Ah... June. The end of the school year. The beginning of summer. And a boatload of opinions from the Supreme Court. Each year more and more seem to have a psychological (or, often, missing psychological) component. This year is no exception including cases on the possibility of a judge being biased (more on Caperton soon), on age discrimination, on interviewing a suspect without a lawyer present, and on evaluating mental competency (and that's just in the last two weeks).
One case that is not particularly psychological in nature, but still touches on issues of concern to the psychology and law community, is
, regarding a convicted felon's right to DNA testing. Legal psychologists love DNA testing because it is probably the best thing that ever happened for their credibility. Most wrongful convictions - as revealed by DNA testing - resulted from factors that legal psychologists had long warned about: bad line-ups, faulty eyewitness
memory, false confessions, and biased forensic evidence. The legal system began to pay more attention to the psychology research when it could no longer dismiss the psychologists' warnings about the serious flaws that could lead to false convictions.
In 1994, William Osborne was convicted of rape and sentenced to 26 years in prison. At the time, DNA testing was available, but it was an older method than currently used. The test did not rule out Mr. Osborne as a suspect but -- unlike modern tests -- it could only rule out 95 percent of the (male) population.
After his conviction, Mr. Osborne asked the state of Alaska for access to the evidence (a semen sample) in order to get a more advanced DNA test. Such a test would likely prove his guilt or innocence of the rape (although not of the other crimes committed that day).
The Supreme Court, in a 5-4 decision (with Justices Stevens, Ginsburg, Breyer, and Souter dissenting), denied Mr. Osborne's request.
The unwillingness to use the DNA test is an example of an important value to the legal system that is not often mentioned: the need for finality. There are a vast number of people in prison who claim they are innocent; re-opening every case every time someone claims to have new evidence of innocence would create havoc (not to mention create all kinds of pressures on actual witnesses to change their stories and potential but missed witnesses to come forward). DNA evidence, however, is simpler: It exists, it doesn't change, it isn't subject to such pressures, and the cost to perform the test is miniscule (relative to the alternatives; and in this case Osborne offered to pay for it himself).
Some might note that, fortunately, this particular problem - the inconclusiveness of old DNA tests - will disappear because now all testing can use the more precise method. And, in fact, most states, including Alaska, have procedures by which a petitioner can ask for a post-conviction DNA test. (Osborne missed his earlier chance to have it done.) But the general problem remains: In the future there are likely to be new kinds of tests (say, brain imaging) that could also definitively speak to guilt or innocence.
The law is filled with rules that make sense on their face but when applied to particular instances seem grossly unfair. But it is those "particular instances" who may remain in prison, often with the double wrong of having an innocent person in jail and having a guilty one running free.