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I. THE CONSTITUTIONALIZATION OF JURY TRIAL
The Sixth Amendment says: "In all criminal prosecutions, the
accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an
impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have
been committed. . . ."1 "All" is not a word that constitution-makers use
lightly. The drafters of the Sixth Amendment used it and meant it.
Indeed, the Framers of the Constitution had already used the same word
for the same end when speaking to the same subject two years earlier.
Article III of the Constitution insists: "The Trial of all Crimes,
except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by jury. . . ."2
Two hundred years later, this Constitution and its Bill of Rights
continue to govern our criminal justice system. Indeed, because the
Sixth Amendment has been treated as incorporated by the Fourteenth
Amendment, the federal jury guarantee now governs not only in the
federal courts that the Framers had in mind, but also in the state
systems where we process the bulk of our criminal caseloads.3
Although the texts mandate jury trial for "all" criminal cases, the
reality is far different. In place of "all," a more accurate term to
describe the use of jury trial in the discharge of our criminal caseload
would be "virtually none." Like those magnificent guarantees of human
rights that grace the pretended constitutions of totalitarian states,
our guarantee of routine criminal jury trial is a fraud. This article
discusses the astonishing discrepancy between what the constitutional
texts promise and what the criminal justice system delivers.
II. NON-TRIAL PROCEDURE
Why did the Framers call for jury trial in "all" criminal cases? They
prescribed "all" because they experienced "all." In the world in which
they lived, on both sides of the Atlantic, cases of serious crime
systematically went to full jury trial. Jury trial was the routine
dispositive proceeding of Eighteenth-Century Anglo-American law. We have
historical records from the English sources of a few Eighteenth-Century
cases in which some pathetic accused, caught in the act or otherwise
sensing the hopelessness of his case, attempted to plead guilty. In
these cases, the trial judge resisted accepting the guilty plea. Time
and again the judge urged the accused to plead "not guilty" and to take
his case to the jury.4 The great historian of English criminal law, John
Beattie of Toronto, has studied this question closely in the surviving
Eighteenth-Century records of the county of Surrey, south of London. He
reports: "Virtually every prisoner charged with a felony insisted on
taking his trial, with the obvious support and encouragement of the
court. There was no plea bargaining in felony cases in the eighteenth
century."5
Return now from the Framers' world of routine jury trial to the
practice of our own day. The Constitution has not changed, the Bill of
Rights remains in force, and jury trial lives on in the law books as our
prototypical mode of discharging cases of serious crime. Furthermore,
were you to form your impression of modern American criminal procedure
from our popular culture, as nonlawyers and foreigners tend to do, you
would scarcely have occasion to notice that anything has changed.
Television is busy broadcasting courtroom dramas that culminate in the
verdict of a criminal jury trial.
Those who understand our criminal justice system know better.
Criminal jury trial has all but disappeared in the United States. Can
you find it? Of course, you can find it. You can find it in the show
trials of the day, Oliver North, General Noriega, or whatever. But jury
trial no longer typifies our system. Can you find a hippopotamus in the
Bronx? Yes, there's one in the Bronx Zoo, but it has nothing to do with
life in the Bronx. It's a goner. And so, too, stunningly, is criminal
jury trial, which has ceased to typify American criminal justice. The
criminal justice system now disposes of virtually all cases of serious
crime without jury trial, through the plea bargaining system. This
nontrial procedure has become the ordinary dispositive procedure of
American criminal justice.6
The plea bargaining system operates by threat. The authorities who
administer our non-jury and non-trial procedure tell the accused in
effect: "So you want your constitutional right to jury trial? By all
means, be our guest. But beware. If you claim this right and are
convicted, we will punish you twice, once for the offense, and once
again for having displayed the temerity to exercise your constitutional
right to jury trial." Our authorities are, of course, more circumspect
in their discourse. They do not need to convey this threat in the bald
fashion that I have just expressed it. There is no doubt, however, that
plea bargaining works precisely in this way. Whether plea bargaining
takes the form of charge bargaining (a lesser offense in exchange for a
guilty plea) or sentence bargaining (a reduced sanction in exchange for
a guilty plea), the object is to coerce the accused to surrender his
right to jury trial by threatening him with a materially greater
sanction if he exercises that right. In observing that the Framers spoke
of jury trial in "all" cases of serious crime -- that jury trial was their
norm -- I do not mean to say that they mandated jury trial. Jury trial was
indeed waivable. Then as now, the defendant had the option to plead
guilty. What he lacked was the inducement. Because prosecutorial
authorities were not yet in the business of pressuring people to decline
trial, the Framers did not forbid practices that they had no reason to
foresee.
III. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF JURY TRIAL
How did criminal jury trial disappear? There is much we do not know,
but the historical outline seems tolerably clear.7 The starting point is
to understand that criminal jury trial as the Framers observed it on
both sides of the Atlantic in the second half of the Eighteenth Century
was a summary proceeding. The trial that the Framers thought they were
constitutionalizing was, by our standards, shockingly brusque and
deficient in safeguard. In the Old Bailey in London, the principal court
for the trial of serious crime in the Anglo-American world, a dozen or
more cases of felony jury trial went forward in a single courtroom in a
single day.8 The procedures were crude. Lawyers were infrequently
involved for prosecution or defense.9 There was almost no law of
evidence. The "beyond-reasonable-doubt" standard of proof was neither
precisely formulated nor routinely announced.10 There was no voir
dire of jurors; challenge rights were virtually never exercised.
Jurors sat on many trials during a single session, and many of them were
experienced veterans who had sat at previous sessions. They received
little judicial guidance and may not have needed much.11 The accused
conducted his own defense, usually without aid of counsel, and without
being allowed to testify under oath. There was virtually no appellate
review of trials. Indeed, capital convicts were usually executed within
days of trial, unless the trial judge took the special step of
reprieving the convict in order to allow post-verdict proceedings.
Because the system effectively lacked appellate redress, there was no
occasion for those features of modern trial practice that are associated
with the enterprise of provoking and preserving error for appeal.12
We understand that a criminal procedural system so brusque could not
have endured. The procedural system that the Framers presupposed when
they constitutionalized jury trial was grievously deficient. No one can
yearn for the good old days when an Old Bailey judge could try a dozen
felons a day. The movement for greater safeguard in criminal procedure
that intensified in the later Eighteenth Century and across the
Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries was benign in spirit, and it was in a
deep sense inevitable. But there are many ways to increase the level of
safeguard and, in the light of hindsight, one can see that the path
taken in Anglo-American law was catastrophic. Whereas the Europeans of
this period were refining the techniques of an increasingly trustworthy,
officialized system of impartial evidence-gathering and prosecuting, the
Anglo-American systems turned for safeguard down the path of partisan
lawyerization. We came to experience the capture of the criminal trial
by lawyers -- lawyers for the defense and for the prosecution. The rise of
the adversarial system led to the loss of the accused as a testimonial
resource, and to the vast elaboration of the law of evidence and of
trial procedure that was undertaken in a forlorn effort to regulate
adversary combat. Jury trial was redefined as adversary jury trial. The
explosive combination of adversary procedure and criminal jury trial
produced a system so clumsy, so time-consuming, and so costly that, in
the end, Americans found it intolerable to honor the Framers' promise to
use jury trial in "all" criminal cases. As a result, the pressure to
subvert adversary jury trial has grown ever more intense across the last
century.
IV. EVILS OF NON-TRIAL PROCEDURE
What is so bad about plea bargaining? A good way to approach that
question is to ask why the Framers so valued jury trial. Plea bargaining
suppresses both the jury and the trial. There are important virtues to
each. The jury disperses power away from the officers of the state.
Because the sanctions applied in the criminal justice system are so
ominous, the danger of abuse of state power in criminal procedure is
serious. Plea bargaining achieves just what the Framers expected the
jury to prevent, the aggrandizement of state power. Plea bargaining
transfers the power of condemnation to a low-visibility decision maker,
the prosecutor. Because negotiation replaces trial, plea bargaining
substitutes an essentially concealed procedure for the salutary openness
of public jury trial. The prosecutor who operates the negotiated plea
system exercises awesome powers, powers that were meant to be shared
with judges and jurors. As a practical matter, plea bargaining
concentrates both the power to adjudicate and the power to sentence in
the hands of the prosecutor.
Plea bargaining is also wrong because it is coercive. A legal system
that comes to depend upon coercing people to waive their supposed rights
is by definition a failed system. The system can no longer function by
adhering to its own stated principles. Plea bargaining puts the accused
under ferocious pressure to bear false witness against himself.13 As the
disparity grows between the sentence offered for confession and the
sentence threatened for conviction upon trial, the inducement to confess
becomes ever more intense. I do not think that large numbers of innocent
people are confessing themselves guilty to crimes committed by
strangers. At the margin, however, such cases do indeed arise.14 The want
of trial is also costly in another way. There is an important civic
interest in having public inquiry and adjudication take place in cases
of serious crime -- a positive externality, the economists would say. Plea
bargaining prevents the citizenry from learning about the circumstances
of the crime and punishment. There is, for example, a lingering distaste
among substantial sections of the American people about the way that
James Earl Ray was sent off to prison in Tennessee. Without trial, we do
not feel adequately informed about whether our institutions have
responded fully and fairly to events.
In the end, however, the worst aspect of plea bargaining is simply
the dishonesty. Charge bargaining has made our criminal statistics into
hash. The person who committed murder is pretended to have committed
manslaughter; the person whose real crime was child molesting is
convicted of loitering around a schoolyard.15 Not only has this willful
mislabelling turned our criminal statistics into a pack of lies, it has
also forced us into the widespread practice of preferring arrest records
over conviction records for a host of purposes. Continental observers
find our reliance upon bare arrest records in matters of sentencing and
employment to be incredible.16 And looming over the whole of the saga of
plea bargaining is the lie that has to be lived to escape the
Constitution and the Bill of Rights -- the lie that persons accused of
serious crime really do not want a jury trial.
V. MARKETS
The Supreme Court's justification for plea bargaining, though wholly
unprincipled, possesses the virtue of candor. In Santobello v. New York17,
Chief Justice Burger explained that plea bargaining is to be encouraged
because "[i]f every criminal charge were subjected to a full-scale
trial, the States and the Federal Government would need to multiply by
many times the number of judges and court facilities."18 Translation: We
cannot afford the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. Sheer expediency
is rationale enough for disregarding the constitutional texts.
The most prominent academic effort to justify plea bargaining is
Frank Easterbrook's chilling paper, "Criminal Procedure as a Market
System."19 Easterbrook correctly observes that the behavior of actors in
the plea bargaining system is market-like. Under the constraints of the
system, they behave rationally, maximize their utiles, allocate their
resources, and so forth.20 It is indeed quite a glorious Turkish rug
market that we have created in lieu of what the Framers designed.
Easterbrook's paper assumes away the vital question, which is what
purpose the Framers ascribed to jury trial. Did they mean for this
entitlement to be sold at the Turkish market with the other rugs? I
think not. They had public purposes in mind when envisioning that "all"
serious criminal cases would go to jury trial. To say that we have
constructed a market in criminal procedural rights is a condemnation,
not a justification.
VI. THE FRAGILITY OF THE WRITTEN TEXTS
The disappearance of criminal jury trial offers as telling a lesson
as one could wish about the myth of written constitutions.
Constitutional texts do not enforce themselves. They require the
adherence and support both of the social and political order and of the
legal system and legal professionals. Plea bargaining has defeated the
Constitution and the Bill of Rights because legal
professionals -- especially judges, prosecutors, and defense
attorneys -- have preferred the convenience of doing deals to the rigor of
trying cases.
I am left to say that much more attention should be given to how we
handle criminal adjudication. I believe that concessionary non-trial
procedure is wrong. Condemnation without adjudication, which is
effectively what we practice in the plea bargaining system, is wrong. On
the other hand, we do not want to recover the procedural world that the
Framers envisioned, the world of summary jury trial. Nor can we afford
the routine adversary jury trial that is the norm of our formal law.
Events that we cannot foresee but whose happening we can predict with
serene certainty will one day force us to rethink our failed system of
criminal procedure. We will be driven to re-introduce some component of
genuine adjudication into our criminal procedure, perhaps on the
platform of the existing Rule 11 hearing that is at present mostly a
formalism.21 When we do, I hope that we might pay attention to the
Continental model. More than a century ago, Europeans came to look at
Anglo-American criminal justice. They took back with them the notion
that lay participation in criminal adjudication is profoundly important,
but they also came to the conclusion that systems of mass justice
appropriate to urban industrial democracies could not use laypersons in
the clumsy, time-consuming, costly fashion of the adversary jury trial.
The Europeans devised ways of combining laypersons with streamlined procedures that guarantee significant lay participation
in every case of serious crime.22 The result is that they have perpetuated
more of our jury tradition than we have. They have a system of routine
lay participation in every case of serious crime, whereas we have a
system of full-dress adversary jury trial so complex that we must deny
it to almost all defendants.
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