What Does Justice in America Mean Today?
America's justice system suffers from a serious and contagious condition.
Two years ago I posted a challenge to the Innocence Project's "narrow mandate" of only representing cases where DNA evidence was available. Based on the published statistics available at that time, through the Bureau of Justice, DNA was only present in less than 10 percent of murder cases—a statistical reality that exists today. Therefore, for an nonprofit to hold its hand out for donations under the premise of innocence when the organization is only representing a very narrow margin of innocent individuals was troubling. As I wrote then, I expressed a belief that we collectively benefit from charitable organizations because they represent the latent idealism in all of us that "it doesn't have to be this way and together we can make a difference." A statement that I qualified with an admonition to organizations, like the Innocence Project (IP), that only operate in the safe zone of an ongoing, national, moral dilemma of the manufactured injustice that is represented by every wrongful conviction in the United States. I revisit the topic because this week I received another rejection letter from another innocence organization, and since they had only ever reached out to me because of my previous criticisms of the IP, I felt that this latest rejection on a long and distinguished list of other rejections was worth mentioning as part of a larger discussion on whether innocence and justice have any symbiotic relevance to what justice means in America today.
It occurred to me recently that there is no law or constitutional right that only the guilty shall be convicted of crimes. All that is guaranteed is that you won't be convicted without the due process of law—and "guarantee" is only meant in loosest sense of the term—kind of like "justice" or "equality." These terms are chimeric at best as they only serve as vague notions of what the drafters of the Constitution thought should be included under a declaration of freedom for posterity to follow. I can't say for certain whether there ever was any substance to these claims, or whether they were just terms of endearment and hope for a better tomorrow. Maybe the founders believed that if they provided the glass then maybe the people would feel it with something more substantive than optimism—I don't know.
The rejection letter that found its way into my inbox this week is from the Center on Wrongful Convictions (CWC) at the very distinguished Northwestern Pritzker School of Law in Chicago. I originally wrote to the organization in 2020, when I first learned of their existence but never received any kind of response until I published the aforementioned article in 2023. I completed their information packet and signed their consent and waiver forms, and after almost two years without as much as a conversation or substantive inquiry into the record and facts of my case, a decision was made to not represent me. Maybe they don't need to speak to the person behind the wrongful conviction, but that seems a lot like a doctor trying to arrive at a diagnosis without speaking to the patient. Then again, based on my understanding of their predicament they receive somewhere in the neighborhood of 5,000 letters annually and half of those are probably actually guilty. Which means that I'm neither surprised or deterred by a letter that says that an organization "must respectfully decline" my request for representation, because such a declaration is as meaningless as a declaration of death or a clean bill of health from a physician who has never examined me.
What troubles me about a signed letter from the CWC isn't that another prestigious, nonprofit organization has turned its nose at me. I'm also not troubled that it has taken years to receive a definitive response; nor am I even remotely bothered that they aren't interested in the legitimacy of the claims I've discovered through the herculean efforts expended to acquire my trial transcripts, or the fact that when I originally wrote to them I didn't know what I know now about the domino-effect of due process violations that negated any semblance or possibility of a fair trial. What troubles me is that it's still a mystery as to what any of these organizations need to see as far as "innocence," "wrongful" or "injustice" before they'll even have a conversation with someone. It's understandable if, like the Innocence Project, the CWC only takes cases where DNA can be used for exoneration purposes, but if that's the case then they should rename themselves to reflect their very limited involvement in fighting wrongful convictions. Otherwise, no substantive review is possible without a conversation and a willingness to review the transcripts, and to suggest otherwise is a premise on which nothing can stand. An observation that leads to a question: how can an innocent person sitting in prison for crimes that he or she did not commit be permissible under the law?
Perhaps the answer to this question can be found in the realization that "guilty" and "innocent" aren't actually factual determinations, but are just legal determinations based on movable goalposts and the power of rhetoric. In Spanish we would say, labia, which is slang for saying the ability to convince through words. Which is precisely what life and death determinations under the law come down to: the ability to convince someone (in this case the group of individuals who make up a jury) that someone is or isn't guilty. As part of their rhetoric, attorneys are known to invoke truth as some sort omnipresent being when in all actuality the performance being danced before the jury has very little to do with truth and everything to do with winning.
Of course, it comes down to how we define truth. Is it an absolute and logical certainty (like 2+2=4) or a perceptual paradigm (like, the right to a fair trial)? And perhaps, an even more relevant question is, does the truth matter? And, if so, which truth (the logical certainty or the perceptual paradigm)? I am confounded by these questions, because it occurs to me that collectively our beliefs in the fidelity of America's justice system are suffering from a very serious and contagious condition known as faith.
Most of us understand faith in the context of religion or political and economic ideologies. Technically speaking, faith is a belief unsubstantiated by evidence. My own definition, however, is that faith is the absolute denial of the relevant facts pertaining to the question. Which question? Well, that entirely depends on what we're talking about. I'm not at this moment delving into religion—so those of you who are religious can take a deep breath and relax—instead I'm only referring to our unsubstantiated belief in the efficacy and moral standing of America's criminal justice system.
The average American has undoubtedly read or heard all of the catchphrases that jump out of the Bill of Rights (the first ten amendments to the Constitution) as dignified examples of America's moral uprightness and commitment to justice. For instance, the "freedom of speech" and the right to "peaceably assemble" (First Amendment); the infamous "right to bear arms" (Second Amendment); the right to be free from "unreasonable searches and seizures" by the government (Fourth Amendment); what we know as double jeopardy, the right to remain silent, or the loosely-laced promise that you won't be "deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law" (Fifth Amendment); "the right to a speedy and public trial" and the right to be "confronted" with your accuser, and the right "to have the assistance of counsel for his [or her] defense" (Sixth Amendment); and the guarantee against "cruel and unusual punishments" (Eighth Amendment) are all common knowledge. What isn't common knowledge, however, is that these constitutional rights are subject to the following unwritten disclaimer of dependency on the aforementioned movable goal posts and the power of rhetoric. Meaning that the entirety of these rights are subject to a person's ability to persuade someone else with the power to enforce them—i.e., a judge or a court with jurisdiction on the matter—that said right be "real" for a limited time.
In other words, these constitutional rights aren't true in the logically certain sense of 2+2 equals 4, but are only perceptually true to the extent of our faith in their reality and applicability to our lives; and, moreover, are subject to our ability to persuade another (with the power to do so) to act on that on faith, thereby giving substance to what is otherwise just a perceptual paradigm of conjecture. All of which brings us to the precipice of understanding that our supposed rights are about as substantive and real as the coin we've all tossed into a fountain with a wish. The coin being tossed and the wish being made may be factual certainties, but the perceivable experience of the wish coming true comes down to a question of faith.
If the wish comes true, did it do so because of the coin tossed into the fountain accompanied by a wish or because of the subsequent choices and actions by you or someone else who caused the wish to manifest itself into your reality? Likewise, when a person is convicted of a crime and deprived of life or liberty, should the "due process of law" be dependent on the person's wish, the willingness and generosity of an attorney to defend the integrity of that wish through the power of persuasion, or some other external factor that weighs upon the validity of the issue (e.g., money, intelligence, or resources and ability)?
It stands to reason that if the reality of constitutional rights for those who are wrongfully convicted are left to the limited resources, abilities, and willingness of organizations like the CWC or IP (who take years to respond to inquiries and do so without as much as a conversation with the individuals about the constitutional infirmities of their respective convictions) then there is no equality to the rights afforded under the Constitution. And, therefore, all rights (constitutional, legislative, or human) are nothing more than axioms of faith based on our collective unwillingness to demand something more substantive than a wish.
The rejection letter I just received from the CWC, as mentioned, is about as substantive as a medical diagnosis from a doctor who has never taken the time to examine me. The letter was signed by an attorney who I don't know, never communicated with, and has never reviewed the merits of my legal claims through an inquiry into the record. The only substantial truism in their letter is the statement that their unwillingness to represent and defend my supposed rights to due process and a fair trial "does not necessarily reflect any determination on [their] part" of my "guilt or innocence." So, then, what was their determination based on? That's the part we don't know. Was it based on the possible presidential retaliation that would occur if a nonprofit organization were to assist a Mexican at a point in time when immigrants are politically deemed enemies of the State? Or, maybe it's a decision based upon a coin-toss, bad timing on my part, or someone's unwillingness to read more than three-thousand pages of transcripts, court fillings, and legal briefs. We don't know, and it's pretty definitive that we will never know. But, the fact that the CWC "must respectfully decline" my request for representation doesn't change the truism that is my legal predicament: I am wrongfully convicted; and, somewhere out there are legal advocates who will not be bullied into submission by the passing tides of political agendas.
Author's Note:
First and foremost, thank you, for reading this and every other post. It's impossible to know how many, or, which of you, are reading in support of actual redemption and exoneration, or read from the perspective of wanting to see my efforts defeated by the general indifference and malaise that pervades the American criminal justice system. Perhaps there is even a third camp of readers that follows along out of a general curiosity as to whether or not the human spirit can ever really be defeated. Regardless of what your reasons might be for reading these posts, I am grateful for your attention. I am grateful because in order for any semblance of justice to exist determinations of guilt or innocence must be derived by a fair assessment of adversarial challenges made from both sides of competing interests.
That being said, I ask for your assistance in making this newsletter known to everyone who cares about the legitimacy of justice in America. As I approach the trial court with what is undoubtedly the only appeal (a petition for habeas corpus) based on a complete review of the record, the reality is that courts are typically unwilling to revisit claims that weren't addressed previously. The failure to address previous claims is an issue I am preparing to litigate, and though courts have the inherent power to take action in the interest of "justice," that action is much more probable when the public is aware of the issues before the court. Therefore, I ask for your comments, recommendations, and referrals to any legal advocates who are not deterred by political bullying or fearful of State retaliation against their careers. Because when an audience and opportunity is achieved to stand before the court, there will likely be a need of a skilled litigator who knows the power of persuasion. You can reach out to me on this platform, via email at mariochavez65079@gmail com, or through the smartinmate.com platform (search for me by name and location at Southern New Mexico Correctional Facility). Thank you.
Top Image: Courtesy of Laughingplace.com