Recently in Criminal Law and Prosecution Category
by Jarrett Dieterle, former legal intern at Manhattan Institute's Center for Legal Policy, and author of The Lacey Act: A Case Study in the Mechanics of Overcriminalization published in the Georgetown Law Journal
What if I told you that the U.S. Department of Justice could prosecute a renowned American company for exporting wood in violation of a foreign country's laws? To many Americans, such a tale would be unbelievable. How, they might ask, could violating a foreign law make one susceptible to a felony conviction in the United States?
The answer is the Lacey Act, which was the proximate cause of the now-famous Gibson Guitar raid that occurred in the summer of 2011 (when the company was accused of exporting wood for its guitars in violation of the laws of India). Under the Lacey Act, it is illegal to "import, export, transport, sell, receive, acquire, or purchase" any plant or type of wildlife that was "taken, possessed, transported, or sold" in violation of a foreign or domestic law. Penalties for violating the Lacey Act can lead to draconian punishments--including felony convictions, jail time, large fines, and asset forfeiture.
Legal scholars like Paul Larkin of the Heritage Foundation have long highlighted the Lacey Act as an example of the concept of "overcriminalization" (a topic well-covered on Point of Law, as well). Overcriminalization means criminalizing conduct that most people do not view as inherently criminal or blameworthy. Although the Lacey Act's present day form has been extensively analyzed, little has been written about the Lacey Act's long and tortured history. In other words, we know a lot about why the Lacey Act criminalizes conduct that is often innocuous, but we know much less about how the law evolved to become a poster child for overcriminalization.
With this in mind, I decided to retrace the history of the Lacey Act and explore how the Act has changed over time. The result of this effort was recently published in the Georgetown Law Journal, and it turned up some fascinating trends about how overcriminalization occurs in modern, democratic societies.
Legal Intern, Manhattan Institute's Center for Legal Policy
As the overcriminalization problem has garnered more and more attention, the calls for reform have become increasingly audible in various aspects of federal, state, and local governments. The latest example comes to us from the Texas Public Policy Foundation. Vikrant Reddy, TPPF's Senior Policy Analyst for the Center for Effective Justice, has just released a report detailing salient changes that should be made to the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act to make it more reliable and efficient. Ostensibly, the purpose of the statute is to minimize U.S. complicity in international corruption, but its ancillary effects tend to stifle any beneficial effects of the additional regulation:
The act is emblematic of all the worst aspects of creeping federal overcriminalization, the tendency of Congress to use criminal law to regulate behavior not traditionally considered criminal. The FCPA's most important terms are vague and provide limited guidance for potential defendants; it is enforced in a way that limits critical mens rea protections; and the law does not provide for a "compliance defense" that would allow corporations to demonstrate that violations were a result of rogue employees, rather than inadequate compliance regimes.
The general problem stems from the fact that the premise of the legislation does not account for the creation of a skewed incentive structure. In theory, the FCPA will deter U.S. corporations from using potentially illegitimate means to court business in countries that are deemed "high risk" by using the threat of exorbitant fines and penalties. In order for this linear-style logic to hold, legislators either did not consider the negative externalities involved, or simply deemed them minimal in relation to the benefits of the legislation. Either way, the FCPA has proven to cause significant problems in terms of increasing the uncertainty involved in a given investment, and thus diverting U.S. resources from economically and socially productive uses:
Ironically, in fact, there is evidence that the FCPA has had the counter-productive effect of discouraging American firms from investing in impoverished nations. There is also evidence that the FCPA has stunted the growth of U.S. companies by forcing them to maintain costly compliance regimes. Ironically, these regimes may not even be useful becasue prosecution ultimately depends on how a particular U.S. Attorney will choose to interpret a particular term.
An improved piece of legislation would take into account these proven negative effects, while maintaining the core corruption-preventing purpose of the FCPA.
In other overcrim news, the Manhattan Institute's Center for Legal Policy will soon be releasing a report detailing the changing nature of Deferred and Non-Prosecution Agreements, especially in relation to the increasing number of agreements being utilized by the DOJ and, recently, the SEC. It will also examine the scope and adequacy of judicial review over these agreements.
Legal Intern, Manhattan Institute's Center for Legal Policy
Broadly speaking, our justice system tends to utilize two main frameworks of punishment: Deterrence and Proportionality. While individual states make individual choices as to which framework best represents the wishes of their citizenry, extreme application of either of these two theories will ultimately serve to cast aspersions on the effectiveness of the other. Two recent cases demonstrate this concept in the context of extreme applications of deterrence.
Evan Bernick of the Heritage Foundation's The Foundry website has recently written about a case out of Alaska in which a man is being charged with the misdemeanor of illegally feeding moose that wandered onto his property. The penalty for the charge is up to $10,000 in fines and a year in jail. Based on the severity of the penalties, it seems reasonable to presume that they are so harsh because they are meant to make it so personally detrimental to feed animals who wander onto someone's property that people would refrain from ever engaging in such activity. Therefore, it seems fair to categorize the theory being utilized as extreme deterrence. From a normative standpoint, the idea of potentially incarcerating someone for a year because they feed animals that wander on their property seems to destroy any sense of proportionality in the law. While there is a place for deterrence as a preventative measure, the extreme application of it serves to render proportionality defunct, and therefore skews the underlying fairness aspect of our justice system.
As another example of this injustice, Brian Doherty of Reason.com's Hit and Run blog has written about how cops are conducting undercover sting operations to catch unlicensed rickshaw drivers who are conducting "illegal tours" in the city of Charleston, South Carolina. The penalty can be more than $1,000 for such an "egregious" act. Besides the potential entrapment issues, the crime of giving tours of the city without a license does not really seem to warrant such a high penalty. If we assume fairness is an important metric by which we judge justice, then this law seems fundamentally unjust. Once again, the deterrence aspect of the law is undercutting the proportional fairness of it.
In order to stem this sort of routine overreaction to seemingly minor infractions, states should strive to reassess the place of fairness in their justice systems.
Legal Intern, Manhattan Institute's Center for Legal Policy
Ever so often, the Supreme Court hears a case that has ramifications for our very constitutional structure.These cases reach into the heart of our government to see what strictures remain between the founding generation and our own.
The Court is currently hearing oral arguments in Bond v. United States, a case dealing with fundamental issues of federalism and separation of powers. Specifically, the issue deals with the extent to which Congress can abrogate state police powers pursuant to the mandates of Congress's treaty obligations.
But in a larger sense, this case speaks to the validity of the framework of analysis the Court has employed since its inception. The presumption of constitutional analysis has always begun on the side of federalism and separation of powers; that is, the Constitution created certain enumerated powers to delegate to the federal government and left the majority to the states, so we begin our analysis from where the nexus of the power was meant to lie. In other words, our underlying premise is always to begin with federalism, and inch towards increasing federal power as circumstances might necessitate.
The Bond court has a chance to take another step towards maintaining the presumption of our Constitution by reaffirming the states' role in criminal prosecutions.
The Wall Street Journal has further details on the salient issues here, and the New York Times has more on the oral arguments here.
by Paul J. Larkin, Jr.
Bill Otis, a highly respected former prosecutor and now a law professor, argues that a mistake of law defense would hamper the government's ability to enforce the criminal law. I respect Bill and always value his opinions, but this time he is mistaken.
Bill notes that regulatory crimes are problematic because administrative officials are not directly accountable to the electorate. That is true, but there is an additional and bigger problem: Regulatory offenses oftentimes involve a network of one or more intricately worded statutes and a boatload of hyper-complex regulations. It is easy to understand a law prohibiting a street crime, but far harder to comply with a regulatory offense because the line between lawful and unlawful regulated conduct can be indistinct. No amount of murder is permissible, and no one can obtain a license to steal, but a party can obtain a license to dispose of used oil and other types of waste that are the unavoidable byproduct of legitimate business activities. In fact, administrative laws assume that some regulated conduct is permissible; those laws just limit when, where, how often, and by whom certain it can be done. The problem lies in knowing what can and cannot be done. Is this used oil a "waste"? If so, is it a "hazardous waste"? Or is it a "recyclable material"? Agencies need complex rules, oftentimes requiring considerable scientific or technical knowledge, to regulate industrialization. But those same complex rules can be impossible for the average lawyer--let alone the average person--to understand. A mistake of law defense forces the government clearly to define crimes before someone can be held liable for committing one.
Bill argues that a mistake of law defense would enable crooked defendants, aided by unscrupulous lawyers, to escape responsibility for conduct that any reasonable person would have known was unlawful. The concern with manufactured defenses is legitimate, but overstated. If a government civil inspector notifies someone that his conduct is unlawful, the government can use that notice as proof of guilt if the defendant repeats that conduct. Also, if you place the burden of proof on the defendant, you effectively compel him to testify at trial to establish a mistake-of-law defense. Once he testifies, the prosecution can cross-examine him, and the jury can decide if he is a con artist who connived with a shyster. If the judge finds that a mistake of law defense is incredible--that is, no reasonable person could buy it--the judge need not instruct the jury on it. Finally, if corporate wrongdoing is a concern, a mistake of law defense can be limited to individuals and exclude corporations. In sum, Bill's concern can be met without turning every reasonable mistake of law into a crime.
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by William G. Otis
Defenses that on paper look perfectly reasonable can morph into something entirely different in the hands of a creative counselor.
Lack of bad intent is -- as it should be -- a long-accepted defense to criminal charges. We would think grossly unfair a system that provided no such defense. Little did we suspect, however -- until it actually happened -- that garden-variety criminal intent could be flummoxed out the jury's mind by defense counsel's claim that his client ate too many Twinkies. But exactly that happened because of the inventive approach authored by the attorney for Dan White, the San Francisco city supervisor who killed Harvey Milk. White beat the murder wrap, and got punished only for manslaughter, because his lawyer convinced the jury that excess Twinkie consumption had deepened his "depression."
This is not an isolated example. The invention currently in vogue is "urban survival syndrome." This "syndrome" is now used to convince juries that the defendant is a victim, not a bad guy. In the hands of a smooth-talking defense lawyer, more than one jury has been persuaded that the client more nearly resembles a counseling patient than, as it used to be known, a thug.
There is a lesson here as we contemplate expanding the mistake of law defense. In the era of the gargantuan regulatory state, quite properly we want to help defendants who never had a bad heart -- or, worse, may never have known or had reason to know that their conduct was criminal at all. Expanding the mistake of law defense thus has understandable appeal. But like so many modern inventions of the law, there is the danger of unintended consequences. The danger here is that the mistake of law defense will sooner rather than later shed the limitations we build into it, incrementally nibble away at what is left of responsible commercial life, and become the corporate reincarnation of too many Twinkies.
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by Paul J. Larkin, Jr.
A millennium ago, the criminal law was simple. If you knew the Decalogue, you knew what not to do: don't murder, steal, or lie. As a result, the law did not exonerate someone who claimed to believe that what he did was not a crime, since no one could reasonably believe that those immoral actions were not also illegal. Today, however, the criminal law has expanded to Brobdingnagian proportions. There are approximately 4,500 federal crimes alone. Atop that, use of administrative agencies to define criminal statutes (or their terms) exacerbates the problem. Congress may use a broadly defined term (e.g., "solid waste") in a statute (e.g., the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act) that delegates to an agency (e.g., the EPA) the power to define its terms (e.g., "hazardous waste") by creating a list of specific examples (e.g., "listed hazardous wastes") or by specifying exemptions (e.g., "recyclable materials"). The result is that there are perhaps 300,000 potentially relevant regulations. No one--no law enforcement officer, no lawyer, no law professor, no judge--could honestly claim to know them all.
A reasonable mistake defense avoids the risk that a morally blameless person could be convicted of conduct that no reasonable person would have known was a crime. Even a child knows the inherent unfairness of being punished for conduct that no one, not even an adult, would reasonably have known was out of bounds. The simplest and most direct remedy, therefore, is to allow a person to prove that he made a mistake and that his mistake was reasonable.
A reasonable mistake defense does not pose the risk that rogues could manipulate it and escape justice. Some conduct is so well known as immoral and illegal that no one reasonably could claim ignorance of the law as an excuse. Murder, manslaughter, rape, mayhem, robbery, burglary, arson, and larceny were crimes at common law and have been outlawed by state and federal criminal codes ever since. Kidnapping, possession of heroin, and the like are modern crimes everyone knows or should know. No one could reasonably claim ignorance that such conduct, or even analogous behavior, is prohibited. A reasonableness requirement would impose a sensible limitation on a Mistake of Law Defense and would go a long way toward eliminating the concern that scallywags will wriggle out of responsibility for conduct that any reasonable person would have known is a crime.
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by William G. Otis
The reach of criminal law to enforce the regulatory state poses serious questions. Regulatory crimes tend to be "strict liability" offenses. That is, they do not require that that the defendant be found to have had bad intent in order to convict and punish him.
This is a relatively new and potentially ominous development. The Founders contemplated criminal punishment for, roughly, "bad actors" -- those who do something a person with common sense and ordinary intelligence would intuitively think of as criminal. Generally, criminal behavior up to now has been defined by people who either don't control their temper; want to make a quick buck; or range from extremely non-empathetic to malevolent.
Regulatory crimes are a different kettle of fish. As some recent episodes have shown, regulations "criminalize" behavior based on what the regulator, acting to implement his view of vaguely described legislative intent, sees as forbidden. For the law to accommodate this raises a host of problems. One of them is lack of accountability: The regulator does not face the voters, and is often hidden behind layers of bureaucracy. Another is lack of democratic legitimacy: Regulators simply do not have the mandate conferred by getting elected.
To partly counteract these problems, some have suggested an updated version of the mistake of law defense. Under this version, it would be an affirmative defense if the defendant did not know, and a reasonable person in the defendant's position would not have known, that the defendant's conduct was a crime.
Such a proposal has obvious appeal for the reasons outlined. Yet caution is in order, because the on-the-ground reality will look different. What will happen is that the defendant will preemptively go to his brother-in-law (the one with a law degree) and present some sanitized version of his plan, in order to inveigle the newly-employed "counsel" to say, "Well it might be close to the line, but I guess it's OK."
When the defendant goes to trial -- having swindled his way to millions through some novel, improvised, now-you-see-it-and-now-you-don't "financial product" -- he'll use the mistake of law defense to insist, "I sought legal advice and was told it wasn't any worse than close to the line. I might have made a mistake, but I asked and my lawyer said it was OK."
More generally, once we allow defendants to turn the trial into a contest about the state of their legal knowledge, we have invited a morass. State-of-mind defenses are already out of control; state of legal knowledge defenses will be, if anything, worse. Even to combat the dangers of regulators-run-wild, we should be cautious before we expand them.
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The traditional common-law principle of "Ignorantia juris non excusat,"--Latin for "ignorance of the law" does not excuse--prevented a criminal defendant from escaping liability by claiming that he was unaware that his conduct was unlawful. When most crimes were malum in se--meaning inherently wrong according to the generally accepted moral code--the concept of "ignorance is no excuse" went unchallenged. That was all before the phenomenon of overcriminalization, before criminal codes and regulatory provisions were flooded with new criminal offenses, many of which were vague, ambiguous, duplicative and well-beyond the scope of the traditional common-law-based criminal justice system.
Now in the face of a new reality, policy experts and legal scholars have been working on solutions to curb overcriminalization and reign in the unwieldy proliferation of criminal laws. Policy makers have met those efforts with interest; the House of Representatives formed a special task force on the question earlier this year. Among the many proposals being considered to deal with the alarming trend is a reversal of this age-old principle that "ignorance of the law is no excuse." What has been proposed by many advocates is a new "mistake of law" defense which would for the first time allow a criminal defendant to make the case that he did not know that his conduct was against the law and that no reasonable person in his position would know. This drastic departure from the "ignorance of the law" principle has alarmed many experts who, while acknowledging the threat of overcriminalization, worry that a mistake of law defense would create its own host of serious problems.
To advocate in favor of the "mistake of law defense", we're thrilled to welcome Paul Larkin, senior legal research fellow at the Heritage Foundation's Edwin Meese III Center for Legal and Judicial Studies. Before joining Heritage, Larkin held various positions with the federal government in Washington, D.C. At the U.S. Department of Justice from 1984 to 1993, Larkin served as an assistant to the solicitor general and as an attorney in the criminal division's section on organized crime and racketeering. He argued 27 cases before the U.S. Supreme Court. Additionally, Paul authored several legal memoranda which outlined the case for the Mistake of Law Defense generally and also specified the elements of that prospective defense.
Opposite Larkin, we are happy to welcome Georgetown Law adjunct professor William G. Otis, a former chief of the Appellate Division at the US Attorney's Office for the Eastern District of Virginia, counselor to the administrator with the Drug Enforcement Administration and special counsel to President George H. W. Bush.
We hope you will visit back over the ensuing days to see what our distinguished participants have to say, in what promises to be a fascinating discussion.
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Legal Intern, Manhattan Institute's Center for Legal Policy
Recently, the Manhattan Institute released its latest Trial Lawyers, Inc. publication on patent "trolling," a practice that involves companies accumulating the rights to large patent portfolios and suing those who engage in unlicensed usage. One of the major problems with this practice has been that these so-called Patent Assertion Entities have been able to acquire patents on some of the most basic technological innovations, and thus stifle the ability of others in the industry to innovate and improve upon the technology.
Now, Congress itself is in danger of stifling technological innovation. Derek Khanna, in an article for Slate Magazine, has discussed a proposed change to Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act. This change, signed on to by 47 state attorneys general, would amend Section 230 to grant state criminal statutes immunity from the federal mandates of the section. Ostensibly, this proposed alteration would allow states to hold host websites liable if user-generated content propagated illicit activity, like ads for sex trafficking on Craigslist.
The problem is that this amendment would allow state attorneys general the broad power to prosecute the host website owners for user-generated content. This would in turn make website owners wary of allowing users to post on their sites, and therefore effectively remove potentially important dialogue and feedback from being placed on the site. Moreover, the national scope of many Internet companies compounds the fear of being potentially prosecuted under 50 different penal codes.
Khanna offers a telling example of the benefits of Section 230 in its current form:
Let's say Section 230 was never implemented, and Reddit's future founders arranged a meeting with their members of Congress to propose changing the law to facilitate their market model for a message board on the Internet. Assuming they didn't ask the member of Congress who referred to the Internet as "a series of tubes," it is likely that the politicians would respond, "This is such a small market, and a silly idea, so why would we bother changing the law for you?" And yet, today Reddit is a billion-dollar company and according, to one study, 6 percent of adults on the Internet are Reddit users (including me).
Section 230 is simple and intuitive to entrepreneurs, and it doesn't require a lawyer to implement. It's essentially a permission slip telling the Internet: "Go innovate." And entrepreneurs, such as Alexis Ohanian, co-founder of Reddit, responded by launching a diverse array of websites with user-generated content. Facebook--which currently has 1.2 billion users, or one-eighth of the world's population--would have been impossible without Section 230. Ben Huh, CEO of the Section 230-enabled Cheezburger Network, told me: "Section 230 is one of the hidden pillars of the free speech of the Internet."
If Section 230 is opened up to state criminal sanctions, the entire innovation-enhancing purpose behind the section's enactment will be destroyed. While the regulation of user-generated illicit activity is an important end, the means presented by the state attorneys general are not narrowly-tailored enough to prevent the creation of a considerable disincentive for Internet companies to grow and expand, as well as a disincentive to allow public forums in which users can offer suggestions as to how the company can improve its products and services.
Congress needs to maintain a free public sphere in which companies can feel comfortable in allowing user-generated content on their websites. Anything else would constitute a stifling of those animal spirits of innovation which have allowed the Internet to be placed at the vanguard of societal progress.
More on Criminal Law and Prosecution
On Monday, June 8, 2009, the Manhattan Institute hosted a forum featuring Home Depot co-founder Ken
Langone and former attorney general of the United States Dick Thornburgh. In a structured interview
format, Chief Executive editor-in-chief J.P. Donlon asked Mr. Langone and Mr. Thornburgh for their
analysis of the criminilization of corporate conduct. The program will be adapted for publication in
Chief Executive magazine.
To watch a video of the event, please click here.
Jim Copland, director of the Center for Legal Policy, interviewed both Ken Langone and Dick
Thornburgh on their thoughts about the overcriminilization of corporate conduct from the legal and
Click here to listen to the interview with Dick Thornburgh.
Click here to listen to the interview with Ken Langone.
Jim Copland, director of the Center for Legal Policy, interviews Judge Alex Kozinski and attorney Misha Tseytlin about their essay
on overcriminalization entitled "You're (probably) A Federal Criminal". Click
here to listen to the podcast.
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Lying, Cheating and Stealing: A Moral Theory of White Collar Crime
Trapped: When Acting Ethically Is Against The Law
Enacting Principled, Nonpartisan Criminal-Law Reform: A Memo to President-elect Obama
Mens Rea Requirement: A Critical Casualty of Overcriminalization
Revisiting the Explosive Growth of Federal Crimes
Culture of Privilege Waiver Compromises Corporate Compliance
Criminal Liability for Document Shredding after Arthur Anderson LLP
What We Have Here Is Failure to Cooperate: The Thompson Memorandum and Federal Prosecution of White-Collar Crime
Waiver of the Attorney-Client Privilege: A Balanced Approach
Bringing Coherence to Mens Rea Analysis for Securities-Related Offenses
The Overcriminalization Phenomenon
Crime and Punishment: the Significant Meaninglessness of Arthur Anderson LLP
Reforming Corporations Through Threats of Federal Prosecution