Category Archives: criminal procedure

She-Hulk # 1

She-Hulk, also known as “Jennifer Susan Walters,” is the cousin of Bruce Banner (aka The Incredible Hulk) and has served as a member of the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D, and… an associate at Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg & Holliway, a firm which, in the Marvel Universe, is one of the most prestigious on the East Coast.  Naturally, there’s a lot of material for Law and the Multiverse here.  In fact, we’ve written a bit about She-Hulk’s issues with legal ethics before.

In issue # 1 of her third solo-series (starting in 2004), She-Hulk was working as an assistant district attorney for New York City. At this point in her life, she was basically living as She-Hulk full-time, only reverting to her Walters form when sleeping (and even then only involuntarily). During closing arguments of a trial, she was called away to help the Avengers save the world from A.I.M. The judge let her do this, because, well, it kind of needed to be done, but he then declared a mistrial when the defense pointed out that the jury could very easily be said to be improperly influenced by the prosecuting attorney saving their collective butts from imminent death. It must be said that defense counsel has a point here, and judges do, in fact, declare mistrials when it seems likely that there is some undue influence going on, something to indicate that the jury is predisposed to favor one side or the other on the basis of anything other than what they’ve seen at trial. So as far as that goes, the writer is correct.

But he’s probably missed something: if a mistrial can be granted because She-Hulk saving the world during trial would improperly influence the jury, then why wouldn’t the jury’s knowledge that she’d done the same thing on countless prior occasions be an issue? One of the things that attorneys ask during voir dire is whether the jurors know basically anyone involved in either side of the case. Having any kind of personal relationship with either attorney would easily constitute grounds to strike for cause, and there would be a good argument for striking jurors whose lives had been saved by the prosecutor. This means that empaneling a jury with She-Hulk as one of the attorneys is going to be almost impossible.

Which, unfortunately, calls into question She-Hulk’s ability to be a litigator at all. This goes beyond just an attorney being a newsworthy figure. Even those attorneys that have attained some kind of media attention for their practice don’t have all that much trouble finding jurors who have never heard of them. Kenneth Starr, the head of the legal team that investigated President Clinton, attained some measure of fame/notoriety, but he’s hardly a household name. But She-Hulk is another matter entirely. She’d be nationally and even internationally known, and she’s definitely portrayed as a celebrity. Everyone knows who she is and what she’s done, though admittedly being seven feet tall and green doesn’t help much there. Showing up as Walters doesn’t necessarily help either, as her mundane identity isn’t secret. So it’s really a question as to whether she could really practice law the way she’s shown to practice it. This is something we’ll probably need to ignore if we want to let the story go on, which is definitely worth doing, because there’s a lot of other stuff in here.

So that’s the first issues of the latest She-Hulk run. The authors get some things right, but so far the presentation of legal issues is only okay.  But to be fair the same can be said of most fictional portrayals of the legal system. We’ll continue to look at this series down the road.

Law and the Multiverse Mailbag XIII

Lots of good questions this week. Today we’re looking at two issues: extra-planetary jurisdiction and conscription of specific superpowered individuals.  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.

I. Extra-planetary jurisdiction

Bob asks “Do the laws of a country apply in space?  Perhaps if they are on a NASA spaceship then the laws of the USA would apply.  But how about if a crime is committed on the Moon (and not in any country’s Moon-base)?”

As mentioned in our interview earlier this week, Earth-bound legal systems don’t normally extend beyond the Earth’s atmosphere. Indeed, individual nations’ legal systems don’t extend much beyond their borders, but we’ve already got a terrestrial example: the high seas.

Oceans outside the territorial claims of any particular country are already pretty lawless. The UN Convention on the Law of the Sea has been ratified or at least signed by almost every country, but apart from addressing piracy it is mostly concerned with mundane issues like establishing territorial boundaries and exclusive economic zones. Admiralty law is a little more detailed (and one of the oldest continuously operating bodies of law in the world) but even that has mostly to do with the conduct of vessels, salvage rights, etc.

But even there, national courts are widely held to be able to exert jurisdiction over persons for actions they commit while at sea once the person is brought to shore. One of the most famous cases in every law student’s criminal law class is R. v. Dudley & Stephens, about some sailors who cannibalize the cabin boy. The defendants were brought to trial and convicted once they returned to their native country, and jurisdiction was not one of the real issues. But if they had been rescued by, say, an American ship, it’s possible they could have been brought to trial in an American court. Crimes committed on the high seas can generally be tried everywhere, e.g. Somalian pirates are being tried in New York City. The theory is that crimes committed outside national boundaries are, in a sense, crimes against civilization, and thus may be tried anywhere. The controversial doctrine of universal jurisdiction has some of its origins in this concept.

There is a limit here: the acts in question need to be obviously criminal by anyone’s standards. Murder is a pretty easy example. So is piracy. But what about things that are only illegal by statute, like gambling? Well the ferry that runs between Maine and Nova Scotia passes through international waters, and the on-board casino is only open when outside both the US and Canada’s territorial waters. There really hasn’t been all that much law here, but it’s unlikely that any given nation would be able to enforce its particular regulatory regime on the high seas over anything but a ship registered under that nation’s flag.

Outer space is quite similar. There is, in fact, a statute which extends federal jurisdiction to spacecraft flying the US flag (18 U.S.C. § 7(6)), which also discusses maritime jurisdiction with similar results. State laws do not apply, but federal laws do. But again, note that enforcement would require bringing a defendant back to US soil for trial, just like it would for crime on the high seas.

The same statute, specifically subsection 7, also grants US jurisdiction over “any place outside the jurisdiction of any nation with respect to an offense by or against a national of the United States.”  This is kind of a catch-all clause.  If no one else has jurisdiction and a US national is either the suspect or the victim, then the US has jurisdiction.  So if a supervillain commits a federal crime against an American superhero on, say, Mars, then the supervillain can be hauled into federal court once he or she is brought back to Earth.

II. Conscription

Samuel asks “Given that an American superhero like Superman can be a tremendously valuable military asset, as both a frontline combat supersoldier and as a propaganda tool, is there any legal basis for the U.S. government to conscript Superman, specifically, into the Armed Forces?  What about drafting all superheroes in general?  Is there any legal way for Superman and other superheroes to ‘dodge the draft’?”

The law here is less clear than it is for law in outer space, only because it does not appear that the government has ever tried to draft a specific individual outside a wider draft program. As far as draft programs go, the courts have been exceptionally deferential to congressional power. The Supreme Court has held that “The constitutionality of the conscription of manpower for military service is beyond question. The constitutional power of Congress to support the armed forces with equipment and supplies is no less clear and sweeping.” Lichter v. United States, 344 U.S. 742 (1948).  As John Quincy Adams said in a speech before the House of Representatives, “[The war power] is tremendous; it is strictly constitutional; but it breaks down every barrier so anxiously erected for the protection of liberty, property and of life.”

More recently, the D.C. Circuit has held that “the power of Congress to raise armies by conscription is not limited by either the Thirteenth Amendment or the absence of a military emergency.” United States v. Chandler, 403 F.2d 531 (D.C. Cir. 1968). The Thirteenth Amendment, prohibiting involuntary servitude, is perhaps the most obvious potential constitutional issue with the draft, and the federal courts have unanimously and consistently held that it does not limit the draft power at all.

Similarly the federal courts have held that the First Amendment is no barrier to the draft.  Conscientious objector status is the product of statute, not the Constitution.  “The conscientious objector is relieved from the obligation to bear arms in obedience to no constitutional provision, express or implied; but because, and only because, it has accorded with the policy of Congress thus to relieve him.”  United States v. Macintosh, 283 U.S. 605, 623 (1931).  If Congress wanted to, it could conscript everyone, regardless of any religious or moral objection.  It’s unlikely it would do so, given that it would likely lead to civil disobedience, but it’s a theoretical possibility.  In the same case the Court lists a whole host of constitutional rights that may be superseded by the war power, culminating in “other drastic powers, wholly inadmissible in time of peace, exercised to meet the emergencies of war.”

However, this is still an untested area of law, because as far as we can tell Congress hasn’t actually tried to do this, there being no compelling reason to use the draft power this way. The only times a draft has been imposed have been in times of incredible demand for manpower—it is a pretty drastic step, after all—so going after a handful of specific individuals wouldn’t make sense in the real world. But if the draft of specific individuals or classes of individuals is to be attacked, it would have to be on some kind of due process argument, i.e. Congress can draft everyone in a certain age group, but it can’t draft specific people.

Should Congress go after a regular guy this way, the courts might be persuaded to intervene, but if the target is a superhero? It may well be that the courts would permit such an action, as the draft power is pretty sweeping, and the courts have not really displayed any willingness to limit that power before. If Congress thinks it needs the assistance of a uniquely capable citizen to fight a war, then that may well be something Congress is allowed to do.

III. Conclusion

Law in outer space would probably work pretty similarly to law on the high seas: a particular nation’s courts could probably enforce basic laws against things like murder, but only once the defendant was brought to Earth. And Congress may well be able to draft the services of specific people, particularly if there’s a reason for their unique services to be used.

Thanks for reading. There’ll be more next week!

Law and the Multiverse Mailbag X

In today’s mailbag we have questions about ‘Batman, Prosecuting Attorney’ and supervillain jury tampering.  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.

I. Batman, Prosecuting Attorney?

Christopher writes with two questions.  First: “I was watching the 60’s Batman episode ‘The Joke’s on Catwoman.’ … Batman captures the Joker, Catwoman, and her henchmen. Presumably he arrests them, as he seems to act as a law enforcement officer in this show. Then he acts as prosecutor at their trial (no doubt he is a member of the bar). Seems pretty strange, but is this actually allowed? I started wondering whether the sheriff in a Wild West town might do this if there were no one else around to prosecute the case.”

There are three main problems with this arrangement.  First off, it’s pretty unlikely that Batman is an admitted member of the bar because he would have to be admitted as Batman, not Bruce Wayne lest he give away his secret identity. While attending law school is not a necessary prerequisite of becoming an attorney in some states (actually, quite a few states didn’t require this in the 1960s), it is doubtful that Batman found the time to “read law,” i.e. work as an apprentice in a law firm for a few years before taking the bar exam.  While a frontier town might have employed a non-lawyer as a prosecutor out of necessity, the frontier era also preceded the relatively modern era of professionalization and standardization in legal education and licensing.  And the exigent circumstances of a frontier town hardly apply to Gotham City.

Further evidence that Batman wasn’t admitted is found in his questionable conduct of the trial (e.g. asking witnesses to testify regarding ultimate issues of guilt).  Of course, the defense attorney didn’t object, and some judges are happy to let such things slide if there’s no objection, so we won’t go into detail on that except to say that, were they found guilty, the defendants might have an ineffective assistance of counsel argument on appeal.  Normally such arguments are long shots, but this was pretty bad.

Second, Batman would be unable to serve as prosecutor because generally an attorney cannot be an advocate in the same case in which he or she is likely to be a necessary witness.  Since the defense could call Batman as a witness even if the prosecution did not, this is a problem.  ABA Model Rule 3.7, which has been adopted in almost every state, provides:

(a) A lawyer shall not act as advocate at a trial in which the lawyer is likely to be a necessary witness unless:

(1) the testimony relates to an uncontested issue;

(3) disqualification of the lawyer would work substantial hardship on the client.

Presumably the defendants would contest the issues that Batman’s testimony relates to, so exception (1) is out.  And I have a hard time believing that the government couldn’t come up with a competent substitute prosecutor, so there goes exception (3).  The second exception, which deals with testifying about the value of legal services, is inapplicable here.

(For the pedants in the audience: the episode long predates the Model Rules and even the predecessor Model Code, but a rule against lawyer-witnesses was a part of the ABA Canons of Professional Ethics, which dates to 1908.  The result under the Canons would have been much the same.)

Third, Batman could have been disqualified because of his clear conflict of interest in the case.  There is a “broader consideration of whether on the facts of a particular case, the adversarial nature of the judicial process has resulted in such enmity toward the defendant on the part of the prosecutor that it will overbear his professional judgment in seeking fairly and impartially to see justice done.”  Powell v. Commonwealth, 267 Va. 107 (2004).  Batman’s long and acrimonious history with the Joker and Catwoman likely rises to that level.

Thus we can fairly safely conclude that Batman should not have acted as prosecutor, and in fact the defense attorney could have successfully challenged Batman’s appointment for cause.  That he didn’t shouldn’t be too surprising, however, since he knew the case was a lock because he tampered with the jury, which brings us to the second question.

II. Supervillain Jury Tampering

Christopher also asks “At the end of the trial, it is absolutely obvious to the judge and everyone else that the defendants have been proven guilty, but the jury returns a verdict of not guilty, leading everyone to suspect the jury has somehow been tampered with. The judge can’t do anything but make a statement upbraiding the jury for their outrageous behavior. What would actually be done at this point? Later, it is discovered that the defendants managed to infiltrate the jury with accomplices. What would the law do at that point?”

Here the law is pretty clear.  “A judgment of acquittal, whether based on a jury verdict of not guilty or on a ruling by the court that the evidence is insufficient to convict, may not be appealed and terminates the prosecution when a second trial would be necessitated by a reversal.”  United States v. Scott, 437 U.S. 82, 91 (1978).  This is a core part of the prohibition against double jeopardy, and it is an absolute bar, even if the jury was clearly acting contrary to the law and the facts.

So what’s to be done in a case like this?  The answer is that the State (as represented by Batman) had a full opportunity to challenge potential members of the jury during voir dire (i.e. jury selection).  The prosecution could even have moved for a mistrial when the jury refused to retire for deliberation; that should have been a sure sign something was up.  But if the State falls down on its job and a guilty defendant goes free, them’s the breaks.  The Constitution does not allow the State to try again until it gets it right.

All is not lost, however.  The jurors are probably guilty of perjury or the like, since during voir dire they were almost certainly asked if they knew any of the defendants.  So the jurors at least could be punished for their part in the scheme.

As for the defendants, as is so often the case their own foolishness lead to their downfall.  After Batman tried to move for a new trial they started a courtroom brawl and were recaptured, so they would at least face charges of assault and probably conspiracy to commit murder (the jury foreman pulled a gun on Batman at Catwoman’s order).  But if they had stayed quiet they would’ve gotten away it.  Maybe they should have gotten a better attorney than “Lucky” Pierre.

Note that this is not the case in civil trials. The right against double jeopardy only applies in the criminal context; judges routinely order new trials in civil matters when there has been some uncorrectable foul-up. They don’t like doing it, because it’s viewed as a waste of time and resources by just about everyone, but they will do it if necessary. In addition, judges are not so strictly bound to jury verdicts in civil cases and are entirely capable of entering judgment notwithstanding the verdict, known as a “JNOV” if the jury refuses to return a verdict consistent with the evidence. So just because the Joker could have objected to the above trial doesn’t mean he couldn’t be sued on civil charges, and as new trials are possible in civil cases, jury tampering isn’t nearly as effective a device as it is in criminal cases.

Bonus: One of the charges against the defendants was “mayhem.”  Mayhem is a felony descended from the common law, and a typical modern definition is “unlawfully and maliciously depriving a human being of a member of his body, or disabling, disfiguring, or rendering it useless, or cutting or disabling the tongue, or putting out an eye, or slitting the nose, ear, or lip.”  Cal. Pen. Code § 203.  A bit gruesome for an Adam West Batman villain!

That’s all for today!  Keep your questions and ideas coming in!

Time Travel, Suspended Animation, and the Statute of Limitations

Several readers have asked about the interaction between things like time travel and suspended animation with the statute of limitations.  For example, if a character commits a crime, is frozen for the duration of the statute of limitations, then thawed out, are they still culpable?  Or what about a character that commits a crime with a 10 year statute of limitations in 2000 then travels forward in time to 2010?  At first it might seem like these are solid (if somewhat unfair) ways to cheat justice, but let’s take a closer look.

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Law and the Multiverse Mailbag VIII

We’ve got some great issues for the mailbag this week, including immortality and copyright and Bizarro, court translators, and competency.  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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Supervillains and Competency

Last week we addressed the issue of whether or not supervillains could successfully employ the insanity defense in their criminal prosecutions. The answer we came up with was “It depends, but frequently not.”

This week we’re going to look at the issue of competence, which is a related but different matter. In short, while the insanity defense can turn a verdict from guilty into not, an incompetent defendant can’t go to trial at all, usually resulting in their commitment to a mental facility until such time as they are able to do so.

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The Trial (And Appeal) of Marvel Boy

This post was inspired by an email from Rebecca, who writes: “In The New Warriors comic [Vol1. No. 20-26], Vance Astrovik [aka Marvel Boy] accidentally killed his abusive father using his telekinetic powers.  He was tried for first degree murder and negligent homicide; he was acquitted of the former and convicted of the latter. Vance did not appeal the conviction, but do you think he would have been successful if he did?”

This is a great question.  Not only can we look at some important issues in criminal law and procedure, but this also gives us a chance to look at how appeals work.  The most important thing to understand about an appeal is that it is not a do-over before a higher court; there are important and often severe limitations on what issues and evidence can be presented on appeal, and the appeals court is itself limited in what it can do and on what basis it can do it.  Since the case occurred in New York in 1992 we will try to analyze it from that point of view.  But let’s start with the facts of the case.

I. The Facts

In case you don’t remember the details of this 18-year-old storyline, the facts are basically these: Vance Astrovik had been physically abused by his father, Arnold, for four years.  Arnold was evidently motivated by hatred of Vance’s mutant status and his tendency to hang out with other mutants.  The one time his mother, Norma, attempted to intervene, Arnold struck her as well.  On at least one occasion, Vance used his telekinetic powers to resist an attack from Arnold without harming him.

After being severely injured in fights with Terrax and Gideon, Vance is attacked by his father, who punches him to the floor and approaches him menacingly, saying “You are a freak!  It’s going to stop–if I have to pound it out of you…”  At that point, Vance unleashes a telekinetic blast, pushing his father through two walls, severely injuring him.  Vance flees the scene.

Later, Vance comes to the hospital where his father is being reated.  There he is arrested for “assault with a deadly weapon–your telekinetic powers, to be exact!” (Note that this suggests that, in the Marvel universe, innate offensive powers are considered weapons, which may have significant legal consequences).  After Vance’s arrest, Arnold dies from his injuries, and the charges are upgraded to murder.

So far everything is legally sound.  There is a reasonable theory for treating innate offensive powers as weapons, and while the prosecutor had a wide range of possible charges she could bring, she has discretion to choose among them.  It would also be appropriate to upgrade the charge to murder after the victim died, so long as the defendant’s attack was still the proximate cause of death (and in this case it was).  This brings us to the trial.

II. The Trial

Most of the New Warriors leave town during the trial for a mission.  Firestar stays behind to testify on the theory that testimony from any of the others would be excludable as cumulative.  See People v. Ventimiglia, 52 N.Y.2d 350 (Ct. App. N.Y. 1981).  That’s a reasonable theory, though it depends on the testimony they had to offer being, in fact, cumulative.  While the testimony the state might want from them could be cumulative (e.g. it’s may be sufficient that only one say that Vance could have stopped his father without resorting to deadly force), the defense would likely want to pile as many positive character witnesses on as it could.  So Vance’s teammates weren’t doing him any favors by taking off.

Vance is represented by Foggy Nelson, a partner in Matt Murdock’s law firm.  Right off the bat, Foggy dismisses two potential jurors who had prior interactions with superheroes.  Presumably their interactions were negative.

The first witness called is an expert on superhuman genetics, Walter Rosen, who was familiar with Vance’s powers.  Rosen testified that Vance had excellent control over his powers and had grown in his abilities over time.  The defense then addressed the witness, who testified that Vance was averse to injuring others, had not injured anyone to the witness’s knowledge, and had tried to save lives and prevent injuries often at risk to himself.  Classic character witness stuff.

The next witness is Firestar, who testifies as Firestar and in her identity-concealing costume, which poses legal issues of its own.  This suggests that either the Marvel universe gives superheroes leeway to testify in costume or that the prosecutor didn’t want to push the issue, lest she lose her witness.  In this case, the defense was also unlikely to object to the witness’s costume and use of an alias.

In any event, Firestar reluctantly testifies that Vance could have stopped his father without resorting to deadly force.  This is curious, since she had no personal knowledge of Vance’s altercation with his father, but the question is not objected to (although Foggy does object to other questions on occasion).  This ends the prosecution’s case in chief.  It’s very strange that the prosecution did not itself call Vance’s mother, the only witness to the actual events that the prosecution could call, since Vance is protected by the Fifth Amendment and the victim is deceased.  But moving on…

The next witness is Ben Grimm, who testifies to Vance’s good character but also his ability to use his powers to prevent people from getting hurt.  After that, the defense calls Vance’s mother, who testifies about Arnold’s history of abuse.  On cross-examination she testifies that Vance had stopped his father once with his powers and that he could’ve stopped his father without killing him.  This ends the defense’s case.

During closing arguments, the defense emphasizes Vance’s good and caring nature and argues that Vance acted in self-defense.  The prosecution argues that Vance had the ability to stop his father without harming him.  To prove the point, the prosecutor pulls out a pistol, aims it at Vance, and fires it.  Vance uses his powers to capture not only the pistol (revealed to be a cap gun) but even the very smoke from the cap gun.  The defense demands a mistrial, and the judge denies the motion but hints that grounds for an appeal exist.  This is not completely unreasonable; despite the prosecution’s antics, judges are loathe to declare a mistrial, especially so close to the end of the trial, since it means an enormous waste of resources.

Curiously, the judge does not give the jury any instructions, which is odd because those are ordinarily an essential part of the trial, but we’re willing to give the comic book authors a pass on this, since jury instructions are usually very, very boring and technical. We’ll assume appropriate jury instructions were given.

In the end, the jury finds Vance not guilty of first degree murder but guilty of negligent homicide.  He is sentenced to fourteen months to three years in The Vault.  Curiously, Foggy suggests an appeal but not post-trial motions such as a motion to vacate the judgment or to set aside the sentence.  Vance declines to appeal and resigns himself to his sentence, but what if he had followed Foggy’s advice and appealed his conviction?

III.  A Little Appellate Procedure

Now some background on how appeals work. (Note: this is a little dry, so if you want to gloss over the legal details and get to the good part, skip to Section IV, or just check Wikipedia on the subject).

There are a lot of issues we’re going to gloss over (e.g., appellate jurisdiction, waiver, harmless vs. reversible error), but we’re going to go into a little detail about the idea of standard of review.  That is, even if an appeals court will consider an alleged error, how bad does it have to be in order for the court to reverse it?  In general, appeals courts are reluctant to address issues that were waived or forfeited, and they are also reluctant to disturb jury verdicts.  In New York, where this case took place, there is a two part test for overturning a jury verdict: legal sufficiency and weight of the evidence.

Legal sufficiency is defined in New York thus: “For a court to conclude…that a jury verdict is supported by sufficient evidence, the court must determine whether there is any valid line of reasoning and permissible inferences which could lead a rational person to the conclusion reached by the jury on the basis of the evidence at trial and as a matter of law satisfy the proof and burden requirements for every element of the crime charged. If that is satisfied, then the verdict will be upheld by the intermediate appellate court on that review basis.” People v. Bleakley, 69 N.Y.2d 490, 495 (Ct. App. N.Y. 1987).

And weight of the evidence is defined thus: “the appellate court must, like the trier of fact below, weigh the relative probative force of conflicting testimony and the relative strength of conflicting inferences that may be drawn from the testimony. If it appears that the trier of fact has failed to give the evidence the weight it should be accorded, then the appellate court may set aside the verdict. Empowered with this unique factual review, intermediate appellate courts have been careful not to substitute themselves for the jury. Great deference is accorded to the factfinder’s opportunity to view the witnesses, hear the testimony and observe demeanor.” Id.

IV. The (Hypothetical) Appeal

With all of this background in mind, how might the appeal have gone?  Well, assuming the issues were property preserved, here’s what Foggy might have argued.

First, there was insufficient evidence to convict Vance of negligent homicide.  New York defines criminally negligent homicide thus: “A  person  is  guilty  of  criminally  negligent  homicide  when, with criminal negligence, he causes the death of another person.”  N.Y. Penal Law § 125.10. Not very helpful on its own; we need the definition of criminal negligence:

A person acts with criminal negligence  with respect to a result or to a circumstance described by a statute defining an  offense  when  he  fails to perceive a substantial and unjustifiable risk that such result will occur or that such circumstance  exists.  The  risk  must  be of such nature and degree that the failure to perceive it constitutes  a  gross  deviation  from  the  standard  of  care  that  a reasonable person would observe in the situation.

N.Y. Penal Law § 15.05.  The key here is the second sentence.  The prosecution offered essentially no evidence that Vance’s telekinetic blast was a “gross deviation from the standard of care that a reasonable person would observe in the situation,” given that the situation was one of a heavily injured young adult being beaten by a grown man with no help in sight.  Vance’s blast may have been more than strictly necessary to end the confrontation, but there was no evidence that it was a gross deviation from what a reasonable person would have done in the heat of the moment.

But failing that, there is the issue of self-defense.  The prosecution focused heavily on whether Vance could have used less force to stop his father.  This makes a certain amount of sense because New York defines self-defense thus:

A  person  may,  subject to the provisions of subdivision two, use physical force upon another person when and to the  extent he or she
reasonably believes such to be necessary to defend himself, herself or a third  person  from  what he or she reasonably believes to be the use or imminent use of unlawful physical force by such other person

N.Y. Penal Law § 35.15(1).  Here the issue is whether Vance reasonably believed his violent telekinetic blast was necessary, which basically means whether the jury thought it was reasonable.  And the prosecution argued that no, it was not, since he could have used less force.  But there are special rules for the use of deadly force in self-defense:

A  person  may  not  use deadly physical force upon another person under circumstances specified in subdivision one unless:
(a) The actor reasonably believes that such other person is  using  or about  to use  deadly  physical  force. Even in such case, however, the actor may not use deadly physical force if he or she  knows  that  with complete  personal safety, to oneself and others he or she may avoid the necessity of so doing by retreating; except that the actor is  under  no duty to retreat if he or she is:
(i) in his or her dwelling and not the initial aggressor

N.Y. Penal Law § 35.15(2).  In this case, Vance was in his house and he was not the initial aggressor, so he had no duty to retreat.  Thus, he could use deadly force if he reasonably believed that his father was about to use deadly physical force, even if he could also have used less force.  There is a good argument to be made that such a belief would have been reasonable: Vance was already severely injured, his father had struck him quite forcefully already, his father had him pinned, his father had announced his extremely violent intentions, and there was no help in sight.  That’s pretty compelling stuff.

The problem here, however, is that Foggy didn’t really develop these issues at trial, apart from an oblique mention of self-defense in his closing argument.  The jury would likely have been given instructions related to self-defense, but without solid testimony or other evidence to support it, the jury could reasonably conclude that the weight of the evidence favored the prosecution beyond a reasonable doubt.  The appellate court is under no obligation to make up for the defense’s mistakes.

V. Conclusion

It’s hard to say for sure what an appellate court would make of this case.  The prosecution’s case was a little weak, and there were strong arguments for self-defense.  Unfortunately, Foggy didn’t do such a hot job as Vance’s defense attorney, so the case wasn’t set up for appeal very well.  However, it’s a comic book, and we could just as easily assume that Foggy actually filled in all the gaps but the writers omitted the minutiae for the sake of storytelling.  Still, the Marvel universe is somewhat hostile to mutants, and appellate court judges are not immune to bias.  Ultimately, Vance likely had decent chances on appeal, probably better than most criminal defendants.

(And in case we sound a bit down on the writers, we should add that the legal elements are on par with a typical episode of Law & Order.  They didn’t do a perfect job, but it could have been much worse.)

Superpowered Minors, Part One

One topic that we’ve been asked about by several people is the issue of superpowered minors, whether acting as superheroes or supervillains.  There are many examples, such as the Teen Titans, young mutants like Kitty Pryde, and Spider-Man (in his younger days). This post, the first in a series, is about the minors themselves and their criminal liability.  Future posts will cover torts and contracts.  The legal issues involving their parents, guardians (like Bruce Wayne), and school teachers (like Professor X) will also be addressed in future installments.

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Law and the Multiverse Mailbag II

In this week’s mailbag we look at three questions from our email that touch on alternate universes, jurisdiction over crimes committed in the Phantom Zone, and contracts.  As always, if you have questions or post suggestions, please send them to james@lawandthemultiverse.com and ryan@lawandthemultiverse.com.

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Costumes and the Confrontation Clause

One question that we get frequently here on Law and the Multiverse is whether superheroes that wear identity-concealing costumes could wear them in court.  A closely related question is whether a superhero could testify under his or her alias and refuse to answer questions about his or her secret identity.  In the US, these are important issues because of the Confrontation Clause, which is where our analysis will focus. We briefly discussed this issue as part of the alter ego post from Dec. 2010; this is a fuller treatment of the specific question of the legal issues related to testifying while disguised.

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