#apprendi

Facts first, as always. And the facts here are a little unusual, and require some knowledge of how Florida -- like California, a state with very unusual law -- handles capital punishment.

But before we get *there*, you have to know the death penalty works under the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution. SCOTUS has long held that death is different, and the rules that apply in a regular case can’t stand when a defendant’s life is on the line. To make a long story short (as best as I can), SCOTUS has held that, if a defendant is to be punished more severely because of the specific facts of his crime -- so called ‘aggravating factors’ -- it must be a jury who finds that those factors are true. However, the Court has never really explained what that means.

Death penalty cases are a little weird, because, in essence, there are two trials. First is the trial that we’re all familiar with (or at least I am), where a prosecutor must prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, all of the essential elements of a crime. In most states, after a prosecutor has done that, the judge then sets an appropriate sentence, typically without input from the jury.* Where death comes into play, though, there is frequently a second trial to determine if there are aggravating factors that warrant capital punishment. In every state except for Florida, if the jury does not elect, by unanimous vote, to sentence the defendant to death, the defendant cannot receive the death penalty.

Florida, however, does things differently. First, the vote does not have to be unanimous; rather, only seven jurors need to vote for the death penalty. Second, the judge can ignore the jury’s *recommendation* for a life sentence, so long as it found the existence of aggravating factors. In short, that means that so long as seven of twelve jurors found that some aggravating factor exists (and they don’t have to agree on the factor), even if the jury ultimate votes for a life sentence, the judge can sentence the defendant to death.

This brings us around to Hurst. In 1998, Hurst murdered a coworker during a robbery of the Popeyes at which he worked. He was convicted after trial, and the jury found that there were several mitigating factors: his young age at the time of the crime (Hurst was 19), a history of mental illness, and a lack of criminal record. The jury does not have to say what aggravating factors it found, but the trial court enumerated two: the heinous, atrocious, or cruel nature of the crime (Hurst’s victim was found bound and gagged in a freezer), and that the murder was committed during a violent felony (robbery). The trial court then sentenced Hurst to death.**

Hurst, of course, appealed, all the way to the Florida Supreme Court, which held in a divided opinion (4 to 3) to affirm his sentence. From the Florida Supreme Court, he appealed to SCOTUS, which, obviously, granted certiorari. He has two prongs on appeal.

Under the Sixth Amendment, Hurst claims that the jury’s minimal role, and the judge’s outsized role, is a violation of his rights. Among other things, the Sixth Amendment guarantees a right to a trial by an impartial jury. Under the Eighth Amendment, he claims that allowing a split jury to decide on death is a violation. Again, Florida is unique in this regard; every other state requires a unanimous verdict to impose the death penalty.

Florida is arguing that the jury is only guaranteed a role in the setting of punishment; no one has ever required that it be the final arbiter (and, indeed, in most states that still have the death penalty, if not all of them, the judge may impose a life sentence without parole even when the jury does vote to execute the defendant). The split jury is a more interesting question because SCOTUS has held that a unanimous jury is not a guarantee in a state criminal action (though it is a requirement in a federal criminal trial).

And that’s where we stand. More this weekend, after I’ve had a chance to read the transcripts.

* Again, though, the jury must find any aggravating factors that enhance a sentence; it’s a little tricksy how that works, but here’s the best example: in New York, there is a Hate Crime enhancement to punishment. If a defendant commits certain crimes and is motivated by bigotry, the penalty is more severe. Because this elevates the potential sentence beyond what the statute normally allows, the jury must affirmatively find that the defendant was motivated by bigotry. On the other hand, if a judge decides, based on the facts presented at trial, that a defendant was motivated by bigotry, even though the jury did not rule (or it wasn’t presented to the jury), the judge can give a harsher sentence than the average, so long as the sentence doesn’t exceed what’s set out in the statute. It’s a fine distinction, and one that has been litigated much, so I’ll probably do a post on this issue -- called an Apprendi issue, after the case that delineated the rule -- in the future.