moving at that school. You can’t prove that God didn’t command this.” Also, I would add this: “Some things are true but can’t be proven with logic and reason.”

No True Scotsman

This occurs when your opponent tries to disprove your premise by offering examples of why it’s not true. If I argue that all Scotsmen wear kilts all the time, and you show me pictures of Sean Connery and Billy Connolly in pants, I could erroneously say, “Well, then, they’re not TRUE Scotsmen.”

Example: One person argued that the county is majority Christian and that all Christians support teacher-led prayer in school. Another person countered: “I’m a Christian, and I think what happened was wrong.” The response: Well, then, you’re not a TRUE Christian.

Post-hoc ergo propter hoc

Latin: “After this therefore because of this”—because an event happened after another event, the first event caused the second.

Example: “The Supreme Court took prayer out of school. Then, you had all these school shootings.” From another viewpoint: “I wonder if this recent prayer-in-school movement is responsible for the drop in the LCHS graduation rate.”

Straw Man

Rather than refuting the original premise, you make up a new premise and refute THAT “straw man” premise.

Example: “You’re wrong! It’s not illegal for people to pray in public” (when the issue is whether it’s a violation of the Establishment Clause for teachers to lead prayer, etc.).

Hey, nobody is saying it should be illegal to pray in public, but that’s not what the controversy’s about.

Moving the goalpost

When your opponent successfully refutes your premise, you change your premise.

Example: “Big deal. It was before school and only last a few minutes into first period.” Counter: “No, it lasted until nearly 2 p.m.” “Well, so what. It was student-led.” “No, up to 12 teachers participated.” “Yeah, but it was voluntary.” “Not really, because…” Etc.

Slippery slope

This fallacy warns us that, if we accept a premise, it will inevitably lead to the extreme of that premise.
Example: “If you don’t let teachers follow their convictions, the next thing you know, you’ll be saying that they can’t pray at their desks in private—or even at home.” OR “If you let these kids pray, you’ll have to set up special foot-washing stations for Muslim prayer at taxpayer expense. Then, we’ll be forced to serve kosher meals in the lunchroom.”

A logical conclusion

It’s easy for any of us to become flustered when arguing—particularly when we’re arguing about a touch subject like religion—and to seek refuge in a logical fallacy. This is a complex problem, though, so we’ve got to stick to the real issues. If we don’t we’ve got no hopes of finding common ground, and we owe it to those high school kids to try. You can’t argue with that logic.

 

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

New Echota: My painful judgment in the courts of a foreign country

I had never visited New Echota (former capital of the Cherokee Nation) until this past Saturday, which is ridiculous considering that it’s a mile from my sister’s and uncle’s houses (the family compound) where I visit at least once a month.

Let’s face it: With my relentless enthusiasm and hyper-curious nature, I could visit the World’s Largest Ketchup Bottle or the Corn Museum and come out raving about the historical treasures within. Still, it was pretty amazing how much I got for my $6.50 admission price.

A nation’s capital

The Cherokee Nation’s legislature established the capital city of New Echota in 1825 near present-day Calhoun, Ga., where the Conasauga and Coosawattee rivers meet to form the Oostanaula River. The citizens developed a written language, published a newspaper, managed thriving farms and businesses where they peaceably traded with English settlers, seated a bicameral legislature, and had a court system in which lower court decisions were appealed to the Supreme Court. (It should be noted, though—before we over-romanticize the Cherokee—that they didn’t believe in jails and simply fined, whipped, or hanged their guilty parties.)

All of this peace and prosperity came to a screeching halt when you-know-who got greedy and spoiled it all after the discovery of gold on Cherokee lands. Congress passed the Indian Removal Act in 1832, and the Georgia Guard began evicting Cherokee families from their homes. In 1835, Cherokee leaders—seeing no other alternative—signed the Treaty of New Echota, which swapped Cherokee lands east of the Mississippi for lands in present-day Oklahoma. In 1838, the U.S. Army began rounding up the remaining Cherokee into stockades, where they began their forced thousand-mile march west—now known as the Trail of Tears. Thousands died of disease, exposure, and abuse and murder at the hands of white settlers.

While I knew much of this history, I think it’s important to hear it again and again—as painful as it is (especially for this descendant of white settlers who was raised on not one but two land lots originally stolen from the Cherokee in a county originally stolen from the Cherokee).

After I was bashed on the head with this information in the form of a well-made 17-minute film, I was turned loose onto the grounds, which feature 12 original and reconstructed buildings and remnants of the town streets, farms, and ball fields.

I was particularly impressed with the town council house and the Supreme Court building, which are reproductions and therefore are open to the public. One can even climb up behind the bar and sit on the bench. I declined, because once you’re a member of any bar, you understand what that means. Plus, based on the shameful information I had just heard, I felt that it would have been grossly inappropriate for me to have done that.

A sovereign nation

As fascinated as I was by the Cherokee justice system, my curiosity was piqued by a case that was not heard in the Cherokee courts but in the U.S. Supreme Court: the case of Worcester v. Georgia, 31 U.S. 515 (1832).

New Echota postmaster and white missionary Samuel Worcester was cited under a new Georgia law (intended to pressure the Cherokee to vacate) that forbade white people to live in Indian territory without a state permit. Worcester and others refused and were sentenced to four years’ hard labor. Worcester appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court and won. 31 U.S. 515, 520.

The case is notable not for the holding (Worcester’s conviction was struck down) but for the dicta. Chief Justice John Marshall, writing the opinion, seemed frankly pro-Indian. He recognized the Cherokee as a sovereign nation, a “distinct community” over which the State of Georgia could have no authority. 31 U.S. 515, 520. In other words, under Article I of the U.S. Constitution, the Cherokee Nation was similarly situated to the United States, and could therefore only be dealt with by the federal government. Id. at 573, citing U.S. Const. art. I. States therefore had no jurisdiction over Indian lands.

So what?

Despite the noble pronouncements in Chief Justice Marshall’s opinion, the federal government (under President Andrew Jackson) dealt with the Cherokee and other Southeastern tribes as atrociously as the states did. Still, the opinion set a precedent for the complicated relationship between sovereign Indian nations and the federal government that persists today.

Today, the three federally-recognized Cherokee tribes have more than 316,000 enrolled members, while the 2000 U.S. Census showed 875,276 people self-reporting as Cherokee. Two tribes are headquartered in Oklahoma, while the Eastern band (whose forebears escaped the Trail of Tears) remains in western North Carolina. While that’s a large population, it’s fair to say that social problems persist on Indian reservations, and the two large Oklahoma tribes have an uneasy relationship.


I wish there were an uplifting end to this post, but even that statement seems hollow and insulting. The best we can do is visit places such as New Echota and consider whether we’re participating in similar injustices today. Our shared history appears to be the harshest judge of all.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

And yet it moves: Freedom of religion goes to school


On Wednesday, May 1, 2013, a controversial religious meeting was held at my high school, Lumpkin County High School (LCHS) in Dahlonega, Georgia, a public school that is part of the county school system. Despite a fair amount of news media coverage, we’re still running dangerously low on facts here, but this is what we know so far: At about 7:30 a.m., a student went to a coach’s office and said that he wanted the coach to pray with him. The coach did so, and other students came to pray as well. The meeting lasted until about 1:30 p.m. and involved about 50 students—10 to 15 of whom were saved—converted to the Christian faith—during the event. In addition to the coach, at least three other teachers participated. The teachers left their classes to participate: two left assistants in charge, while one teacher left his or her class unattended.

No students or teachers were disciplined. (One student received in-school suspension for being “overly aggressive” to a teacher during the incident.) According to the news reports, the ACLU is investigating.

While there is plenty to say here, I want to try to stick to the constitutional issues—which of course involve the First Amendment.

The First Amendment

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof….” U.S. Const. amend I

You can see we’ve got two separate pronouncements here regarding religion: the Establishment Clause (“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion”) and the Free Exercise Clause (“or prohibiting the free exercise thereof”).

Normally, a court case regarding a religious issue will focus on one of these clauses, but we have a unique situation at my high school. LCHS is triggering both clauses. Go Indians!

The students and teachers who participated in the event are arguing that, had they not been allowed to pray and worship, their First Amendment rights under the Free Exercise clause would have been violated. The students who were left without teachers in their classes, the rest of the student body, the community, and the world at large, really, can argue that LCHS violated the Establishment Clause by allowing a religious service during school hours using school facilities and led in part by school faculty.

You can see the conflict inherent in these clauses. If I’m an agent of the government (a school teacher, prison warden, mayor, etc.), when does my right to practice my religion become an unconstitutional establishment of an official state religion?

Freedom of Religion? The Free Exercise Clause

“Congress shall make no law… prohibiting the free exercise thereof….” U.S. Const. amend I

It’s pretty clear that the students and teachers who led the prayer assembly would not have a case if they chose to sue. They can’t show harm—they were allowed to practice their religion, and no one was disciplined or suspended. They can’t make the argument, therefore, that their rights were infringed.

Superintendent Moye has said, though, that he can’t let this happen again. He told the coach that, if he wants to pray with students, it must occur before or after school and cannot disrupt the school day.

Let’s make it interesting, then, and “fiddle with the facts,” as my contracts professor used to say.

Let’s say the same student approaches the coach before school next Wednesday and again asks him to pray. The coach agrees, and the same three teachers and 50+ students join them in the gym. As the bell rings to signal the start of first period, the principal comes to the gym and orders the students and teachers to go to class. They refuse, and the students and teachers are disciplined.

The school principal is employed by the government and is acting in his official capacity. The students and teachers are praying and spreading the gospel to the unconverted—central acts of the faith of evangelical Christians. The government agent (the principal), therefore, has prevented them from practicing their religion. He points to the school handbook, approved by the state board of education, which requires students and teachers to be in class unless they have permission to do otherwise from the principal.

Has the school principal violated the First Amendment rights of the students and teachers?

Discomfort zone

As a free people, we’re offended by the general idea of government interference with our religious practices. It’s harder to draw a line, however, when we’re talking about specific practices. We’re charmed when we must alter our driving habits to accommodate an Amish buggy—but not when we’re asked to provide special meals to a serial killer on death row.

It’s no surprise, then, that the nation’s jurisprudence has shifted so much where free exercise is concerned. I think it’s fair to say that we started out with a narrow reading of the Free Exercise Clause. The Supreme Court upheld the polygamy conviction of George Reynolds, holding that the Morrill Anti-Bigamy Act did not violate his constitutional rights—because the First Amendment protected his beliefs but not his actions. Reynolds v. U.S., 98 U.S. 145 (1878).

Eventually, the pendulum swung to a much more liberal treatment, requiring a law that interfered with a religious practice to survive a “strict scrutiny” analysis. In other words, the law or rule had to satisfy three tests: 1) The government actor must have a compelling interest, 2) The policy must be narrowly tailored to achieve the interest, and 3) The policy must be the least restrictive means to achieve the interest. See Sherbert v. Verner, 374 U.S. 398 (1963).

Now, though, we’ve moved back to a narrow interpretation—and we no longer require strict scrutiny. The key question here seems to be one of government intent.

If the government passed a law specifically aimed at stopping a religious group from practicing its religion, then that would be unconstitutional. See Church of the Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc. v. Hialeah, 508 U.S. 520 (1993), in which the city of Hialeah, Florida, passed an ordinance banning animal sacrifice because the city leaders wanted to discourage a Santeria church from moving there.

On the other hand, if the law is neutrally written but has the unintended “side effect” of restricting religious practice, the law will likely be found constitutional so long as the law applies to everyone equally. See Employment Division, Oregon Department of Human Resources v. Smith, 494 U.S. 872 (1990).

In our LCHS case, the school system policies (and the county, state, and federal rules behind it) are not aimed at prohibiting the students from practicing their religion. They are neutrally written (they don’t mention a group of students or a religious group), and they are no more likely to be applied to Evangelical Christian students as they are to any other students.

From a Free Exercise perspective, then, the school system is safe.

Freedom from Religion? The Establishment Clause

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion...” U.S. Const. amend I

There is quite a bit of case law on school prayer and school-related religious activities. It is pretty clear that the teachers (and therefore the school system) are violating the Establishment Clause.

A government action violates the Establishment Clause unless it passes all three prongs of the Lemon test. For the government action to be proper, 1) it must have a secular purpose, 2) it must not advance religion, and 3) it must not foster an excessive government entanglement with religion. See Lemon v. Kurtzman, 403 U.S. 602 (1971).

One popular Facebook meme reads: The Constitution guarantees freedom OF religion, not freedom FROM religion. The Court has held consistently otherwise: The government cannot promote one particular religion, and it is also cannot promote religion over the lack of religion. See Everson v. Board of Education of Ewing, 330 U.S. 1 (1947). The Court reiterated this in Wallace v. Jaffree, holding that one of the primary aims of the First Amendment is to allow us to practice whichever religion we choose—or no religion at all. 472 U.S. 38 at 53 (1985).

The holding in Santa Fe Independent School Dist. V. Doe suggests that a prayer session on school grounds facilitated by school employees is unconstitutional—even if it is led by students. 530 U.S. 290 (2000). Further, the school activity cannot endorse religion. See County of Allegheny v. ACLU Greater Pittsburgh Chapter, 492 U.S. 573 (1989).

Religious activity during school hours is unconstitutional even when the activity is voluntary and students can leave. See School Dist. Of Abington Township v. Schempp, 374 U.S. 203 (1963).

What’s the answer?

I could continue to cite case after case, but it’s pretty clear: While a student has the right to practice his or her religion as long as it doesn’t disrupt school, a public school cannot endorse religion.

At LCHS, we had at least four teachers (state employees and figures of authority at the school) facilitating a prayer session on public school grounds instead of performing their taxpayer-funded duties. The group converted several students to Christianity, and left the other students without teachers and without instruction for part of this time. School policies were ignored (no one was punished, and the meeting was allowed to continue for about six hours) in support of this activity. All of this was funded by the taxpayers at a public school.

Several people have argued that the prayer session was voluntary, but the case law tells us that this doesn’t make it constitutional. The activity itself constitutes an improper endorsement of religion—especially when it’s held on school grounds during school hours—and even when teachers aren’t conducting the prayer.

Also, it’s troubling that the teachers were in effect being paid to participate in the prayer rather than teach their classes. This seems like a clear case of state-sponsorship (literally!) of religious activity. Likewise, it’s hard to imagine any other spontaneous student walk-out going unpunished, which further supports the appearance of government endorsement.

Where does this leave us?
The ACLU is said to be investigating the matter. Frankly, I don’t know what this means exactly. Are they deciding whether a lawsuit is called for? Maybe. Hopefully, the school system is preparing itself for this, because I don’t think they have a very strong defense at all.

Several commenters have said that it doesn’t matter what the law says. When God tells you to do something, you do it. Maybe so, but in this case, you can’t make the argument that it’s constitutional.

During this controversy, I’ve often thought of the phrase that Galileo is said to have uttered after the Church forced him to recant his assertion that the earth revolved around the sun. “Eppur si muove (and yet it moves).”

Sunday, April 28, 2013

The benefit of the doubt: Why we give it to the worst of us


A friend of mine from my hometown asked me this yesterday: “Why don’t you write about this? If we’ve got Tsarnaev on film planting a bomb and shooting at police officers, he should be made to talk by any means necessary and then executed. We know he’s guilty, so why should we waste tax money on a trial?”

I don’t mean to set my friend up as a straw man proponent here. He’s a good husband and father, an honest businessman, and a valued member of the community. Like the rest of us, he’s angry and frustrated. Also, I think he raises a fair question. Why is a trial necessary when we already know Tsarnaev is guilty? What are our goals?

Right to a fair trial

The same folks who wrote the 2nd Amendment were also clear on how we should treat criminal defendants:

“No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury… nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law….” U.S. Const. amend V

“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.” U.S. Const. amend. VI

Keep in mind that these amendments were ratified in 1791, which means they were born of revolution. The framers were reacting to overzealous prosecutions by the Crown. They were rejecting the inquisitorial system, where guilt is determined by the court’s interrogation of the accused—in favor of accusatorial system, which requires the State to prove its case. 
Innocent until proven guilty

Generally speaking, in any court case, the party who is making the accusation must prove that the accusation is true. In a civil case, if I sue you for breach of contract, say, it’s my responsibility to prove that we had a contract, that you breached the terms of the contract, and that you damaged me in doing so.

Similarly, in a criminal case, the government—also known as the People, you and me—is bringing the suit. Until we make our case against the defendant, who is presumed innocent. While this idea sounds uniquely American somehow, it is an ancient concept of jurisprudence—with roots in the Bible, the Magna Carta, and the sixth century Roman Digest of Justinian. Many modern nations have embraced it as a fundamental ideal of procedural fairness—including, it should be noted, Iran and Colombia.

In many cases, such as Tsarnaev’s, this requires us to suspend disbelief. The right to life, liberty, and property are so important to us as a society that we are unwilling to deprive Tsarnaev of these things unless we clear some very high due process hurdles. We’ve got to be sure.

Beyond a reasonable doubt

Similarly, we’re not just asking ourselves to show that a criminal defendant is guilty—we’re holding ourselves to the highest possible standard of evidence. We’re asking the prosecution to overcome the presumption that the defendant is innocent beyond a reasonable doubt. In other words, has the prosecution proven that the only logical conclusion for a reasonable person to make—based on the facts before the court—is that the defendant committed the crime?

In contrast, civil cases have lower standards of evidence. Depending on the matter, we may ask the plaintiff to prove something by “clear and convincing evidence” (more highly probable such that we can have a firm belief in its truthfulness) or by a “preponderance of the evidence” (more likely true than not). (Now you know why O.J. Simpson was acquitted at his criminal trial but found “responsible” at the civil trial.)

“Beyond a reasonable doubt” is a high standard, of course, but we’ve decided as a society that it’s better to release a guilty person than to imprison an innocent person. See In Re Winship, 397 U.S. 358 (1970) Again, we’ve got to be sure. Our commitment to due process requires it.

What are we trying to prove?

Now that we know that we’re required to prove Tsarnaev’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, what exactly are we trying to prove?

We’re already pretty sure that Tsarnaev is a bomber, a terrorist, a bad citizen—perhaps a terrible person, a loser, a sociopath.

All of these things may be true, but the law demands specificity and clarity. Fifth Amendment due process requires that a law must be specific enough so that those who are expected to follow it can understand what the law asks of them—and what it means to violate it. See Connally v. General Construction Co., 269 U.S. 385 (1926).

A criminal statute must define explicitly what conduct is prohibited; otherwise, it is “void for vagueness.” This requirement promotes equal justice under the law—the police can’t show up at your door and arrest you for being a “troublemaker,” “agitator,” “Communist sympathizer,” etc. The law must have been drafted by the legislature—without a specific person or group in mind—and must spell out the elements of the crime. This promotes due process and prevents arbitrary application.

Elements of the crime

All statutes are said to have “elements.” They can be broken down into a list of requirements for breaking them, and all elements must be met or the statute has not been violated.

For example, common law residential burglarly is defined as: “Breaking and entering the dwelling of another with intent to commit a felony therein.”

The elements, then, are:
1) Breaking
2) And entering
3) The dwelling
4) Of another
5) With intent to commit a felony therein

If you haven’t done ALL of these things, you haven’t committed burglary. (You may have committed other crimes, such as trespassing, theft, breaking and entering, etc., but not residential burglary.)

To take this concept to its ridiculous conclusion, this is what constitutes residential burglary:

            1) Breaking (the door can’t be standing open)
            2) And entering (Even if you just stick your arm through the window)
            3) The dwelling (Not a commercial building, say)
            4) Of another (Can’t burglarize your own home!)
            5) With intent to commit a felony therein (Can’t mistakenly enter the wrong house; it’s got to be on purpose. Also, contrary to popular belief, burglary doesn’t require theft—any felony will do.)

If you’ve done every single one of these things, congratulations; you’re a burglar. Seriously, though, no reasonable person could read this statute and fail to understand what it means to commit burglary.

If the prosecution can prove to a jury beyond a reasonable doubt that the alleged burglar’s actions have met all of these elements, the government has met its due process requirements and can proceed with the business of depriving the criminal of his freedom.

Tsarnaev’s crimes

So far, the federal government has charged Tsarnaev with the following crimes (the State of Massachusetts will charge him with a separate set of crimes based on their state’s law):

(NOTE: I’m omitting the parts of the statutes that do not apply OR are not in question.)

1) Use of a weapon of mass destruction 18 U.S.C. § 2332a(a)

“…A person who, without lawful authority, uses… a weapon of mass destruction
…against any person or property within the United States…
...shall be imprisoned for any term of years or for life, and if death results, shall be punished by death or imprisoned for… life”

2) Malicious destruction of property resulting in a death 18 U.S.C. § 844(i)

            “…Whoever maliciously damages or destroys… by means of fire or an explosive, any building, vehicle, or other real or personal property… if death results to any person… shall also be subject to imprisonment for any term of years, or to the death penalty or to life imprisonment.”
 See how the elements of these crimes are clearly stated? Anyone can read these statutes and understand what it means to violate these laws and what penalties await those who do. Now, the prosecution can use those videotapes, witnesses, etc., to prove these elements beyond a reasonable doubt. Once you’ve read the elements of the crimes, though, you can see how specific they are—and how far away we are from the very general statement of: “He killed people with a bomb.” The punishment fits the crime My friend is right in this respect: With the wealth of evidence that we have against Tsarnaev, proving that he violated all of the elements of these laws shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, before we impose the maximum penalties (life in prison or even death), we’re going to go one step further and decide what the punishment should be. Should Tsarnaev be sentenced to life in prison or death (be deprived of his 5th Amendment rights to “life, liberty”) or is there any reason to impose a lesser sentence? In other words, are there mitigating circumstances? In this case, frankly, probably not. Tsarnaev is not mentally ill, mentally disabled, underage, etc. While he was probably influenced by his older brother, the influence likely didn’t rise to the level of coercion or duress. In rare cases, we make allowances for criminals who didn’t know any better or couldn’t help it, but Tsarnaev appears to be more like the guy who steals for the sport of it and less like the guy who steals a loaf of bread to feed his starving children. A moot point? It’s too early to speculate, but the case may not go to trial. Most criminal cases don’t. One possible outcome: The prosecution may approach the defense and offer to spare Tsarnaev the death penalty if he pleads guilty and accepts life in prison without possibility of parole. Given the nature of the crime, the high quality of the evidence against Tsarnaev, and the likelihood of a death sentence, he may choose to bargain for his life. As my friend would likely say, at least he was given that choice. It’s a shame his victims were not.