Read Ebook: The Prisoner at the Bar: Sidelights on the Administration of Criminal Justice by Train Arthur Cheney

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1255 lines and 113277 words, and 26 pages

It is said that in some of the southwestern states the personal right to make an arrest at times resulted, practically, in the privilege of shooting cattle thieves upon sight. The foreman would send out Jack to "look for" cattle thieves. Jack would lie all day in a gully and when Sonora Slim hove in sight, perhaps on an entirely lawful errand, would "let him have it." Then he would ride leisurely over, abstract Sonora's "gun," discharge it a couple of times and throw it carelessly upon the ground. Half an hour later he would appear at the ranch.

"Sorry, Bill," he would report, "but I caught Sonora Slim driving off three of our two-year-olds. I headed him off and says,

"'Look here, Sonora, you've got some of our heifers there.'

"We swapped a few shots and I had to drop him to prevent his escape."

"All right, Jack," the foreman would reply, "we'll ride over and tell the sheriff about it."

"See here, sheriff," he would announce on their arrival, "Jack here arrested Sonora Slim stealin' our cattle, and the feller resisted arrest and Jack had to shoot him. Jack's here if you want him."

"Yes, sheriff, here I am," Jack would say.

The sheriff would rub his forehead and reply:

"No, I don't want you. Sorry you had to kill him, but I'll have to have some evidence that what you say ain't true."

It may be well to suggest that, while a thorough knowledge of our rights is always desirable, it by no means follows that it is wise to invoke them upon every occasion when we observe a technical violation of the law. Regrettable as it may seem, no police force, however large, could arrest all the violators of every law, and no system of courts could dispose of the multitude of offenders. We do the best we can and make an example of a few, hoping thus to persuade the others to be good. If every citizen undertook to exercise his right of arresting every individual whom he saw committing petty crime, the business of the community would come to a standstill and the magistrates' courts would be hopelessly congested with great hordes of prisoners, irate witnesses, and gratuitous policemen. The prisons would overflow and the magistrates would resign. Moreover, the enforcement of such a disused and unexpected technical right would lead to immense disorder and violence. The ignorant infractor of an obscure section of the Penal Code would rise in his wrath and in resisting arrest become guilty of assault in the second degree or of manslaughter. It is probably very much better that trivial offences should go unpunished than that public conveyances and thoroughfares should be made the scenes of violent altercations and obstructive volunteer police work. Having hired a certain class of persons to attend to this business for us, it is better to leave it to them when possible. We need the best police force that we can get, and this naturally depends upon the efficiency of the higher police officials who hold their offices by appointment. An active interest on the part of our citizens in the betterment of municipal conditions through the purification of politics is probably more to be desired than any general attempt to participate in the ordinary duties of "the man on the beat."

FOOTNOTES:

THE POLICE COURT

The procedure by which a law-breaker is convicted for his offence begins with his arrest and ends with the formal pronouncement of sentence against him after he has been declared guilty. Prior to his arrest he has been merely a criminal; after sentence he becomes a convict; during the proceedings he is a "prisoner at the bar."

Whatever has been the manner of his arrest he is in most instances taken at once before the nearest magistrate in order that the latter may inquire into the charge against him and determine whether upon the evidence there is reasonable cause to believe him guilty. If the arrest takes place after four o'clock in the afternoon, or no magistrate happens to be holding court, the prisoner is locked up until the following morning. If he be charged with a felony he must remain in confinement until the magistrate admits him to bail, for no police official can fix or receive bail in such cases: if, however, he has been arrested for the commission of a misdemeanor only, the sergeant on duty at "the desk" must fix the bail and give him a reasonable opportunity to procure it.

If arrested while a police court is in session he is entitled to an immediate hearing, and to the services of counsel, for whom the magistrate must send, free of charge, through an officer. After the arrival of counsel or after waiting a reasonable time for his appearance, the magistrate may then proceed to examine into the case, and can only adjourn the hearing for forty-eight hours at a time for "good cause," unless at the request of the defendant himself.

The subjects of the rights of apprehended persons is too extensive to be adequately treated in a few pages. The power which the magistrate may arbitrarily exercise of holding persons merely "suspected" of crime for further examination is very great. Where a prisoner is brought in under arrest as a fugitive from another State he is frequently "held" for several days at the mere telegraphic request of some police official in a distant city. The writ of habeas corpus may secure his release, but persons unjustly arrested on "suspicion" have little redress in ordinary cases, whether they are discharged immediately or held for long periods. While no technical authority exists for such detentions they are practically necessary to prevent the escape of dangerous criminals. "Arrest on suspicion" is a euphemistic description of a technically illegal proceeding, which is universally recognized as necessary for the protection of society.

The police court is the great clearing house of crime. Inasmuch as all persons arrested, whether innocent or guilty, are brought there together, they should naturally, so far as possible, be accorded the benefit of the doubt as to their guilt in the treatment which they receive. They are presumed to be innocent, and indeed many of them are, until a jury has declared to the contrary. However, the attitude generally taken towards a prisoner in a police court is that he is guilty and that it is useless for him to deny it, and he feels the discomfort and ignominy of his position far more at this state of the proceedings than he does later, when he is accorded more individual importance. As a rule he is brought into a crowded, stuffy court where a vociferous pair of shyster lawyers are shouting at each other's witnesses and the magistrate is with difficulty trying to preserve order. A great throng of complainants, defendants, witnesses, policemen, lawyers and idlers fill the room, and the prisoner instantly becomes the centre of vision for all eyes as the officer leads him up to the clerk's desk and makes his formal accusation. The altercation in front of the magistrate is suspended long enough for the latter to "commit" the defendant, who instantly finds himself locked in a narrow cell where he must remain until some friend or relation has had an opportunity to reach a lawyer, secure a bondsman, and compass his release.

What he must naturally feel most is his own insignificance. He is merely one of a huge multitude of miserable people who are all in the same box. The hours until his lawyer arrives are very dark indeed,--particularly as he probably has no idea of what is going to happen to him in the meantime. If he be a poor man accused of drunkenness or disorderly conduct he may be, and frequently is, sent to the island before he has any adequate opportunity to notify his family, who may suffer an agony of anxiety before they discover what has become of him. The punishment of the minor offender for trifling breaches of the peace is not only swift, but is characterized by a certainty unknown to that which the law attaches to crimes of a higher order.

The police court has sometimes been termed "The Poor Man's Court of Appeals." So far as this implies that five out of every seven defendants arraigned there are summarily disposed of and accept the decision or sentence of the presiding judge as final, and that the same number of aggrieved persons who seek justice there do the same, it is a correct description. No court has a more direct influence for good or evil, or for the creation of a respect or a disregard for law. For an overwhelming majority of our citizens, particularly those of foreign birth or extraction, it is the only court of justice in existence.

There may be higher courts or higher laws but they know them not. To them the magistrate is an autocrat. They are avenged or punished by virtue of his will alone, and as he is just or unjust, honest or corrupt, so do they come to regard American institutions as a whole. The officers of the precinct are his minions, only a little lower in majesty, and even more terrible and implacable.

When it is considered that the magistrates in the first division of the City of New York alone disposed of 138,047 cases in the year 1907, and that in 104,622 of these they exercised a summary jurisdiction over the liberty of the prisoner, with power in many instances to inflict severe punishment, it will be seen that the importance of these courts cannot be easily overrated. Including the defendants arraigned in the "Children's Court" and before certain judges of the Special Sessions sitting as magistrates, there were 149,494 persons arrested during 1907 in New York County alone.

The summary jurisdiction of the police judge embraces all offences classed as "disorderly conduct," violations of so-called "corporation ordinances" , infractions of the "Sabbath law," the disposition of persons alleged to be insane, vagrancy, and the offence of being a "suspicious person." Any person whom the magistrate finds guilty of any of these charges he may fine or imprison. It is quite true that the defendant may, if convicted, take an appeal to the Court of General Sessions or test the jurisdiction of the magistrate by a writ of habeas corpus, but the grounds of appeal are few, and the victim rarely is aware or advised of his rights in this respect. Even were he fully informed, his purse would not usually permit of further proceedings, unless taken for him from charity by some outside party or organization. The fact that there were, out of this multitude of cases, but one hundred and fifty-nine appeals taken speaks for itself.

Besides those charged with the offences over which the magistrate has final jurisdiction, before him come all persons arrested for crimes which are triable in higher courts. These persons he must "hold for trial" or discharge. Should he have reasonable ground to believe that the accused has committed the crime alleged he is obliged by law to "hold" him, but if the judge sees fit to discharge the prisoner, the aggrieved person has no appeal and his only alternative is to try to persuade the district attorney in spite of the decision of the magistrate to take personal action either by laying the matter before the grand jury, or in cases of misdemeanors by filing an information in the Court of Special Sessions. He is usually unaware of this possibility and at all events it is a difficult proceeding, so that even in the case of crimes in which the magistrate has not a final jurisdiction, his action, so far as setting free the prisoner is concerned, is generally a conclusion of the matter. When a police judge unwarrantably discharges a prisoner accused of a felony the complainant rarely takes any further steps to get justice.

There would seem to be good reason for believing that coincident with other reforms in the magistrates' courts their original jurisdiction might well be extended to cases of petit larceny where the defendant admits the commission of the offence. A deal of time, money, and inconvenience to the prisoner might be saved. The present situation results in a tendency on the part of the judge to construe as many cases as he can of "petit larceny" into "disorderly conduct." Very often a trivial theft is accompanied by acts which make it perfectly proper for the magistrate to overlook the larceny for the disorder. Certainly it is better for the offender, where possible, to be classed as a "disorderly" rather than as a thief. In the latter case he may, with the stigma thus fastened upon him, go forth to a life of crime; in the first he would never be regarded as a criminal. This jurisdiction to punish any act or omission tending to create a breach of the peace offers a boundless opportunity for an arbitrary judge to arrogate to himself powers which an ignorant or helpless offender can hardly be expected successfully to defy. If illegally "committed" his only redress is a writ of habeas corpus, which probably is a phrase entirely unintelligible to him and which will cost more money to procure than he has ever had at any one time in his existence.

The magistrates might also be given jurisdiction to impose punishment in all cases of "simple assault," and in certain cases even of assaults with weapons. There is no particular reason why, if the magistrate can send an old woman away for begging, or for being drunk of a Saturday night, he cannot be trusted to punish her properly for hitting her husband over the head with a hot-water kettle. Moreover, the magistrate before whom the damaged party hales the offender is able to see with his own eyes the actual extent of the injuries which have been inflicted, whereas, by the time the case is tried before the judge of the Sessions, Dame Nature has usually restored the victim's battered physiognomy to its pristine condition of refined elegance.

No one could fail to profit by a day spent upon the police-court bench watching the judge exercise his many diverse yet not inconsistent duties, which variously include those of magistrate, lawyer, clergyman, almoner, arbitrator of domestic difficulties, and general adviser. He will begin his day's work, which, before it be concluded, will have required him to pass upon anywhere from fifty to eighty cases, by disposing of a long line of drunks and disorderlies of both sexes. Justice is plentifully tempered with mercy, however, and the unpleasant business is soon over. Next comes the disposition of unfinished business, which includes the continuance of trials not concluded on the preceding court day. These, of course, embrace every possible offence known to the law. The extraordinary number of petty burglaries is sure to attract the attention of the spectator. Boy after boy is brought to the bar charged with breaking into a tobacco shop, or a small grocery, or a room used for the storage of merchandise, push-carts or fruit. At the very outside the value of the plunder cannot exceed a few dollars.

One defendant, his head heavily bandaged, is half carried to the bar by a husky officer and charged with attempting to burglarize the shed adjoining Isadore Aselovitch's junk store. He is clearly much the worse for a severe clubbing. "Izzy," the complainant, exhibiting an iron bar several feet in length and weighing upwards of twenty pounds, proudly claims to have effected the arrest of the defendant by merely giving him "a little poke mit it." In response to the interrogatories of the magistrate, Izzy explains that he and another kept their junk in a certain rear room and from time to time noticed that various odd pieces of iron seemed to be missing. They thereupon concealed themselves behind a pile of old push-cart wheels and waited for the thief. After several hours of inactivity they finally heard a rattling among the iron and discovered the defendant apparently in the very act of stealing a crowbar. Being upon his hands and knees he was unable to offer any effectual resistance to their combined onslaught and barely succeeded in escaping with his life. His cries had brought an officer who had arrested him, upon Izzy's complaint, for attempted burglary. The defendant in turn had charged the two with felonious assault, alleging that he had a right to be in the store-room, inasmuch as he was accustomed to leave junk there himself. He further tearfully asserts that he is a rival of Izzy's in the push-cart business, which accounts for the extreme animosity of the latter.

"It vas a lie, your honor, chuge," urges Izzy. "Dot man vas a purglar. He ain't got no push-cart. Gif him ten years, chuge!"

The judge, who is wise in his generation, fines "the burglar" three dollars for disorderly conduct, to the intense disgust of Izzy.

Very likely the next case will be that of a small merchant charged with obstructing the sidewalk with his boxes. He is let off with a warning or, if it be a second offence, with a small fine. Then a couple of boys will be brought in charged with "shooting craps," and on their heels a half-drunken driver who is accused by a little girl of driving an overloaded horse. The crap boys are let go, but as the "cop" agrees with the little girl that the driver was abusing his horse the latter is "held" for Special Sessions.

While these matters are being attended to a great uproar is heard and a large crowd forces its way into the court-room. Above the clamor the wails of a young Jewess make themselves distinctly audible. The judge has just ordered the drunken driver locked up and is all ready to take up the new case. The defendant, a slick, pale-faced young Hebrew, loudly proclaims his innocence and demands an immediate hearing. No time is lost, for the parents of the girl have procured a lawyer who at once causes a charge of robbery to be entered. The girl, hysterically weeping, tells her story. Up to a certain point it is lucid enough. She had been walking along the street when a nice-looking young "feller" had accosted her and inquired the way to the nearest pawnbroker's. While they were conversing pleasantly upon this subject a second young gentleman had joined them and asked the first to purchase a pair of beautiful diamond earrings which he exhibited. This the other regretfully had explained he could not do, since he had no money . The diamonds had glistened and sparkled in the sunlight. The girl had asked to look at them and while she was doing so the owner had suggested that perhaps she might like to purchase them herself, giving as part of the consideration her own modest little baubles. This tempting offer she says she refused, on the ground that she did not know the young gentleman. She then rapidly states that the two set upon her, struck her, and that she "knew no more," until on recovering her senses she found that her own earrings had disappeared and that those of the stranger were in her ears.

"Hm!" says the magistrate; "and do you say that the defendant struck you?"

"Shure, your honor," replies the young lady.

"And that you fainted?"

"Shure, your honor."

"Did you fall?" inquires the judge sharply.

"N--n--no," admits the complainant.

"Defendant discharged," announces the magistrate.

"Get out of here, all of you," orders the officer at the bridge. "Get along, now!"

The explanation, as the reader already guesses, is simply that by a time-honored trick the girl has been persuaded by an oily-tongued trickster to exchange her own earrings for his worthless ones. This she has done quite voluntarily. She has then hurried home only to find that her newly acquired gems are paste. The family goes into a paroxysm of anger and lamentation. The nearest lawyer is consulted, who, of course, agrees to secure the return of the earrings. They pay him a five-dollar fee, the defendant is sought for and arrested, and in her eagerness to see him punished and to obtain her property the victim swears away her own case. Probably had she told the truth the defendant could have been "held" for grand larceny by false pretences.

These proceedings may no sooner be concluded than perchance a giant negro is brought in charged with assault. A dozen officers bring him manacled to the bar, while a crowd of reporters follow and gather on each side, notebook in hand. It appears that the prisoner suddenly ran out of a saloon, drew a revolver and began an indiscriminate shooting. The "reserves" were called out and three policemen now lie dangerously wounded in the hospital. He is held for examination, pending a possible inquest by the coroner.

Meantime a lank youth from New Jersey listens vacantly while an officer accuses him of abandoning a horse which has suddenly expired while harnessed to the defendant's truck wagon. He pays a fine and vanishes. Two young Irish-Americans, mutually damaged, are arraigned for "disorderly conduct." They, too, are fined, being already substantially punished--by each other. A man accused of "Sunday selling" follows a woman who tells a pitiful tale of how her husband has abandoned her and her five little ones. Later in the day the husband is found and ordered to pay her ten dollars per week. Two retail milk dealers charged with adulteration or "keeping a cow in an unhealthy place," a band of pickpockets who have been caught "working" a horse-car, a woman accused of "soliciting," and a bartender who has allowed a "slot machine" to be left upon the premises, give place to a vociferous store-keeper who has caused the arrest of a very stout man for the larceny of four pairs of trousers. He explains loudly that the defendant came into the store, asked to see some "pants," and while the clerk was not looking stuffed four pairs of these articles inside his waistband and made his escape. The complainant not only identifies the defendant with absolute certainty but goes so far as to state with equal positiveness that the accused now has on the very trousers into which he stuffed the stolen property. Four pairs identical in size and material with those alleged to have been purloined are produced and marked in evidence. The fat man indignantly denies having been in the store at all. The reporters are interested.

"Gentlemen," says the judge, "I appoint you a committee to conduct the defendant to my private room for the purpose of determining whether or not you can stuff these articles of apparel inside his waistband."

The reporters, followed more slowly by the perspiring defendant, make their way to a back room, from which they presently emerge to announce through their spokesman that it would be impossible to thrust any object, much less four pairs of trousers, inside the band of the defendant's trousers.

In the interim the judge has been settling matrimonial difficulties, giving all sorts of gratuitous legal advice, acting as arbitrator over the question of the mutual use of the "landings" on the stairs in tenement houses, issuing warrants, and endeavoring to find an opportunity to continue the hearing in a complicated "false label" case. In this last several rather well-known attorneys are retained, who stand about disgustedly while the more immediate business of the court is being attended to. In most cases, however, the lawyers are hardly likely to add to the general reputation of the profession for ability.

It goes without saying that no official comes into closer contact with the police than the magistrate. He gets to know them collectively and individually as no other person can. In determining what should be done in any given case he takes largely into consideration the personal equation of the officer making the arrest. He is able to detect exaggerated or manufactured evidence, which might easily pass as truth and perhaps convince a jury in a higher court. Hence one of the arguments for giving him a wider original jurisdiction. Petit juries are ordinarily disinclined to convict and send a man to State's prison in what seems to them trivial cases. If the magistrate had a wider scope in the disposal of such cases one of the principal reasons for our lack of respect for law would be largely done away with.

The magistrate, if he be the right kind of a man, can do more real good, right more real wrongs, and exert a more wholesome and salutary influence upon the working people of large cities than any benevolent or charitable association. He can do much to break up the alliance of the police with crime and to prevent arbitrary acts of violence and lawlessness upon their part committed either to compel the payment of blackmail or cover derelictions of duty.

"Do you wish the law from the big book or the little book?"

The clients would inquire the relative cost.

"The law from the little book is ten dollars--the law from the big book is twenty-five dollars."

The clients would consult together and on the assumption that the bigger the book the better the law, would almost invariably pay their twenty-five dollars and procure the best advice which Noah Webster could give.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet