Legal services

by Vincent Imhoff, Managing Partner, Imhoff & Associates, P.C.

Clarence Earl Gideon was about 50-years old when he was arrested in relation to the theft of money and wine from a pool hall in Panama City, Fla., in 1961. Gideon’s father had died when he was young, and Gideon himself quit school after eighth grade, running away from home and becoming a drifter. By the time Gideon was 16 he already had a criminal record, one that would follow him up until that fateful day when he was arrested, tried, and convicted of breaking and entering with intent to commit petty larceny. Gideon was too poor to pay for any type of defense in the case, and back in 1961 in Bay County, Fla., that meant you had to defend yourself against even the toughest prosecuting attorneys unless you were convicted of a capital offense. So it was that the Gideon’s judge denied him access to a lawyer, Gideon defended himself, lost, and was sentenced to the maximum prison term of one year.

While serving his time, Gideon learned a little bit about law and wrote a 5-page letter to the Supreme Court about how his right to counsel under the Sixth Amendment had been violated. The Supreme Court eventually decided to take his case, and, under the argument that “you cannot have a fair trial without counsel,” ruled in Gideon’s favor. The landmark case, Gideon v. Wainwright, set precedent that states had to provide counsel for criminal defendants who could not afford counsel, essentially owing to the eventual segment of the Miranda Rights that basically read “if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.” After a retrial, Gideon was set free, and the legal landscape of the United States of America was changed.

by Heejin Hwang

“Clarence Earl Gideon, defend yourself.” With those words fifty years ago, Abe Fortas, who represented Clarence Gideon’s appeal in front of the Supreme Court, highlighted the isolating circumstances regularly faced by indigent defendants without representation. But upon its unanimous ruling in Gideon v. Wainwright, the Supreme Court foundthat all citizens -- rich or poor -- were constitutionally guaranteed a right to counsel, declaring that no one facing criminal charges would have to navigate the legal system alone.

As we commemorate the legacy of Gideon this week, however, our criminal justice system continues to abandon defendants, and defenders, alike. Delivering one of the keynotes at ACS’s inaugural Student Convention in early March, Stephen Bright, President and General Counsel of the Southern Center for Human Rights, spoke of his clients’ hopelessness. For example, he noted the people with cases before the Texas Supreme Court, 92 percent of them do not have a lawyer.  One homeless woman on trial, Bright said, chose to go to jail, because at least then she would be fed and “sheltered.”

As noted yesterday during a national ACS symposium on Gideon several experts said too many states have proven obstacles to ensuring Gideon’s promise. Recently, Attorney General Eric Holder declared that “America’s indigent defense systems exist in a state of crisis” and announced $1.8 million in funding to “improve access to criminal legal services and strengthen indigent defense across the nation.” This is promising, but more action is needed to ensure that states are aware of the funding and spend it appropriately. From 2005 to 2010, the Department of Justice administered 13 grant programs to support indigent defense systems; yet, a 2012 Government Accountability Office (GAO) report stated that “among the 9 grants …, two-thirds or more of state, local, and tribal respondents … reported that they did not use these funds for the specified purpose, due to competing priorities.” Moreover, “no more than 54 percent of grantees or public defender offices responding to GAO’s surveys were aware that such funding could be used to support indigent defense.”

ACS’s inaugural Student Convention brought together nearly 200 law students from across the country and focused on the state of indigent defense 50 years after Gideon.  Speakers and practitioners celebrated the landmark case but also took an unabashedly introspective look at themselves, rallying their colleagues to take their constitutional responsibility more seriously.