blind insight

ABC: read AEDPA.

A few weeks ago, while watching my secret addiction, Gray's Anatomy (as opposed to my well-known addiction, Law & Order), I started seeing ads for the latest Kyle MacLachlan vehicle, InJustice. The trailers suggested an intriguing and relevant-to-me premise, a lawyer drama about wrongful convictions. I set the DVR to record the series, and eagerly awaited the pilot episodes.

Two shows into the season, I'm ready to write the whole thing off. Poor writing, marginal acting, and ridiculously improbable plot lines are usually more than enough to doom a television program to my blacklist (which is why about 75% of what I watch is Law & Order or L&O SVU, and another 15% is sports). Still, I feel compelled to keep watching. Because, in principle at least, this show is about my work.

The premise is fairly straightforward: Kyle MacLachlan is David Swain, a rich corporate lawyer with political yearnings who has funded the National Justice Project. While he dozes through meetings, billing $600 per hour, his team of gorgeous young lawyers and investigators runs around proving the innocence of convicted men and women while flirting and bickering with one another.

Setting aside the exceptional attractiveness of Swain's posse, the NJP bears some resemblance to the Innocence Project in which I participate. We receive dozens of inquiries, we screen them, we discuss them, and where we have serious concerns that the inmate may be factually innocent, we try to do something about it by getting lawyers and investigators on the case.

But what the InJustice writers either don't know or have chosen to ignore is that proving someone's innocence many years after he or she has been convicted is extraordinarily difficult. And even when that innocence can be proven, there is no guarantee that the courts or the government will accept that proof or grant the individual relief. The barriers to justice are particularly formidable in cases like the two the show has treated so far, which involve eyewitness testimony, police misconduct, or ineffective assistance of counsel, rather than physical evidence that may be subjected to new testing technologies.

The show certainly is engaging, and at times heartwrenching. But its treatment of the grave issue of wrongful convictions is grossly oversimplified. For example, in last week's episode, the National Justice Project takes a case, "files a habeas" (according to Swain), and almost immediately manages to obtain a hearing on the prisoner's innocence, despite the fact that the conviction is more than a decade old. Having accomplished that extraordinary feat - the stringent evidentiary hearing restrictions of the federal habeas statutes apparently having no bearing on them - the team has 9 days to prove the inmate's innocence. How do they do this? By adhering to their cardinal rule about public defenders: "Do the opposite."

Of course, the public defender was lazy and sloppy, the eyewitnesses revise their testimony, and it is only a matter of days before the NJP folks have uncovered a high-level law-enforcement conspiracy that led to the wrongful conviction. While we do not see the hearing, it appears that all of this new evidence is presented to and accepted by the court. And the very next day, the innocent man walks out the prison gates into the arms of his family.

I recognize that the concepts such as exhaustion, procedural default, the statute of limitations, and successive petition restrictions do not make for sexy television. I recognize also that this show has the potential to raise public awareness of the reality of wrongful convictions, at a time when support for the death penalty seems to be waning considerably. Still, the inaccuracy and oversimplification this show is presenting does an InJustice to those of us who, for real, seek to remedy and invalidate wrongful convictions.

An Open Letter

Dear friends and family,

I love receiving your news, photos, and good wishes at this time of year. Your cards are displayed prominently on the wall of our home, and we feel very fortunate to have so many wonderful people in our lives.

Steve and I will be sending out our own holiday greetings this year, as soon as I make my way over to the post office to buy the 100+ stamps I need. I hope you enjoy the photo, which captures one of our favorite moments from our wedding day. I apologize for not having time or space to write a more personal greeting to each of you, but please know that our good wishes are many and heartfelt.

However, as much as I love your holiday greetings, I am not so enamored of the envelopes in which they are arriving. The unfortunate majority of them have caused me a great deal of sadness and anxiety, which I know you did not intend. You see, Mrs. Freiburger lives in Wisconsin, and is not taking her mail at our house. And while I adore Steve and his family and think their last name is perfectly lovely, it is not mine. Furthermore, I find it distressing to see that so many of you hold the erroneous belief that by getting married, I sacrificed not only my last name, but also my first. When I married Steve, I did not become him.

When you receive our card, please take a moment to read the message, in its entirety. If you look closely,* you will see that its senders are Madeline Cohen and Steve Freiburger. We will greatly appreciate if you address future greetings to us by those names.

Happy holidays!

Love, Mad.

*In fact, if you have to look closely to see this, you must be trying very hard to ignore the fact that my name is exactly what it has been for the past 35 years.

My first blog post as a thirty-five-year-old.

Apparently, turning 35 traumatized me into silence. When midnight struck and November 23 became November 24, I half expected crow's feet to sprout at the corners of my eyes, saggage to suddenly strike my boobs, and streaks of gray to appear in my hair. But, in truth, 35 feels pretty much like the tail end of 34, except with new cross-country skis and a gorgeous shell-and-bead necklace made by my very talented husband.

Speaking of XCing, I am starting to get the hang of this skate-ski thing. It is by far the most physically strenuous activity I have ever attempted, but I'm slowly putting together the pieces of the required technique and, more important, really enjoying it. Most of the time, I have to stop every few minutes to gasp for air and pull my form back together. But when arms, legs, skis, poles, shoulders, knees, ankles, hips, and head all come together correctly, it's like the elusive feeling of "swing" I sought to achieve in my college crew days. I wasn't a particularly talented rower, but on the rare occasion when the boat hit swing, it felt like we could go forever; the perfect rhythm of the boat turned the searing pain in my lactic-acid-churning muscles and oxygen-deprived lungs into a dull hum of background noise.

In fact, we have yet to ride a chairlift this season, having missed last weekend’s powder dump for a trip to Atlanta for boundless nephewly giggles. Assuming I shake the bug that’s currently plaguing my upper respiratory system, I’ll strap on my tele skis for the first time this season on Saturday, for an overnight back-country hut trip with Steve’s office crowd. I’m looking forward to the trek, and to the post-ski wine and relaxation in the cozy hut. But I’m feeling a lot of anxiety and uncertainty about skiing on the "big mountains" this season.

At the end of last year, I was starting to feel really nervous on the downhill slopes, particularly in areas with heavy snowboarder traffic. Both cross-country and back-country skiing allow me to focus on the physical effort, rather than the visual challenge, while alpine skiing down a crowded run requires me to be hyper-vigilant about what I can and can’t see. It’s stressful, and I’ve become increasingly afraid that I’m going to hurt myself or someone else because of my vision loss.

We likely won’t do any en piste telemarking until January. This gives me some time to think about what, if anything, I want to do different this season. I might start wearing an orange Blind Skier vest, if only so that other skiers will give me a wider berth. Wearing the vest will require that I suck up a fair amount of pride, of course, but if pride goeth before a fall, that’s an even better reason for me to get over it.

On an unrelated note, Congress is once again threatening to tighten the habeas reins, making it even more difficult for prisoners to obtain relief for serious constitutional errors in their convictions and detention. I have plenty of opinions on this matter, most of which are unsuitable for public consumption, but this piece by Slate's Emily Bazelon offers a good overview and reflects many of my own views on the issue.

Grief.

As the death toll in the Indian Ocean region continues to rise, my brain can no longer absorb the magnitude of the horror and devastation and suffering. I have given, and then given some more, but my paltry contributions seem meaningless and pathetic. Yet I don't know what else to do.

And now it seems that everywhere is death and sadness, to varying degrees but all of it merging together to overwhelm and paralyze me. More terror attacks in Iraq, more people - American, Iraqi, others - lost to the insanity that is the U.S. occupation. Dear, sarcastic, good-hearted Detective Briscoe, dead. Brilliant, passionate Susan Sontag, dead. And the death toll from the waves begins to threaten the six-figure mark.

I can make no sense of it all. My immediate reaction to the so-called tsunami crisis was to think terrorism. Absurd, of course, yet it seemed inconceivable that so much death and destruction could escape human blame. Perhaps if I believed in a deity, I would find solace, or at least explanation, in attributing it all to divine will. But I cannot imagine believing in a god who would use its will to wreak such terrible, terrible havoc.

Two little spoiler-free reviews.

1. One-and-a-half (oversized) thumbs up for Villa Incognito.

The best part about my new, longer commute is the dedicated reading time. I have cruised through more books since we moved than in the previous several months combined. Last night, I finished Tom Robbins's latest offering, Villa Incognito. If you are a Robbins devotee, as I am, it is nearly impossible not to enjoy his work, and V.I. offers a characteristically salacious, surprisingly twisty, and deliciously literate romp.

Villa Incognito will not rank among my favorite Robbins books; it is hardly Cowgirl-esque, for example. But when I placed the next book from my ever-growing stack by my purse to take to work today, I felt a whisper of sadness that I would no longer spend 40 minutes each evening with Robbins's crazy-quilt of quirky, sexy, and impossibly endearing characters. Robbins's books always seem to incite this type of withdrawal syndrome in me, and I often don't realize just how much I enjoyed one of his novels until after I've finished it. In any case, for a rollicking good time, click here.

2. Two thumbs down (because they're still scratching my head) for Ocean's Twelve.

I loved Ocean's Eleven and its motley (but, in several cases, smoking hot) band of thieves. But I walked out of the sequel alternating between muttering in confusion over the impenetrable plot and fuming in anger that we'd paid full price for such a lazy-ass bit of acting and film-making. I couldn't offer you a plot spoiler if I wanted to, because I have No Idea what happened in this movie.

When I wasn't closing my eyes to escape the excruciatingly bad camera work (dark! shaky! unfocused! weird angles!), I managed to absorb the following: Brad Pitt is oh-so-pretty (almost as pretty as David Carr. Have you been watching the Houston Texans play mediocre football this season? Who cares if they're from Texas. Who cares if they kind of suck. The quarterback. He's so pretty!!). George Clooney clearly phoned in his cameo-like performance. Matt Damon deserves higher billing for showing a wee bit of effort. Julia Roberts (whom I can't stand as a general rule) reveals her inner comedienne while rendering a deliberately terrible imitation of herself. Catherine Zeta-Jones was far sexier - and more recognizable - before she went all South-Beach-waify on us.

And none of this is worth your ten bucks. If you must see it, wait until it lands in constant rotation on TNT, because you'll need the commercial breaks to try to figure out what the hell is happening.

Grinch 2004

Christmas tree in my living room notwithstanding, this holiday season is assing me off even more than it usually does (which is saying something). I'm tired of people wishing me a Merry Christmas; I'm tired of the Christmas tree in the lobby of my office and the lobby of my office building and the lobby of my gym; I'm tired of the Christmas decorations every place else I turn. I'm glad Hanukkah is over, because now I don't have to see quite so many menorahs stuck like punctuation marks in the middle of the overabundant holiday decorations. (To be clear, I would prefer that there be no holiday-specific decorations in public places. Hanukkah is a minor holiday that has been blown ridiculously out of proportion because of its proximity to Christmas, and putting Hanukkah elements in public displays makes them no less offensive to my church-state-separating and religion-in-the-home-keeping sensibilities. Just like adding "I had a little dreydel" to the program made the 15 Christmas carols I had to sing in school concerts no more appropriate.)

But now, in addition to being fatigued of the holiday season and feeling increasingly reclusive, I'm angry. Because apparently, there is a growing segment of the American population that is outraged - OUTRAGED - that Christmas is being "stolen," "canceled," or "destroyed." How so? By commercialism, perhaps? Or by being watered-down to the lowest common denominator? Oh, no. Not that. That's all fine and dandy and the American way. Christmas, it seems, is being threatened with annihilation by those rare few public officials, school administrators, and bosses who have had the gall to suggest that the holiday be celebrated in homes and churches, instead of in schools and offices and government buildings.

Because apparently, if you can't SHOVE YOUR HOLIDAY DOWN MY THROAT, it's just not a celebration.

Who's with me?

I'm feeling much better, thanks. After many long and wonderful conversations with many wonderful (but not necessarily long) people since Wednesday morning, and after reading some outstandingly funny takes on the sit-choo-ay-shun, I'm no longer investigating indigent defense jobs up North. Instead, I'm thinking about what I can do (new, different, more, or better) to prevent the country from sliding into bigoted theocracy and to move us closer to the pluralistic, tolerant, diverse, and free society we should be. If you have ideas, please pass them along.

I had a conversation today with an old friend who, with her wife, is raising three gorgeous children. Among other things, we talked about ways that Steve and I can show solidarity with gay couples as we go forward with our own marriage. I'm keeping the ceremony under wraps for now, but I'm hard at work incorporating some ideas and brainstorming others. I feel incredibly lucky - and more than a little uncomfortable - that I can marry the person I love while many of my friends whose relationships are just as committed as ours cannot.

I also made contributions this week to the ADL, NARAL, and Planned Parenthood. That felt really good. If you're looking for something to do thisminute, why not pick your favorite activist organization and send some much-needed money its way? After all, the fight is only just beginning, and it's going to be a long and expensive one.

If you can't find me, try Vancouver.

I can barely compose myself to write at this moment. I am consumed with emotion. Sadness. Despair. Fear. Anger. Shame. I've cried twice, nearly vomited on several occasions, and am shaking inside and out.

I am horrified at Bush's reelection, and I hope, hope, hope that all the terrible things I envision will not come to pass during the next four years. And when I think that so many millions of Americans in so many states voted to prohibit gay marriage, to change their constitutions to forbid people who love one another from legally formalizing their lifetime commitment for reasons that seem utterly antithetical to the principles on which this country was founded, I am embarrassed to call myself an American.

Though I normally try to keep the language on this site somewhat cleaner than the sailoresque vitriol that often spews from my mouth, I'm finding only one way to express how I feel today.

FUCKITY MOTHERFUCKING FUCKER FUCK.

Please.

Today, I’ll be taking time from our regular scheduled wedding-/move-/going-blind-related posting for a message to undecided voters.

In many ways, I admire you for being willing and able to take an objective look at the candidates and weigh them against whatever criteria you base your vote. I admit that I am incapable of doing so. But one of the reasons why I cannot - simply CANNOT - vote for a Republican, and for George W. Bush in particular, is because Bush and the Republican Party have made it crystal clear that they are working counter to the values and ideals that I - and I hope a majority of Americans - hold dear.

For example, the Republican Party seeks to eliminate reproductive freedom. I think few, if any Americans are “pro abortion.” As John Kerry and others explain, abortion must be safe, legal, and rare. But a vote for Bush or for any other Republican is a vote for back-alley butchers, for a world in which women have little control over their bodies, their families, and their physical and economic well-being. It is also a vote for a party that, even as it tries to eliminate access to safe, legal abortions and to interject the government into private medical decisionmaking by women and their doctors, has sought to strip poor women of access to affordable prenatal care, and to strip their children of adequate and affordable healthcare, and to strip them of welfare benefits so that they can feed and care for their children. The Republican Party also has worked to eliminate funding for and access to birth control for teenagers. And to prevent schools from teaching young people about birth control and family planning. And so your vote for President Bush, or for a Republican, is a vote for this hypocritical, dangerous, and misogynistic agenda.

The Republican Party’s response to rising crime rates is to build more prisons and enact longer sentences, while stripping funds from after-school programs, drug education and rehabilitation programs, violence prevention programs, juvenile diversion programs, mentoring programs, and community corrections programs. The result: a generation of hardened criminals serving lengthy sentences, and a generation of children growing up without parents. Our tax dollars are being spent to house thousands upon thousands of nonviolent offenders who might well have been rehabilitated, mentored, trained, or otherwise guided into productive law-abiding lives.

The Republican Party vigorously opposes equal civil rights for gays and lesbians. Not only does this stem from a party platform that seeks to codify conservative religious values, it also represents an institutional willingness to promote hatred, bigotry, and discrimination. A vote for President Bush, or for any Republican, is a vote for inequality, bias, fear, and intolerance.

Much of the above boils down to this: the Republican Party is working aggressively to break down the wall between church and state that was so fundamental to our nation’s founding. The Republican Party in Bush's home state of Texas, for example, has reaffirmed a plank in its platform that disputes “the myth of separation of church and state,” and has declared that “The United States is a Christian nation.” Time and again, President Bush has demonstrated his disregard for church/state separation and his willingness to establish conservative religious principles as the law of the land, instead of allowing all Americans to make educated decisions about deeply personal matters affecting their lives and their families. A vote for President Bush, or for any Republican, is a vote that will strengthen the religious right and further erode the barrier between government and religion.

I do not dispute that there are Republican candidates who are pro-choice, who believe strongly in church-state separation, and who believe that marriage and other family rights should be available to all people, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation. But by calling themselves Republicans, and by aligning themselves with the Republican party, those candidates at least implicitly are saying, it is OK to strip women of freedom to make their own reproductive decisions, it is OK to marginalize and discriminate against gays and lesbians, it is OK to turn our backs on at-risk children and families, and it is OK for the government to impose religious values through legislation.

Nothing in President Bush's record provides support for the oft-heard argument that he is making America "safer" than will John Kerry. But his record, and that of his party, leaves no doubt that if reelected, he will continue to make America less the nation of freedom and equality it purports to be and more and more a conservative theocracy.

Please don't allow this. Please vote for John Kerry.* I already did.

_________
*A note to Nader-leaning voters: You do understand that a vote for Nader is a vote for Bush, don't you?

I'm just saying.

There really should be a law against excessive (and by "excessive," I mean "any") use of Polo cologne. With a severe sentence enhancer for such use in crowded public places. And triple time if the offense is committed before I've had my morning coffee.

Ew.