#kozinski

Criminal Intent Is A Must For Act To Be Criminal | I believe that many things are crimes even though the accused acted without criminal intent.  This should not be.  As the U.S. Supreme Court explained, “criminal intent” is required for an act t be deemed a crime:  The contention that an injury can amount to a crime.... Post has been published on Rockind Law

MCA filed a counterclaim for defamation based on the Mattel representative's use of the words 'bank robber', 'heist', 'crime' and 'theft'. But all of these are variants of the invective most often hurled at accused infringers, namely 'piracy'. No one hearing this accusation understands intellectual property owners to be saying that infringers are nautical cutthroats with eyepatches and peg legs who board galleons to plunder cargo. In context, all these terms are nonactionable 'rhetorical hyperbole'. The parties are advised to chill.

Saints may always tell the truth, but for mortals living means lying. We lie to protect our privacy (“No, I don’t live around here”); to avoid hurt feelings (“Friday is my study night”); to make others feel better (“Gee you’ve gotten skinny”); to avoid recriminations (“I only lost $10 at poker”); to prevent grief (“The doc says you’re getting better”); to maintain domestic tranquility (“She’s just a friend”); to avoid social stigma (“I just haven’t met the right woman”); for career advancement (“I’m sooo lucky to have a smart boss like you”); to avoid being lonely (“I love opera”); to eliminate a rival (“He has a boyfriend”); to achieve an objective (“But I love you so much”); to defeat an objective (“I’m allergic to latex”); to make an exit (“It’s not you, it’s me”); to delay the inevitable (“The check is in the mail”); to communicate displeasure (“There’s nothing wrong”); to get someone off your back (“I’ll call you about lunch”); to escape a nudnik (“My mother’s on the other line”); to namedrop (“We go way back”); to set up a surprise party (“I need help moving the piano”); to buy time (“I’m on my way”); to keep up appearances (“We’re not talking divorce”); to avoid taking out the trash (“My back hurts”); to duck an obligation (“I’ve got a headache”); to maintain a public image (“I go to church every Sunday”); to make a point (“Ich bin ein Berliner”); to save face (“I had too much to drink”); to humor (“Correct as usual, King Friday”); to avoid embarrassment (“That wasn’t me”); to curry favor (“I’ve read all your books”); to get a clerkship (“You’re the greatest living jurist”); to save a dollar (“I gave at the office”); or to maintain innocence (“There are eight tiny reindeer on the rooftop”).

There is something creepy and un-American about such clandestine and underhanded behavior. To those of us who have lived under a totalitarian regime, there is an eerie feeling of déjà vu. This case, if any, deserves the comprehensive, mature and diverse consideration that an en banc panel can provide. We are taking a giant leap into the unknown, and the consequences for ourselves and our children may be dire and irreversible. Some day, soon, we may wake up and find we're living in Oceania.

The needs of law enforcement, to which my colleagues seem inclined to refuse nothing, are quickly making personal privacy a distant memory. 1984 may have come a bit later than predicted, but it's here at last.

[H]ere, for example, the Supreme Court waxed eloquent on the impressive qualifications of plaintiffs' experts. Yet something doesn't become “scientific knowledge” just because it's uttered by a scientist; nor can an expert's self-serving assertion that his conclusions were “derived by the scientific method” be deemed conclusive, else the Supreme Court's opinion could have ended with footnote two. . . . Our responsibility, then, unless we badly misread the Supreme Court's opinion, is to resolve disputes among respected, well-credentialed scientists about matters squarely within their expertise, in areas where there is no scientific consensus as to what is and what is not “good science,” and occasionally to reject such expert testimony because it was not “derived by the scientific method.” Mindful of our position in the hierarchy of the federal judiciary, we take a deep breath and proceed with this heady task.

Judges must apply the law as written, not as their instincts tell them Congress probably meant it. Language, when properly interpreted and literally applied, provides a meaningful constraint on judicial action; when we allow ourselves to be guided by intuition that Congress didn't really mean what it said, we are no longer interpreting laws, we are making them.