Marvi Rivera had served as the county prosecuting attorney for over six years. The job had its stressful moments, but she had a good staff and a set of routines to handle most cases, She and her staff had a habit of stopping at the local tavern on Friday evenings to cool off and debrief the week's work over a drink. Most of the other patrons were lawyers and members of the business community. Most also had supported her in previous elections and even donated funds to her campaign.
This particular evening, a local banker approached her and was vociferous about a couple of cases her staff had disposed of that week. Both cases involved mortgage fraud to some extent. The banker demanded to know why she gave them a "slap on the wrist." His view was that if we gave these cretins severe punishments, the fraud would stop. She explained that in one case the defendant was sentenced to six years. He replied that she had reduced his charges and, had she stuck to her guns, he would be serving fifteen years in prison. Moreover, the second defendant was given probation, which he and his fellow bankers thought was an outrage.
What these ordinary citizens were unaware of were the demands placed on the prosecutor's office to mete out justice within the constraints of the law and the budgets they had available. District Attorney Rivera explained that in this particular case, determining the guilt of all parties involved required that they work one defendant against another to get a conviction. The bar patron listened intently, but it was clear that they wanted no part of her explanation. "Why should any of them get a deal?" responded one. "If they are guilty of a crime, then they should face the music."
Rivera understood their view, but she responded, "My job is to determine if they are guilty and in many cases that is not easy to do. It is one thing to think someone is guilty, but it is another to prove it in court." She attempted to describe the reality of prosecuting cases where evidence is scant and proof is often elusive. "Because we don't have all of the evidence of wrongdoing, we usually work one defendant against one another to get information, and, in return, we offer reduced-sentence agreements, what you guys call plea bargains"
One citizen responded, "This is like Law and Order, the television show."
She responded that in some cases, that is the outcome. But she wanted to say more.
The banker interjected, "Well, why didn't you at least use the guy you turned, as you call it, to testify against the other in a trial?"
"Because he would have been a lousy witness, and we might have lost the case," Rivera replied. "These are the decisions we have to make on a case-by-case basis." "The reality of criminal prosecution is that is takes time and costs money, and every time I meet someone wo is critical of our decision making, I always refer back to the Martinez case. Do you remember that case?
One patron responded yes, he did remember. "So, what was so unique about that case?' She responded that the defendant had been acquitted by a jury after the county spent close to a million dollars on the case. The case took almost three months, involved a sequestered jury , five prosecutors, and a host of staff to process all of the court documents and evidence. "We tried to bargain with the defendant, but frankly we had a weak case, and some of my staff felt that he might have been innocent."
"Why didn't you cut him a deal then?"
She responded: "We tried; he turned us down.
"In the end, we spent all that money, invested all that time, and still lost the case." She continued to describe the process and how all decisions must be understood in the context of limited resources and finite expectations.
"So, do we plea bargain? We sure do, because we know two things: The cops always report every possible criminal violation with the arrest so the defendant thinks we can throw the book at him. This is a routine part of the process. We are now in a position to drop some charges as an incentive to plead guilty to a specific charge. We simply can't take everyone to criminal court and don't want to. We have to make decisions that allow us to use our limited resources in a way that maximizes justice, and plea bargaining allows us to do that. You guys understand efficiencies. You are businessmen and you can't take work outside of your budget. If we did, I wouldn't be a prosecutor for long because guys like you would vote me out."
"I guess I understand, but I don't like it anyway," responded one of the bar patrons as he finished his drink.
1. What was the banker's agenda? Would you have agreed with him if you were a banker?
2. What were the organizational decisions that went into the plea-bargaining disposition of the case?
3. To what extent to resources impact the decision making of the prosecutorial system?
4. If the prosecutor's budget were doubled, how would this affect the decision-making process for the prosecutor's office and police decision making? How would the judiciary in this jurisdiction be affected by an increase in the prosecutor's budget?