Lies the government told you by Andrew Napolitano (big screen ebook reader .TXT) 📕

multiple hairs were found at the scene that did not match Jeff or the rest of his family, one of which was grasped in two-year-old Kristen’s hand as if torn from her attacker’s head, the federal judge who replaced the original trial judge refused to grant a new trial.

Finally, in 2007, after Helena had died, Jeff heard from Helena’s mother, who stated that Helena had confessed to her and explained that she could not tell the truth on the stand because she was afraid of the prosecutor, and the mother had not come forward earlier because she, too, was afraid. Even with all this evidence, the trial judge held that since Helena was dead, even if all the testimony about and from her was true, there was no way anyone could know how her fear of the prosecutor affected her testimony, and therefore the appeal was denied. Jeff ’s actual innocence was of no import to the government. All that mattered was that he was not denied any constitutional protections at his trial. Doesn’t the Constitution protect against wrongful imprisonment?

After thirty years of fighting for his innocence, Jeff, with the help of the Innocence Project, has filed another appeal with the Fourth Circuit. He might be able to make it out of jail for his sixty-sixth birthday and be given the freedom that innocent people have as a natural birthright.

Civil Commitment:

Presumption of Innocence Need Not Apply

Even though the Supreme Court had in its early days stressed that the presumption of innocence was undoubted law, it failed to apply its own precedent when deciding a case of civil commitment. Apparently, when it is a case of civil commitment, then the people who were wrongfully committed to mental hospitals would be comforted there by friends and family. Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, that is what the Supreme Court reasoned in 1979 in Addington v. Texas. The case involved Frank Addington, a Texan who had been charged with misdemeanor assault. His mother filed a petition to have him involuntarily and indefinitely committed to a state psychiatric hospital. The Supreme Court held that the burden for involuntary civil commitment did not have to reach “beyond a reasonable doubt,” rather, only proof by “clear and convincing evidence” that such a commitment was necessary.

The Court distinguished between incarceration in criminal cases and civil commitment, finding that there was a large difference between the two and that the second did not require a “beyond a reasonable doubt” standard. Considering that civil commitment is for an indefinite period, rather than a set period as is the case for criminal sentencing, the fact that the Supreme Court could find that it required a lower threshold of proof, and therefore in essence discard the standard required when one is “innocent until proven guilty,” we may have approached the old Soviet system in which nonconformists were institutionalized—a system we supposedly waged a forty-five-year-long cold war in order to upend.

In the majority opinion, Chief Justice Burger noted:

[I]t is not true that the release of a genuinely mentally ill person is no worse for the individual than the failure to convict the guilty. One who is suffering from a debilitating mental illness and in need of treatment is neither wholly at liberty nor free of stigma . . . It cannot be said, therefore, that it is much better for a mentally ill person to “go free” than for a mentally normal person to be committed.17

Apparently, the Chief Justice felt that since the mentally ill are never really at liberty, then it was okay to commit the innocent. Such convoluted reasonings have no place in our law. Sometimes we must tolerate the mental instability of a few to preserve the freedom of us all.

Money Can Buy You Guilt

Anastasio Prieto was driving his truck toward home along US Route 54, just north of El Paso, Texas, on a late summer night in August 2007. While enjoying the beautiful countryside passing him by, he noticed a weigh station and pulled over to have his truck inspected. A state trooper approached him and asked whether he could search Anastasio’s truck for contraband. Not protective of his own privacy, Anastasio said, “Of course,” knowing that no contraband would be found. During his conversation, Anastasio did mention that he happened to be carrying $23,700, his life savings, used to pay bills and maintain the truck, which he carried with him because he did not trust banks. What he did not realize was that his opinion of banks would be his undoing.

The money was confiscated, and Anastasio was detained, photographed, and fingerprinted while canine dogs sniffed his truck. The state police, who believed that Anastasio must be guilty of something, turned the cash they seized from him over to the federal Drug Enforcement Administration. Though no evidence of illegal substances was found, the DEA explained to Anastasio that they would be keeping the money, and that in thirty days he would receive notice of federal proceedings to forfeit the money permanently to the government. Anastasio was told that if he wanted to get the money back, he would have to petition a court and prove that the money was legally obtained by him and not the product of criminal conduct.

That’s right; even though not a single shred of evidence of any illegal activity was found in his truck, Anastasio was considered guilty and would have to prove his innocence. Thankfully, the ACLU stepped in and sued the DEA on behalf of Anastasio. With the lawsuit looming, and fearing a more public revelation of its Gestapo tactics at a trial, the DEA returned the money months later.18

Sadly, the case of Anastasio Prieto is not an isolated incident. As much as the government continues to stress the myth that people are innocent until proven guilty, forfeiture laws debunk this myth. And, unlike in Anastasio’s case, courts often sanction such actions. In a similar case, Emiliano Gomez Gonzolez and his friends had pooled their savings together, for a sum