Seventh Circuit Week in Review, Part I: PPGs and Halfway Houses

The Seventh Circuit had six new opinions in criminal cases this week, all dealing with sentencing issues.  Two focused on supervised release questions, which will be the subject of this post; the remaining four with be covered in another post.

First, in United States v. Rhodes (No. 07-3953), a sex offender challenged penile plethysmograph (“PPG”) testing as a condition of supervised release.  PPG testing involves attaching a monitor to the male subject’s genitals, presenting him with an array of sexually stimulating images, and then determing the degree of arousal by measuring erectile responses.  When used with sex offenders, the hope is that arousal patterns can be studied to determine how great the risk is that an offender will commit new sex crimes.  Although experts disagree as the effectiveness of PPG testing, it has become a routine part of adult sex offender treatment programs. 

Continue ReadingSeventh Circuit Week in Review, Part I: PPGs and Halfway Houses

“Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity.”

 

Herman Melville’s novella “Billy Budd” has firmly secured its place in the law and literature canon, but a different law-related work by Melville is my favorite.  Over the last twenty-five years or so I have almost annually read “Bartleby the Scrivener – A Story of Wall Street” (1853), being moved by it more each time.

The narrator of the story is a humane, tolerant lawyer who was formerly a Master in Chancery and who now presides over a small Wall Street law office.  His employees include an office boy and three scriveners, the most eccentric of whom is Bartleby.  Demonstrating a certain “pallid haughtiness,” the latter at first refuses to complete small assignments and then over time declines to do anything at all.  His signature statement when asked to copy a legal document, to run an errand, or – ultimately – to seek work elsewhere is “I would prefer not to.”  In one of the lighter interludes of the story, all of the characters, the narrator included, cannot stop using the word “prefer” in their own comments.

However, the story is neither farcical comedy nor romantic fantasy.  With the lawyer/narrator as our introspective vehicle, we as readers are invited to make sense of Bartleby as a symbolic representation of humankind.  Is Bartleby basically an alienated worker, doggedly copying documents to the detriment of his eyesight?  Is he mentally ill, staring for hours out his small window at a black wall only three feet away? Does he display a hostile passive aggressiveness, refusing to be remunerated, fed, or simply helped?

The questions of course trump the answers.  After the lawyer/narrator realizes Bartleby is sleeping in the Wall Street office, he grasps the true seriousness of the situation.  The lawyer finds going to church useless, and he instead wanders the streets of antebellum Manhattan desperately trying to understand both Bartleby and the human condition.  “My first emotions had been those of pure melancholy and sincerest pity,” the lawyer says, “but just in proportion as the forlornness of Bartleby grew and grew in my imagination, did that same melancholy merge into fear, that pity into repulsion.”  The lawyer realizes that alms cannot solve the problem.  It is Bartleby’s soul that suffers, and his soul cannot be reached.

In the end, the lawyer relocates his office on Broadway closer to City Hall, and the owner of the Wall Street building has the police remove Bartleby.  He is taken to the Tombs, where he refuses to eat or communicate. The lawyer visits several times but to no avail.  On his last visit he finds Bartleby curled up and dead with his face against a wall in the prison courtyard.  “Ah, Bartlelby.  Ah, humanity.”

Continue Reading“Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity.”

Mexas

The “film” that I would like to highlight is actually an episode of a long-forgotten television series from the 1960’s.  Laredo, which aired on NBC from 1965 to 1967, was a western that focused on the adventures of a group of Texas Rangers based in the south Texas town of Laredo.  Laredo was written as a serious western, but one that clearly had a sense of humor about its subject.

The final episode of the series, entitled “Split the Difference,” was structured around the probate of the will of a notorious outlaw named Jake Ringo.  The episode (which was not filmed with the idea that it would be the final episode; it just turned out that way) focuses on the phenomenon of the dead using will provisions to control the lives of the living.  In that sense, “Split the Difference” follows squarely in the tradition of Ambrose Bierce’s “The Famous Gilson Bequest,” which may well have inspired the episode.  It also plays around with one of the cardinal principles of westerns — that once the bad guys make it across the border the good guy law enforcement officers have to stop chasing them.

I remember watching the episode live on April 7, 1967, but my memory has been greatly refreshed by what I found on the Internet.

Following the death of Jake Ringo letters are sent to seven individuals by lawyer E. J. Morse informing them that they have been named as beneficiaries under Ringo’s will and are entitled to share in Ringo’s estate which consists of $75,000 in cash.  The reading of the will is to be conducted shortly in the Halfway Mansion in the town of Mexas, located on the Texas-Mexico border.  Not only in Mexas exactly on the border but the mansion straddles the border line so that part of the structure is in Texas and part in Mexico.  A white floor stripe, marked Texas on one side and Mexico on the other, actually runs throughout the house advising occupants of the country in which they are standing at any given moment.  (Given the Rio Grande River, this seems impossible, but few 1960’s television shows were sticklers for such details.)

Recipients of the letter included the judge who convicted Ringo and sentenced him to death, the hangman who presided over his execution, a renegade Indian woman named Linda Little Trees, three notorious outlaws: Gypsy John Fuentes, Belle Bronson, and Smiley Hogg, and Texas Ranger Captain Richard Parmalee, the leader of the Rangers in Laredo and the moral center of the show.  Parmalee was also the man that apprehended Ringo and made possible his conviction and execution.  (Parmalee was played by actor Philip Carey who went on to a long career (1979-2007) as the Texas patriarch Asa Buchanan on the ABC soap opera One Life to Live.)

Over the objections of several of his fellow Rangers, Parmalee decides to go to Mexas so that he can recover the entire $75,000 which he is certain is stolen and which can be returned it to the banks from which it was taken.  Moreover, two of the letter recipients, Little Trees and Hogg, are wanted for murder in Texas, and this would provide him with an opportunity to capture them and bring them back for trial.  For back-up Parmalee agrees to take two of the Rangers with him.

Unfortunately, the judge and the hangman are not able to attend the reading of the will, having been murdered by Little Trees and her henchman, Blue Dog, in the episode’s opening scene.  However, the other four devisees and Parmalee all make their way to Mexas. 

When the Rangers arrive at the house, they find that the other participants have strategically placed themselves inside the Halfway Mansion.  Little Trees and Hogg, wanted for murder in Texas, stay in the portion of the building in Mexico, while Belle and Gypsy, both wanted for murder in Mexico, have taken up residence in the Texas part of the house.   (We also learned that the beautiful Belle Bronson and the Captain once had a thing for each other, but that he broke off the relationship because she wouldn’t give up her outlaw ways.)

Once the group is assembled, the lawyer Morse informs them that to qualify for their inheritance, each of the devisees must spend the night in the Halfway Mansion.   Those who are still alive the following morning are to split the $75,000 evenly.  It becomes apparent that Ringo’s will was drafted in such a way as to encourage his enemies on both sides of the law to kill each other off.

The Rangers retire to an upstairs bedroom for the evening, but loud noises bring them back downstairs where they find, distressingly for this viewer, that the lawyer Morse has been murdered.  When Smiley Hogg bursts into the room firing a gun that, unbeknownst to him, is loaded with blanks, he is gunned down by the Rangers, reducing the number of living devisees to four (and the number of lawyers to zero).

Suddenly, the gas lights go off, another shot is fired, and when the lights come back on Belle is lying on the floor, fatally wounded.  At this point, the momentarily grieving Parmalee (and presumably most of the western-loving 1967 audience) realizes that something is wrong with the picture.  Just as the Rangers figure out that Ringo is probably still alive, the outlaw appears in the room with a shotgun pointed at the survivors.  It also becomes apparent that the Indian miscreant Linda Little Trees is in cahoots with Ringo and that the two have planned this event to rid themselves of their enemies.  (The hangman and possibly the judge were presumably bribed to let Ringo go, only to be later murdered by their accomplices.)

Little Trees and Blue Dog escort the Rangers back upstairs at gunpoint while Ringo shoots Gypsy in the parlor on the first floor.  When the Rangers reach their room they find three nooses hanging from the ceiling, installed by Ringo so that they can experience the fate to which he had been sentenced. 

In yet another plot twist, it turns out that Ringo only pretended to shoot Gypsy and the two of them climb the stairs with the intention of double crossing Little Trees and killing both Indians and all three Rangers.  However, at the last minute Little Trees herself realizes that she is about to be betrayed by Ringo, so she turns around and shoots Gypsy before he can fire his gun.  She then grabs the $75,000 and takes off.  No longer held at gunpoint, the Rangers are able to subdue both Blue Dog and Ringo and later catch up with Little Trees.  Because they are able to capture her on the Texas side of the house, they can now arrest her for murder.

Little Trees, played by Will and Grace actress Shelly Morrison—she was the Salvadorian maid that married Jack so that she would not be deported–was returned to prison along with Blue Dog.  Ringo was presumably hanged.  The Rangers went back to Laredo for further adventures, only to find out that while they had evaded Ringo’s efforts to kill them they were soon to be done in by their network’s own programming ax.

Not great literature but a clever (by television standards at least) play on the way that western writers used jurisdictional and inheritance issues as plot devices.

Continue ReadingMexas