Entries in Crimes of Judging (41)
349. Spitzering in the sticks
Although I try to avoid focusing on parochial interests -- and, to be frank, there's something liberating about writing about people who don't have the power to revoke my license to practice my profession -- nonetheless Albuquerque's ex-Presiding Judge John Brennan has already rated a mention, thanks to his arrest for cocaine possession. (See post 38.)
That would be enough for some people. But certain personalities, once they taste the intoxicating liquor of mention in this blog, find themselves unable to resist the temptation to sip it again:
That's all from the Albuquerque Journal. Needless to say, Brennan responded to the earlier arrest by going to a rehab center, but as the news story tragically reveals, he has since backslid into listening to country music again.
The next time you find yourself dressed down by a judge, it's worth imagining him or her dressed up like Judge Brennan when the police kicked in his door, "wearing only a mock turtleneck and gray underwear". No word on whether the underwear was gray when it came from the store.
Brennan, as the story says, was an extremely powerful judge for a very long time, with the power of assigning cases to fellow judges who played along with him.
It's hard to read the recent news stories without (a) feeling a tinge of pity for him; (b) feeling a great deal more pity for his wife (who was out of town -- you don't suppose Brennan was basing more than his wardrobe choices on Risky Business, do you?); and (c) suspecting that his cocaine problem is/was a very severe one. Long-term cocaine use destroys the brain, and Brennan's brain seems pretty much destroyed by this point.
Our Supreme Court responded to the scandal of his 2004 arrest by adopting the approach used by Catholic Church bureaucrats to deal with pedophile priests, treating it as a personal failing to be addressed with sorrowful discretion. (See the appendix to this opinion.)
The real scandal wasn't Brennan's use of cocaine. It was his use of power. No matter how one tries, it's not easy to avoid the suspicion that for some part of 20 years the court system in New Mexico's only large city was presided over by a cocaine addict. If so, then obviously his suppliers knew it. Of course, most cocaine dealers would be too scrupulous to take advantage of such information. Still ...
There's nothing remotely unique about the New Mexico legal establishment's reluctance to engage in such irresponsible speculation. Prayer and penitence -- that's the ticket. Oh, and harumph, too.
336. "A judge's sinful but legal conduct"
It's rare that a story about a judge manages to be both too bizarre and too vague for inclusion in this Judges' Hall of Fame, but the celebrated story of Cleveland, Tennessee's Judge John B. Hagler is very nearly disqualified on both counts. The newly-exed ex-judge did something very, very, you know .... bizarre. But so far his former colleagues on the bench are preventing us from finding out exactly what.
What we know is this: The judge gave a tape to his former secretary, Nona Rogers, who worked with him for 18 years, accompanying him from private practice when he was first ennobled. Ms. Rogers said that when she first listened to the tape, thinking it was routine dictation, "I shook all over. I was just numb." Not, one gathers, the usual findings and conclusions.
Here's a clue as to its contents:
Ex-Judge Hagler himself "has refused to say what is on the tape other than to acknowledge it contains 'graphic fantasies.'"
Apparently, the tape has some connection with the still-unsolved murder of a 35-year-old Episcopal priest, Charles Martin Davis, usually called Marty Davis in the Tennessee media. Father Davis was beaten and shot either 6 or 7 times, "depending on whether the gunshot wound to the anterior neck is considered a re-entry wound from the graze gunshot wound to the chin". That last is a link to the autopsy report, which reveals no alcohol, no drugs, no sexual assault. Not even robbery was a motive, apparently, as money was left in the house.
Does that strike you as promising material for graphic fantasies? Well, remember that Judge Hagler went to Father Davis's church, and the two visited and talked on the phone. So Hagler wasn't just recording his graphic fantasies about violent death - he was fantasizing about a friend's violent death. Then there's this:
It's hard to keep at bay the thought that the opposite of "exculpate" is "inculpate," and that if a judge's private tape could exculpate another person then it must logically inculpate the judge. How else could be possibly be Brady material for anyone else? And, oh, yeah. One other thing. Father Davis was "chairman of the gay ministry Integrity" while ex-Judge Hagler teachers a Bible class at the Episcopal church Father Davis attended.
But wait! We haven't gotten to the bizarre part yet.
Hagler, before his resignation became effective, issued a statement which read, in part:
If you were a decent person, yourself, you would have no curiosity about the tape. This strikes me as rather like Jeffrey Dahmer deploring the poor taste exhibited by a media that insisted on running sensational accounts of cannibalism: "Any decent person would be satisfied with the information that the persons named in the news reports are no longer living."
Except, of course, that Jeffrey Dahmer didn't exercise immense power over the lives of Milwaukee's citizens for 17 years.
But, see, that makes it worse that people began know about the pleasure Hagler takes in recording for posterity his fantasies of extreme violence. Because, he said, an attack on him was an attack on the judiciary: "This, not a judge's sinful but legal conduct, is the story". Shades of the "great man" theory of criminal libel.
Remember that allowing the public to hear the tape would serve no purpose other than to "hurt, and continue to hurt, my family and me". Given that, one might wonder how he could, in the same statement, claim that the tape was an attack on "one of our essential public institutions, the Judiciary".
The answer, of course, is that Hagler was a judge for a long time. And for a certain type of judge words are just the wrapping paper concealing the exercise of power. Complaining about such a judge's self-contradictions is like complaining that the pattern doesn't line up where the paper overlaps itself.
But now we come to really bizarre bit:
So while we don't know exactly what Judge Hagler said on the tape, we do know the lawyers of southeastern Tennessee considered it well within the acceptable range, at least for judges.
330. Dead professor driving
I've long thought that one of the reasons judges are so concerned about traffic stops is the potential of a traffic stop to wreck a judge's career. Just look at Ohio's Justice Resnick (see post 33), Arkansas's Judge Davis (see post 36) and New Mexico's own Judge Brennan. (See post 38.)
But pretending that the Constitution prohibits police officers from pulling over distinguished-looking middle-aged men who like to dress up in black dresses is one thing (me, I prefer these Carnaby Street designs). Pretending your car was driven by a dead person is something else. From the Australian Associated Press:
Australia's Federal Court is the federal government's intermediate appellate court - would it have killed them to put the word "appeals" in the name? - so Judge Enfield was pretty high up the hierarchy when he started letting the ghosts get behind the wheel. He was, indeed, the distinguished-looking gentleman whose stern-yet-wise-yet-compassionate-yet-arrogant-yet-learned-yet-ever-so-slightly-crackers visage you saw if you followed the link in the second paragraph.
I bet if he had to do it all over again, the judge would just declare red-light cameras unconstitutional ahead of time.
326. Unrestrained Restaino
One of the truly gratifying things about maintaining a blog is the way judges clamor to see their names up in pixels. They compete with each other to find themselves immortalized in the Squarespace servers. You can sense the spirit of determination underlying such spectacular and ultimately successful efforts as this, brought to my attention by two different readers:
The Respondent in all this was Judge Robert M. Restaino of the Niagara Falls City Court, who had apparently been driven insane by the discordance of the constant clashing rumbles of the falls and the tour busses and was consequently hypersensitive to noises. Here's the New York Times on the episode, and here's the AP.
Once again we're reminded just how far a judge has to go before he or she faces a serious risk of being removed from the bench. You have to go to the extreme of experiencing "two hours of inexplicable madness" in a packed courtroom with a court reporter present before the Commission on Judicial Conduct will take the least notice of you. Sort of like a teenager trying to shock her old hippie Mom, or Damien Hurst - really, you have to try so hard.
And even then there will always be defenders of a judge's right to abuse people "without any semblance of a lawful basis": the Commission's ruling drew a dissent as to the sanction of removal. Its chair, a well-known divorce lawyer, declared that Judge Restaino had "has an impeccable reputation as a dedicated, fair, hard-working jurist with great integrity" - an opinion as weirdly inexplicable as the neighbors who insist the serial killer was "pretty nice." I'm sure Judge Restaino has many fine qualities, but an impeccable reputation is no longer one of them.
322. Above the law, beneath contempt
Here's one of the accusations against Texas federal judge Samuel Kent with regard to his former case manager, Cathy McBroom:
McBroom was summoned to the judge's chambers on Friday, March 23, at about 3 p.m.
She told him she didn't think that was appropriate, but reluctantly approached.
McBroom filed a complaint with the Fifth Circuit's Judicial Council, which conducted an investigation, held some kind of hearing, and apparently found the accusation substantiated. "Apparently" because the Fifth Circuit order in the matter is so extremely - and, of course, deliberately - vague.
After McBroom came forward, other women did likewise: "[Felicia] Williams and at least three other women later gave statements to 5th Circuit investigators regarding Kent's alleged abuse of employees." Ms. Williams, Kent's former case manager,
I can't tell if the Fifth Circuit considered these additional allegations. At any rate, the court's Judicial Council came down on the judge like a ton of bricks. It placed him on a four month paid leave of absence.
That's right, the judge's punishment is to accept $55,000 - one third of his annual salary - while relaxing on the beach. (How many of you just asked: Where do I sign up?)
The Houston Chronicle, and especially its columnist Rick Casey, has been all over the story and doing a superb job, but the story has received virtually no attention in the national media. I couldn't find any stories in the Washington Post, New York Times, LA Times or USA Today, although it's made the Wall Street Journal's law blog, if not the paper itself. You have to read the hometown paper or the Volokh Conspiracy to find out what's going on.
But this isn't a case about a local crime, or the misbehavior of a single local official. The key thing isn't what Judge Kent did - and the Fifth Circuit's Judicial Council's order certainly tells us that he did something, even if we don't know what, exactly - but that he was allowed to do so much. For instance, he was allowed to do everything he did to all those other women before McBroom.
Judge Kent had to go to the extreme of - apparently - committing an out-and-out felony against a person willing to risk her good federal job (all jobs in the federal judiciary are good jobs) by talking to the newspaper before the barest possibility arose of his facing negative consequences.
The institution of the federal Judicial Councils, it's hardly necessary to point out, exists to prevent discipline of federal judges by creating an illusion to the contrary. It exists as a trash receptacle. It has no power to do anything except attempt to shame a person who wouldn't have gotten to that position if he retained any ability to feel shame - rather like trying to appeal to the conscience of a sociopath. Punishment by the Judicial Council is exactly the same as non-punishment by the Judicial Council, except the former involves less work.
Even more than that, though, Judge Kent thought he could get away with sexual violence because he's gotten away with abusing his power so often in the past, and not just against female staffers, as my old ethics teacher Steven Lubet documented six years ago.
Mary Flood, the Chronicle's legal blogger, refers to Judge Kent's "national reputation for training his biting wit on lawyers". For a judge to train "biting wit" on lawyers who appear in front of him is very similar to a prison guard exercising his knack for hilarious practical jokes on the job, with this difference: the guard has power only over the prisoner, while the judge holds both the lawyer's career and his or her clients hostage.
A judge can be "bitingly witty" to lawyers for one reason and one reason only: because he possesses the power to hurt the lawyers personally, and hurt their clients for years or decades to come, even put them out of business, if the lawyer should respond with anything but "heh heh."
Imagine what a riot Judge Kent would be as a night orderly in a nursing home.
In short, Judge Kent's national reputation isn't for "biting wit" - it's for sadistically abusing his power. Even if the lawyers themselves are too self-protective, and protective of their clients, to say so in public, there's no reason for a non-practicing lawyer such as Ms. Flood to use such euphemisms. Judge Kent is a person who cannot be trusted with power. He evidently suffers from a serious mental illness - the delusion that his power is unlimited. He has no business being on the bench.
One of the truly shocking elements of the story, though, is the joint statement from three Congressmen on the Judiciary Committee. They responded to a query about possible impeachment by referring to the possibility of criminal charges and then adding:
A felony prosecution is an intermediate remedy?!?
The Constitution says that federal judges "shall hold their offices during good behaviour". That's not lifetime tenure. Nor does that require a showing of high crimes or misdemeanors for impeachment, despite two centuries of lamentable precedent to the contrary. It would be crazy to hold a minor appointed official to the same high standard required for nullifying a presidential election, and the Constitution didn't do so, although craziness has been a distinguishing hallmark of our attitude toward federal judges at least since Samuel Chase.
If Kent were impeached, all that would happen would be that he would return to the practice of law. That's the horrible, dreadful punishment that the three members of Congress consider more serious than a felony prosecution.
Now why, do you suppose, would members of Congress would be so reluctant to establish a precedent for removing a public officeholder from his (and I do mean "his") position merely for committing sexual assault?
310. Judicial mafia
That's a pretty provocative headline, isn't it? But it's a common phrase, frequently found in the English-language media in Indonesia. It's even used by legislators:
In an effort to fight judicial corruption, the legislature created an oversight body called the Judicial Commission - which the Supreme Court, in a casually contemptuous display of what judicial power really means, declared the Commission unconstitutional. (See post 161.) The fatal flaw in the concept of constitutional government - the thing that prevents it from ever truly coming into existence - is that someone has to be the final arbiter.
A law professor gave the principled explanation for the status quo (a duty law professors can generally be relied upon to perform):
"But the commission cannot interfere in judges' rulings ... internal supervision is needed.
It's a classic lawyer's way of processing information (I don't think it can be accurately termed "thinking"): first you establish categories, then you slot items into them. The grid is constructed first, then imposed on reality. The burden is on reality to conform to theory. The underlying assumption of Elfinus's categories - that "disciplining corrupt judges" is somehow different from "interfering in judges' rulings" - isn't examined. It can't be, or his comment would be nonsense.
But, to be fair, the professor also pointed out the fundamental problem of transparency:
Elfinus also said mafia practices were impossible to trace.
"And it's getting darker and darker inside the court, with no obvious reform."
How many Americans can say their judiciary's practices are transparent to outsiders? Or even insiders?
Mahfud, the Indonesian legislator, referred to the fish rotting at the head:
"The case of Harini Wiyoso is an example and proved mafia practices still exist."
This is a pretty cryptic reference, possibly because the Jakarta Morning Post, where all this comes from, didn't care to court a libel charge from Chief Justice Manan. But here's some background:
(In September, 2005, five billion Indonesian rupiah were worth just under half a million dollars.)
Naturally enough, lawyers in the underlying corruption case wanted to hear from the supposed chief beneficiary of the accused's largess:
So the Judicial Commission can't investigate judicial corruption because, under the Constitution, only the judiciary can investigate its own. And the judiciary won't investigate it. Which means ...? You got it.
I like one legislator's endorsement of the chief justice, evaluating him in the context of his judicial peers: "Bagir is the best of the ugliest." Now there's something to carve on a tombstone.
Well, yeah. But that's the point. It's fun to be an absolute god.
Indonesia Corruption Watch produced a white paper titled Lifting the Lid "Judicial Mafia", the power of which is only slightly undercut by its use of an unidiomatic English typified by that title. But the author strikes off a very evocative phrase: "justice market" (p. 5).
According to the paper, the corruption begins with the police and extends through the prosecutor's office, and many lawyers find it prudent to keep judges on a kind of retainer, paying monthly fees - which, I think (using a lawyer's classification system), ought to come under the category of "extortion" rather than "bribe."
Another paper, the 2005 report of something called the IMF/Netherlands Program for legal and judicial reform in Indonesia, provides some history explaining how things got so bad. It was different in the 1950s, when the Indonesian judiciary performed with a high degree of professionalism and integrity. Then came The Year of Living Dangerously (the year, not the whitey-centric movie):
A number of themes make their Linda Hunt-like supporting roles in that description: the corrupting effect of concentration of power, for instance. And that talismanic phrase "judicial independence", although the major problem with the current Indonesian judiciary is precisely its independence from external control. Then there's the 1960s vogue for using judicial power to further policy goals unrelated to the guilt or innocence of the accused.
Those themes are, perhaps, not unique to Indonesia's judiciary.
305. The jackels of Riga
Latvian journalist Lato Lapsa, who (if you follow the link) once resembled a red-headed Jack Nance from Eraserhead, now wears more-becoming non-nonsense steely gray hair. His name is more literary than most. A Dogpile search for stories about him brings us Virgil:
bina manu lato crispans hastilia ferro. Cui mater media sese ... aetheria quos lapsa plaga Iovis ales aperto. turbabat caelo; nunc terras ordine longo...
and Ovid:
neve sit errandum lato spatiantibus arvo, conveniant ad busta Nini lateantque sub umbra ... dumque fugit, tergo velamina lapsa reliquit. ut lea saeva sitim ...
Lapsa recently ignited a pretty spectacular judicial scandal in Latvia:
That cautious report, carefully refraining from saying what is actually contained in the transcripts, is from the Baltic Times, which a day earlier had described the transcripts this way:
The transcripts date back several years and appear to originate in the office of leading lawyer Andris Grutups. They record conversations between Grutups and various members of the judiciary suggestive of a relationship that is more collusory than would generally be considered acceptable.
The Finnish Helsingin Sanomat is also circumspect in describing the recordings:
Anyway, you get the general idea. The Baltic Times reports that the country's prime minister responded in a classically Stalinist way, interpreting the revelations as a kind of treason: "'This is an opportunity to destabilize the political situation in the country, to ruin trust in the prosecutor’s office and justice system. Obviously somebody is interested in such destabilization,' he said." It just goes to show that you can take the Baltic nation out of the USSR but you can't take the USSR out of its politicians.
But if the prime minister could have plausibly contended the tapes were fake, wouldn't he have chosen to spin the story that way instead? The lawyer supposedly implicated also indirectly confirmed the authenticity of the transcripts, asking "if 'placing a phone call' was a crime."
Lapsa received the transcripts anonymously at the end of last year but held on to them until he could publish a book about their revelations. Without knowing anything at all about either him or Latvian politics, his explanation for the delay is so true to small-state politics in the US that I believe him:
As an indication that his strategy might just possibly produce some results, we have this story from today's LETA:
(The Court Case Kitchen has a distinctly Babelfishy smell to it. The Baltic Times goes with Cookhouse Legislation, which isn't any better. The Court's Kitchen, maybe? Or Cooking Up Cases?)
301. Probable cause
Last Wednesday the feds indicted Pennsylvania Superior Court (i.e., appellate court) Judge Michael T. Joyce
That's from the Allentown Morning Call. In the press release from the office of Pittsburgh's U.S. Attorney Mary Beth Buchanan, additional details are given:
The press release also alleges that the car accident was a low-speed affair - 5 mph, says the AP - and that "neither medical nor law enforcement personnel were called to the accident scene". Sound like a $440,000 claim to you? My guess is that the insurers decided to pay up without fuss because he was a judge - and launched their investigation at once. (Wonder if their investigator got an expense-account trip to Jamaica, or if they hired a local tec?)
It's worth remembering that U.S. Attorney Buchanan narrowly escaped the honor of being axed last winter, which to a cynical person might suggest she's someone who, under pressure, agreed to play ball. (See post 275.) And Republican politics do seem to be involved in the Judge Joyce case, though perhaps not in the way you'd expect:
His claim, apparently, was that he would be sitting on the Supreme Court, pulling down the bigger salary, but for the debilitating pain of the car accident, which curtailed his campaigning.
All very entertaining, provided you don't have any appeals pending in Pennsylvania's appellate courts. But now listen to "Joseph A. Massa Jr., chief counsel for the state Judicial Conduct Board, which investigates and prosecutes charges of misconduct by judges." He told reporters that "Joyce is not legally required to step down because of the indictment since the charges do not directly involve his court-related duties".
I don't doubt that Massa is correct on the law (and, even if he's wrong, it's unfair to accuse him of "foggy thinking"), but it's an interesting law. The AP quotes Judge Joyce himself saying "he is innocent until proven guilty" - which of course is bogus. He's presumed innocent, a different thing altogether, and then only for purposes of a criminal trial.
There's an excellent reason for the presumption: "[i]f convicted, Judge Joyce could be sentenced to 120 years in prison and fined up to $2.25 million." (Oh, those federal sentencing laws!) On the other hand, if he's removed from the bench, his maximum sentence is: practicing his profession, the same as he did before he ascended the bench. And many of us consider practicing law to be qualitatively different from a stretch in stir, for all that it can be a trifle unpleasant to appear in front of certain judges.
Should we really apply the same burden of proof to 120-year sentences and removing a lawyer from the public payroll?
The Philippine Supreme Court thinks so. As explained by the Bohol Chronicle under the charming headline: "'Kissing' Judge Acquitted",
The kissing judge himself, Emmanuel Carpio, was anything but charming. According to the Supreme Court order, the court reporter alleged that the judge cornered her when she was alone and forcibly kissed her. When she didn't respond as he wished he made his chambers into what might be considered a hostile work environment: "There were times when respondent judge would place his gun on top of her table which would give her a scare."
An investigating judge found the charges substantiated and recommended Judge Carpio be suspended for three months. But the Supreme Court disagreed:
Of course, three months' suspension isn't exactly "dismissal from the bench", but that's only one example of slippery language: a moment before hearing about dismissal from the bench, we're told that proceedings against judges are "highly penal in character." There you have it: dismissing a judge is "highly penal", the equivalent of a penitentiary term. And since removal (or, apparently, even a temporary suspension) is the equivalent of being thrown in a Philippine prison, naturally the two must be treated the same.
Returning to Erie, Judge Joyce is an appellate judge, which means that his word is - quite literally, as lawyers know - law, in most of the cases that come before him. A grand jury made of Pennsylvania citizens found probable cause to believe he's a crook and a liar. Why should the people of Pennsylvania be forced to submit to the law as announced by someone they have good reason to believe is a crook and a liar?
If Judge Joyce's guilt can't be proved beyond all reasonable doubt, then fine, let him practice law and defend against the insurance companies' civil suits. But probable cause to believe a judge is a crook is too much - way too much - evidence to allow him to remain on the bench.
The Pennsylvania Supreme Court agreed, sort of. The justices suspended Judge Joyce with pay. As the Philadelphia Daily News observed, "With suspension, judge has more time for golf". This morning Judge Joyce announced his retirement, last week's bravado having largely seeped away over the weekend.
298. Round up
With what exclusive demeanor may one be remiss? Sadly. And that's what this blog has recently been with respect to half the task assigned by its title, that of chronicling the crimes of judging. (Please note: We use the term 'crimes' in its colloquial, rather than any technical legal, sense: "An unjust, senseless, or disgraceful act or condition: It's a crime to make fatuous decisions that damage other people's lives.")
First prize goes to whoever correctly guesses, without reading the story or possessing previous knowledge of its subject, the meaning of this BBC headline: "Brazil judge in gay football row". Last prize goes to whoever can read the following sentence once and explain the technical basis of the judge's ruling. Hint: The article involves a libel suit brought by the Brazilian football star Richarlyson against someone who called him gay. Here's the sentence: "In reaching a decision to effectively set the case aside, Judge Manoel Maximiniano Junqueira Filho said football was a virile masculine sport and not a homosexual one."
In Britain, judges obsess less about gay football stars and more about money. Judge Peter Smith, who embarrassed himself by concealing a lame Da Vinci Code-like cipher in the opinion belatedly clearing Dan Brown of plagiarism charges brought by people who had written a book they previously had hawked as non-fiction, make the mistake recently of not resorting to cipher when he would have been well-advised to do so. As explained by the Telegraph:
Last November, [the big-deal City law firm] Addleshaw Goddard approached the judge with an offer of a job. Under this plan, Sir Peter would retire early from the Bench and join the firm. This sort of thing was, after all, encouraged by Lord Falconer when he was Lord Chancellor. Talks continued until May, when the firm decided that Sir Peter would be too expensive. His current salary is £164,430. Reports, not denied by either side, say that Sir Peter and his judicial assistant would have cost the firm £750,000 a year - though that was not a figure that the judge himself demanded. In any event, Simon Twigden, head of the firm's Contentious Group emailed the judge to say that "the level of investment required cannot be supported".
Shortly after being told that his services weren't worth the cost, the judge found himself assigned to a case involving allegations of wrongdoing by the very same Mr. Twigden. When asked to recuse himself, he refused, telling the firm's barrister, "It is about time you grew up."
In response to the Murdoch Times' account of the affair, a defender of the judge wrote in: "If however every Judge is hounded from office for losing their temper we would have a backlog of cases and the system would break down." Now, that's rhetorical inflation (see post 297): if you remove a single judge for using his official power to settle a private score, the legal machinery of the state will ground to a halt - I guess because once you start, there's no logical stopping place, and soon there won't be any judges left to wear the cute red dresses of the High Court.
That's the problem when judges start running with the big dogs: they don't even get their names in the papers. Two other, equally-anonymous judges had their convictions overturned, according to Forbes, which describes the new American phase the litigation is taking, in the form of a forfeiture action. (Here's a little more about the underlying tangle.)
Back home, former Washington County Circuit Judge Annette Ziegler was sworn in as a justice of the Wisconsin Supreme Court. The noteworthy part about that?
The state Judicial Commission is investigating Ziegler for her handling of 16 cases in which she had a potential conflict of interest. Ziegler acknowledged wrongdoing in some of those cases in May as part of a separate investigation.
Of course, "potential conflict of interest" is a notoriously vague category, which is why a separate category needs to be invented for Justice Ziegler, because what she did wasn't vague at all:
The $5,000 forfeiture was the largest penalty in an Ethics Board case in 14 years.
An editorial in the Madison Capital Times - the headline gets right to the point - explains how a crook like that got elected to the Supreme Court of a state that has generally has a reputation for scrubbed-cheek clean government:
But you have to admit, Justice Ziegler cleverly figured out how to beat the rap. First, the "avowed conservative" raised a ton of cash, and from what we know about her it seems a good bet that those who gave her the money look forward with justified confidence to a handsome return on their investment. Second, now that she's been sworn in, we have to assume the disciplinary case has been wrapped up. (See post 198.) My prediction: a year or two goes by, to create the illusion of continued investigation, and then an "admonishment" settles like dust on her robe.
295. Miscalculations
A few years ago a friend of mine was asked to serve on a State Bar task force tasked (as they say) with countering the negative image of lawyers. The idea was that a better-informed public would have a much rosier impression of the profession. It struck me as not only a hopeless but a misguided mission, because the dismal public perception of lawyers isn't based on ignorance.
Most lawyers don't put up lighted billboards along the freeway saying things like, "If you've had an accident, somebody somewhere owes you money!!! Dial 555-TORT," like the millionaire lawyer who had never tried a case in one of Carl Hiaasen's best. Nor is it true that most lawyers "spend too much time finding technicalities to
get criminals released", as an ABA survey found 73% of Americans believe (page 7). (I love that Papa Bear-like "too much.")
But the public perception that lawyers do these kinds of things is nonetheless perfectly accurate. The problem isn't that the public doesn't know what lawyers do, but that it knows all-too-well what some lawyers do. (Besides, what the rest of us do is too boring to bother learning about.)
The same curse of partial knowledge explains much in the newspaper biz. In their rhapsodic moments, journalists come closer to the sanctimoniousness of lawyers than any other profession ("sacred duty" – no, really – or even a Frodo-like "sacred mission" – no kidding, they say that to one another) and yet they score hardly higher than lawyers in the Gallup Honesty and Ethics poll.
This is how respondents responded to the loaded questions of pollsters:
It doesn't matter that most journalists aren't like that, because some news organizations are. Rupert Murdoch's newspapers are politically biased, unfair, and influenced by powerful people – in particular, by Murdoch himself, as the Wall Street Journal recenntly reported from its deathbed. (On the positive side, the family conglomerate almost certainly won't survive the lying bastard's death, which can't be far off. People with Murdoch's particular combination of qualities don't produce intact children, much less dynasties.)
Some time ago I read a book-length compilation of clippings from the Police Gazette of the late 19th century. This was the pink-sheeted, "second" Police Gazette, no longer a log of police activity but a startlingly modern tabloid. It featured lots of stories about athletes (e.g., bare-knuckle fighters - some of the stories were distinctly Michael Vickish, except they involved humans), and lots of engravings of sexy girls in revealing (by the standards of the day) costumes, such as trapeze artists in tights and short skirts.
There was also a violently racist campaign against recent immigrants – the Chinese, depicted as fiends who addicted white girls to opium for purposes of satisfying unspeakable lusts – and offbeat news stories that read as though they had been thought up at the compositor's stand. It was remarkably close to the formula followed today by Murdoch's flagship The Sun. (Can't wait for the WSJ's page three, can you?)
The story of the judges and the sex tapes (see post 295) might have been made for Murdoch. Readers could read about the details ("J found out about the affair when she discovered them in bed together at Mr Khan's home around Christmas 2004") while deploring the foreigners who supplied them (an English judge named Khan in bed with a Brazilian) and waxing indignant (see post 286) that immigration judges should hire an illegal immigrant to clean their houses.
But the effort required to tsk and chortle at the same time might obscure for many readers the exploitation. An immigration judge first hired, then sexually used, an illegal immigrant. It took an unusual convergence of events, up to and including a blackmail prosecution, for any of the story to become public (or rather semi-public, as UK press law still censors some details). And even then the woman went to jail while the man continued to draw his £101,948 per year salary for staying home from work.
Similarly, here in New Mexico, a longtime advisor to President Richardson hurriedly quit his new job as a workers compensation judge (hey, gotta find 'em jobs somewhere) under circumstances that must be gathered from the inconclusive hints found in this Albuquerque Journal report:
The real significance of both stories isn't that male judges seemingly abused their judicial power to solicit sex from women brought before them, but that judges possess power that can be abused so blithely. If not for the judges' own stupid / hubristic miscalculations, neither incident would have come to light. How many judges avoid making such miscalculations?

