Category Archives: movies

The Adventures of Tintin

The Adventures of Tintin is the 2011 film adaptation of the legendary comic book series of the same name (it is now available on Blu-ray). The comics were written and illustrated by Georges Prosper Remi, who went by the pen-name “Hergé” and came out from 1929 to 1976, making it one of the longest-running and most popular European comics ever. The movie as such is rather vague about its setting and even its time period, but it definitely raise one legal question we touched on briefly in our post on lost property almost a year ago: treasure troves and salvage. The former post focused mostly on buried treasure, but The Adventures of Tintin leads us to consider a slightly different subject: sunken treasure. The basic question is this: Even assuming Tintin and Haddock can find the sunken treasure, can they keep it? There are some minor spoilers inside. Continue reading

The Incredibles

In today’s mailbag we have a question that several people have asked about, most recently Thomas, who wrote: “In The Incredibles, Mr. Incredible is sued for foiling a suicide attempt. Would a superhero be liable for something like that? Aren’t suicide attempts illegal?”

(If you haven’t seen The Incredibles, you should check it out.  Like most Pixar movies, it’s pretty great.)

This is an interesting question with significant ramifications for the story.  If the suicide attempt was a crime, then arguably Mr. Incredible had an airtight defense: he was justified in using reasonable force to prevent the commission of a crime.  And if the lawsuit was bogus, then maybe the supers wouldn’t have been driven into hiding in the first place.  It’s not clear what state The Incredibles takes place in, so rather than give an exact answer we’ll have to look at the broader history of the issue.  It’s also not clear to what extent Mr. Incredible was acting as a government official with the benefit of qualified immunity.  For simplicity, we’ll assume he was acting as a private citizen.

I. Common Law History

At common law suicide and attempted suicide were both crimes: suicide was a felony and attempted suicide was a misdemeanor.  Since a “successful” suicide can’t be punished in the usual way, a more creative sanction was developed: the deceased was given an ignominious burial and his assets were forfeited to the crown.  The burial usually took the form of driving a stake through the body and burying it at a crossroads (i.e. not a proper Christian burial).  This was the law in the early American colonial era, but by the time of the American Revolution the states had generally moved away from the common law punishments, although suicide was still technically a crime, just an unpunished one.  See Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702, 711-13 (1997).

II. Attempted Suicide and Modern Developments

Most courts held that once suicide itself was no longer punishable, attempted suicide could likewise no longer be punished.  May v. Pennell, 101 Me. 516 (1906); Com. v. Dennis, 105 Mass. 162 (1870).  At least one court took a different view, however, holding that attempt was still punishable.  State v. La Fayette, 15 N.J. Misc. 115 (Ct. Com. Pleas 1937).  A few states, such as New York (though it has since repealed it), made attempted suicide a crime by statute even as they rejected the common law crime of suicide.  See Darrow v. Family Fund Soc., 116 N.Y. 537 (1889).  This makes a certain amount of sense, given that the attempter can be sentenced to jail or fined, whereas punishing a suicide only punishes the innocent (and likely grieving) survivors, which was the main reason for abolishing the common law punishments in the first place.

Coming somewhat closer to the modern era we have State v. Willis, 255 N.C. 473 (1961).  This North Carolina case followed the logic of La Fayette. Suicide was a common law crime and is therefore still a felony under North Carolina law, which defines a felony as, among other things, “a crime which was a felony at common law.” Similarly, attempted suicide was still a misdemeanor.  The fact that suicide had no punishment was immaterial because North Carolina had a catch-all statute that said “All misdemeanors, where a specific punishment is not prescribed shall be punished as misdemeanors at common law.”  In this case, that means fines and imprisonment were theoretically possible, although the court recognized that “This, of course, does not mean that the court may not place offenders on probation, or make use of other state facilities and services in proper cases.”

Interestingly, Willis has not been overturned or distinguished, and the relevant North Carolina laws are essentially still in place.  If The Incredibles took place in a similar jurisdiction, a court could agree that attempted suicide was still theoretically a crime and so Mr. Incredible was justified in stopping it.

But what about something more straightforward: are there any jurisdictions left that still criminalize attempted suicide by statute?  As far we can tell, no U.S. state still has a statute criminalizing attempted suicide.  The Willis / La Fayette approach would seem to be the only way for it to remain a crime.

III. An Alternative Approach

Even if it isn’t a crime where The Incredibles takes place, that doesn’t mean Mr. Incredible couldn’t be justified in stopping the attempt.  As the Minnesota Supreme Court held in 1975: “There can be no doubt that a bona fide attempt to prevent a suicide is not a crime in any jurisdiction, even where it involves the detention, against her will, of the person planning to kill herself. Had defendant seized complainant as she was about to leap from a building, and had he kept her locked in a safe place until the authorities arrived, it is clear that a conviction for the crime of false imprisonment could not be sustained.”  State v. Hembd, 232 N.W.2d 872, 878 (Minn. 1975).  That case was decided in the criminal context, but a civil court could come to the same conclusion.

IV. Conclusion

Regardless of the law of the jurisdiction, Mr. Incredible probably could have beaten the case.  Would it have been enough to keep the supers from retiring?  Maybe, maybe not, but at least one of the sillier lawsuits in cinema history could have been thrown out.

The Muppets

The Muppets was released a few weeks ago, the first theatrical release in over a decade, and is widely regarded as an excellent addition to the Muppets corpus. But it also contains a bit of legal finagling worth a second look. “What?” you say. “A Muppet movie? With legal conundrums?” Well… yes. In fact, the entire plot revolves around a lease-to-own contract, as pointedly lampshaded by Waldorf… which lampshading is itself lampshaded by Statler, for all your fourth-wall-leaning needs. Continue reading

Magneto’s Scheme in the X-Men Movie

This is a question we got a while back from Christopher, who wondered about Magneto’s evil plot in the 2000 X-Men movie.  In the movie, Magneto devises a plan to win respect for mutants by turning the world’s leaders into mutants, starting with a particularly anti-mutant U.S. Senator, which would force them to see things from the mutant perspective.  But what if the plan backfired, and anti-mutant sentiment led to an effort to remove the leaders from office?  In particular Christopher wanted to know about the President.*  There are four ways we can think of for getting rid of the President: two might actually work, one is tenuous for legal reasons, and one is tenuous for practical reasons.

* If you’re wondering, Senator Kelly could have been removed by expulsion by the Senate itself, impeachment, or constitutional amendment (more on those last two later).  The Senate, like the House, has the power to decide whether its members meet the constitutional requirements for election but may not do so in order to discipline its members.  Powell v. McCormack, 395 U.S. 486 (1969).

I. Impeachment

Strictly speaking, impeachment refers to charging an official with misconduct, not the resulting trial or getting kicked out of office.  It’s basically an indictment.  At the federal level, the President can be removed from office on impeachment for and  conviction of treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors.  U.S. Const. art. II, § 4.  Getting the ball rolling requires a simple majority in the House, but conviction requires a two-thirds vote in the Senate.  The conviction cannot be reviewed by the federal courts.  Nixon v. United States, 506 U.S. 224 (1993) (NB: this was a case about a federal judge named Nixon, not former President Nixon, who was almost-but-not-quite impeached before he resigned).  Nor can the new President (i.e. the former Vice President) use the pardon power  to reinstate the ex-President.  U.S. Const. art. II, § 2, cl. 1 (impeachment is expressly excluded from the pardon power).

On the one hand, it’s unlikely that being a mutant would qualify as a “high crime or misdemeanor.”  The phrase is misleading to modern ears, and it encompasses more than just criminal acts and includes maladministration and subversion of the Constitution.  But even these broader terms require some kind of overt act or omission; simply existing as a mutant wouldn’t seem to qualify.  On the other hand, no one is perfect, and some trumped-up charge could probably be dug up.  Besides, the impeachment and conviction aren’t reviewable by the courts: once you’re out, you’re out.

The major downside of the impeachment route is that it’s still a trial, and since the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court would preside over the case, it’s unlikely that Congress could make a complete mockery of the proceedings.  The President would have the opportunity to present evidence and call witnesses, which buys a lot of time for building public support against removal.

II. The 25th Amendment

The 25th Amendment addresses the problem of Presidential succession.  This includes not only what to do if the President dies, resigns, or is removed from office (the Vice President takes over) but also what to do if the President is nonfatally disabled (the Vice President takes over as acting President).  This second option can be voluntary (e.g. for a planned surgery during which the President will be incapacitated) or involuntary (e.g. an unplanned incapacitation).  It’s the involuntary option that interests us because it can effectively be used to stage a coup, albeit one that needs considerable Congressional support.

The way the process works is that the Vice President and the majority of the Cabinet transmit a written declaration of the President’s disability to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House.  This makes the Vice President the acting President.  The President can then challenge this declaration.  Ultimately, Congress decides the issue: if two-thirds of both houses vote that the President is indeed disabled, then the VP remains acting President.

The advantages here are that there’s no need for trumped-up charges, the executive branch can start the process, there’s no intervention by the judicial branch, the VP immediately assumes power, and Congress only has 21 days to decide the issue, so there’s a limit on how much time the President has to gather public support.  The downside is that it requires a majority of the Cabinet, who presumably are fans of the President, and two-thirds of both houses, which is a higher bar than impeachment.  And it’s probably still pretty difficult to sell mutant status as such a disability that the President couldn’t discharge his or her duties, although some mutations come close, particularly dangerous, uncontrolled ones.

III. Adding a Qualification for Office

Now we come to the legally tenuous approach.  Congress could try to force a new qualification for office on the President, but we don’t think it would work without a constitutional amendment.  The Constitution specifically lists the qualifications to be President and doesn’t provide for adding any new ones.  It’s also not one of Congress’s specifically enumerated powers.  The houses of Congress are explicitly empowered to judge the qualifications of their own members, which suggests they are not empowered to do so for the Presidency.  Finally, Powell v. McCormack and U.S. Term Limits, Inc. v. Thornton, 514 U.S. 779 (1995) suggest that the qualifications to be President, like those for federal legislators, are constitutionally fixed and cannot be altered by Congress or the states (except by amendment).

Besides, the President would assuredly veto the bill, and overriding it would require a two-thirds vote in both houses.  It would probably be easier to go the impeachment route.

IV. Constitutional Amendment

And here we come to the wildly impractical but guaranteed effective nuclear option.  There’s no reason the President couldn’t be removed by amendment, either explicitly (“Amendment 28: John Smith, currently President of the United States, is hereby removed from office.”) or implicitly by barring mutants from holding office, notwithstanding all that stuff about equal protection and due process.

The downside is that it would be completely impractical unless virtually the entire country were rabidly anti-mutant.  The upside is that an amendment could affect all mutant office-holders at once, which the other three methods could not.

V. Conclusion

Magneto’s plan, though criminal and insane, would probably not have backfired.  Removing mutant politicians from office would have been difficult, fairly slow, and politically divisive at best and effectively impossible at worst.  It’s more likely that the mutant politicians, if they refused to resign, would have stuck around at least to the end of their terms.

Mailbag for December 2, 2011

In today’s mailbag we have a question from Steven, who asks about the first Addams Family movie (Spoiler Alert!):  “Did Uncle Fester commit a crime? He was a conman pretending to be Fester, but unbeknownst to him [because of amnesia suffered in the Bermuda Triangle], he actually was Fester.”

(We consider this question fair game for the blog because the Addams Family actually started as a series of New Yorker cartoons, which are close enough to comics in our opinion.)

I. The Setup

First we have to consider the crimes Fester might be accused of.  There are several possibilities in New York (where The Addams Family takes place), but a reasonable choice is second degree criminal impersonation, which is a class A misdemeanor:

A person is guilty of criminal impersonation in the second degree when he:

1. Impersonates another and does an act in such assumed character with intent to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud another;

N.Y. Penal Law § 190.25.  Since Fester (who believed himself to be a man named Gordon) thought he was impersonating someone with the intent to gain access to the Addams Family’s wealth, this seems to fit.  The question is whether Fester’s real identity is a defense despite his belief that he was committing a crime.  We think the answer is that he may not be guilty of impersonation but he is likely guilty of attempted impersonation.

II. Impersonation

The New York courts have held that impersonation requires falsely identifying oneself as a specific, real person. “It is evident that the gravamen of the offense is holding oneself out as some other specific individual.”  People v. Danisi, 449 N.Y.S.2d 874, 875 (Dist. Ct. 1982) (emphasis added).  Even though Fester had the necessary mental state for the crime (i.e. he thought he was lying), he did not perform the prohibited action of holding himself out as some other individual because he was, in fact, who he said he was.

One might be tempted to argue that Fester has a defense of mistake of fact, but we don’t think it would apply here.  Ordinarily mistake of fact is invoked because the defendant believed he or she wasn’t committing a crime because it negates the mental state required by the crime.  For example, if an unrelated man named Gordon suffered memory loss and came to believe he was really Uncle Fester, then he could claim mistake of fact in that he reasonably believed he was entitled to part of the Addams Family fortune and so could not have intended to defraud them.

But here Fester’s mental state was exactly what was required by the crime.  He fully intended to commit a crime and even believed that what he was doing was a criminal act.  His factual mistake actually gave rise to the guilty mental state and so can’t be claimed as a defense.  His only defense is that he simply did not commit the act prohibited by the crime.  But he certainly tried to, and that leads us to the next section.

III. Attempted Impersonation and Factual Impossibility

A person is guilty of an attempted crime in New York when “(1) … the defendant had the intent to commit a specific offense; and (2) … the defendant engaged in some affirmative act to carry out that intent.”  People v. Coleman, 74 N.Y.2d 381, 383 (1989).  In this case Fester definitely had the required intent, and he did engage in various acts to carry out the intent (e.g. showing up at the mansion, claiming to be Fester, trying to find the Addams’s money).

So does it matter that Fester couldn’t actually be committing a crime because he was actually telling the truth about himself even though he thought it was a lie?  Perhaps surprisingly, no, he can still be guilty of attempted impersonation even though he couldn’t be guilty of impersonation.  This is the doctrine of factual impossibility, which we’ve discussed here before.  New York has even codified the doctrine in N.Y. Penal Law § 110.10:

If the conduct in which a person engages otherwise constitutes an attempt to commit a crime pursuant to section 110.00, it is no defense to a prosecution for such attempt that the crime charged to have been attempted was, under the attendant circumstances, factually or legally impossible of commission, if such crime could have been committed had the attendant circumstances been as such person believed them to be.

So Fester likely has no defense to attempted impersonation.*  The good news is that attempted second degree impersonation is only a class B misdemeanor, which carries a maximum sentence of three months imprisonment, so at least it’s a lesser offense.  Given the extraordinary nature of the case, though, and the fact that the Addams welcomed him back with open arms once they learned the truth, we doubt a prosecutor would pursue the case.

* He could argue insanity, but while Fester is more than a bit weird we don’t think he qualifies as legally insane.  He could also argue something like duress, since the woman who claimed to be his mother certainly threatened and badgered him, but she really only did that once he started having second thoughts about conning the Addams family.  He was initially a more-or-less willing participant in the scheme.

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.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

We’re going to take a (belated) look at the recent Rise of the Planet of the Apes movie, which turned out to be surprisingly good. Like usual, we’re leaving more thorough evaluations of the movie’s merits as such to others, and spoilers will abound. Continue reading

Superman Returns

Superman Returns was a pretty good movie (though hopefully the Man of Steel reboot will be an improvement).  The legal issues the movie raises are quite a bit different from our usual crime & torts fare, which is a nice change of pace.  Spoilers inside:

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Cowboys & Aliens

Well it’s no Iron Man, but neither is it The Fantastic Four. It’s a serviceable summer flick, in other words.

It also happens to be (loosely) based on the 2006 graphic novel by Scott Michael Rosenberg, Fred Van Lente and Andrew Foley.

Anyway, there are a few legal issues to be discussed here, so take a look inside. Continue reading

Daredevil

As a movie, Daredevil was alright as a movie, but man were there ever some serious legal errors and oddities.  We watched the Director’s Cut, which includes a major subplot left out of the theatrical version.  Like all of our reviews, this one is full of spoilers.

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