Thursday news and notes

1.  Would you pick the Chief Justice for jury duty?  These lawyers passed in a state civil case:

Rubin eventually asked people to raise their hands if they were involved in certain professions or were close to people involved in those professions. When the topic turned to medicine, Roberts spoke up.
“Juror 49,” he began. “My sister is a nurse.”
Rubin asked for a few more details and got them – she lived in Indiana, with a specialty of cardiology. Then Rubin asked the highest ranking member of his profession a question he obviously knew by rote: “Would that in any way make it difficult or impossible for you to be fair and impartial?”
“Nope,” the chief justice said.
Rubin moved on to whether panelists knew people involved in the accident investigation field.
Several prospects answered, including Roberts, who told Rubin about his brother-in-law. Rubin again asked if that would keep him from being fair and impartial.
“No sir,” Roberts said.
The judge – Rubin – moved on to questions about whether anyone had been in a bad accident. A man in the back said he’d totaled his dad’s Volvo as a teenager. Rubin asked if he was OK, heard that he was, and started an exchange that had Roberts and his other juror candidates laughing.
“Did you work it out with him?” Rubin asked.
“I had to work at a Cheesecake Factory for a couple of summers,” Juror No. 54 said.
Minutes later, Rubin asked No. 49 to step to the bench, asking the lawyers in the case to join them for a quiet conversation out of the presence of the other prospective jurors. It seemed clear what Rubin was doing: He was about to ask the panelists if they had any experience as a lawyer or close connections to lawyers, and Rubin wanted to save Roberts from having to answer in the detailed affirmative in front of everyone else.
“Sir, good morning. How are you?” Rubin asked No 49.
“Very good, thank you,” No. 49 said.
“I’ve discussed this with counsel. Obviously we know what you do for a living, sir.”
The huddle quickly concluded, and Roberts was allowed to remain silent during the lawyers question.
That Roberts wasn’t selected could have had as much to do with his juror number as anything.
After taking into consideration which jurors attorneys wanted stricken, Rubin went in numerical order. The panelists selected – six for the trial, with two alternates -- started at No. 2 and ended at No. 14.
The high court resumes oral arguments Monday.

2.  Would you try Ruth Bader Ginger ice-cream?

3.  What's the dillio with Judge Fuller.  Senators want to know.

Britto sues Apple

Over this ad:

Below is the complaint, which fell before Kathy Williams. According to the lawsuit, Britto's specific Trade Dress is "strong, fanciful, non-functional, and inherently distinctive," composed of vibrant color combinations, the juxtaposition of different patterns, bold black outlines, and "uplifting, bright and happy visual themes." Should be a fun one to watch.

Britto v. Craig & Karl and Apple

"I want to reiterate to all department personnel…that they are prohibited from soliciting, procuring, or accepting commercial sex."

That was a friendly reminder from Attorney General Eric Holder to DOJ employees not to hire prostitutes even if it's legal in that country:

As an excuse for his actions, one DEA agent told investigators that prostitution is “considered a part of the local culture” — Holder dismissed this line of reasoning outright in his letter.
“Regardless of whether prostitution is legal or tolerated in a particular jurisdiction,” he wrote, “soliciting prostitutes creates a greater demand for human trafficking victims and a consequent increase in…commercial sex slavery.”

Friday news and notes

1.  Justice Sotomayor had dinner with the Clooneys, per Page Six.

2.  AP: The FBI is getting a $200 million building in Miramar.  But we can't get a new state courthouse.

3.  This lawsuit says: Keep the Kardashians out of Florida!

4.  New proposed sentencing guidelines for fraud. Up up and away!

An Unusual Decision Not to Publish - by Guest Blogger Brian Toth

An Unusual Decision Not to Publish - by Brian Toth

 

Earlier this year, Justice Thomas, joined by Justice Scalia, dissented from the court’s decision not to review a ruling by the Fourth Circuit reviving a habeas petitioner’s claim that he was sentenced too harshly by a vindictive judge. The dissent in Plumley v. Austin was notable mostly for its sharp criticism of the Fourth Circuit’s choice to label its decision “unpublished”—that is, without precedential effect. The Fourth Circuit’s decision was 40 pages long, rendered after oral argument, contained a dissent, and, in Justice Thomas’s view, satisfied three criteria for publishing decisions. “It is hard to imagine,” Justice Thomas wrote, “a reason that the Court of Appeals would not have published this opinion except to avoid creating binding law for the Circuit.”

Yesterday, the Eleventh Circuit issued a decision in United States v. Rivero affirming a 30-year sentence for a 56-year-old defendant who pleaded guilty to possession with an intent to distribute cocaine and marijuana. Because Mr. Rivero qualified as a career offender, his advisory-guidelines range was 188 to 235 months. The government recommended that Mr. Rivero be sentenced toward to bottom of that range, but the district court, citing his lengthy criminal history, sentenced him to 360 months in prison—the statutory maximum. The Eleventh Circuit’s decision was rendered after oral argument and over a forceful dissent by the panel’s only active judge, Judge Martin, who addressed not just Mr. Rivero’s case but also the court’s precedents on sentencing. The Eleventh Circuit’s decision in Rivero, like the Fourth Circuit’s in Austin, was unpublished. Why?

In certain respects, the panel’s choice not to publish Rivero seems sound, and might even, to some, be preferable. Mr. Rivero’s first argument on appeal—was he a career offender?—was foreclosed by precedent, and applying precedent to new cases rarely justifies publication alone. And the majority disposed of Mr. Rivero’s challenge to the reasonableness of his sentence by carefully hewing to the court’s precedents and to its highly deferential standard of review. Plus, the decision doesn’t create binding precedent for imposing on other defendants, in Judge Martin’s words, “an extraordinary sentence for what seems to be an ordinary crime.” The court metes out tough justice for Mr. Rivero, but only for Mr. Rivero. 

But for those who closely follow the Eleventh Circuit, that yesterday’s decision is unpublished may seem unusual. The Eleventh Circuit takes special interest in sentencing, and nearly always seems to publish decisions involving large variances (only death-penalty cases get similar automatic-publication treatment). Further, because we want similarly situated defendants to be sentenced similarly—and because, presumably, we want the process in which they are sentenced to be similar, too—publishing decisions involving sentencing is important. The court, moreover, publishes many decisions where, as in Rivero, there has been oral argument. And although it’s common for the Eleventh Circuit to dispose of an appeal in an unpublished decision after oral argument where the result is clear, it’s not common to do so where there has been a strong dissent by the only active judge on the panel. And the facts of this case are compelling: Mr. Rivero, a 56-year-old man, indeed has a long criminal history, but he was given a tough sentence for, according to the majority, an “unremarkable” current offense. And the government recommended a bottom-of-the-guidelines sentence as well. In short, this is not your run-of-the-mill sentencing case. 

Courts don’t say why they publish their decisions; per the Eleventh Circuit’s internal operating procedures, the choice is up to the majority of the panel. Thus, why Rivero is unpublished is anybody’s guess. But I suspect that a principal reason was, as Justice Thomas observed in Austin, “to avoid creating binding law for the Circuit.” If so, then the question still remains, Why?

I don’t know and, to be clear, I’m not criticizing the majority’s choice not to publish Rivero. But one by-product of its decision seems clear: the likelihood of en banc review is greatly reduced, for there is little reason for the full court to undertake the arduous process of reviewing a decision that doesn’t bind it or lower courts. In dissent, Judge Martin observed that she was “aware of no published opinion in which we have held that an above-Guidelines sentence was substantively unreasonable.” If Rivero had been published, her observation would remain true. But it would also be true that the likelihood of en banc review—and therefore the likelihood of a published opinion in which an above-guidelines sentence was held to be substantively unreasonable—would have been greater.