We got used to treating people as categories, not human beings.
By Nancy Gertner
Even with the coronavirus spreading in prisons, even though incarceration could be fatal and the crime rate during the pandemic has cratered, some officials will not listen to public health experts.
In one federal courtroom, a defense lawyer argued for a client’s release before trial because he was an insulin-dependent diabetic, which, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says, increased his risk of infection; the judge refused, saying, as the lawyer told me, the CDC studies must be taken with a “grain of salt,” since it is a “novel” virus. The lawyer persisted: Given the fatality rate of COVID-19, the court should err on the side of caution; none of the defendant’s charges warranted death. To this judge, “erring on the side of caution” meant prison; release denied. While there may have been reasons for the decision, the judge’s comment has troubling echoes of President Trump’s disparagement of expertise. Worse, it shows a stunning lack of empathy.
In a second federal courtroom, another judge refused pre\trial release for the opposite reason. Defense arguments about COVID-19 were “systemic,” and the defendant had not shown he was especially vulnerable. Of course COVID-19 arguments are systemic; they are about a risk so severe that it has upended this country. As Columbia University scholars noted in an April 21 letter to Governor Andrew Cuomo of New York, with “medically vulnerable and forcibly proximate” prisoners, those risks require that the governor systematically release prisoners to ease pressures on space and staff.
In 1965, Ralph Nader published
The system that Burch writes about had its origins in the early 1960s, when the federal courts were flooded with nearly 2,000 lawsuits stemming from a nationwide conspiracy to fix the prices of equipment used in the transmission of electricity. With guidance from Chief Justice Earl Warren, who created a Coordinating Committee of Multidistrict Litigation, a process was created to drive efficiencies in the litigation of these cases. The work of Warren and the committee’s chair, Alfred P. Murrah—then Chief Judge of the Tenth Circuit—paved the way for the passage of the MDL statute, 28 U.S.C. § 1407, in 1968. That statute provides for the coordination for pretrial purposes of civil actions involving “one or more common questions of fact.” Cases filed anywhere in the federal court system can be transferred to a single district for pretrial purposes. The MDL statute is short and—in contrast to Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 23, which addresses class actions—provides no standards for the appointment of counsel, class representatives, or for the approval of settlements.
The problem is the classic one: rules and transparency. There were no clear rules with respect to who is assigned an MDL. There is no blind draw, no concrete set of procedures. After I complained about the asbestos MDL shortly after I got on the bench—late 1990s—I was never assigned a case again. My complaint was that the MDL judge, Judge [Charles] Weiner of Philadelphia, was simply dismissing the cases “subject to their being reopened by motion.” The dismissals were contrived, done for the purpose of showing that the cases were moving. I finally got an MDL when Judge Robert Keeton died and my court assigned me to one that had been assigned to him. In the last year I was on the bench, I drew a civil rights case that was headed for the MDL court. My case was the first filed, a second was in Chicago, a third in San Francisco. All of us were up to date, willing to take on the case. It was assigned to neither of us; it went to a judge in Memphis who was on the committee.