Sentencing Shift Gives New Leverage to Prosecutors
By RICHARD A.
OPPEL Jr.
GAINESVILLE,
Fla. — After decades of new laws to toughen sentencing for criminals,
prosecutors have gained greater leverage to extract guilty pleas from
defendants and reduce the number of cases that go to trial, often by using the
threat of more serious charges with mandatory sentences or other harsher
penalties.
Some experts
say the process has become coercive in many state and federal jurisdictions,
forcing defendants to weigh their options based on the relative risks of facing
a judge and jury rather than simple matters of guilt or innocence. In effect,
prosecutors are giving defendants more reasons to avoid having their day in
court.
“We now have
an incredible concentration of power in the hands of prosecutors,” said Richard
E. Myers II, a former assistant United States attorney who is now an associate
professor of law at the University of North Carolina. He said that so much
influence now resides with prosecutors that “in the wrong hands, the criminal
justice system can be held hostage.”
One crucial,
if unheralded, effect of this shift is now coming into sharper view, according
to academics who study the issue. Growing prosecutorial power is a significant
reason that the percentage of felony cases that go to trial has dropped sharply
in many places.
Plea bargains
have been common for more than a century, but lately they have begun to put the
trial system out of business in some courtrooms. By one count, fewer than one
in 40 felony cases now make it to trial, according to data from nine states
that have published such records since the 1970s, when the ratio was about one
in 12. The decline has been even steeper in federal district courts.
Cases like
Florida v. Shane Guthrie help explain why. After Mr. Guthrie, 24, was arrested
here last year, accused of beating his girlfriend and threatening her with a
knife, the prosecutor offered him a deal for two years in prison plus
probation.
Mr. Guthrie
rejected that, and a later offer of five years, because he believed that he was
not guilty, his lawyer said. But the prosecutor’s response was severe: he filed
a more serious charge that would mean life imprisonment if Mr. Guthrie is
convicted later this year.
Because of a
state law that increased punishments for people who had recently been in
prison, like Mr. Guthrie, the sentence would be mandatory. So what he could
have resolved for a two-year term could keep him locked up for 50 years or
more.
The decrease
in trials has also been a consequence of underfinanced public defense lawyers
who can try only a handful of their cases, as well as, prosecutors say, the
rise of drug courts and
other alternative resolutions.
The
overloaded court system has also seen comparatively little expansion in many
places, making a huge increase in plea bargains a cheap and easy way to handle
a near-tripling in felony cases over the past generation.
But many
researchers say the most important force in driving down the trial rate has
been state and federal legislative overhauls that imposed mandatory sentences
and other harsher and more certain penalties for many felonies, especially
those involving guns, drugs, violent crimes and repeat offenders.
Stiffer
punishments were also put in place for specific crimes, like peddling drugs
near a school or wearing a mask in certain circumstances. And legislators added
reams of new felony statutes, vastly expanding the range of actions considered
illegal.
These tougher
penalties, by many accounts, have contributed to the nation’s steep drop in
crime the past two decades. They have also swelled the prison population to
levels that lawmakers in some states say they can no longer afford, and a few
have rolled back some laws.
The ‘Trial
Penalty’
In the
courtroom and during plea negotiations, the impact of these stricter laws is
exerted through what academics call the “trial penalty.” The phrase refers to
the fact that the sentences for people who go to trial have grown harsher
relative to sentences for those who agree to a plea.
In some
jurisdictions, this gap has widened so much it has become coercive and is used
to punish defendants for exercising their right to trial, some legal experts
say.
“Legislators
want to make it easy for prosecutors to get the conviction without having to go
to trial,” said Rachel Barkow, a professor of law at New York University who
studies how prosecutors use their power. “And prosecutors who are starved for
resources want to use that leverage. And so now everyone acts with the
assumption that the case should end with a plea.”
“When you
have that attitude,” she said, “you penalize people who have the nerve to go to
trial.”
Prosecutors
say they are giving defendants options and are merely charging them based on
what is allowed under the law for those who turn down pleas.
While legal
experts say the effect is clear in persuading more defendants to forgo trials,
the trial penalty is hard to quantify without examining individual cases and
negotiations between prosecutors and defense lawyers.
That is
because threats of harsher charges against defendants who reject plea deals
often are the most influential factor in the outcome of a case, but this
interplay is never reflected in official data.
“How many
times is a mandatory sentence used as a chip in order to coerce a plea? They
don’t keep records,” said Senior Judge John L. Kane Jr. of United States
District Court in Denver, who believes that prosecutors have grown more
powerful than judges. But it is very common, he added. “That’s what the public
doesn’t see, and where the statistics become meaningless.”
But one
result is obvious, he said: “We hardly have trials anymore.”
In 1977, the
year Judge Kane was appointed to the bench, the ratio of guilty pleas to
criminal trial verdicts in federal district courts was a little more than four
to one; by last year, it was almost 32 to one.
Here in
Florida, which has greatly toughened sentencing since the 1990s, felony
defendants who opt for trial now routinely face the prospect of higher charges
that mean prison terms 2, 5, or even 20 times as long as if they had pleaded
guilty. In many cases, the process is reversed, and stiffer charges are
dismissed in return for a plea.
Before new
sentencing laws, the gap was narrower, and trials less risky, veteran lawyers
here say. The first thing Denis deVlaming,
a prominent Florida criminal defense lawyer, does with a new client is pull out
a calculator to tally all the additional punishments the prosecutor can add to
figure the likely sentence if the client is convicted at trial.
“They think
I’m ready to charge them a fee, but I’m not,” he said. “I tell them in Florida,
it’s justice by mathematics.”
No matter how
strongly defendants believe they are innocent, he said, they could be taking
dangerous risks by, for example, turning down a one-year plea bargain when the
prosecutor threatens additional charges that carry a mandatory sentence 10
times as long.
A Power Shift
The transfer
of power to prosecutors from judges has been so profound that an important
trial ritual has become in some measure a lie, Mr. deVlaming said — the
instructions judges read stating that the jury determines guilt or innocence,
and the judge a proper sentence. The latter part is no longer true when
mandatory minimums and, in many cases, sentencing guidelines apply, but jurors
often do not know that.
Legal
scholars like Paul Cassell, a conservative former federal judge and prosecutor
who is now a law professor at the University of Utah, describe the power shift
as a zero-sum game.
“Judges have
lost discretion, and that discretion has accumulated in the hands of
prosecutors, who now have the ultimate ability to shape the outcome,” Mr.
Cassell said. “With mandatory minimums and other sentencing enhancements out
there, prosecutors can often dictate the sentence that will be imposed.”
Without
question, plea bargains benefit many defendants who have committed crimes and
receive lighter sentences than they might after trial. It also limits cases
that require considerable time and expense in court.
But many
defendants who opt for trial effectively face more prison time for rejecting a
plea than for committing the alleged crime.
In Mr.
Guthrie’s case, he was initially charged with aggravated battery on a pregnant
woman and false imprisonment.
But after he rejected the plea bargains, the prosecutor, more than a year
later, filed the more serious charge of first-degree felony kidnapping, based
on the girlfriend’s accusation that he pulled her by the arm inside her home
and, once outside, grabbed her hair and pulled her on her feet the distance of
several parking spaces.
Nobody is
suggesting that Mr. Guthrie, previously incarcerated for 18 months on gun,
assault and drug charges, is a sympathetic figure. According to a police
report, he punched and kicked his girlfriend, left her with a bruised and
bloody nose and a face that “appeared to be swollen,” and threatened to cut her
stomach with a knife.
The assistant
state attorney handling the case, Frank Slavichak, did not return calls. The
chief investigator for the office, Spencer Mann, said Mr. Guthrie’s choices
dictated the course of the case.
But his
lawyer, Craig DeThomasis,
hired after the plea rejections, said he was “plainly being punished for
exercising his right to trial.” According to Mr. Guthrie’s mother, Claudia
Guthrie, the prosecutor told her son at a hearing this spring that if he did
not plead guilty and take a five-year sentence, higher charges would be filed
that mean “you’re going to get life.” Mr. Mann did not dispute that some sort
of warning of new charges was presented.
Mr.
DeThomasis said that there was no evidence the girlfriend was pregnant, and
that she started the altercation by hitting him in the forehead with a pipe,
landing him in the jail infirmary for a week. He pointed out that she was
arrested in 2009 for attacking Mr. Guthrie after telling the police he had
struck her, leading police to say in a report that she had “changed her story
several times and could not explain her actions.” He also said she had a
history of involuntary hospitalizations, which she declined to address in a
110-page sworn deposition in February.
Mr. Mann
declined to comment on the girlfriend’s background but said none of it affected
the credibility of the case.
Judges in
many cases can set aside verdicts that they believe are unsupported by the
evidence, but they generally have no power in mandatory-minimum cases to reduce
punishments below levels established through legislation.
While the
Guthrie case may be a particularly stark example of how much power one
prosecutor can have over a defendant’s fate, many places have given district
attorneys similar influence.
“There have
been so many laws passed in the various states that just about always there is
some enhancement available to the prosecutor that can be used as leverage in
negotiations,” said Scott Burns,
executive director of the National District Attorneys Association.
Mr. Burns, a
former Utah prosecutor, did not dispute that sentencing-law changes had made
trial riskier for defendants and helped drive down the percentage of cases taken
to a verdict. He also acknowledged that the plea-bargain process “clearly is
coercive” when defendants face harsher or more numerous charges for rejecting
deals.
But he said
plea bargains were also “extremely lenient in many instances because prosecutors
are taking several criminal acts off the table.” He emphasized that lawmakers
time and again have given prosecutors more leverage and said it was “grossly
unrealistic” to criticize district attorneys for enforcing laws that they are
duty-bound to uphold — even those that are ill-advised.
“There are a
lot of criminal laws that are passed that we all kind of roll our eyes at,” he
said. “Sometimes they are just repetitive; sometimes they are knee-jerk
responses to some high-profile case, and therefore politically motivated.”
Though
national statistics are not readily available, the trend toward lower trial
rates is evident in a number of places.
The National Center for State Courts in
Williamsburg, Va., found that the percentage of felonies taken to trial in nine
states with available data fell to 2.3 percent in 2009, from 8 percent in 1976.
The number of
jury trials rose slightly, while nonjury trials, where a judge decides guilt or
innocence, fell sharply — all while caseloads nearly tripled. The states
account for more than a third of the American population, and most have
mandatory minimums or sentencing guidelines or have passed toughened sentencing
laws.
The Bureau of
Justice Statistics, after studying partial data on state-court felony
prosecutions nationwide, found that from 1986 to 2006 the ratio of pleas to
trials nearly doubled.
The shift has
been clearer in federal district courts. After tougher sentencing laws were
enacted in the 1980s, the percentage of criminal cases taken to trial fell to
less than 3 percent last year, from almost 15 percent, according to data from
the State University at Albany’s Sourcebook of Criminal Justice Statistics. The
explosion of immigration prosecutions,
where trials are rare, skews the numbers, but the trend is evident even when
those cases are not included.
Nearly nine
of every 10 cases ended in pleas last year, the federal data show, while one in
12 were dismissed (the percentage of dismissed cases was substantially higher a
generation ago).
The number of
acquittals dropped even further. Last year, there was only one acquittal for
every 212 guilty pleas or trial convictions in federal district courts. Thirty
years ago, the ratio was one for every 22.
More Plea
Bargaining
Experts like
Ronald Wright, a former federal prosecutor and now a professor of law at Wake
Forest University, say they fear that the steep decline in acquittals stems
partly from more defendants, who might have winnable cases, deciding not to
risk trials and reluctantly accepting plea bargains instead.
Some federal
prosecutors worried that their power would be weakened by a 2005 Supreme Court
ruling that made sentencing guidelines advisory only. But academics say the
ruling had much less effect than what some predicted as many judges still
largely follow the guidelines, and the ruling did not affect other laws that
have given prosecutors more power.
While
sentencing changes allowed legislators in this state to take credit for being
tough on crime, they have also worked against their goal of trimming prison
costs, leaving prosecutors caught in the middle.
“There is a
big disconnect,” said Bill Cervone, the state
attorney in Gainesville and the chief prosecutor in six counties that make up Florida’s Eighth Judicial Circuit.
“There is subtle and not so subtle pressure” to reduce the numbers sent to
prison.
Mr. Cervone,
who was head of the Florida Prosecuting Attorneys Association, added, “Our
position is, ‘Please don’t pass any new crime laws while you are also cutting
our budgets.’ ” His budget has been cut 20 percent in four years.
The fiscal
strains extend to judges, who face pressure to keep dockets moving. Some do not
appreciate defendants who refuse pleas and then lose a time-consuming trial, he
and other lawyers say.
“There are
some judges who will punish you for going to trial,” Mr. Cervone said.
“Legally, you cannot impose a longer sentence on someone because they exercised
their right to trial,” he said, speaking of judges. “Factually, there are ways
to do it.”
In some
cases, he added, he wished judges had more discretion, instead of having to
automatically impose an inflexible punishment.
So, too, do
many judges faced with cases where legislatively mandated penalties do not
square with their idea of justice.
Like the one
in Polk County, Fla. that began when Orville Wollard said he fired his
registered handgun into his living room wall to scare his daughter’s boyfriend
out of the house after he repeatedly threatened his family.
In Mr.
Wollard’s view, he was protecting his family and did not try to hurt the
boyfriend, who was not hit, though the judge said the bullet missed him by
inches. But after Mr. Wollard turned down a plea offer of five years of felony
probation, prosecutors won a conviction two years ago for aggravated assault
with a firearm. Because the gun was fired, a mandatory-minimum law required a
20-year term.
At his
sentencing, Mr. Wollard said he felt as if he were in “some banana republic”
and described the boyfriend as a violent drug dealer. But prosecutors said the
judge had “no discretion” because of the state law.
Reluctantly,
the judge agreed. “If it weren’t for the mandatory minimum aspect of this, I
would use my discretion and impose some separate sentence,” he told Mr.
Wollard, adding that he was “duty bound” to impose 20 years.