Category Archives: torts

Law and the Multiverse Holiday Special – Easter Edition

Many of our readers might remember the first Law and the Multiverse Holiday Special, which analyzed the legal issues surrounding Santa Claus.  This time around we’re going to take a brief look at the Easter Bunny (who, along with Santa Claus, is technically a DC comics character).

I. Intelligent Bunnies

As with Santa Claus, a big issue for the Easter Bunny is trespass.  Entering other people’s property and leaving eggs definitely fits the bill for the tort of trespass to land.  Now, with Santa Claus there was an easy answer to this problem: the home owners clearly invited Santa Claus to enter their property, as demonstrated by the stockings, milk and cookies, and so forth.  But there’s no consistent signal that the Easter Bunny is allowed to enter a person’s property.  This is a problem for any version of the Easter Bunny that might be considered a legal person (e.g. the versions that are intelligent and can talk).

Another problem for these Bunnies: where do they get the eggs?  Do they own and raise the chickens themselves?  If so, do they follow all the regulations for chicken farming?  If they buy the eggs, where do they get the money?  There are a lot of holes in the Easter Bunny’s story, to say the least.  At least Santa has a ‘volunteer’ labor force to make the toys.

Of course, unlike Santa, nobody seems to know where the Easter Bunny actually lives these days.  Service of process and jurisdiction might be significant problems for any would-be plaintiffs.

II. Non-Intelligent Bunnies

Some versions of the Easter Bunny are more-or-less actual rabbits, and animals can’t be liable for torts.  However, the animal’s owner can be.  If an animal’s owner lets an animal loose (either intentionally or negligently), and the animal enters another person’s property, that can be a trespass.  But the Easter Bunny doesn’t seem to have an owner (with the possible exception of Cadbury), so this suggests those Bunnies are actually wild animals.

This is unfortunate for the Bunny.  On the one hand it means that neither the Bunny nor any person is liable for its trespasses, but on the other hand it means that in many places the Bunny could be legally captured or even shot.  This concern seems pretty theoretical, however, since the Bunny is apparently very stealthy.

III. Conclusion

As a practical matter, both intelligent and non-intelligent Easter Bunnies seem to be safe from both lawsuits and rabbit traps.  We would still advise intelligent Easter Bunnies to adopt a standard signal that they are allowed on a person’s property, though.  Better safe than sorry!

Accidental Superpowers and Assumption of Risk

This post was inspired by Tim, who asked about liability for the transformations of Ben Grimm (The Thing) and Bruce Banner (The Hulk). We answer a lot of reader questions in our Mailbag posts, but this one was a big enough issue to need a post of its own.

The story of the two characters is similar in many respects. Both were involved in a scientific experiment that went awry, leaving the two changed in fundamental ways. Grimm’s skin was changed into a rock-like mass, rendering his appearance unusual, to say the least, and he struggled with this for years. Banner, on the other hand, found himself transformed into the Incredible Hulk, prone to almost incomprehensible savagery at the slightest provocation, leading to his exile from Earth and subsequent disastrous return. If any superhuman character might have a cause of action for bodily injury related to their powers, it would seem to be these two.

But there are key facts in their origin stories that change the liability situation significantly.

I. Ben Grimm, aka “The Thing”

The origin of the Fantastic Four‘s powers is told in Fantastic Four #1, November 1961. Dr. Reed Richards was planning a space mission and felt a sense of urgency because the Communists were apparently on the verge of launching their own. The story was published at the height of the Cold war, and this issue came out mere months after Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin became the first human being to leave the earth’s atmosphere, so the story makes sense in that context.  Richards was discussing the flight with his team when the following exchange occurred:

Grimm: If you want to fly to the stars then you pilot the ship! Count me out! You know we haven’t done enough research into the effect of cosmic rays! They might kill us all out in space!

Susan Storm: Ben, we’ve got to take that chance… unless we want the Commies to beat us to it! I– I never thought that you would be a coward!

Grimm: A coward!! Nobody calls me a coward! Get the ship! I’ll fly her no matter what happens!!

If Grimm were then to act as a plaintiff—presumably against Reed Richards for organizing the flight without adequately researching it first—this little conversation would come back to haunt him. Why? Because assumption of risk is a viable defense in tort law. The basic idea is that if a plaintiff is aware of a specific risk related to a particular activity and engages in that activity anyway, a defendant would be absolved of any duty to protect the plaintiff from that particular risk. This is not any kind of blanket protection, and the specific nature of the risk generally needs to be contemplated by the plaintiff, but in Grimm’s case, there’s a good argument to be made that he had assumed the risk of flying Richards’ ship.

First, the comic indicates that in addition to being a test pilot and thus familiar with the risks associated with piloting experimental craft, he specifically knew about the risk of cosmic rays. Granted, he did not know that they would turn him into The Thing, but not only did no one else know this either, but everyone involved was consciously aware that they had no idea what the effects of these rays would be but that death was a distinct possibility. Besides, “I’ll fly her no matter what happens,” is a pretty broad statement.

Second, both Grimm and Richards seem to possess the same mens rea with respect to the accident. Assumption of risk will not protect a reckless defendant against a negligent plaintiff, but it may well protect a reckless defendant against a similarly reckless plaintiff. The idea here is that the law does not want to protect a party that acted with a lower degree of care over one who acted with a higher degree, and when the playing field is equal, the argument that everyone involved knew the risks of the activity and voluntarily engaged in it is a lot stronger.

Third, Grimm was not a mere passenger. He was a pilot. As such, he had a significant role in the planning and execution of the test flight, and was in fact the only person even potentially capable of steering the craft out of danger. So unlike a passive participant or even someone participating in an event organized by others, Grimm had ample opportunity to mitigate the risks involved both before and during the incident. It’s even theoretically possible that the Storm siblings might have a cause of action against Richards and Grimm as the joint organizers of the project! However, neither of them seems to have been affected negatively, so their “damages” may be nominal,

Ben Grimm knew as well as anyone what he was getting into. He knew that the trip involved the risk of cosmic rays, and he knew that exposure to those rays posed a risk of serious bodily injury or death. No one seems to have known more about the risks than he did, even Richards, though that’s more a matter of shared ignorance than anything else. What Richards did was arguably incredibly foolish, but another famous Ben had some choice words about following fools.

II. Bruce Manner, aka The Incredible Hulk

Bruce Banner’s story contains a significant difference. Banner is characterized as one of the world’s most brilliant scientists, rivaling if not surpassing Reed Richards and Tony Stark. Banner was involved with a Defense Department project to develop a gamma ray bomb or “G-bomb” when he was accidentally exposed to gamma rays, which due to a fluke in his genetic structure transforms him—periodically—into the rampaging Hulk.

Sounds pretty similar to Ben Grimm, right? So far, yes. But there’s a wrinkle which makes all the difference. In the case of the Fantastic Four, just about everyone involved was acting recklessly, and no one intended for anyone to get hurt. But Banner was actually a victim of attempted murder. The way the story is told, just before the test of the G-bomb, Banner noticed that a teenager had breached security and was inside the blast zone. He ordered the test to be delayed and ran to get the kid out of the way. Banner was able to get the kid to a protective trench when the bomb went off, exposing him to gamma rays. But the reason the bomb went off is because Igor Drenkov, a Russian agent, ordered the test to continue, hoping that Banner would die in the resulting explosion. Assumption of risk will protect a defendant against a reckless plaintiff, but it will not protect a defendant that intended for harm to befall the plaintiff. Indeed, Drenkov could be subject to civil and criminal liability, as attempted murder is a serious felony.

But Banner would probably not be able to sue the government, as he was the organizer of the project and the government is likely not liable for the actions of enemy infiltrators. Furthermore, depending on the nature of Banner’s employment, either the Federal Employee Compensation Act, the federal equivalent of workers’ compensation, or the Veterans Affairs Administration would provide compensation for his injuries, as he sustained them while executing his duties as a government employee. So he would theoretically be entitled to some money, though only in proportion to his medical bills (non-existent) and expenses related to mitigating his disability (good luck). In practice, he’s going to have trouble proving his damages, and as the FECA and/or VA would be an exclusive remedy, no other recovery would be available with respect to the government. He’s still free to sue Drenkov though.

III. Conclusion

We’ve seen here that, as in all cases, the facts are really important, and a single conversation, document, or other changed fact can result in a wildly different outcome, potentially saving—or costing—a party enormous amounts of money. Finding these facts and putting them in their proper context is a lot of what litigation attorneys do for a living, and the amount of money at risk is one reason many charge as much as they do.

She-Hulk # 2

We looked at She-Hulk # 1 last week. Moving on to issue # 2, She-Hulk is plaintiff’s counsel for Dan “Danger-Man” Jermain, given atomic powers as part of an industrial accident. Mr. Jermain wants to sue his former employer for “bodily injury,” despite the fact that the only effects seem to be that he is “larger, stronger, and more powerful.” Okay, he’s also capable of causing small nuclear explosions, but hey, it’s not like it’s going to hurt him any. Defense counsel points out the fact that one needs to stretch the definition of bodily injury way past the bounds of credulity to include imbuing someone with superpowers. She-Hulk thinks she can get around it by arguing that “Danger-Man” and “Dan Jermain” are actually two separate entities, and that the latter ceased to exist when the former came into being. When asked “Do you really think this will work?” she responds “I think I can sell it to a jury.”

There are a number of problems here, so let’s take a look.

I. Workers Compensation

First, whatever happened to workers’ compensation? The rise of the Industrial Era was accompanied by the rise of workplace injuries, as people started working around machines more often, sometimes incredibly dangerous ones. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it was commonplace for factory workers to lose fingers, even limbs, to exposed machinery. Legal reforms favoring labor began in the late nineteenth century, and by 1949, every state and the federal government had instituted a workers’ compensation regime.

Workers’ compensation operates by creating a system for compensating workers for workplace injuries regardless of fault. What this means is that if you are injured while serving your employer, you get paid the vast majority of the time, even if your employer was completely without fault. This may seem very favorable to the workers, so to even things out, i.e. to make sure that employers weren’t bankrupted every time someone broke an arm, compensation was limited in three ways.

First, compensation for injuries is computed based on actuarial tables created by state agencies rather than by juries. This rationalizes and limits compensation. Whereas a jury can award a basically arbitrary amount of money, workers’ compensation payouts are known ahead of time and are thus a lot easier to plan for and insure. Second, compensation is limited to purely economic damages, i.e. medical bills, lost wages, lost future earnings, etc. There is very little provision for non-economic damages like “pain and suffering,” which really drive up verdicts in liability cases. Third, workers’ compensation is an exclusive remedy, i.e. employees cannot choose to forgo participation in the workers’ compensation program and sue their employers. Workers’ compensation is their only way to recover. So employees benefit because they almost always get paid, even if the accident was their fault, and they usually get paid in a fraction of the amount of time they’d have to wait if they sued. But employers benefit because their costs are controlled and employees can’t turn around and sue them. Workers’ compensation coverage is mandatory in just about every state for just about every employee. There are, of course, certain exceptions, but a worker in an industrial plant working with radioactive materials, e.g. Dan Jermain, would definitely be covered.

So what happened to Roxxon’s workers’ compensation carrier? How is Jermain able to sue at all? Sure, GLK&H might act as plaintiff’s counsel in the workers’ compensation case (coverage can be disputed, leading to litigation, but this is much simpler than suing in open court), but workers’ compensation is largely limited to economic damages. Danger-Man is basically uninjured, and even if we want to go with She-Hulk’s argument and say that Dan Jermain is “dead,” (more on that in a minute), workers’ compensation only pays out a couple of hundred grand—at best—for wrongful death. Not $85 million, which is the settlement reached at the end of the issue.

Of course, the whole issue goes away if Jermain wasn’t an employee. If the writers had him be some random schmo who happened to get in a wreck with a Roxxon tanker truck, covering him in radioactive goo, he would not be covered by the workers’ compensation regime and thus would be free to sue like he does in the comic. Oh well.

II. Questions of Law v. Questions of Fact

Now we’re going to get really nit-picky. She-Hulk says that she thinks she can “sell” Dan Jermain’s death to a jury. Unfortunately, whether or not “Dan Jermain” legally died during the accident is probably not a question of fact. Nor is whether giving someone superpowers counts as “bodily injury”. These would be questions of law. The difference is, in part, who gets to answer such questions and the basis for answering them.

Questions of fact are answered by the finder of fact, generally the jury, though judges are the finders of fact in bench trials. Questions of fact are answered on the basis of the evidence. The questions of fact here would be things like “What are the nature and extent of Dan Jermain’s injuries?” “What caused those injuries?” “Did Roxxon’s negligence lead to Jermain’s injuries?” “Did Jermain’s?” She-Hulk would try to get these questions answered in her favor by investigating the scene of the accident, having experts evaluate Jermain’s condition, deposing witnesses, etc.

Questions of law are answered by the judge on the basis of the law alone. The questions of law here include “Do Jermain’s symptoms constitute ‘bodily injury’ under the law?” “Is ‘Danger-Man’ legally the same entity as Dan Jermain?” “Is Dan Jermain legally dead?” These questions would be answered by looking at existing legal precedent to see what it says about the definitions of “bodily injury” and “death,” and seeing if the facts, when interpreted in the light most favorable to Roxxon, can be made to fit the legal definitions she needs.

Here we’ve got some problems. “Bodily injury” is generally understood to be a bad thing. Federal law defines it as

(A) a cut, abrasion, bruise, burn, or disfigurement;
(B) physical pain;
(C) illness;
(D) impairment of the function of a bodily member, organ, or mental faculty; or
(E) any other injury to the body, no matter how temporary.

18 U.S.C. § 1365(h)(4)

Whether or not Danger-Man’s condition counts as any of those is going to be a question of law for the court. And it’s not entirely clear that it does. He hasn’t been cut, abraded, bruised, burned, or disfigured, at least not in any way shown in the comics. He doesn’t appear to be in any pain, nor to have experienced any as part of the process. Superpowers probably don’t constitute an “illness,” though there may be something there, especially if the powers can’t be controlled. He does not appear to be suffering any impairment of his bodily functions or mental faculties. And calling superpowers “injuries,” when they don’t fit into any of the other definitions, is a stretch, to say the least. Given that Jermain can do just about everything he could before the accident, and can do a lot more now, this is going to be a tough sell.

Though there is another claim that the authors seem to have forgotten: loss of consortium. This is a claim for loss of the affection and companionship of a family member, typically a spouse, and typically a particular kind of companionship, if you catch our meaning. Jermain seems to have been affected in a substantial way, here. Even sharing a bed with his wife is physically dangerous for her. That’s the kind of change in a relationship that a jury might well be willing to award damages for.

III: Conclusion

There was more legal meat in this one. Missing the difference between questions of law and questions of fact is understandable, though. That one even trips up experienced attorneys from time to time, as the two can blend into each other pretty easily (so-called ‘mixed questions of law and fact’). So we’ll give them a pass on that one. But missing the workers’ compensation angle was a pretty big mistake. Even most laymen are at least aware of workers’ compensation, even if they aren’t entirely aware of how it works.  Maybe we can chalk this one up to most comic book authors and illustrators rarely making use of workers’ compensation; comic book publishers are not exactly hotbeds of industrial accidents. Still, all they’d need to do is change a single panel, making the plaintiff a bystander instead of an employee, and the rest of the story is more-or-less okay.

Animal Sidekicks, Part Two

For this installment of our series on animal sidekicks (part one here) we’ll be discussing an animal owner’s tort liability for injuries caused by the animal.  This would also apply to supervillains who sometimes use animals, such as Catwoman and the Penguin.  Like most tort law issues, the law here varies from state to state, but there are some common principles that we can discuss.

There are two basic categories of animal here: domesticated animals and wild or exotic animals.  In both cases there are two sub-issues: the bases for liability and the available defenses.  As we shall see, the broad scope of liability makes the defenses particularly important.

I. Domesticated Animals

A. Liability

At common law a domesticated animal’s owner is liable for injuries caused by the animal if the owner knew or should have known that the animal was dangerous.  See, e.g., McCaster v. Jackson, 833 So.2d 36 (Ala. 2002).  This leads pretty naturally to the question “how can you prove an animal is dangerous?”  An animal’s dangerous propensities can be proven in a couple of different ways.

The first and most direct approach is to show that the owner knew or should have known that the animal acted dangerously in the past.  However, it is generally not necessary that the animal previously caused an injury; knowledge of its dangerous disposition is sufficient.  Mungo v. Bennett, 238 S.C. 79, 81-82 (1961).  Once knowledge is established, in some jurisdictions owners are strictly liable for injuries caused by the animal, but in other jurisdictions liability requires negligence on the part of owner.  See, e.g., Bard v. Jahnke, 6 N.Y.3d 592 (Ct. App. N.Y. 2006) (strict liability); Mungo, 238 S.C. at 82 (negligence).

The second, indirect approach is to show that the animal was of a breed or type known to be dangerous (e.g. that a dog was of a vicious breed or that a bull was particularly dangerous during breeding season).  However, not all jurisdictions recognize this approach.  See, e.g., Bard, 6 N.Y.3d at 599.

Some states have enacted statutes that eliminate or modify the requirement of knowledge of the animal’s dangerous disposition.  See, e.g., Robinson v. Meadows, 203 Ill.App.3d 706 (App. Ct. Ill. 1990).

The practical upshot of this is that any superhero with an animal sidekick is going to be potentially liable for injuries caused by the sidekick.  Heck, if the animal didn’t have dangerous propensities it’d be a pretty lousy sidekick.  So let’s turn to the defenses to see if our heroes can find a way out of having to leave their animals at home.

B. Defenses

There are four main defenses to an injury by an animal: contributory or comparative negligence, intentional provocation, assumption of the risk, and a fourth defense that we’ll call “being up to no good.”  Contributory or comparative negligence are, as the names imply, generally only available in states where liability is based on negligence.  Assumption of the risk, by contrast, is a defense to strict liability.  These defenses are the basis for things like “beware of dog” signs.  While those defenses are handy for people in the real-world, superheroes need a bit more, since they tend to go on the offensive.

For superheroes the main defenses are intentional provocation and “being up to no good.”  If a supervillain provokes an animal sidekick by attacking it, the animal may react without incurring liability for the owner.  See, e.g., Grams v. Howard’s O.K. Hardware Co., 446 N.W.2d 687 (Ct. App. Minn. 1989).

What we’ve called “being up to no good” is a slightly unwieldy phrase we made up to refer to a defense available in many states.  For example, Minnesota’s dog attack statute reads, in part:

If a dog, without provocation, attacks or injures any person who is acting peaceably in any place where the person may lawfully be, the owner of the dog is liable in damages to the person so attacked or injured to the full amount of the injury sustained.

Minn. Stat. § 347.22 (emphasis added).  As you can see, separate from provocation is a defense that the person attacked was either not acting peacefully or was trespassing.  Illinois has a similar defense. 510 ILCS 5/16.  As long as the superhero waits until the supervillain has started breaking the law, there appears to be considerable leeway for an animal sidekick (or at least a canine sidekick) to attack, at least in states that recognize this defense.

It is unclear to us to what extent self-defense or defense of others can be used as a defense.  That is, if the owner deliberately sics the sidekick on a villain in order to defend himself or herself or to defend a third party.  It seems like this would be proper self-defense or defense of others, so long as employing the animal amounted to reasonable force.

II. Wild Animals

Wild animals are treated differently than domesticated animals.  The general rule is that the owner of a wild animal is strictly liable for injuries caused by the animal, even if the owner had no knowledge of the animal’s propensity for harm and even if the owner took the utmost care in keeping the animal.  See, e.g., Poznanski ex rel. Poznanski v. Horvath, 788 N.E.2d 1255, 1259 (Sup. Ct. Ind. 2003).

There is an exception to this, albeit a narrow one.  Under the Restatement (Second) of Torts, and as adopted by many jurisdictions, strict liability only applies to the kind of danger that is characteristic of the particular class of wild animal.  Consider a wild snapping turtle kept as a pet.  Now suppose someone tripped over the turtle’s hard shell, causing a painful toe stubbing and hurting themselves in the fall.  A court would not apply strict liability in that case.  The danger of a snapping turtle is that it might bite a person, not that someone would trip over it.  Now, if the owner had deliberately put the turtle in the victim’s path, the owner might still be liable, but under a different theory.  Unfortunately, that exception is unlikely to be very helpful to a superhero, since the harm caused by a wild animal sidekick is likely to be exactly of the type that is characteristic of the animal.

As with states that apply strict liability in cases of dangerous domesticated animals, there are defenses here, too.  For example, provocation has been held to be a defense.  Whitefield v. Stewart, 577 P.2d 1295 (Okla. 1978).  And we see no reason self-defense or defense of others might not apply as well.

III. Conclusion

Superheroes selecting an animal sidekick should probably stick to domesticated animals such as domestic dogs.  Wild animals, even well-kept or tamed ones, carry with them additional legal risks and fewer defenses.  Since this is another area that varies widely from state to state, superheroes traveling around the country should do a little research before bringing their animal sidekick along.  What’s fine for their sidekick to do in one state might get them sued in another.

Law and the Multiverse Mailbag XII

Today we have a question about a supervillain-worthy plot from the movie Swordfish.  As always, if you have questions or post suggestions, please send them to james@lawandthemultiverse.com and ryan@lawandthemultiverse.com or leave them in the comments.

NB: If you haven’t seen the movie, the question and answer technically include spoilers, but they’re from the opening scene.

Alan writes “In the film Swordfish, the villain Gabriel Shear has an elaborate plan involving hacking a bank’s computer while holding hostages.  He wires these hostages with explosives rigged to a sensor which will detonate them if they leave the bank, and he explains this to the authorities.  However, SWAT members still grab one of the hostages and drag her away from the bank, against her will, and she explodes, presumably dying in the process and killing several SWAT team members. … Is Gabriel Shear liable for murdering the woman, or the SWAT team members? (Would this be ‘felony murder’?)  Would the woman’s relatives have a civil claim against the police?  Does the fact that she was unwilling to go with the officers affect these considerations?”

There are basically two issues here: Shear’s liability and police liability.  Since this scene is set in L.A., we’ll use California law.

I. Shear’s Liability

In California, murder is described in Cal. Penal Code § 187-89.  Immediately we see two potentially applicable kinds of first degree murder: murder by explosives and felony murder.  The felony murder rule may apply because the murder was committed in the perpetration of, amongst other things, the kidnapping of the hostages.  The question is: is Shear liable for the murder given that he didn’t ‘pull the trigger,’ so to speak?  Intuitively the answer seems like it should be yes, but let’s work through the analysis.

A. First Degree Murder by Explosives

This is the most straightforward charge: Shear murdered the victim with explosives.  But there are at least two potential sticking points: cause and intent.

i. Causation

An essential element of murder is that the defendant must cause the victim’s death, and Shear’s actions were at least one step removed from the victim’s death.  It was the SWAT team member pulling the victim out of range that was the immediate cause of death.  Does that get Shear off the hook?

As it turns out, probably not.  A defendant can also be responsible for a death if he “sets in motion a chain of events that produces as a direct, natural and probable consequence of the [act] [or] omission the death in question and without which the death would not occur.”  People v. Fiu, 165 Cal.App.4th 360, 369 (Cal. Ct. App. 2008) (emphasis in original).  The prosecution would argue that a direct, natural, and probable consequence of fitting hostages with explosive collars designed to kill people is that someone will, in fact, get killed.

Now, the defense might argue that the SWAT team member’s intervention broke the chain of causation, but it takes a lot to break the chain: “To relieve a defendant of criminal liability, an intervening cause must be an unforeseeable and extraordinary occurrence.  The defendant remains criminally liable if either the possible consequence might reasonably have been contemplated or the defendant should have foreseen the possibility of harm of the kind that could result from his act.”  Fiu, 165 Cal.App.4th at 371.

Here, it’s pretty clear that Shear in fact contemplated and foresaw the possibility of a hostage being harmed by police intervention in precisely this way.  That’s why he warned the police about the collars.  It’s no defense that the police tried to intervene anyway.  Indeed, as Justice Cardozo said in the context of torts, “Danger invites rescue….The wrongdoer may not have foreseen the coming of a deliverer. He is accountable as if he had.”  Wagner v. Int’l Ry., 232 N.Y. 176, 180 (1926) (by the way, the Wagner case justifies a tort claim against Shear by the deceased police officer’s heirs; superheroes could make the same claim against supervillains if they are injured while trying to rescue the supervillains’ victims).

ii. Intent

Another potential issue with a straightforward murder charge is that arguably Shear did not intend to kill anyone.  Indeed, he specifically instructed the police regarding the explosives, which suggests he wanted a clean getaway.  In California the intent required for murder (‘malice aforethought’) may be express or implied.  Cal. Penal Code § 188.  According to the California Supreme Court, “Malice is implied when: The killing resulted from an intentional act, 2. The natural consequences of the act are dangerous to human life, and 3. The act was deliberately performed with knowledge of the danger to, and with conscious disregard for, human life.”  People v. Dellinger, 49 Cal.3d 1212, 1222 (1989) (en banc).  Here, Shear intentionally caused the killing (per the above), the natural consequences of putting explosive collars on people are pretty obviously dangerous to human life, and Shear clearly was aware of the danger to human life and deliberately acted with conscious disregard of it.  So the intent requirement appears to be met.

But suppose a court disagreed and found that causation, intent, or both were absent.  Could another approach fit, perhaps the felony murder rule?

B. Felony Murder

The California felony murder rule is limited to killings committed in the perpetration of, or attempt to perpetrate various specific violent crimes listed in the statute.  Let’s assume that Shear and his conspirators committed at least one of those other crimes (most likely kidnapping).  Would the felony murder rule help us out here if regular murder were unavailable?  The answer is “probably not.”

The purpose of the felony murder rule is two-fold.  First, to upgrade what would be manslaughter or second degree murder to first degree murder.  Second, to impose liability on every participant in a felony.  If Shear isn’t guilty of first degree murder because he didn’t cause the hostage’s death or intend to harm the hostage, then he’s likely not guilty of second degree murder or manslaughter either.  So felony murder won’t work for the first purpose.  And since the SWAT team member that was the most direct cause of the hostage’s death wasn’t a participant in the underlying felony, felony murder won’t work for the second purpose.

This seems like an unsatisfying result, but as it turns out the California courts have plugged this hole.  The fix actually takes us back around to regular murder by way of the “provocative act” doctrine.

C. Provocative Act

Under the provocative act doctrine, “When the defendant … with a conscious disregard for life, intentionally commits an act that is likely to cause death, and … a police officer kills in reasonable response to such act, the defendant is guilty of murder. In such a case, the killing is attributable, not merely to the commission of a felony, but to the intentional act of the defendant or his accomplice committed with conscious disregard for life.  Thus, … the police officer’s killing in the performance of his duty cannot be considered an independent intervening cause for which the defendant is not liable, for it is a reasonable response to the dilemma thrust upon the victim or the policeman by the intentional act of the defendant.”  People v. Gilbert, 63 Cal.2d 690, 704-05 (1965).

In fact, the courts have specifically found provocative act liability in cases where hostages have been taken, used as shields, and then accidentally killed by a would-be rescuer.  Pizano v. Superior Court, 21 Cal.3d 128 (1978) (en banc).  In Pizano the court noted “Taking [the victim] as a hostage, pointing a pistol at him, stating he would be shot if the police intervened, and then using him as a shield provided a more than sufficient basis for an inference of malice. Indeed, it has been argued that malice is express in such cases on the ground that using the victim as a shield is a direct and deliberate creation of immediate lethal danger to the deceased and to him alone.”  Pizano, 21 Cal.3d at 136.

So we think we can safely conclude that Shear is guilty of murder, even in the unlikely event that the straightforward murder charge didn’t apply and he escaped the felony murder rule.  But Shear’s criminal liability does not necessarily excuse the government of any tort liability for the victim’s death.

II. Police Liability

In California, police officers and their employers generally enjoy absolute immunity from tort liability for their discretionary acts, even if they abuse that discretion.  Cal. Gov. Code §§ 820.2, 815.2.  However, if the police officer exercises discretion and chooses to act, then he or she (or his or her employer) may be liable for his or her negligent performance.  McCorkle v. City of Los Angeles, 70 Cal.2d 252, 260-61 (1969).  As we’ve discussed on the blog before, however, police officers have no general duty to rescue anyone, and this is true in California as well.  Camp v. State, 184 Cal.App.4th 967, 975 (Cal. Ct. App. 2010) (noting “A police officer … is as much entitled to the benefit of this general rule as anyone else.”).  “Liability may, however, be imposed … if an officer undertakes affirmative acts that increase the risk of harm to the plaintiff.”  Id.  A special relationship, and therefore a duty to rescue, has been found in cases where a police officer “placed a citizen in harm’s way.”  Id at 977.

I’m not sure if the police officer knew about the explosive collar.  It’s been a while since I saw the (admittedly not very good) movie, but from a review of the script I don’t think the officer knew about it.  Regardless, trying to drag a hostage away from a well-armed and clearly dangerous group of bank robbers would pretty clearly increase the risk of harm to the hostage even without the explosive collar.  It seems at least as dangerous as what the officer did in the McCorkle case, which was to direct the plaintiff to walk into a dangerous intersection.  But is it enough?  Alas, probably not.

It is not enough that a police officer’s actions increased the risk of a pre-existing harm (e.g. that the collar would explode); the officer’s actions must change the risk or introduce a new risk.  Adams v. City of Fremont, 68 Cal.App.4th 243, 284 (Cal. Ct. App. 1998).  Furthermore, “law enforcement officers are shielded from ordinary negligence claims based on their response to public safety emergencies when those efforts prove to be ineffective in preventing self-inflicted harm or harm caused by third parties.”  Munoz v. City of Union City, 120 Cal.App.4th 1077, 1097 (Cal. Ct. App. 2004).

Here, the officer’s actions increased the pre-existing risk that the collar would explode, but he did not create a new risk by, for example, opening fire on the bank.  And of course the fairly blanket public safety emergency exemption described in Munoz applies anyway, since the harm was caused by a third party.  It’s generally pretty difficult to sue a government for incompetent police work, and this case is no exception.

III. Conclusion

One way or another, Shear is guilty of murder, likely first degree murder, as well as a host of other crimes.  The police officer and the government, however, are likely not liable for the hostage’s death.  Theoretically Shear is liable for the deaths of both the hostage and any police officers, but (spoiler alert!) since he manages to get away with billions in the end, that’s cold comfort for the victims’ families.  That’s what life insurance is for, we guess.

That’s all this week!  Keep your questions and post suggestions coming!

Law and the Multiverse Mailbag XI

This week we have a question about No Ordinary Family and reckless endangerment.  As always, if you have questions or post suggestions, please send them to james@lawandthemultiverse.com and ryan@lawandthemultiverse.com or leave them in the comments.

James asks “The ABC show No Ordinary Family aired a recent episode where the character Jim, who is invulnerable, deflects a bullet which ricochets off of a number of metal objects and winds up striking a teen bystander. … Jim feels responsible for what happens to the young man, especially in that he chose to confront the man whom he knew was armed.  How much responsibility would he truly bear? Does he have a duty to take this fight into a secluded area (which he did – the bystander was inside a nearby building)? Could he be charged with reckless endangerment, even though he didn’t know the boy was there, since he does seem to be showing off in front of the criminal?”

Although No Ordinary Family isn’t based on a comic book, it does feature a lot of superhero comic book tropes and—most importantly for us—it’s set in a world that shares our legal system.  This particular question is also interesting because it’s the kind of collateral damage that shows up in many comics.

So is Jim guilty of anything here?  Or perhaps liable in tort for the teenager’s injuries?  The first question we have to ask is “what law applies?”  When talking about Gotham or Metropolis there’s not always a definite answer for that, but in this case we know the show is set in a fictional town in California, so we’ll apply California law.  First, the criminal law.

I. Was It a Crime?

As it turns out, like many states California does not have a general offense of reckless endangerment.  California does have reckless endangerment-like laws regarding the discharge of firearms, but those don’t apply here since Jim wasn’t the one pulling the trigger.  But maybe a different offense fits.  Let’s consider the most generic one: simple battery, which is defined in Cal. Penal Code § 242 as “any willful and unlawful use of force or violence upon the person of another.”

As you can probably guess, the analysis here depends on what exactly “willful” means.  In California, the mental state or intent required for battery is the same as for assault because an assault is simply an attempted battery.  People v. Hayes, 142 Cal.App.4th 175, 180 (Cal. Ct. App. 2006).  “Assault does not require a specific intent to cause injury or a subjective awareness of the risk that an injury might occur. Rather, assault only requires an intentional act and actual knowledge of those facts sufficient to establish that the act by its nature will probably and directly result in the application of physical force against another.”  People v. Williams, 26 Cal.4th 779, 790 (2001).  Since Jim did not know that the bystander was there and since ricochets are highly unpredictable, Jim couldn’t have known that his actions would “probably and directly result in the application of physical force against another.”  So we don’t think Jim committed a crime in this case.

II. Was It a Tort?

If Jim isn’t criminally liable, what about a tort suit by the victim?  Here we can turn to the law of negligence.  In California the elements of negligence are a legal duty of due care and a breach of that duty that is the proximate (i.e. legally responsible) cause of the resulting injury.  This is also known as “duty, breach, causation, and damages.”  Conroy v. Regents, 45 Cal.4th 1244, 1250 (2009).  Here the damages are clear (the dude got shot), so let’s consider the first three elements.

A. Duty

As a general rule in California, everyone has a duty to use ordinary care to avoid injuring others.  Cal. Civ. Code § 1714(a).  However, this only extends to injuries that were reasonably foreseeable to the defendant at the time.  Dillon v. Legg, 68 Cal.2d 728, 739 (1968).  The analysis, however, is generalized to “whether the category of negligent conduct at issue is sufficiently likely to result in the kind of harm experienced that liability may appropriately be imposed on the negligent party.” Lawson v. Safeway Inc., 191 Cal.App.4th 400, 409 (Cal. Ct. App. 2010).  “Sufficiently likely” means “likely enough in the setting of modern life that a reasonably thoughtful [person] would take account of it in guiding practical conduct.”  Friedman v. Merck & Co., 107 Cal.App.4th 454, 466 (Cal. Ct. App. 2003).

So would a reasonably thoughtful person take into account the possibility of ricocheting bullets striking an unknown person?  Certainly many superheroes are concerned with the possibility of their actions harming bystanders (including bystanders that may not be readily apparent), and many go out of their way to avoid or prevent such harm.  On the other hand, ricochets are unpredictable, and we’re not sure the reasonably thoughtful person would spend much time contemplating physics while getting shot at.  We could see a court going either way with this, but let’s assume the court says there’s a duty here so we can continue the analysis.

B. Breach

In general, a duty has been breached when the defendant has displayed less than ordinary, reasonable care or prudence.  See Mosley v. Arden Farms Co., 26 Cal.2d 213 (1945).  So how do we judge that?  California, like many states, follows the Learned Hand formula of negligence, named for the famous Judge Learned Hand.  Crane v. Smith, 23 Cal.2d 288, 298-99 (1943).  Basically, you multiply the likelihood of the harm by the magnitude of the harm, then compare the result to the cost of preventing the harm.  If the cost to prevent the harm is less than the average cost of the harm, then not preventing it is unreasonable.  In other words, spending a $1 to prevent $2 worth of harm is reasonable, but spending $2 to prevent $1 worth of harm is not.  It’s a kind of reductive view of rationality, but the law is like that sometimes.

In this case it’s hard to put a number to either the harm or the cost.  Instead, we can simply consider the circumstances and ask what a normal person would do if someone pointed a gun at their face.  Most normal people would do exactly what Jim did: throw a hand up in a—for most people futile—effort at self-defense.   And the ricochet might have occurred even if it had been an ordinary person; bullets can ricochet off of rings, watches, and even bones.

In fact, it was actually self-defense in Jim’s case, since a high-powered bullet fired at close range is capable of hurting him, so he tends to deflect bullets with his hands rather than his face.  Since an ordinary person would probably have done exactly what Jim did under the circumstances, we don’t think there was a breach of duty here.  There’s no negligence without a breach, and so Jim wouldn’t be liable and the analysis ends there.  Thus, we don’t actually have to consider causation (although if people are interested we think there’s a sort of flimsy argument to be made there as well).

(NB: The fact that it was a lawful act of self-defense is not itself a defense to negligence.  “No purpose, however benevolent, excuses negligence.”  Woodhead v. Wilkinson, 181 Cal. 599, 602 (1919).  What matters is that an ordinary person would have done the same thing under the circumstances.)

III. Conclusion

We don’t think Jim is criminally or civilly liable for the victim’s injury.  By contrast, the attacker is at a minimum guilty of attempted murder (of Jim) and grossly negligent discharge of a weapon.  He would also be liable in tort.

That’s all for this week!  Keep your questions and post suggestions coming in!

Law and the Multiverse Mailbag VII

Today we have questions about supervillain gadgets and imposing unwanted powers on people.  As always, if you have questions or post suggestions, please send them to james@lawandthemultiverse.com and ryan@lawandthemultiverse.com or leave them in the comments.

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Law and the Multiverse Mailbag VI

In today’s mailbag we have questions about FDA regulations and superpower loss.  As always, if you have questions or post suggestions, please send them to james@lawandthemultiverse.com and ryan@lawandthemultiverse.com or leave them in the comments.

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Pro Bono Radio

Law and the Multiverse has inspired an episode of Pro Bono Radio, a program of CFRC, the radio station of Queen’s University.  The episode can be downloaded here. Topics covered in the episode include the insanity defense, the duty to rescue, and real world superheroes. We think you’ll particularly enjoy hearing about these issues from a Canadian legal perspective.  Alas, no discussion of the Canadian superhero team Alpha Flight, but maybe we’ll remedy that in a future post.

Law and the Multiverse Mailbag V

In today’s mailbag we have questions about superhero product endorsements and the Green Lantern Corps.  As always, if you have questions or post suggestions, please send them to james@lawandthemultiverse.com and ryan@lawandthemultiverse.com or leave them in the comments.

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