Okay, not everything is illegal, but a lot is. So many things are illegal that literally no one knows how many acts are illegal. The American Bar Association estimated that Congress alone has made about 10,000 acts illegal. Add in the ever expanding number of state laws, city laws, and government agency regulations, and the number of ways you can incriminate yourself is limitless. A person could spend all their life studying the various ways it’s possible to commit a crime, and still not be sure whether or not a particular act is a crime.
While many crimes, such as violent crimes, are intuitively illegal, many are not. There is no way that someone unfamiliar with the law can know the many ways there are to incriminate yourself. The police probably couldn’t care less if you keep your prescription drugs in little containers marked with the days of the week, but if you throw away the original prescription bottles, you’ve violated Utah Code §58-37-7. Even though that probably has nothing to do with the crime the police are actually investigating, you don’t want to give the police leverage to further their investigation. You could spend the night in jail while the police conduct their real investigation. Similarly, the prosecutor could add a seldom prosecuted crime to the indictment to pressure you into taking a bad plea deal.
When the police tell you anything you say “can and will be used against you in a court of law,” they mean it. You have no way of knowing what, exactly, you will be eventually charged with, and just about everything you tell a police officer could help a prosecutor in some fashion.
Many cases are simply the word of one person against another. The police are prevented from testifying about what a complaining witness told them by the Confrontation Clause of the Constitution and by the rules of evidence, but the police are allowed to testify about what a defendant says. If you tell the police anything that can help the prosecution, you’ve just given them more witnesses. Most laypeople are not very good at testifying in court. They get nervous, they’re unsure of themselves, and they wander off topic. Police officers, on the other hand, make very good witnesses. As part of their training, they take classes on how to be better witnesses, and they’ve testified in court many times before.
Take, for example, the crime of making criminal threats (covered by Utah Code §76-5-107, but illegal in nearly every state.) Let’s say that Mr. Jones is accused of threatening to punch Ms. Miller. As is often the case for this particular crime, the only corroborating evidence is the phone record, which only proves that a telephone call occurred. Fundamentally, the case boils down to Ms. Miller’s word against Mr. Jones’s. The judge or jury must believe Ms. Miller beyond a reasonable doubt, but she might have a hard time remembering the exact words that made up the criminal threat. The police officer, however, took copious notes. Because Mr. Jones talked to them, the police have pages of notes to remind themselves of what exactly he admitted, and they are able to tell the court in detail. So even though Mr. Jones denied making any threats, the police are able to testify that Mr. Jones admitted they had an argument over the phone. The confident, polished police officer will seem very credible to fact-finder, and Mr. Jones now has twice as many witnesses against him.
Also, police officers, like everyone else, are prone to error. Police officers sometimes mis-hear or mis-remember what they are told during interrogation. Through no malice on the part of the officer, they can testify that you said something you haven’t. If you never talk to the police in the first place, there will be no question about what you did and did not say during the interrogation.
Anytime you talk to the police, there is a chance you will admit guilt without any benefit in return. Police commonly give a vague promise to put in a good word with the prosecutor for people who cooperate. The police may indeed tell the prosecutor that you cooperated with them, but that just will not get you a deal any better than what a lawyer could get for you. Allow your lawyer to extract concrete, definitive deals from the prosecutor instead of vague promises.
Also, with how many laws are on the books these days, you may unintentionally admit guilt to crimes that the police had not been previously investigating. Even if you are innocent of the original charge, that gives the government leverage against you, which they can use to conduct further investigation. Information you divulge gives the police tools to request search warrants, wiretaps, or other investigative tools to further incriminate you. Instead of ending the investigation, it will be prolonged.
If you feel you must admit guilt—you need to get something off your conscience—you’re better off telling a member of the clergy or your therapist. Confession may indeed be good for you, but that’s a matter between you and your conscience or your God. Talking to the police will do little to assuage your conscience.
Some people feel that there is no harm to admitting guilt if it only tells police what they suspect or know already, That simply isn’t true. For any number of reasons, witnesses and police officers are frequently unavailable to testify. If a key witness is unavailable, your lawyer may be able to negotiate a better deal, or perhaps the government will be forced to drop the case altogether. However, if you have already admitted guilt, it doesn’t really matter if key witnesses can’t testify. A confession is sufficient by itself to get a conviction.
There’s simply no rush to admit guilt. You can always take a plea offer from the government later, but you cannot take back your impetuous decision to tell the police everything. Most criminal proceedings end in a guilty plea anyway. If you allow your lawyer to do their job, you can extract some sort of promise from the government in exchange for your confession. Regardless of the reason you want to talk to the police, you’ll be better served if you wait until time has passed and you have had a chance to talk to a lawyer.
In pastposts, I’ve tried to drive home how important it is that you never talk to the police without a lawyer present. Today, I’m going to launch a series of posts outlining specific reasons that talking to the police gets people into trouble. (Incidentally, it’s unlikely that the police will ever refer to their questions as “interrogation.” Police departments throughout the country, including the Salt Lake City Police Department, have figured out that calling it interrogation has a bad connotation. Police officers are likely to call it an “interview,” “questioning,” a “chat,” or any other word to give you the impression that you are just having a friendly conversation.)
If the police ever interrogate you, the questioning usually goes on for hours. After all, they’re getting paid to question you and they’re in no rush to do their other, more boring work. The police interrogate people they already think are guilty of a crime, and you can’t talk your way out of their suspicions. During the hours and hours of questioning, it is inevitable that you will say something that sounds bad, especially if taken out of context. In court, the police officer will repeat this incriminating sounding statement without any context whatsoever.
The following scene from the movie My Cousin Vinny is a great example:
Bill Gambini (Ralph Macchio) thinks he is confessing to stealing a can of tuna fish, but the Sheriff (Bruce McGill) thinks he murdered a store clerk. As Bill begins to understand what the interrogation is really about, confused, he asks (twice), “I shot the clerk?” Well, later in the movie the Sheriff testifies in court, but when he recounts Bill’s “confession” it’s no longer a question, but rather a simple statement, “I shot the clerk.” In the movie, Bill’s character nearly gets convicted for murder over this. In real life, you won’t have a Hollywood screenwriter to save your bacon.
Police officers have interrogated thousands of people before and know more about interrogation than you. They will ask you lose-lose questions, and you will be left with the choice of either lying or saying something unflattering that will look terrible when taken out of context. Say, for example, your neighbor’s house got robbed and the police suspect that you are somehow involved. You and your neighbor have been having a dispute about her tree, which the police already know. During the interrogation they ask you if you are fighting with her. You are stuck at that point. If you lie, then you could be facing additional charges, such as Obstruction of Justice, and the prosecutor will really drive home the point that you were lying to the police. On the other hand, if you choose to be candid and admit you have been fighting with your neighbor, the police will follow that angle until you say something terribly inconvenient, such, “I don’t like her at all, in fact, but I would never rob her.” Guess which part of the sentence the jury will hear.
If you never talk to the police at all, your relatively tame spat with your neighbor about her tree isn’t going to concern a jury. But if you couple that with an admission that you don’t like your neighbor, then the prosecutor has something to work with. Furthermore, if you mis-remember any details and later contradict yourself, regardless of how innocuous, then the prosecutor has a lot to build a case on.
It’s also really easy to contradict yourself. During my lunch break today, I went to a local takeout restaurant and tried to order a cappuccino. The proprietor looked at me somewhat accusatorily and asked, “have you been here before?” Before thinking about it I blurted out, “No.” His answer implied that I had no idea what I was doing, and my natural, amiable disposition caused me to answer incorrectly. A few seconds later I changed my answer to the correct answer, “Well, I’ve been here once, a year ago.” In conversations, people subtly change their answers all the time. If you let the police lull you into believing you are having a casual “conversation” with them, you too will change your answers.
For me, it was a low stress situation of ordering lunch. Imagine how wrong things could go during a police interrogation. Whichever answer a prosecutor prefers, that’s what the jury will hear. Or it could be advantageous for the prosecutor to make sure the jury hears all your answers and portray you as someone who can’t keep their story straight. Without any context of the surrounding conversation to the police, the job of the prosecutor will be easy. A clever prosecutor is halfway to a conviction.
Don’t talk to the police and make the job of a prosecutor easy.
A couple weeks ago, my father was watching the news and asked me how I would like to defend Josh Powell in court. Implicit in the question was that I should hate to have a client like him, but I can truthfully say that it would not bother me.
Defense attorneys are frequently asked, “How do you defend people who are guilty?” For me, at least, I am more bothered about defending people who are almost certainly innocent. The deck is stacked against defendants, and many jurors unfortunately believe that someone is guilty just because a prosecutor has brought charges. Different prosecutors have different criteria for deciding whether or not to bring charges. Unfortunately, there are prosecutors who bring charges against people they know could be innocent. And it breaks my heart to know that many of them will have their lives unfairly ruined.
But defense attorneys spend the majority of their time defending people who are probably guilty. That’s something that many people find distasteful, but it’s something that I long ago came to terms with. I certainly don’t spend any time worrying whether or not a particular client is guilty. Every defense attorney is different, but here are a few of the reasons that I enjoy my job.
Most people misunderstand the job of a defense attorney. They think our only goal is to get a “not guilty” verdict for someone. That could be what I’m trying to get in a particular case, but usually I am working to get the best possible resolution for my client. In the case of a murder suspect like Josh Powell, the best resolution could be saving his life and avoiding the death penalty. Every case is different, but often the best possible resolution will still mean some level of punishment.
Jails and prisons are nasty, awful places, and sending people to them doesn’t serve anyone. It’s bad for society, it’s bad for the person in jail, and it’s bad for their families. Some may balk at the idea that prisons are bad for society, but they are. Prisons don’t reform people, and instead make them bitter. Also, the vast majority of crimes are drug related, which prison does little-to-nothing to address. I have no ethical qualms about trying to find an alternative punishment for someone. In nearly every instance, society and justice would be better served through an alternative punishment.
Next, I love the Bill of Rights. The First Congress, which wrote the Bill of Rights, decided the rights of the accused are important enough to devote three Constitutional Amendments to them. The Sixth Amendment guarantees a defendant the right to a lawyer. Not many people can say their job is specifically enshrined in the Constitution.
Due to the adversarial system of justice the United States has chosen, someone needs to speak for the accused, and I am happy to do it. There are many other reasons I could name, but these reasons are the most important to me. If you ever are accused of a crime, you’ll understand how important it is to have a defense attorney who cares about you and cares about getting you the pest possible resolution.
It’s one of the bigger frustrations for a criminal lawyer. No matter what the rest of the evidence says, most jurors cannot believe that innocent people confess to crimes they did not commit. The New York Times recently published a story on this subject. Oakland police suspected a 16-year old named Felix in a murder investigation. During interrogation, the police refused to let Felix talk to his mother, and questioned him until he finally cracked and started telling the police what he thought they wanted to hear. His confession was extremely poor—none of the details fit the crime scene—but he slowly incorporated subtle details the police gave him.
Felix was saved from having to explain his unfortunate confession to a jury because, as it turns out, he had an airtight alibi: on the day of the murder, Felix was locked in a juvenile detention facility. While Felix was spared, false confessions occur more often than the general public wants to admit. As The New York Times article goes on to say:
Psychological studies of confessions that have proved false show an overrepresentation of children, the mentally ill and mentally retarded, and suspects who are drunk or high. They are susceptible to suggestion, eager to please authority figures, disconnected from reality or unable to defer gratification. Children often think, as Felix did, that they will be jailed if they keep up their denials and will get to go home if they go along with interrogators. Mature adults of normal intelligence have also confessed falsely after being manipulated.
False confessions have figured in 24 percent of the approximately 289 convictions reversed by DNA evidence, according to the Innocence Project. Considering that DNA is available in just a fraction of all crimes, a much larger universe of erroneous convictions—and false confessions—surely exists.
The phenomenon of false confessions underscores a few things: 1) Police interrogation is serious business and it is very intimidating for the average citizen to endure. People who are susceptible to suggestions should never think about talking to the police alone. 2) The importance of getting a lawyer immediately cannot be overstated. Many people think they will get the police to see their point-of-view during an interrogation, but that isn’t a realistic expectation. The police interrogate suspects regularly who pretty much all say that they are innocent, but most suspects are novices at being interrogated. 3) Prospective jurors should be more skeptical of supposed confessions. The circumstances of a supposedly confession make a difference. But regardless of those circumstances, the police are going to show jurors the finished product: a tape recording or a written statement taken after many hours of continuous interrogation.
Several years ago, Luis Fernando Juarez wanted to buy a firearm. At the time of purchase he filled out what is called a “Firearms Transaction Report.” Among the questions asked was whether or not he is a U.S. Citizen. Federal law makes it a felony for anyone to lie about being a U.S. Citizen on official documents. Mr. Juarez believed he was not a U.S. Citizen when he completed the form, but, as Mr. Juarez found out later, he may actually be a citizen.
Derivative citizenship is a method of citizenship that has not yet made its way into popular culture. It’s citizenship that children receive after their parents are naturalized, provided certain conditions are met, or to foreign-born children adopted by parents who are already U.S. citizens. Mr. Juarez may be a derivative citizen of the United States. His mother became a U.S. citizen when he was 16 years old, which is important because only immigrants under the age of 18 can gain derivative citizenship. Mr. Juarez’s father was already dead, and he intended to live in the United States permanently at that time, so Mr. Juarez may have met the conditions for derivative citizenship. Obviously if Mr. Juarez is a U.S. Citizen, he can’t have lied on the Firearms Transaction Report about being a U.S. citizen.
Unfortunately for Mr. Juarez, he discovered this after he had already pleaded guilty. His lawyer candidly admits that he had never heard of derivative citizenship. He appealed his case to a federal court, which initially denied his appeal, but last Friday, the Fifth Circuit Court reversed and remanded the case to the district court.
Utah is not a part of the Fifth Circuit, so last weeks decision is not binding on the federal courts here. Nevertheless, the derivative citizenship law is applicable to the whole country, but the derivative citizenship defense is one that trips up even seasoned immigration counsel.
Last week I mentioned that Utah may ban DUI checkpoints. Lawrence Taylor, an attorney in California, picked up on that development and blogged about it on his blog. He argues that the real reason that police use DUI checkpoints is to raise revenue. Most DUI checkpoints catch very few drunk drivers, but they do make a lot of money for the local government. Although the police are supposedly looking for intoxication, they end up issuing citations to drivers for not having their license, registration, insurance or for equipment violations—citations that likely would not be issued otherwise.
Let’s hope Utah joins the ranks of other states who have banned this invasive practice.
Today, the Utah House of Representatives passed a bill to prohibit the police from conducting DUI checkpoints. The Utah State Senate must also pass HB140, and then the governor would need to sign it for it to become law.
Police use DUI checkpoints by placing roadblocks on a public roadway and then they stop every vehicle or random cars and look for signs of alcohol or other impairment. The Utah bill would not affect law enforcement’s ability to look for fugitives, such as during an Amber Alert, nor would affect their ability to look for “invasive species.”
The United States Supreme Court deemed random DUI checkpoints as constitutional in the case Michigan Dept. of State Police v. Sitz. Michigan’s high court then found such checkpoints to be illegal under Michigan’s Constitution. Several other states have banned them as well.
UPDATE: HB140 never made it out of the Utah State Senate, so as of the close of the 2012 legislative session, Utah remains one of the states that allow DUI checkpoints.
The Supreme Court once again narrowed the Miranda rule with a decision released on Tuesday. In Howes v. Fields, the Court ruled that prisoner Randall Fields did not have to be given Miranda warnings, even though he was in jail for disorderly conduct when the police started interrogating him about his involvement in a possible sex crime. The Court, strangely enough, concluded that this interrogation was voluntary, even though Mr. Fields did not consent to the interview, he was not told he could remain silent, and he was denied his evening medications.
The Court said that it was reasonable for Mr. Fields to believe he could end the interview because the police told him that he was free to go back to his cell, but, as Mr. Fields testified, he did not believe them. Since the interrogation was involuntary from the beginning, I tend to believe Mr. Fields as to whether or not he could have really ended the interrogation. Obviously, the Supreme Court disagrees with me.
This Court decision underlies how important it is to request a lawyer anytime a police officer questions you. If it takes a lawyer to figure out whether or not you are actually “in custody,” I have no idea how a layperson is going to know. Despite what police officers may tell you, their goal is to get a confession. They are not there to help you, and they will work hard to avoid giving you a Miranda warning.
I have previously mentioned that there are a few questions you need to answer if a Utah or Salt Lake City police officer questions you. You need to provide your name and possibly some identification. Otherwise, invoke your right to silence and request a Utah State licensed lawyer familiar with criminal laws before you answer anything.
Natty Shafer Law 