As a public defender, I’ve
grown all too accustomed to hearing promises of progressive criminal
justice reform from mayors and district attorneys, only to witness the
startlingly different realities in court. I was disheartened, but not at
all surprised, to read the new report
by the Drug Policy Alliance (DPA) and Marijuana Arrest Research Project highlighting the shameful degree of racial disparity in NYPD marijuana arrests during Mayor Bill de Blasio’s first three years in office.
Between 2014 and 2016, despite the Mayor’s pledges to reform the NYPD,
reduce inequality, and end marijuana arrests for the good of the city
and its marginalized communities, there were over 60,000 arrests for
low-level marijuana possession, 86% of which involved black and Latino
individuals. Although government surveys show that white people use
marijuana at equal or higher rates, in 2016, the NYPD arrested more
black people for marijuana use in Manhattan alone than whites in all
five boroughs, combined. And remember: Most Americans support full legalization of marijuana. No arrests, no fines, nothing.
From my vantage point, however, this is not just a policing problem. This is not just a failure of leadership from the Mayor’s office. This is also, significantly, a prosecutor problem. Let me explain.
Most New Yorkers, most
Americans, are
unaware of the enormous and unique degree of power that prosecutors
wield to drive virtually every aspect of our criminal legal process.
Prosecutors decide whether to charge, what to charge. Prosecutors decide
whether to request bail that will trap someone on Rikers Island until
their case is over, whether to allow a plea to a lesser charge, when and
which evidence will be shown to the defense, and, ultimately, whether
to demand imprisonment or show mercy.
That initial charging decision though—what scholars refer to as prosecutorial “gatekeeping power”—is
perhaps the most critical of all. Saying no can save a person from the
stigma and damage of an unnecessary prosecution, but it can also send a
powerful message.
When it comes to
marijuana arrests, given what prosecutors know about the decades of
racial disparities and the serious, lasting harm of unnecessary police
interactions, they have the power and duty to challenge these practices
and reverse these trends by closing those gates. Declining to prosecute
these arrests would send the message: this is wrong. This is not
justice. Yet far from doing so, district attorney’s offices propel marijuana arrests forward. They enable them.
In
court, both public defenders and prosecutors bear witness daily as
black and Latino New Yorkers are churned through the system: stopped and
frisked, cuffed and ripped from their communities, detained in putrid
conditions, then led into the courtroom where they are assigned bar
codes and have their retinas scanned. When I meet my clients, they tell
me about illegal searches by the police. They express fears of missing
or losing work, getting kicked out of school or losing student loans,
leaving those in need of caretaking without caretakers, and ending up on
ICE’s radar, whether documented or undocumented. They’re terrified.
All of this for simple possession of marijuana. It’s dehumanizing. It’s unnecessary. It’s unfair.
Yet once in court, after formally charging someone, prosecutors don’t seem to care about marijuana either. They acknowledge the arrests are ridiculous. I’ll often ask prosecutors at arraignments: “Why are you even prosecuting this?” “Where are all the white people you know as well as I do that smoke?” “Why don’t you just dismiss?”
Their response: “Relax. They’re all going home today anyway, whether they’re white or black.”
This flippant response is at least partially true:
Despite the enormous human and fiscal costs of bringing people into the
system, whether you’re white or black or it’s your first arrest or your
50
th, marijuana prosecutions almost always end the same day they begin.
With offers of ACDs (
i.e.,
cases stay open for up to a year after which they automatically get
dismissed), offers of pleas to non-criminal violations, or worst case
scenario, a plea to a misdemeanor crime with no jail time, the cases are
very often over and done just as soon as they start. These dispositions
are not without significant harms: high mandatory surcharges, an
addition to a criminal record, or an open criminal charge during the
duration of the ACD. But my clients do walk out the door.
The Brooklyn DA’s office recently
pointed to evidence of relatively small racial discrepancies in the
ultimate outcomes of marijuana cases just described as evidence that
those prosecuted are “treated fairly and equitably.”
This response brazenly passes the buck. Ultimate outcomes
notwithstanding, prosecutors cannot so easily absolve themselves of
complicity by ignoring the extraordinary racial disparities in the
arrests that the NYPD first hands to them.
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