Author Archives: James Daily

Daredevil #5

We last wrote about Daredevil back in September, when we discussed the story of Austin Cao, a blind translator who overheard some Latverians talking at the investment firm where he worked—and got fired for his trouble.  In Daredevil #5 we learn just what it was the Latverians were up to.

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Once Upon a Time

Like GrimmOnce Upon a Time is a show that blends fairy tales with the modern world—and brings up some interesting legal issues along the way.  Although Emma, the main character in Once Upon a Time, is a bounty hunter, there are indications that she will become a sheriff’s deputy, bringing the show closer to a police procedural.  We’ll be checking out all of the episodes over time, but Law and the Multiverse reader Marize wrote in with some specific questions about episode 4, which is the subject of this post.  There are a ton of spoilers here, so check out the episode on Hulu if you haven’t seen it already (with apologies to our non-US readers).

For those unfamiliar with the show, the premise is that various fairy tale characters have been whisked away to Storybrooke, Maine, where they play out a modern-day version of themselves (e.g. the evil queen is the mayor, Rumpelstiltskin is a pawn-shop owner).  The episodes focus on Emma’s efforts to solve the fairy tale characters’ problems, bringing closure to their stories.

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The Intergalactic Nemesis, Reminder

This post is a reminder that Law and the Multiverse co-author James Daily will be participating in a panel discussion preceding performances of The Intergalactic Nemesis at the Edison Theatre at Washington University in St. Louis on November 18th and 19th.  The Intergalactic Nemesis is a live action graphic novel, sort of a radio-play-meets-motion-comic, and it has received rave reviews around the country.  If you’re a fan of pulp action and sci-fi, you’ll love it.  Tickets are available online.  We hope to see some Law and the Multiverse readers there!

Grimm Round-Up

Grimm is a new TV series inspired by Grimm’s fairy tales (which have also been adapted into an unrelated comic book series).  The premise is that Nick Burkhardt, a Portland homicide detective, is a descendant of the Grimms, a line of monster hunters who fight the various monsters that inspired the original fairy tales.  The show’s intersection of police procedural and the supernatural is a good fit for us, and some readers have asked about it, too.  Since Grimm is a procedural, there aren’t too many legal issues on any given show, but we’ve picked up a few to discuss from the first three episodes.  Spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn’t seen them.

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Texas: The Worst State for Superheroes?

We’ll admit that the title to this post is a little incendiary, and actually Texas has several features that recommend it to superheroes, particularly of the gun-wielding variety.  But we happened across a law that, especially in light of its history, might make a superhero think twice about moving to the Lone Star State.  That law is Texas Code § 38.23(a) (emphasis added):

No evidence obtained by an officer or other person in violation of any provisions of the Constitution or laws of the State of Texas, or of the Constitution or laws of the United States of America, shall be admitted in evidence against the accused on the trial of any criminal case.

In any case where the legal evidence raises an issue hereunder, the jury shall be instructed that if it believes, or has a reasonable doubt, that the evidence was obtained in violation of the provisions of this Article, then and in such event, the jury shall disregard any such evidence so obtained.

“Or other person” is the clincher here.  Effectively, Texas applies the exclusionary rule to everyone, not just state actors, and it broadens it to cover not just Fourth Amendment-type privacy violations but violations of all state and federal laws and constitutional rights.  This means that, in Texas, it doesn’t matter whether Batman or other crime-fighting superheroes work with the police or not.  Heck, they can even be actively opposed by the police, à la the Punisher.  If they break the law while collecting evidence, that evidence is inadmissible.  In fact, if there’s even reasonable doubt that the evidence was obtained lawfully, that’s enough for the jury to disregard it.  Given how often superheroes break or at least bend the law, that’s a big problem.

The application of this law to superheroes is especially interesting in light of its history, summarized in Miles v. State, 241 S.W.3d 28, 34-35 (Tex. Ct. Crim. App. 2007) (emphasis added):

The Texas Legislature enacted an exclusionary rule broader than its federal counterpart precisely because of … the widespread problem of vigilante-type private citizens acting in concert with the police conducting illegal searches for whiskey.  Long before national Prohibition laws were enacted, Texas had created its own local-option liquor and prohibition laws.  Enforcement of these local-option laws led to the formation of various citizen groups, including the “Law and Order League,” whose members pledged to aid officers to enforce the laws, especially local-option laws, and to clean up their town and county of crime.   

Presumably, the Legislature foresaw that, if the exclusionary rule applied only to government officials or their agents, these “Law and Order League” members might well continue their illegal search-and-seizure operations without the participation or supervision of police officers.  Then these vigilante members would hand over the illegally seized evidence, on a “silver platter,” to government officers for use in criminal trials.  To avoid the prospect of implicitly encouraging or condoning vigilante action by these citizen groups, the Legislature applied its statutory exclusionary rule to both law-enforcement officers and private persons.

If you replace “Law and Order League” with “Justice League,” you can see just how closely that history fits many superhero stories.  If superheroes were common, many states would likely follow Texas’s example and pass similarly expansive exclusionary rule statutes.

We should note that there is a glimmer of hope.  With the responsibilities imposed by § 38.23 come additional privileges.  The Texas courts have held that “a private person can do what a police officer standing in his shoes can legitimately do, but cannot do what a police officer cannot do.”  Miles, 241 S.W.3d at 39.  Thus, a private person can invoke doctrines such as exigent circumstances and the reasonableness standard of the Fourth Amendment as a defense to, for example, violating traffic laws while pursuing a suspect in order to make a citizen’s arrest.  Id. at 45-46.  Nonetheless, the rule remains significantly stricter in Texas than in other states.  Maybe that’s why there are so few Texan superheroes.

As an historical side-note, there was a brief period in Montana history where the Montana Supreme Court held that the state Constitution extended the exclusionary rule to private citizens.  The rule was articulated in State v. Helfrich, 183 Mont. 484 (1979), affirmed in State v. Hyem, 193 Mont. 51 (1981), and finally overruled in State v. Long, 216 Mont. 65 (1985).  The rule was derived from the Montana Constitution’s affirmative right to privacy, which is unusual among state constitutions.  Extending the exclusionary rule to the acts of private citizens at the constitutional level is even more unusual, and Montana was the only state to ever take that approach.  As far as we can tell, Texas is the only state to do so by statute.

Psych: The Amazing Psych-Man & Tap Man, Issue #2

Psych is a great TV show, but we haven’t had a good chance to talk about it because the bad guys are regular crooks and the main character isn’t actually psychic.  But the plot of this week’s episode—like a recent episode of Castle—pushed things into our territory by introducing a “real-life superhero” into the mix.  Significant spoilers ahead!

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Law and the Multiverse Holiday Special – Halloween Edition

Today is Halloween, so to mark the occasion we’re doing a post on Batman: The Long Halloween, a great series that was a major influence on the Christopher Nolan Batman films (or at least the first two).  Without giving too much away, the story concerns an enigmatic serial killer named Holiday, who kills on, well, holidays, beginning on Halloween.  That’s about all we’ll have to say about the story, since the legal issues presented in the series don’t revolve around the plot as such.  Nonetheless, there may be spoilers.

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Batman: No Man’s Land, Part 6

The main legal issues in No Man’s Land ended with the legal separation of Gotham from the United States—after all, if there’s no legal system there can’t be much in the way of legal issues.  But there are a few loose ends to address, including some that our readers asked about.

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Mailbag for October 27, 2011

Today we have another mailbag question.  Joe writes:

What if a hypothetical protester had powers that prevented the police from carrying out their duties? How would this legally break down, and to what degree could authorities enjoin or do anything to them?  [For example:] the Blob … decides to protest Wall Street. Literally no cop or a thousand cops will be moving him, if he decides to plop down in the middle of Wall Street. They can try to arrest or cite him, but being physically unable to remove him or execute the law, what legal recourse would they have?

[I]n-universe these folks could presumably be stopped by someone more powerful strolling along, but … What plausible legal end game could this be escalated to?

This is an interesting and timely question.  Just what are the limits of the legal sanction for someone who is only under arrest and has not yet been tried?  As we see it, there are a few different approaches the authorities could use.  We’ll assume that the Blob has done something to prompt a lawful arrest (e.g. obstructing traffic), since demonstrating peacefully is usually legal.

I. Resisting Arrest

One of the first things the authorities could try to do is tack on a charge of resisting arrest.  In New York (this is a Wall Street demonstration, after all), resisting arrest is defined by Penal Law § 205.30:

A person is guilty of resisting arrest when he intentionally prevents or attempts to prevent a police officer … from effecting an authorized arrest of himself ….
Resisting arrest is a class A misdemeanor.

In New York there is an important distinction between undertaking an affirmative action with the intention of preventing an arrest and merely refusing to cooperate.  See People v. McDaniel, 593 N.Y.S.2d 154 (App. Term. 1992). “[T]here has been no citation to this court of any statute, rule or ordinance that requires a defendant to cooperate once that defendant is arrested and so long as the defendant does not affirmatively act to resist the arrest then there is no independently unlawful act that the defendant is committing.”  McDaniel, 593 N.Y.S.2d at 156-57.  So whether the Blob is guilty of resisting arrest depends a great deal on whether he uses his power before or after being arrested.  In the McDaniel case, for example, the defendant had chained herself to a door before being arrested, and the court held that to be insufficient evidence of intent to prevent arrest.

II. Non-lethal Force

The police could also try to use non-lethal force to obtain compliance (e.g. using Tasers and the like).  The courts have held that Tasers can be used to subdue suspects who are resisting arrest, at least when it is reasonable to do so.  See, e.g., Crowell v. Kirkpatrick, 400 Fed.Appx. 592 (2d. Cir. 2010); Hardy v. Plante, 2009 WL 249787 (N.D.N.Y. 2009).  Given the Blob’s resistance to injury, attempting to Tase him is unlikely to succeed, but it is also likely to be reasonable.  In fact, given the special circumstances, it’s not clear what the limit might be, so long as the police limited themselves to reasonable and non-lethal force.

III. Contempt

Another commonly used method to induce defendants to cooperate is contempt, and the Blob could be held in criminal contempt for his failure to appear in court.  In New York a person may be held in criminal contempt for “disorderly, contemptuous, or insolent behavior, committed during its sitting, in its immediate view and presence, and directly tending to interrupt its proceedings, or to impair the respect due to its authority.”  N.Y. Jud. Law § 750(A)(1).  Although the Blob would be outside the court, the fact of his absence would occur in the court’s “immediate view and presence,” thus justifying the charge of contempt.  Waterhouse v. Celli, 336 N.Y.S.2d 960 (Sup. Ct. 1972).  Criminal contempt is also available in cases of disobeying or resisting a lawful mandate of the court, which could apply if the Blob refused to appear for a line-up.

So far we’ve just racked up additional charges.  Let’s move on to the big guns.

IV. Trial in absentia

The Sixth Amendment guarantees criminal defendants a right to be present in the court (via the Confrontation Clause), but this may be waived by disorderly conduct.  Illinois v. Allen, 397 U.S. 337 (1970).  The Blob’s refusal to appear could result in such a waiver, and he could be tried (and convicted) in his absence.

Interestingly, we’re not sure if he could be charged with anything new at this point, since the usual charge for avoiding going to prison (escape from custody) requires escaping.  Since the Blob remains motionless in this hypothetical, he can’t really be said to have escaped.

As a matter of speculation, a final option could be to build an ad hoc prison around the Blob, but that could be difficult depending on where he sat down (e.g. the middle of a major street).

V. Conclusion

There’s a lot that the police and courts could try when dealing with a particularly difficult suspect like the Blob, but there are limits.  Furthermore, it’s not obvious that they would actually want to go all the way to trying him in absentia.  Once he’s a convict, the government might suddenly find itself liable for his care and feeding, making it that much harder to ever dislodge him.

Mailbag for October 24, 2011

We haven’t done a mailbag feature in a while, and we’ve built up a little bit of a backlog of questions.  Today’s question comes from Caleb, who asks “Under the Constitution, would RoboCop be considered a person or property?”

This is an interesting question!  As we see it, the answer hinges on whether James Alex Murphy was legally dead before he became RoboCop.  Michigan has adopted the Uniform Determination of Death Act as MCL 333.1033:

(1) An individual who has sustained either of the following is dead:
(a) Irreversible cessation of circulatory and respiratory functions.
(b) Irreversible cessation of all functions of the entire brain, including the brain stem.

Notice that it allows for someone to be declared dead if either are true.  In Murphy’s case, all that was left were parts of his digestive tract, most of his brain, several organs and his left arm, though the arm was later amputated.  Depending on what exactly “several organs” refers to, this could well mean that there was irreversible cessation of circulatory and respiratory functions (i.e. that he no longer had a heart or lungs).  In that case, the fact that his brain function could later be restored wouldn’t necessarily matter. (Though we’re sure that the law would be changed in a world where people’s brains could be maintained separately from the rest of their bodies).

So supposing Murphy was properly declared legally dead despite the advanced technology of the RoboCop program, then RoboCop could be considered property rather than a person.  (There might still be difficulty overcoming laws regarding the disposal of human remains, but maybe Murphy made a legal gift of his organs for research purposes.)  But if he never died then he would still be a person.

An interesting side-effect of RoboCop not being a person is that he (or maybe ‘it’) could arguably no longer use lethal force in self-defense.  While a person may use lethal force to defense himself or herself, lethal force may not be used to protect property.  Thus, a robot can’t use lethal force to defend itself.

It also raises the issue of whether RoboCop can lawfully use lethal force at all.  The law frowns on automated lethal devices in other contexts, for example using lethal booby traps to protect a home from trespassers.  See, e.g., Katko v. Briney183 NW 2d 657 (Iowa 1971) (“the law has always placed a higher value upon human safety than upon mere rights in property”).  Even a remotely-operated drone is at least controlled by a human, and it’s not clear that a police force could legally employ a lethal automated robot.