“How Prosecutors Get Away With Cutting Black Jurors”: ‘Articulating Juror Negatives’, A Perpetuation Of Institutional Racism
A curious thing happened at the trial of Timothy Tyrone Foster, a young black man accused of killing an elderly white woman: Every black prospective juror was dismissed. Foster was convicted, and sentenced to death, by an all-white jury.
Even more curious: There were 42 prospective jurors that morning, five of whom were black. All dismissed, four of whom by “peremptory challenge,” in which the prosecutor strikes a juror at his or her discretion. In Georgia, where Foster’s trial took place, prosecutors have 10 such options.
Peremptory challenges were entirely unreviewable for most of American history. That was their function: In addition to dismissals with reasons, they were meant to give prosecutors and defense attorneys (in Georgia, defense attorneys get 20 such challenges) leeway to strike potentially problematic jurors without explanation.
That changed somewhat in 1986, when the Supreme Court decided Batson v. Kentucky. In Batson, the court held that using peremptory challenges to strike jurors on the basis of race was unconstitutional.
Foster’s trial, though, took place after Batson. How is that possible? Because Batson has proven to be almost worthless in practice. All a prosecutor must do is provide some race-neutral reason for striking jurors, and that is extremely easy to do. Maybe the juror didn’t make eye contact. Maybe she was female. Maybe he looked bored or inattentive—as most of us are at the end of hours of jury duty.
Any of these reasons will do, and so, in Foster’s case and countless others, winning a “Batson challenge” is basically impossible.
Except Foster’s case has turned out to be different. During the lengthy appeals process (nearly 30 years and counting), the prosecutor’s notes were made public. And they are laughable and tragic at the same time. Black prospective jurors are annotated as B#1, B#2, et cetera. Weighing the different options, the prosecutor noted that one has “the most potential to choose from out of the four remaining blacks.” And so on.
And then there were the absurd pretexts the prosecutor provided to satisfy Batson. First, he listed over 30 different reasons, basically throwing everything against the wall to see what would stick. He said three didn’t make enough eye contact. He said another was a social worker, which in fact she was not. He said one was close in age to the 18-year-old defendant; she was 34.
All this make it abundantly clear that race was the predominant factor in striking these jurors, notwithstanding the pretexts given for their dismissals.
And that’s why Foster’s case is now at the Supreme Court, which will have an opportunity to update Batson, and perhaps give it some teeth. The court will also, of course, determine the fate of Foster, who is developmentally disabled and who has now spent nearly 30 years on death row.
“Batson has failed miserably to prevent race discrimination,” says Stephen Bright, who is Foster’s lawyer, a professor at Yale Law School, president of the Southern Center for Human Rights, and one of the leading advocates for criminal justice reform, including abolition of the death penalty. Bright has been down this road before, having won two Supreme Court cases on race discrimination and jury selection. And he says that Foster’s case is not unusual in the least.
“What went on at trial was typical,” he told The Daily Beast. “What’s unusual is we know what’s in the prosecutor’s files. These notes that show not just a consciousness of race but an obsession with race.”
Batson has failed to prevent discrimination, says Bright, for at least three reasons.
First, “every prosecutor has a handy-dandy list of race-neutral reasons that they give. They even distribute reasons in advance. Some state training programs even distribute a list called ‘Articulating Juror Negatives.’”
That’s right, all prosecutors have to do is read from a prewritten list of reasons, and they’ll prevail. “They just say, ‘Take a lot of notes when you strike a black juror.’”
Second, Bright notes the awkward dynamic that Batson challenges present. “When you challenge a prosecutor’s strike, you’re saying the prosecutor intentionally discriminated on the basis of race and lied about it. The psychological dynamics between judge and prosecutor are such that it’ll be very hard for the judge to make either one of those findings. You deal with the prosecutor day in and day out—you’re gonna call the guy a liar and a racist?”
Third, and most damningly, “elected judges in the state courts are not known for recognizing constitutional violations, especially in cases of race. The local judge would’ve been voted out of office had he found a Batson violation. He and the district attorney work together all the time. There’s just no chance that’s going to happen.”
As a result, says Bright, “A lot of defense lawyers have quit making Batson objections because they just don’t think there’s any point.”
The result is a perpetuation of the institutional racism of the judicial system itself.
First, of course, individual cases are influenced. In the case of Foster, Bright says “this kid got sentenced to death because he was a black kid who committed a horrible crime against a white woman. If it had been a black woman, it wouldn’t have been a death penalty case.”
Amazingly, in front of his all-white jury, the prosecutor in Foster’s case told the jury in his closing argument to “give Foster the death penalty to deter people in the projects”—which Bright calculated to be 94 percent black at the time. “That’s a pretty racist appeal to say to an all-white jury.”
Second, the net effect of blocking black jurors from service, in addition to the discrimination they experience, is to diminish the integrity of the judicial system. Says Bright, “A person comes to a courtroom where you may have a 30-40% black population, and the average citizen sees all-white juries. Not only that: everybody’s white up there in the front: the prosecutor, the judge, the jury. The only person of color is the person on trial.” (As reported in an earlier installment of Out of Order, 95 percent of prosecutors are white.)
As a result, says Bright, “black people know they are not part of the criminal justice system. It’s an all-white system. And white people know it too.”
What happens now? In Bright’s opinion, the Foster case will likely be decided on its specific facts: with this evidence, the Supreme Court may well decide that there is a clear inference of racial discrimination.
But Foster may turn out to be too easy a case. Most prosecutors don’t leave smoking guns lying around—as Bright said to me, the mistake this one made was not shredding his notes afterwards. So what about the more numerous cases where racial discrimination takes place without smoking guns like this one?
One option would be to reduce the number of peremptory challenges available to prosecutors—but that is a matter of state law, with each state having different regimes in place. (Bright says there is no appetite for eliminating peremptory challenges altogether because prosecutors, needing unanimous verdicts, are “scared to death there’ll be that one eccentric person on the jury who’s going to hang the jury.”) At the very least, that would limit prosecutors’ capacity to use challenges to stack all-white juries.
Another could be to change the evidentiary standard for finding racial discrimination. The current standard requires that the prosecutor have a “mind to discriminate”—basically, that a prosecutor be found racist. But the court could set out a standard that looks more like disparate impact. Without making any inference as to what’s in a given prosecutor’s head, the bare statistical imbalance could enable a defendant’s challenge to prevail.
Disparate impact reasoning was recently (barely) upheld by the Supreme Court in the last term in the context of the Fair Housing Act. To be sure, it is imperfect and can lead to quotas, thus increasing, rather than decreasing, race-based decisionmaking. But it also eliminates Batson’s embrace of the ridiculous pretext, and the uncomfortable inference that a legal colleague is a liar and a racist.
It’s also possible that, amazingly, Foster could lose. If the court finds that the race discrimination at issue was a harmless error—in particular, if the new evidence of discrimination is not a “relevant circumstance” that the appeals court should have considered—Foster could still face execution. Given the current composition of the Supreme Court, this is a very real possibility.
But even if Foster gets a new trial, the phenomenon of the “all-white jury,” which Bob Dylan sang about in 1975, will remain as long as prosecutors can exercise challenges on a pretext, and bar people of color from sitting on a jury of one’s peers.
In Bright’s words, “When one part of the community is systematically kept off the juries undermines the respect that people pay to the courts’ decisions. Something needs to be done about it.”
By: Jay Michaelson, The Daily Beast, September 28, 2015
“Every Candidate Should Have A Plan”: Structural Racism Needs To Be A Presidential Campaign Issue
This year, as with every other year, nearly every presidential candidate is white, with the only exceptions being long shots in the mushrooming Republican field. Most candidates are making at least rhetorical efforts to present themselves as allies in the increasingly amplified struggle for black liberation. Hillary Clinton has spoken forcefully of a universal voter registration plan, and her husband told the NAACP this week that the 1994 crime law he signed in his first term as president “made the problem worse,” jailing too many for too long. Rand Paul, an advocate of prison sentencing reform, has embraced Martin Luther King, Jr.’s frame of “two Americas.” Last month, Ben Carson, the only black candidate, published an op-ed after the Charleston church murders, writing, “Not everything is about race in this country. But when it is about race, then it just is.” On July 2, Rick Perry made a speech that is as close to an apology to black voters for ignoring them as a Republican may deliver this entire election season.
Republicans aren’t stopping there. They announced a “Committed to Community” initiative earlier this week, a partnership with black broadcasting giant Radio One to make a direct appeal to African American voters, who turned out at a higher percentage than white voters in 2012. They may very well be doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, but you’ll forgive me if I have my doubts that they suddenly realize, after generations of the “Southern Strategy,” that black voters matter.
I suspect it isn’t the party’s sudden rediscovery of a conscience that’s behind this. I think it’s this past year. Friday marks one year since NYPD police officer Daniel Pantaleo killed Eric Garner on a Staten Island sidewalk. The death of the 43-year-old father of six from a supposedly prohibited chokehold was captured on oft-played video, and his pleading— “I can’t breathe!” over and over, until he suffocated—became a mantra that energized a movement. #BlackLivesMatter dates back to the killing of Trayvon Martin in 2012, but Garner’s death last July began a year in which Americans unaware of how fragile and frightening living a black life can be could no longer ignore reality. And it set a template for how we would come to digest all of the violence and injustices done in silent service of structural racism, which continues to survive as the deaths mount.
Sandra Bland took a road trip to Texas last week to take a job, and instead became a hashtag. It happened over the course of a weekend. This is a process we’re terribly familiar with: A black person finds her or himself in an encounter with police that proves injurious, harassing, or, all too often, fatal—and if we’re lucky, someone has a camera on it. It has become formulaic.
A bystander took video of the 28-year-old Chicago native’s Friday arrest for allegedly not signaling before making a lane change. Bland, who reportedly had just landed a new job as a college outreach officer at her alma mater, is heard questioning their rough treatment, which went unreported by the arresting officers. “You just slammed my head into the ground,” she tells an officer. “Do you not even care about that? I can’t even hear!”
Police found Bland dead in her jail cell on Monday morning, allegedly suffocated by a garbage bag. There are a lot of practical reasons to question the law enforcement narrative on this, but a year of seeing what we’ve seen is more than enough to make anyone suspicious not only of what the cops say, but about whether any of them will ever suffer any consequences for it.
We’ve become familiar with this pattern because abuse and death resonates, first across social media and then ricocheting through traditional media with an urgency that can feel discombobulating to those unaccustomed to seeing black lives mattering to people who aren’t living them. Increased media attention means people remember names. Before they would have forgotten them or not even bothered to learn. Justice is sought where shoulders once simply shrugged. Media organizations like the Guardian and the Washington Post count those killed by police, doing the job a government should.
We haven’t gotten the candidate statements on Bland’s case yet, but they’ll come. The remarks will be taciturn and consoling, and will call vaguely for change. But we need to demand more from each and every presidential candidate, and they will need to offer more than rhetoric. The violence has not slowed. The inequity has not lessened. It’s just lain bare with each new death, with every numbing video. We’ll never end racism and racial discrimination. But we can make policies to end the ways racism infects the very structure of American life. Those policies need to be on the platform of every presidential candidate.
If you look at a typical presidential campaign site under a heading like “Issues,” you’ll see that there isn’t a bullet point that lists a candidate’s plans to attack the complicated issue of structural racism with specific steps. This should change. And in this, candidates can take a lesson from President Obama.
His administration, even as it nears its end, recently offered an example of how a politician can chalk up wins against structural racism. Two weeks ago, Housing and Urban Development Secretary Julian Castro announced that previously unenforced Fair Housing Act rules would now become requirements. As the Los Angeles Times reported, HUD will now require towns and cities to study patterns of segregation and how they are linked to access to jobs, high-quality schools, and public transportation—then submit specific goals for improving fair access to these resources. This is a policy, not a speech.
It is not an empty appeal to voters. It is not telling them, as Perry did, that the poor, brutalized, and marginalized amongst us are that way because they had faulty political leadership. That is avoidance, perpetrated by people who would have us mistake political courage for actual courage.
Structural racism needs to be a campaign issue. It needs to be something every 2016 candidate is asked about on the trail, in debates, in town halls, and hell, even at the local ice cream shop. Even if they can’t offer firm plans this summer, someone running to be the de facto leader of her or his party should at lease seize the opportunity to shape the Democratic or Republican agenda on this issue.
If ending structural racism is a priority for either party, there is no need to dance around the issue. Because right now, the most a lot of families can hope for their loved ones is that they manage to navigate a country that clearly doesn’t care much for their bodies or their lives. If they can’t, the only kind of justice they’ll see is financial. (On Monday, Garner’s family reached a settlement with New York City for $5.9 million.)
A year after Eric Garner’s death and mere days after Sandra Bland’s, our presidential candidates cannot deny America’s racial realities. If you’re running for president, you can no longer plead ignorance. You’ll have to confront it.
By: Jamil Smith, Senior Editor, The New Republic, July 17, 2015
“Antonin Scalia’s ‘Interpretive Jiggery-Pokery'”: With Increasing Frequency, Scalia’s Reputation Continues To Deteriorate
Two years ago tomorrow, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down the Defense of Marriage Act, much to Justice Antonin Scalia’s chagrin. Adding to his greatest-hits list, the far-right jurist called the majority’s rationale “legalistic argle-bargle.”
Today, as my msnbc colleague Irin Carmon reported, Scalia was once again in rare form today in his King v. Burwell dissent.
Justices Antonin Scalia, Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito dissented. Writing on their behalf, Scalia accused the majority of acting in bad faith just to save the law. “So it rewrites the law to make tax credits available everywhere. We should start calling this law SCOTUScare,” Scalia wrote in the dissent. He said Roberts’ reasoning was an act of “interpretive jiggery-pokery.”
No, seriously. Scalia actually used the phrase “interpretive jiggery-pokery.” It’s on page 8. Two pages later, he published the phrase “pure applesauce” as a complete sentence.
The justice has been embarrassing himself with increasing frequency, but Scalia’s reputation continues to deteriorate further.
The broader point, however, is less about the justice’s strange word choice and more about his increasingly twisted approach to the law.
The dissent in King is literally hard to believe. On page 17 of the majority opinion, Chief Justice John Roberts even mocks the dissenters for making the opposite conclusion that they drew three years ago:
“It is implausible that Congress meant the Act to operate in this manner. See National Federation of Independent Business v. Sebelius, 567 U. S. ___, ___ (2012) (SCALIA, KENNEDY, THOMAS, and ALITO, JJ., dissenting) (slip op., at 60) (“Without the federal subsidies … the exchanges would not operate as Congress intended and may not operate at all.”).
It’s no small detail. Three years ago, when the Affordable Care Act’s constitutionality was challenged, Scalia, Clarence Thomas, and Sam Alito read the law in such a way as to see all eligible consumers receiving subsidies, regardless of state or federal exchanges. In today’s dissent, these three had to read the law in the polar opposite way.
And therein lies the point: it seems as if the dissenting justices were so eager to rule against “Obamacare” that they were willing to ignore legislative history, legislative intent, context, and their own beliefs from three years ago.
I’m also reminded of this Linda Greenhouse piece from February.
Statutory interpretation is something the Supreme Court does all the time, week in and week out, term after term. And while the justices have irreconcilable differences over how to interpret the Constitution, they actually all agree on how to interpret statutory text. […]
Every justice subscribes to the notion that statutory language has to be understood in context. Justice Scalia said it from the bench just last month, during an argument about the proper interpretation of the federal Fair Housing Act. “When we look at a provision of law, we look at the entire provision of law, including later amendments,” Justice Scalia said. “We try to make sense of the law as a whole.” … Across the ideological spectrum, the court’s opinions are filled with comments like Justice Scalia’s.
Today, Scalia threw all of that out the window, saying what matters isn’t the entire provision of law, but how he could take half a sentence out of context to undermine a law he doesn’t like.
“Words no longer have meaning,” Scalia whined today. In reality, words are still fine. What lacks meaning are Scalia’s unhinged complaints.
By: Steve Benen, The Madow Blog, June 25, 2015