Tagged: Chicago Justice

The Law Is A Ass

Bob Ingersoll: The Law Is A Ass #407

AFTER CHICAGO JUSTICE, I NEED THE FIFTH

Things weren’t looking good. Not for Assistant State’s Attorney Peter Stone. And not for me. Not for Stone, because he was the star of Dick Wolf’s new TV show, Chicago Justice and things never look good for prosecuting attorneys in the first three acts of a Dick Wolf. Not for me, because I was watching Dick Wolf’s new TV show, Chicago Justice.

Stone was prosecuting Dylan Oates for arson and murder. Oates had set fire to a factory being used for a rave, resulting in dozens of injuries and 39 deaths. Oates was a smarmy, spoiled millennial whose condescending sneer alone should have made the jury want to convict him. But the case against Oates was coming in badly thanks to Oates’s high-priced and equally-smarmy defense attorney, Albert Forest. Stone decided he needed to establish a motive to secure a conviction.

Then fate dropped a motive in Stone’s lap. Forest’s response to Stone’s discovery request contained discovery and news articles about the factory. One article claimed pedophiles used the factory’s raves to attract under-aged teens. So, if Oates had been an abused child, then he had a motive; the article triggered memories, so Oates “lost it” and set the fire.

Stone’s boss, State’s Attorney Mark Jefferies, feared this evidence could hand Oates a sympathy defense. Nah. In my experience, juries aren’t simpatico to sympathy defenses. Juries don’t let criminals off because they feel sorry for them, because juries don’t feel sorry for them. Especially criminals who torch a rave, wedge the doors shut so no one could get out, and kill 39 people. Not a case that’s high up on the “Aww-poor-baby” scale.

Jefferies ignored another problem with the motive, there was absolutely no evidence Oates had been sexually abused as a child. Without that, how would Stone connect the purported motive to Oates? That question was rhetorical, by the way, without that proof, there is no, “Here’s how.”

Stone called the reporter who wrote the article. Forest didn’t cross-examine and Stone realized he’d been played like a… No, not a Stradivarius , I don’t want to give either Forest or Stone that much credit. Like a dime store ocarina.

Forest sent the article to Stone accidentally on purpose. He wanted Stone to introduce the article. It laid the foundation for Forest’s sympathy defense without him calling Oates as a witness; thereby waiving subjecting Oates to cross-examination.

Stone knew Forest was a typical Dick Wolf shyster. Why would Stone have trusted anything that Forest “accidentally” dropped into his lap? Only one reason, Stone was an idiot.

But Forest was an idiot, too. His strategy depended on Stone calling the reporter even though using it would have been an unethical misappropriation of Forest’s work product and even though Stone had no proof Oates had been sexually abused. Either reason was enough for Stone not to use the article by itself. Stone had both. So Forest’s strategy depended on Stone being an idiot. Moreover, it was also utterly unnecessary.

After Stone had planted the seed of the sympathy defense, Forest needed to establish the possibility that Oates had been sexually abused as a child. He called Oates’s mother. She testified that when Oates was 5, her brother took Oates fishing and did something to him. After Oates came back, he had changed. He was no longer her sweet boy. She carefully suggested that Oates had been sexually abused without ever actually saying it. Forest didn’t call any other witnesses.

Forest’s defense required two witnesses; the reporter and Oates’s mother. Forest could have established his defense without calling Oates or subjecting him to cross-examination. Forest didn’t need to get Stone to call the reporter with a dirty trick that shouldn’t have worked in the first place. So why did he use his dirty trick? How else could he establish he was a typical Dick Wolf shyster defense attorney, unless he showed he wasn’t shy-ster about using a dirty trick?

By now the show had reached the 40-minute mark. The Dick Wolf play book said it was time for the prosecutor to have a sudden, last-minute epiphany and come up with a strategy that would save the day. Chicago Justice didn’t disappoint; except that the last-minute strategy was so preposterous the fact that the show actually used it was disappointing.

When Forest tried to rest the defense case, Stone said he had the right to cross-examine Oates. Forest argued the Fifth Amendment prevented Stone from forcing Oates to testify against himself. Stone pointed out that on two different occasions during his mother’s testimony, Oates yelled, “You’re lying!” Stone argued, “[Oates] spoke. The jury heard him. That’s testimony. He waived his rights against self-incrimination.” And the judge bought it. She actually ruled, “I’ll probably be reversed on appeal, but I’m going to let you cross-examine him.”

Can I say bullshit here on ComicMix? I don’t think “bullshirt” will quite cut it.

When a defendant testifies, the defendant waives the right against self-incrimination and can be cross-examined. The defendant can’t answer all the questions the defendant wants to answer on direct examination then forbid cross-examination on the questions the defendant doesn’t want to answer by arguing it would violate the right against self-incrimination. So, yes, if Oates had testified, Stone would have been allowed to cross-examine him.

Thing is, Oates didn’t testify.

Testimony occurs when a person is in the witness stand and answers questions under oath. What do judges in TV shows and movies call it when a spectator who is not under oath yells something in court? Right, an outburst. Hell, Oates’s judge even warned Oates about making further outbursts. Oates didn’t testify so he didn’t waive his Fifth Amendment rights.

If Oates had called a prosecution witness a liar, maybe the judge might have called that testimony and allowed cross-examination. After all, the prosecution could argue that it had the right to repair the damage the defendant’s outburst had done to its witness. But I’ve never even seen that happen. Juries don’t give a defendant’s outbursts any credibility. It wasn’t expecting the defendant’s to say, “Yup, that’s how it happened. I’m guilty,” in the first place, so it ignores any shouts of, “You’re lying!” And we didn’t even have that strong an argument for cross-examination.

Oates called a defense witness – a witness whose testimony was supposed to help him – a liar. How was Stone going to argue he had a right to repair the damage, when the defendant’s outburst hurt the defense case not the prosecution’s case?

Last week I said that I didn’t know any judge who would allow a defense attorney to ask why a confession that had been suppressed wasn’t introduced. Well, I’ve met a few more judges since then and I don’t know any that would call a defendant’s outburst testimony and allow him to be cross-examined on it.

I especially don’t know of any judge who would make this ruling after first stating, “I’ll probably be reversed on appeal.” Judges hate being reversed, hate it more than Yosemite Sam hates rabbits.

Being reversed make judges look bad. And causing a trial to be reversed then retried wastes taxpayer’s money; a good way not to be reelected. Judges try not to do things they think might get them reversed and they definitely don’t do things what will “probably” get them reversed.

So, did Stone’s cross-examination trip up Oates so he said or did something that caused the jury to convict him? Or did Stone lose the case? Ah, that would be telling. You wouldn’t want me to be a spoiler, would you?

Still, this was the first episode of Dick Wolf’s new series about a crusading prosecuting attorney. It had already made its star look like an idiot because he fell for a dirty trick. Do you think the show wanted to start out by making its hero look like he was incompetent and a loser?

The Law Is A Ass

Bob Ingersoll: The Law Is A Ass #407

AFTER CHICAGO JUSTICE, I NEED THE FIFTH

Things weren’t looking good. Not for Assistant State’s Attorney Peter Stone. And not for me. Not for Stone, because he was the star of Dick Wolf’s new TV show, Chicago Justice and things never look good for prosecuting attorneys in the first three acts of a Dick Wolf. Not for me, because I was watching Dick Wolf’s new TV show, Chicago Justice.

Stone was prosecuting Dylan Oates for arson and murder. Oates had set fire to a factory being used for a rave, resulting in dozens of injuries and 39 deaths. Oates was a smarmy, spoiled millennial whose condescending sneer alone should have made the jury want to convict him. But the case against Oates was coming in badly thanks to Oates’s high-priced and equally-smarmy defense attorney, Albert Forest. Stone decided he needed to establish a motive to secure a conviction.

Then fate dropped a motive in Stone’s lap. Forest’s response to Stone’s discovery request contained discovery and news articles about the factory. One article claimed pedophiles used the factory’s raves to attract under-aged teens. So, if Oates had been an abused child, then he had a motive; the article triggered memories, so Oates “lost it” and set the fire.

Stone’s boss, State’s Attorney Mark Jefferies, feared this evidence could hand Oates a sympathy defense. Nah. In my experience, juries aren’t simpatico to sympathy defenses. Juries don’t let criminals off because they feel sorry for them, because juries don’t feel sorry for them. Especially criminals who torch a rave, wedge the doors shut so no one could get out, and kill 39 people. Not a case that’s high up on the “Aww-poor-baby” scale.

Jefferies ignored another problem with the motive, there was absolutely no evidence Oates had been sexually abused as a child. Without that, how would Stone connect the purported motive to Oates? That question was rhetorical, by the way, without that proof, there is no, “Here’s how.”

Stone called the reporter who wrote the article. Forest didn’t cross-examine and Stone realized he’d been played like a… No, not a Stradivarius , I don’t want to give either Forest or Stone that much credit. Like a dime store ocarina.

Forest sent the article to Stone accidentally on purpose. He wanted Stone to introduce the article. It laid the foundation for Forest’s sympathy defense without him calling Oates as a witness; thereby waiving subjecting Oates to cross-examination.

Stone knew Forest was a typical Dick Wolf shyster. Why would Stone have trusted anything that Forest “accidentally” dropped into his lap? Only one reason, Stone was an idiot.

But Forest was an idiot, too. His strategy depended on Stone calling the reporter even though using it would have been an unethical misappropriation of Forest’s work product and even though Stone had no proof Oates had been sexually abused. Either reason was enough for Stone not to use the article by itself. Stone had both. So Forest’s strategy depended on Stone being an idiot. Moreover, it was also utterly unnecessary.

After Stone had planted the seed of the sympathy defense, Forest needed to establish the possibility that Oates had been sexually abused as a child. He called Oates’s mother. She testified that when Oates was 5, her brother took Oates fishing and did something to him. After Oates came back, he had changed. He was no longer her sweet boy. She carefully suggested that Oates had been sexually abused without ever actually saying it. Forest didn’t call any other witnesses.

Forest’s defense required two witnesses; the reporter and Oates’s mother. Forest could have established his defense without calling Oates or subjecting him to cross-examination. Forest didn’t need to get Stone to call the reporter with a dirty trick that shouldn’t have worked in the first place. So why did he use his dirty trick? How else could he establish he was a typical Dick Wolf shyster defense attorney, unless he showed he wasn’t shy-ster about using a dirty trick?

By now the show had reached the 40-minute mark. The Dick Wolf play book said it was time for the prosecutor to have a sudden, last-minute epiphany and come up with a strategy that would save the day. Chicago Justice didn’t disappoint; except that the last-minute strategy was so preposterous the fact that the show actually used it was disappointing.

When Forest tried to rest the defense case, Stone said he had the right to cross-examine Oates. Forest argued the Fifth Amendment prevented Stone from forcing Oates to testify against himself. Stone pointed out that on two different occasions during his mother’s testimony, Oates yelled, “You’re lying!” Stone argued, “[Oates] spoke. The jury heard him. That’s testimony. He waived his rights against self-incrimination.” And the judge bought it. She actually ruled, “I’ll probably be reversed on appeal, but I’m going to let you cross-examine him.”

Can I say bullshit here on ComicMix? I don’t think “bullshirt” will quite cut it.

When a defendant testifies, the defendant waives the right against self-incrimination and can be cross-examined. The defendant can’t answer all the questions the defendant wants to answer on direct examination then forbid cross-examination on the questions the defendant doesn’t want to answer by arguing it would violate the right against self-incrimination. So, yes, if Oates had testified, Stone would have been allowed to cross-examine him.

Thing is, Oates didn’t testify.

Testimony occurs when a person is in the witness stand and answers questions under oath. What do judges in TV shows and movies call it when a spectator who is not under oath yells something in court? Right, an outburst. Hell, Oates’s judge even warned Oates about making further outbursts. Oates didn’t testify so he didn’t waive his Fifth Amendment rights.

If Oates had called a prosecution witness a liar, maybe the judge might have called that testimony and allowed cross-examination. After all, the prosecution could argue that it had the right to repair the damage the defendant’s outburst had done to its witness. But I’ve never even seen that happen. Juries don’t give a defendant’s outbursts any credibility. It wasn’t expecting the defendant’s to say, “Yup, that’s how it happened. I’m guilty,” in the first place, so it ignores any shouts of, “You’re lying!” And we didn’t even have that strong an argument for cross-examination.

Oates called a defense witness – a witness whose testimony was supposed to help him – a liar. How was Stone going to argue he had a right to repair the damage, when the defendant’s outburst hurt the defense case not the prosecution’s case?

Last week I said that I didn’t know any judge who would allow a defense attorney to ask why a confession that had been suppressed wasn’t introduced. Well, I’ve met a few more judges since then and I don’t know any that would call a defendant’s outburst testimony and allow him to be cross-examined on it.

I especially don’t know of any judge who would make this ruling after first stating, “I’ll probably be reversed on appeal.” Judges hate being reversed, hate it more than Yosemite Sam hates rabbits.

Being reversed make judges look bad. And causing a trial to be reversed then retried wastes taxpayer’s money; a good way not to be reelected. Judges try not to do things they think might get them reversed and they definitely don’t do things what will “probably” get them reversed.

So, did Stone’s cross-examination trip up Oates so he said or did something that caused the jury to convict him? Or did Stone lose the case? Ah, that would be telling. You wouldn’t want me to be a spoiler, would you?

Still, this was the first episode of Dick Wolf’s new series about a crusading prosecuting attorney. It had already made its star look like an idiot because he fell for a dirty trick. Do you think the show wanted to start out by making its hero look like he was incompetent and a loser?

The Law Is A Ass

Bob Ingersoll: The Law Is A Ass #406

CHICAGO JUSTICE JUSTICE NOT BELIEVABLE

Between the Law & Order franchise, the Chicago franchise, and the ill-conceived, even ill-advised, attempt to revive Dragnet without Jack Webb, Dick Wolf may be responsible for more hours of television that I haven’t watched than Susan Lucci. I know he’s created and produced some of the most popular shows on TV, but I think his collected works are oeuvre-rated. So when I watched the first episode of his new show, Chicago Justice, I wasn’t expecting much. But even I wasn’t expecting so little.

First, there was the problem that the first episode of Chicago Justice was the third part of a three-part cross-over event that started in Chicago Fire and continued in Chicago P.D., neither of which I had watched. Fortunately, television still does something comic books seem unwilling to do nowadays, give recaps. So I was able to pick up the story’s threads as easily as a seamstress with agile fingers.

Someone set fire to a warehouse that was being used for a rave. Thirty-nine kids died and dozens more were injured. In Chicago Fire, they put out the fire. In Chicago P.D. they tracked down the arsonist/mass murderer, Dyan Oats.

One of the main officers on the case was Alvin Olinsky. Not surprising, Olinsky is one of the main characters on Chicago P.D. What was surprising is that the Chicago P.D. allowed Olinksy anywhere near the case.

See, Olinsky’s daughter was one of the victims who died in the fire. I don’t care what kind of “I deserve justice” heartstrings Olinsky pulled, the Chicago P.D. would never let an officer who was so emotionally involved in such a high-profile case be personally involved in the investigation. They have rules about that sort of thing. But this is Dick Wolf television so excess drama co-opting express police procedure is part of the show’s procedure.

Finally in Chicago Fire, Oates stood trial. Which is where we come in.

As is usual in a Dick Wolf show, things didn’t go well for the prosecutor. Assistant District Attorney Peter Stone had an eyewitness who saw Oates start the fire. But her eyes were damaged in the fire so she was now blind. She couldn’t see Oats to pick him out in a line-up or to identify him in court.

Still, she could, and did, describe his height, eye color and hair color to the jury. And she described the brown cargo coat with the distinctive shoulder patch he was wearing and the even more distinctive silver skull ring he was wearing — both of which Oates was still wearing when he was arrested and were exhibits in the trial.

Pretty damning stuff, right?

But defense counsel pointed out that at the rave she had consumed two whole beers and a half tab of Ecstasy. And the rave had loud music and flashing strobe lights to distract her. So, naturally, she couldn’t be a reliable witness, now could she?

Well, not in a TV show, anyway. Honestly, eyewitnesses are discredited so easily in TV shows, I’m surprised that TV DAs ever bothered to prosecute cases with eyewitnesses in them.

Stone also had a confession mentioned in a police report, but he had problems believing it. The two officers who included the confession in their police report were series regulars, the aforementioned Olinsky and Hank Voight. So they were the officers the viewers have watched over the years and formed a bond with. Officers the viewers are supposed to trust. Stone, too. But Stone didn’t buy it.

Stone thought Oates never confessed and that Olinsky and Voight added a nonexistent confession to buttress the case. (Although I didn’t see the episode of Chicago P.D. where the arrest and confession allegedly happened, I got the impression from the episode of Chicago Justice I did see that the confession was bogus. So much for that whole officers the viewers can trust thing.) Stone was hoping some other police officer — any other police officer — could come in and corroborate the confession. When no other police officer corroborated it, Stone didn’t even bother to oppose the defense motion to suppress the statement. So out it went.

Stone had physical evidence. Voight testified that he found metal wedges in Oates’s apartment which matched exactly — as in same dimensions, same metal, and same manufacturer exactly — the metal wedges the arsonist used to wedge the doors of the warehouse shut so no one could escape. But defense counsel was able to discredit Voight by asking him about the confession mentioned in Voight’s police report. “It’s curious, don’t you think, that the People haven’t introduced that statement into evidence?”

ADA Stone quite correctly objected to this question. The judge quite incorrectly overruled his objection. So defense counsel got to ask the detective why the jury should trust the detective, when the prosecution didn’t even trust him.

Bunk. That question would never have been allowed in an actual trial, you know one operating under the Rules of Evidence and not under the need to go into commercial break on a strong story beat.

The same judge presiding over the trial also presided over the suppression motion. She knew that she had suppressed the statement, so it couldn’t have been introduced into evidence. I don’t know of any judge who would allow a defense inquiry into why a suppressed confession wasn’t introduced into the trial. And in my many years of practice, I knew many, many judges.

Now that’s a lot of legal poppycock for one story, but here’s the thing. I’m only just getting started. I’m almost 1,000 words in and I haven’t even gotten to the biggest problems I had with this episode of Chicago Justice.

Unfortunately, while I’m just getting started, I’m also finished. If I go on any longer this week, the column will take up more band width than the horn section at fat camp. So come back next time when I finish up with the first episode of Chicago Justice. It’s where we’ll get into things so outrageous that you won’t believe it until you see it. Hell, I saw it, and I don’t believe it.