The Fifth Amendment says a person can’t be prosecuted twice for the same offense. So after a jury comes back with a verdict, if the government doesn’t like that verdict, then too bad, it doesn’t get a do-over. This is called “Double Jeopardy,” from the language of the Amendment saying you can’t “be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb.”
Sometimes, Double Jeopardy applies even when the jury never reached a verdict. Usually, if the judge declares a mistrial, there’s no jeopardy problem and everyone does the trial over again. But there are exceptions, such as when the mistrial was caused by prosecutorial misconduct. Or when a judge orders a mistrial for no good reason. There’s a presumption that judges shouldn’t go around declaring mistrials, that cases should be allowed to go to verdict. So when a judge calls “mistrial” for no good reason, the defendant isn’t going to be forced to go through the whole thing all over again.
[Aside: We had that happen in one of our cases, when we were a prosecutor. In the middle of a drug trial, we were severely injured in a motorcycle accident (and by “severely,” we mean “it took 6 weeks to stabilize to the point where they could do surgery to put the bones back in”), and as a result we couldn’t finish the trial. Drug cases being all pretty much alike, and prosecutors being pretty much fungible, the DA’s office sent over another lawyer to finish out the case. The judge instead declared a mistrial, over the objections of both sides. The office wound up having to consent to dismissal on Double Jeopardy grounds. Whaddayagonnado.]
Back in 1824, the Supreme Court ruled in U.S. v. Perez that one good reason the judge can declare a mistrial is when the jury is deadlocked. When the jury cannot reach a decision, it’s not like the defendant’s being screwed by an unfair judge or an abusive prosecutor. So a judge is allowed to ask for a do-over with a different jury.
“To be sure,” the Court said, “the power ought to be used with the greatest caution, under urgent circumstances, and for very plain and obvious cases….”
So that brings us to the case of Renico v. Lett, argued this morning before the Supreme Court (you can read the transcript here).
Reginald Lett was on trial for murder. The case was presented intermittently, five days out of two weeks, and the jury finally got to start deliberations at 3:24 p.m. on a Thursday. They deliberated for 36 minutes, then went home. On Friday (the 13th), they came in, deliberated for a mere four hours, and sent out a note. The note didn’t say they were deadlocked, but merely asked what would happen “if we can’t agree? Mistrial? Retrial? What?”
The judge brought the jury out and asked “is there a disagreement as to the verdict?” The foreperson said yes. The judge badgered the foreperson a bit, insisting on her predicting whether the jury could reach a unanimous verdict, and finally the foreperson said “no.” The judge immediately declared a mistrial.
Now this was highly unusual. Most judges, in our experience, give a supposedly deadlocked jury a few chances to go back and reach a verdict (three seems to be the magic number here in New York City). We’ve had jurors shouting at each other so loud that everyone could hear them plainly out in the courtroom. All that meant to anyone involved, however, was that they actually were deliberating. A zesty exchange of ideas is still an exchange of ideas.
At some point, either the second or third time the jury says they’re deadlocked, the judge will give an Allen charge. Basically, the jurors are told something like “everyone’s been working their asses off on this case for a long time, costing a shitload of money, and you jurors don’t seem to be holding up your end of the deal. If you can’t do your job, everyone’s going to have to do it all over again with some other jurors, who’ll have to deal with the same stuff you are. Now, take all the time you need, and don’t change your mind without good reason, but get back in there and someone change their mind so we can all go home.” (Ed. note: citation required.)
Depending on who your jurors are, this can be good or bad for the defendant. Generally, whoever’s side the holdout was on, loses.
But the judge in Renico v. Lett never did any of that. Hell, the jury never even said it was deadlocked to begin with. All the jurors wanted to know was what might happen in the event that they should wind up being deadlocked. The judge totally forced the deadlock language onto the record.
All the judge had to say was “it’s none of your business what decision I may or may not make based on your decision. But I can’t do my job until you’ve done yours. So if that hypothetical query was your only question, please get back to work.”
After the mistrial, Lett had to go through a whole second trial. The prosecutors had now seen the defense’s cards, knew what arguments the defense would make, and presumably did a better job of shutting them down, because this time the jury had no problem finding Lett guilty.
Lett appealed, on Double Jeopardy grounds. This was in Michigan, and the state’s supreme court said no, the judge did everything right under Perez.
Lett petitioned the federal court, which granted habeas on the grounds that the trial court did “fuck-all” to ensure that the jury was really deadlocked. (Ed.: Citation needed again.) The Sixth Circuit agreed.
So Michigan appealed to the Supreme Court, and that gets us to this morning’s arguments.
It was quite an argument. Neither lawyer seemed to have real mastery of the issues, and so they were wide open to attack from opposing justices. And so sympathetic justices would throw out lifelines. It was like a legal game of catch-and-release.
Justice Sotomayor kicked things off by wondering out loud how anyone could find “that the court was acting deliberately, responsibly, and not precipitously.” Michigan’s lawyer replied that “you have to look at the totality of the circumstances” — weasel words, in our experience, used when the facts are inconvenient. The circumstances were that you could sort of interpret that the jurors were “acrimonious” and you could sort of interpret that they had been deadlocked.
This was not particularly convincing. So Justice Ginsburg fed the state’s lawyer an argument, asking “are you urging that, because the trial court judge was there on the spot, saw the jury, worked with the jury, that that’s something that deserves a special measure of respect?” The grateful lawyer — as everyone seems to do when lobbed a softball like this — replied, “Absolutely.”
That was beside the point, of course. The issue was whether the trial judge had taken reasonable steps to ensure that a verdict could not be reached. Justice Kennedy got everyone back on track, gently suggesting that the judge might have excused the jurors and then asked the lawyers whether they thought a mistrial was appropriate. Getting the input of both counsel is typically considered part of the judge’s weighing of the situation in these matters, after all.
After some back-and-forth, Justice Breyer pointed out that of all the cases where a mistrial was declared, very very few are going to have facts like these. “What do you want me to read,” he asked, “to see that this is not an extreme case that counts as an abuse of the judge’s discretion?” During a long colloquy, Michigan’s lawyer never was able to answer the question. He started to admit that it’s pretty rare, when Scalia jumped to his rescue, pointing out that it’s not the state’s burden to prove it’s normal, but rather it’s the defendant’s burden to prove it’s abnormal.
It was clear that Scalia was irritated at the lawyer for not responding to these questions as he could have. But he was still on Michigan’s side. That did not seem to be the case for the other justices who spoke up. It was pretty obvious the rest of them thought the judge hadn’t done enough.
Scalia was waiting to pounce on the defendant’s lawyer, to ask how they’d met their burden of proof to show that there was not a deadlocked jury. Counsel didn’t do a great job with this, trying to somehow argue that there was no factual finding of a deadlock, though it was implicit.
And the defendant’s counsel didn’t do so hot during a tag-team by Alito and Breyer, where they got her to admit that there was no case out there where something like this was held to be an abuse of discretion. The Chief Justice tried to help her out, but she flubbed it, citing only a general principle against irrational and precipitous decisions. Scalia would have none of that, pointing out that what’s needed here is proof that the judge’s decision was contrary to, or involved an unreasonable application of, clearly established federal law.
(We do our share of habeas petitions, ourselves, so we ought to mention that Scalia’s correct here. You can’t just say it was an abuse of discretion. You have to say that there’s a federal standard that was applied, and it was applied wrong.)
Stevens jumped to her rescue, pulling her away from the precipice of whether there was an abuse of discretion, and feeding her the line that the issue is really “whether there was a manifest necessity” to declare the mistrial.
There was some back-and-forth with the Chief on this, unfortunately without much meat to it. But it did contain our favorite quote from the term so far:
CHIEF JUSTICE ROBERTS: I’m sorry, please finish your sentence.
MS. McCOWAN: No.
CHIEF JUSTICE ROBERTS: Okay.
Sotomayor finally got the lawyer to say something worthwhile, by asking how the state court unreasonably applied federal precedent. The lawyer remembered that Arizona v. Washington requires that the judge exercise sound discretion, and here the judge didn’t exercise any discretion. And failure to exercise discretion is an abuse of discretion. The Michigan supreme court improperly applied federal law by failing to see that.
And here she was on solid ground at last. Scalia’s retort she could now easily clarify. The Chief spelled it out for her a little better, that some abuses of discretion aren’t going to be enough for a habeas challenge, but they will be if the state supreme court unreasonably applies the federal standard to make its call.
That’s how she should have started her argument, but at least she got to it in the end.
The rest of the defense’s argument was spent parsing the jury’s note and the transcript, to figure out what was really being said, what might have been meant, and what else might have been said. That’s important, because it means the justices were getting to that issue. They had crossed the threshold of whether the legal standard applies here, and were now diving into the merits. And that’s good for the defendant, because it’s hard to say that the judge was acting anything other than precipitously here. (Ed. note: Are you sure the correct word isn’t “precipitately?”)
So, given the way the argument went, how do we think the Court will decide the case? We’ll say 6-3 in favor of Lett. Scalia is not convinced that the AEDPA was satisfied here, and Thomas will probably go along with him (though statistically, he doesn’t side with Scalia any more often than other similar justices side with each other). Alito didn’t seem all that taken with the defense side. But Roberts, Stevens, Breyer, Kennedy, Ginsburg and Sotomayor all seemed slightly on the side of calling this an abuse of discretion.
So we predict they’ll say the judge should have at the very least gotten some input from trial counsel, and maybe even some more solid evidence of deadlock, before calling a mistrial. That was an abuse of discretion, and the Michigan supreme court improperly applied Supreme Court precedent in finding otherwise. And the abuse of discretion was severe enough that the defendant got screwed, triggering the protections of Double Jeopardy.
We’ll find out if we’re right in June.