GRAND JURIES:
HOW GRAND JURIES "RUBBER STAMP"
POLICE STATE INJUSTICES
By Charles L. Lindner
Past president of the L.A. County Criminal Bar Assn, and
legal counsel to grand juror Jerry Berk
This article concerns the Grand Jury in Los Angeles County. The same basic
conditions prevail universally throughout the United States, and what is described
below could apply to all the Grand Juries in all the counties of America.
The 1996-97 grand jury's term ended with one of its members being dismissed and sanctioned
$950, largely because he claimed in public that he and his fellow jurors were being used as a
rubber stamp by prosecutors. Closely behind the juror's dismissal, the grand jury issued a
previously drafted report that was scathingly critical of its in-house district attorney and county
counsel legal advisors. Disturbingly, the grand jury's increasing use as a criminal-indictment
assembly line has distracted it from its most important job.
In California, the grand jury serves three functions. On the criminal side, it hears testimony in
secret and decides whether the evidence is sufficient to warrant a felony indictment. Its charge
under civil law is to act as the people's "watchdog" -- to assure that local governments are
operating honestly and efficiently. Last, if the grand jury determines that a public official has
behaved with malfeasance or otherwise abused his or her office, it has the power to direct that
the official stand trial on why he or she should not be removed from office.
While the law confers enormous powers on the grand jury, its independence is radically curbed
by its "legal advisors." For the district attorney, the watchdog's basic trick is to "roll over and
indict," while county counsel wants the grand jury to "roll over and play dead."
Invariably, the grand jury's annual report analyzing county government and recommending
changes in its administration is dead on arrival at the Board of Supervisors. Department heads
use the report as a doily for coffee cups and donuts. The judges who appoint the grand jurors
mostly shelve their reports, unread. No wonder that L.A. grand juries have neither the
independence nor stamina to defy their advisors.
The federal Constitution requires that both the grand jury and trial juries be drawn from a cross-
section of the community. Unlike trial jurors, who are drawn from a pool of registered voters and
DMV licensees, grand jurors are personally selected by the county's 239 Superior Court judges.
Not surprisingly, some folks get overlooked when the invitations go out.
One result is that in a county where the median age is 30 and only 35% of the population is
white, grand jury nominees are overwhelmingly white, affluent senior citizens (average age 67)
living in suburban, single-family homes exceeding 2,000 square feet. One could shoot a cannon
south from the roof of the Criminal Courts Building to San Pedro without fear of hitting a
prospective grand juror. Turn the gun east, reload and fire with the same certainty of a miss until
the shell travels beyond West Covina.
Indeed, more grand jurors are nominated from Lancaster and Palmdale than Gloria Molina's 1st
and Yvonne Braithwaite Burke's 2nd Supervisorial Districts (collectively, more than 40% of the
county's population but only 14% of the grand jury pool). Latinos, who are 44% of the L.A.
County's population make up 5% of the grand jury pool. Asians, now 11% of the population, are
1% of the pool. The overwhelming majority of indictments returned are against nonwhites.
By virtue of this "key man" selection process -- originally used in the Deep South to preclude
blacks from sitting as jurors -- the grand jury's homogeneity tends to engender an immense
naivete, since few of its members have much familiarity with urban street life. Which brings us
to the case of grand juror Jerry Berk, a retired civil trial lawyer.
The law provides that when a district attorney presents evidence to the grand jury for a criminal
indictment, there is neither a judge nor a defense attorney present in the room. Legal questions
and evidentiary rulings are decided by the grand jury's advisor, who, of course, is also a district
attorney. Questions from the grand jurors are cleared by the legal advisor, which ensures that
potentially dangerous inquiries are either deflected or buried. Next to the words "not guilty," the
most feared phrase in a prosecutor's lexicon is "runaway grand jury," -- a grand jury that has
gotten out of the D.A.'s control and is acting independently.
Since grand jurors know only the law that is given to them by their advisors, and only the facts
that their advisors choose to present, defense lawyers, prosecutors and many judges have long
assumed that if a prosecutor brought a ham sandwich into the grand jury room, the grand jury
would indict it. As a practical matter, it is the "advisor" who is the master and the grand jury the
servant.
Berk became a problem because, as a lawyer, he felt that much of what was presented as
"evidence" was highly disputable in court. Unlike federal grand juries, the Penal Code requires
that California grand juries hear only evidence that would be legally admissable in a trial.
Hearsay, unsupported opinions, speculation and unduly inflammatory evidence should not be
presented. Berk claimed that this was precisely the kind of "evidence" being presented.
Berk went public with his complaint. A month later, Supervising Judge John H. Reid slammed
Berk with a $950 fine for talking to the press, in violation of Reid's court order. But prosecutorial
abuses of the grand jury system are well known within the legal community. In 1978, the state
Supreme Court ruled, in Hawkins vs. Superior Court, that using grand jury indictments instead of
charging a defendant via a preliminary hearing before a judge violated the state Constitution's
"equal protection" clause.
In 1990, the state's prosecutors sponsored the misnamed "Speedy Trial Initiative," which
amended the state Constitution to restore prosecutors' right to exploit the grand jury. By
increasingly turning to the grand jurors for criminal indictments, however, the district attorney
prevents the body from doing its best work: ferreting out government incompetence and
inefficiency. Despite what the jurors reported as the "divided loyalties" of its advisors, the 1996-
97 grand jury report, for example, recommends specific changes in the relationship between the
coroner and local police agencies, consolidation of forensic laboratories and the distribution of
clean hypodermic syringes as a public health measure to fight the spread of hepatitis and AIDS.
By far, the jury's most important investigation focused on the county's 476 foster homes. In
April, the grand jury found that these homes produced children who were underfed, underclothed,
undereducated, and uncared for. One day after the report was issued, the Board of Supervisors
demanded to know why the Department of Children and Family Services was unaware of a
situation so apparent to the grand jury.
One reason may be that county counsel prosecutes the childrens' abusive parents and seeks to
place the children in group foster homes even as they advise the grand jury on its investigations.
By any standard, this multiple representation creates a conflict of interest. It is time to get both
the district attorney and county counsel out of the grand jury advising business.
SOURCE: This article was excerpted from the Sunday, 27 July, 1997, Los Angeles Times, OPINION
section. This article is reprinted in the national interest of the American people.
|