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THE LAW IS A ASS for 10/02/2001
DOCKET ENTRY
"The Law is a Ass" Installment # 115
Originally written as installment # 104 and published in Comics Buyer's Guide issue # 697, March 27, 1987 issue
I like columns like this one. Story comes alone and practically screams at you, "Hey, I got a column in me, write it! Come on, the legal points are so obvious, the column will practically write itself!" What am I supposed to do, ignore the story?
******
"The Law is a Ass"
Installment # 115
Cliff Carmichael, one of the supporting characters in Firestorm, sat in a police interrogation room and spilled his guts. No, I don't mean his entrails dirtied the floor like a carp in a campsite; Cliff was confessing. Boy, was he confessing! If it weren't for the fact that he was born long after it happened, I think Cliff would have copped to the Lindbergh kidnaping. (This, incidentally, is the type of client we in the criminal defense trade hate. It tends to cut down on the defense side in the plea bargaining process. I don't know why, but the Prosecution seems to think it has a superior bargaining position, when it has a full confession. Remind me to tell you a story about one of my confessing clients sometime.)
Anyway, the final third of Firestorm # 60 is devoted to Cliff's confession and the discussions between the police and Cliff's public defender about the confession. I figured there had to be a column in there somewhere.
This is it.
Let me set up the scene, so that we can discuss this from a common frame of reference. Cliff Carmichael hates Ronnie (Firestorm) Raymond. Cliff and Ronnie went to high school together. There Cliff was Ronnie's tormentor, kind of the Flash Thompson to Ronnie's Peter Parker. It wasn't so much physical bullying as it was verbal and mental tormenting, but it existed. And, on occasion, Cliff would perpetrate a practical joke which had potential physical consequences. Anyway, now Cliff and Ronnie are in college together. Ronnie plays on his college football team. So does Cliff's cousin, Hugo. Several issues ago, Cliff wanted to, as he put it, "take [Ronnie] down a peg or two," so he cut the strap on Ronnie's football helmet. He figured when the strap snapped and the helmet fell off, Ronnie would get hurt. Or, at least, real embarrassed. (Cliff's the type who probably went looking for cracks to step on, when he was a kid.)
The problem was, Ronnie didn't play that particular set of downs and Hugo did. But Hugo had a problem with his helmet, so Ronnie lent his helmet to Hugo. The strap did snap. The helmet did fall off. Hugo was injured. He was, in fact, paralyzed.
Cliff felt guilty about what happened. He didn't want to hurt Hugo. He liked Hugo. So now, because of his guilt, Cliff wanted to hurt himself. First, he attempted suicide. When that failed, he walked into police headquarters and confessed to the crime.
There, I think that brings us all up to date. What I wanted to do was to clear up some ambiguities in the scene, things which might not necessarily be mistakes, but which might lead to confusion. The first ambiguity occurred, when the police opined that they could charge Cliff with attempted murder of his cousin, Hugo. I wanted to answer the question of everyone who wondered, "Gee can they charge Cliff with attempted murder of Hugo, when Cliff wanted to hurt Ronnie, not Hugo?" Yes. The police can charge Cliff with attempting to murder his cousin.
But you argue, or some of you may argue, how can Cliff be charged with trying to murder his cousin? He wasn't trying to hurt his cousin. That is true. However, Cliff was trying to hurt Ronnie and hurt his cousin by mistake. That means Cliff can be charged with whatever harm he caused Hugo under the Doctrine of Transferred Intent.
Okay, it's time for one of those "Explain the silly law" moments, isn't it? Under the law two things must be present simultaneously for a crime to occur: a mens rea--which is a guilty mind or criminal intent-- and an actus reus--which is the actual criminal act. If a person commits a criminal act, but without the requisite criminal mental state, there is no crime. If, for example, a man acts in self-defense, he committed the act. But as his intent was to save his own life, he did the act without criminal intent, so the law declares him not guilty of the crime.
In Cliff's case cutting the strap was the criminal act. His desire to hurt Ronnie was his criminal intent. The combination of the two create criminal liability.
But, you argue, he didn't hurt Ronnie, he hurt Hugo and he didn't want to hurt Hugo at all. So, there wasn't a combination of criminal mind and criminal act, Cliff's mens rea, which was against Ronnie, didn't coincide with his actus reus, which was against Hugo. That's where the Doctrine of Transferred Intent comes into play. Under the law, if a criminal intends to hurt person A but by mistake hurts person B in the process, his criminal intent to hurt A is transferred to the act of hurting B, giving the act which hurt B the requisite criminal intent. So, if a man in a drive-by shooting shoots at A but misses and kills B, he could be charged with murdering B, even though he didn't intend to shoot or kill B.
As legal doctrines go, this one isn't as sill as others. In fact, it makes perfect sense. After all, if the law wasn't flexible enough to encompass such a doctrine and allow criminal intent to be transferred, no one could ever be prosecuted for murder or assault. All any crook, say Kristen Shepard from Dallas, would have to say is, "Gee, I wasn't trying to shoot, J.R., I was trying to shoot Bobby." In many cases, the police would be hard pressed to prove it wasn't the case. So, to prevent that sort of thing, the law created the Doctrine of Transferred Intent.
See, Vigilante, sometimes the law covers all those loopholes you're kvetching about.
Second, I wanted to talk about the line where the police said they'd have Cliff under psychiatric observation, until they could contact his parent or guardian. I just wanted to make sure everyone understood that this was only a courtesy, not a requirement. It's not like they needed Ma Carmichael's permission to charge little Cliffy or anything.
Cliff's a big boy now. He's in college, so I would presume he's older than eighteen and over the age of majority in Pennsylvania. He's no longer a juvenile, but an adult. He could be charged in criminal court and the police could take his confession without first talking to his parents and getting their permission to talk to him. (He could also be charged in juvenile court without their permission, if Cliff happens to be under the age of majority, in case you were wondering.)
Still, the concept of needing a parent or guardian's permission, before you could bring criminal charges against adults is an interesting one. ("Oh please, Mrs. Manson, let us prosecute Chucky. Honest, he was a real bad boy.") It would be a good way of solving the problem of the courts' overcrowded dockets.
The last ambiguity I wanted to address was the classic line public defender, Joy Ravenport, issued after Cliff had confessed for hours in her presence while repeatedly rejecting her advice to shut up. Joy says, "Let's be real, boys. Try to bring that 'confession' into a court of law and I'll stuff it back up your shorts." Okay, Joyce... er Joy (Why did every name in this scene have to be a coy variant on a Hill Street Blues character? This type of cutesy humor spoiled the mood of the scene for me.) let's be real. Do you really think you're going to be able to suppress this confession? If so, how? You have some judges on the payroll or something?
There seems to be this popular misconception that defense attorneys can get confessions suppressed, just because they say, "No!". Would that it were that easy.
Confessions are suppressed, when they violate the defendant's right against compelled self-incrimination. That means, the police can't force a defendant to confess by beating it out of him or using truth drugs or hypnosis or any other means which overcomes a defendant's will and prompts a confession against his will.
Confessions are not suppressed, when a defendant walks into headquarters by himself and proceeds to confess willingly. Confessions are especially not suppressed, when the confessor has an attorney present, who constantly tells him to stop confessing and the confessor responds, "Freak off, Lady! I didn't ask for you and I don't want you!... I don't want to get off! You too stupid to understand that? I want to be punished!" Does that sound to you like the police are forcing the man to confess? No, that would be your classic voluntary confession and any attempt to get it suppressed on a Miranda violation would likely get the lawyer, not the confession thrown out of court.
No, the cops didn't do anything to force Cliff's confession or violate his right against self-incrimination. The defendant always has the option of giving up that right, if he wants. When he does so willingly and knowingly, as Cliff did, his confession is fully admissible.
True, Cliff was in a precarious mental condition at the moment. Joy can argue Cliff was so depressed over his guilt, that he didn't have sufficient mental competence to understand his right against self-incrimination or to knowingly waive it. (If she doesn't argue it, she's a fool--the cops basically suggested it to her! Why can't I ever get cops like that; ones who are willing to do my work for me?) But, I don't think she'll get too far. Cliff was upset, but he also seemed competent enough to understand what rights he had and what rights he was surrendering by confessing. It's just a gut reaction, but I don't think Joy will be able to suppress Cliff's confession by claiming he was incompetent.
You want to get Cliff's confession suppressed, Joy? Good luck! You'll have an easier time convincing the police that they've got to ask for a parent's permission, before they can file charges.
Of course, it could just be my own selfish desires clouding my judgement here. Cliff Carmichael bores me, and has bored me, since the day he was first introduced. I want to be rid of him. Cliff's role model, Flash Thompson, grew up. Cliff doesn't seem capable of that simple act. I'm beginning to think the only way we can get rid of him is a loooong term in the slammer. I say,go for it!
******
Bob Ingersoll, CBG columnist, comic fan, and public defender, whose name isn't even remotely similar to Joyce Davenport's wants...
--Hey, Bob, remember to tell us about a story about one of your confessing clients--
Right. I had this client once, we'll call him George, because that's not his real name, who committed a crime with a juvenile who we'll call Little Sammy, because that's not his real name either. George made and signed a full confession. And I mean full! Every detail, every element the prosecution needed for a conviction was in that confession. Hell, George even threw in a few details the prosecution didn't need. At the end of the confession there was a written question and answer part. The last question was: "Were you mistreated by the police in any way, while you were here?" George's response was: "No. In fact I'd like to thank the police for giving me this chance to come clean. I'm just sorry that what I did helped Little Sammy become a criminal too."
I met George in the holding cell. He denied doing it. I asked him, "George, you made a full confession. What am I supposed to do about that?" George looked at me, and with a serious, straight face asked, "Can't you convince the jury the cops beat it out of me?"
Now you know the real reason, my hair is so light. I'm not really an albino. My hair color's just a blond version of prematurely gray.
Bob Ingersoll
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