Submitted By: Lauren Colasacco

I recently read an article on paternity and fathers who are legally
obligated to continue paying child support after they discover that
the child is not theirs. This article shows that, sometimes, the law
can have a human face, where children are involved. The article
appeared in NYTimes Magazine on November 17th.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/22/magazine/22Paternity-t.html

The article explained that men who learn they are not the biological
fathers of the children they have raised, loved and cared for must
continue to pay child support for those children (even if the
biological father has returned to the picture). The only exception to
this appears to be if the father stops all contact with the child;
ends the relationship. The courts explained that it is in the best
interest of the child to be cared for by the father he or she has know
his or her whole life. A parent cannot disengage from the
responsibilities of parenthood while maintaining the benefits of
spending time with his “child.”

Generally the law only regulates the physical, tangible world–broken
bones, stolen property–but where children are concerned proof of
genetic relationship seems to be a mere detail. Courts protect
children from the dramatic relationships of their parents–their
mothers, fathers, step-fathers, etc etc. From the eyes of a child, I
think the courts got it right. A child develops a bond with his or
her father the day he or she is born. A baby does not know if their
father is related to them by genetics, and that baby does not care.
Babies need love, food, shelter and a host of other things that
fathers can provide, whether they be genetically linked to their child
or not. Good fathers grow to love their children when they hold them
in their arms and spend time with them. This is true whether or not
those fathers are genetically related to their babies or not. After
all, we would not contest the fact that adoptive parents love their
children with the same strength and passion as biological parents.

Perhaps it seems unfair that a child can live with her biological
parents, while a duped father (present since birth with his name on
the birth certificate) continues to pay child support. But, perhaps
that is the price a man pays to spend every weekend with the child he
loves. While DNA evidence can be crucial in murder trials, rape and
other criminal investigations, it does not tell the whole story in
paternity suits. It’s commendable that courts looks beyond cheek
swabs and blood tests, and impose the responsibilities of paternity
where fatherhood has been established and lifelong bonds have been
forged between father and child.

By April Kim

During the Fordham Law Film Festival, I watched Anatomy of a Murder.
Couple days later, I watched a recent blockbuster, Law Abiding Citizen.
It was just coincidence that I watched these two movies back to back but
I couldn’t help but notice the similarities in the unlikely pair.
Anatomy of a Murder is a comical portrayal of a clever lawyer who
successfully defends a murderess but later finds out that his client was
not innocent. Law Abiding Citizen is about a man taking revenge into
his own hands after a prosecutor cuts a deal with the criminal who
killed his family. On the surface the two movies seem to have nothing
in common other than the fact that they involve lawyers but in fact they
carry a similar message: there are GIANT holes in our legal system.

What are we to do as citizens in a country where a lawyer can
successfully defend a guilty client even while half believing in her
himself? What are we to do as citizens in a country where prosecutors
cut deals with criminals in order to ensure conviction (albeit for the
wrong crime)? These are the questions that these movies raise and I
thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment as well as intellectual aspects of
these two films. Although the two movies raise questions and give no
answers, perhaps it is a perfect place to start in our journey to find a
better legal system.

By Samantha Levin

Ex Bear Stearns hedge fund managers Matthew Tannin and Ralph Cioffi were recently found not guilty on all charges. During her closing argument, Susan Brune, lead defense attorney for Tannin, began to cry. “Send Matt home to his family,” Brune stated. Shortly after, criticism concerning the defense attorney’s emotional closing flooded the news reports. The reports surrounding Brune’s closing were not negative. They were more about the shock of witnessing such emotion in a court room.

Our legal system expects people to leave their emotions at home. This is strange because people come to court at their most vulnerable. Yet the judge does not want the emotional neutrality of his court room to be disturbed. He or she instructs the jury that emotional outburst by attorneys and witnesses can have no weight in their findings of fact. The judge is essentially telling the jury to not behave like humans, to be emotionally dishonest.

Emotions fall into the world of subjectivity. Our legal system prides itself on maintaining objectivity in order to provide a fair trial. For example, there is the reasonable person test which sets the standard of legal responsibility in every sphere of the law. Therefore, we don’t have the duty to rescue because most people are bystanders and would not risk the effects of rescue. But how can a trial be fair if it’s dishonest? We should not concern ourselves with whether or not Brune’s display of emotion affected the jurors or not. Of course it had some affect on the jury. However, this emotional impact should not be banned from our court rooms. Yes, emotions are subjective. But subjectivity should not mean that there’s a mistrial.

Perhaps the reason why the news articles did not negatively criticize Brune is because her emotions were genuine and right. They were not premeditated. People cry out of impulse. In addition, criminal trials have great affects on a person’s life. Whether or not the jurors want to be reminded, Tannin has a family. His life will be greatly affected by their decision. Is it right to hide these moral facets to a criminal trial?
Emotional responses are due to a moral righteousness, a characteristic that should be commended. Lawyers should be allowed to get emotional regardless of whether they are in court or in the privacy of their own homes. People should be free to exhibit their moral instincts. We want people to be engaged in a moral conversation at all times. There should be no split between the moral and the legal.

Nonetheless, no one knows what happens during jury deliberations. Perhaps the jurors did honor Brune’s emotional outburst and allowed it to affect their final decision. In addition, the jurors do not have to give a reason for their verdict. Therefore, the jury could have taken the attorney’s emotions into consideration and the judge would never know. I believe that the secrecy of the juror deliberation acts somewhat as a check on the lack of emotion in the legal system. However, our legal system should put so much pressure on objectivity and deny the jurors the choice to take emotions into account in their decision making.

By: Richard Strohmenger

In Otto Preminger’s “Anatomy of a Murder,” Jimmy Stewart plays the
role of Paul Biegler, a defense attorney representing a suspect in a
murder case.  Biegler’s client, Frederic Manion (played by Ben
Gazzara), has been accused of shooting a man who allegedly raped his
wife.  The film revolves around Manion’s trial and Biegler’s
outstanding performance in convincing the jury that Manion suffered
from an “irresistible impulse” when he committed the murder.  Several
witnesses watched Manion shoot the victim in a bar and his actions
seemed calculated to those present.  Biegler realizes that his only
shot at absolving Manion of any guilt related to this crime is to
prove that he suffered from an “irresistible impulse” towards the
victim after learning that he had raped Manion’s wife.

Initially, Manion is a tough client who refuses to give Biegler much
information to go on, or much of a case to make for that matter.  When
Biegler meets Manion in prison, he asks his client to recount the
events of the night in question in order to analyze his possible
defenses.  Manion explains that he found out about the rape almost an
hour before he went to the bar to shoot the victim, and Biegler
expresses that any defense of killing to protect his wife is defeated
by this fact.  Manion states that he was “mad” when he shot the
victim, but Biegler responds that that isn’t “enough.”  Manion then
adds that he was probably “crazy.”  On his way out of the room,
Biegler remarks, “In the meantime, see if you can remember how crazy
you were.”  When Biegler and Manion speak the next time, Manion
suddenly recalls that he was overcome with rage and did not fully
comprehend or remember the events of that evening.

While Biegler’s stellar lawyering at trial is one of the highlights of
the film, his actions in the jailhouse scene call into question some
serious ethical considerations.  Although Biegler did not outwardly
violate any legal rules about directing a client to lie or
misrepresent the truth, it does seem that he “coached” Manion into
rethinking the way he tells his story.  In Model Rule of Professional
Conduct 1.2, entitled Scope Of Representation And Allocation Of
Authority Between Client And Lawyer, subsection (d) states “[a] lawyer
shall not counsel a client to engage, or assist a client, in conduct
that the lawyer knows is criminal or fraudulent.”

Biegler’s conduct did not extend far enough to be considered a blatant
violation of this rule, but he did walk a fine line in how much a
lawyer can “coach” his client.  One role of an attorney in the legal
process is to gather and understand the pertinent facts relating to a
client’s claim or problem, and to inform that client of the legal
implications and options relating to the facts at hand.  Biegler’s
statement that Manion should see if he can “remember how crazy” he was
certainly informs Manion on what potential legal defenses are
available to him.  However, it also straddles the gray area of how
much of a role a lawyer can play in spinning the facts of his client’s
case.  Biegler had a responsibility to Manion, his client, to portray
the facts of his case in the most favorable light possible, but he may
have taken this role just a bit too far.

By Rachel Brook

Immediately after the publishing of Lorenzo Carcaterra’s book Sleepers
in 1995, controversy arose as to the truthful nature of the story.
The controversy intensified in 1996, after the book was made into a
movie directed by Barry Levinson.  Sleepers tells the tale of four
juveniles who accidentally kill a man during what was meant to be a
harmless prank.  The boys are sent to a detention center for boys
where they are severely abused, both sexually and physically.
Sleepers  portrays this abuse and the ultimate revenge that the boys
seek and obtain as adults when they encounter one of the detention
center’s guards in a restaurant.  Carcaterra published the book
Sleepers as a work of nonfiction.  The movie Sleepers also begins with
the line:  “This is a true story about friendship that runs deeper
than blood.”  However, many parties mentioned in Sleepers were
outraged by the assertion that this story is a reflection of
historical reality.

After the publishing of Sleepers and the later release of the film,
various people and entities expressed outrage at the assertion that
the story was nonfictional.  Priests at the Sacred Heart of Jesus
Church and School questioned the veracity of the book and movie.  The
Manhattan District Attorney’s Office was particularly upset by the way
in which it was portrayed in the story.  In Sleepers, one of the four
boys becomes an Assistant District Attorney (A.D.A.) for the Manhattan
District Attorney’s Office, and he manipulates the trial process (with
the help of another of the boys) to publicize the abuse that he
endured while in the juvenile detention center.  The Manhattan
District Attorney’s Office denied that an A.D.A. ever worked on a case
in such a manner.  If true, such a practice by one of its attorneys
would clearly undermine the legal system’s goal of justice.

In October of this year, Carcaterra attended a viewing of the movie
Sleepers at the Fordham Film Festival and he was able to discuss the
veracity of the story in a discussion after the film.  Carcaterra
admitted himself that he changed the names and places relating to his
childhood encounter with the law.  However, he said that the remainder
of Sleepers  is accurate.  Interestingly, Carcaterra arrived at the
Festival with only fifteen minutes left of the movie, and he said
quite frankly that he would rather not view the parts of the movie
that he missed.  Also, when asked a question about how he copes with
his unfortunate past experiences, Carcaterra avoided detailed
discussion of his abuse.  His reaction to such a question and his
reluctance to watch the movie speak to the trauma inflicted on him by
the juvenile legal system when he was a boy.  He prefers not to relive
those awful memories, and he carries emotional baggage from that time
of his life, even as a 55-year-old successful author.  What is most
disturbing about Sleepers (and most important) seems to be true:  four
young boys were scarred by the brutality of the juvenile legal system,
and if they are still alive, they deal with that trauma every day.

By Mike Grogan

Through my viewing of Mississippi Burning at the Fordham Film Festival
I was exposed to a new idea that I had never really considered when
viewing movies that deal specifically with previous human tragedies.
This new sentiment was the premise that these films, while potentially
highly entertaining, expose the viewers to a biased view of the events
that occurred.  These films are merely interpretations of actions that
happened in the past, often times generations ago.  This is something
that every person should take with them into the viewing of a film of
this nature.  In the case of Mississippi Burning, which I enjoyed
seeing, the plight and strength of blacks living in the South prior to
the movement that led to racial equality in the United States was
almost completely ignored.  Instead, the filmmakers chose to focus on
the actions of the primarily white government agents.  This can lead
to a distorted view of the past.
With this being said, I still feel that these films can have a
positive influence on our society. While biased, films like
Mississippi Burning present us with a view of history that many people
may not have any prior knowledge of. Furthermore, these films may
pique one’s interest in the topic at hand. This could in turn lead to
an advanced awareness on the behalf of the viewer. Given all of this,
I think that films, while not always historically perfect, can serve
as a positive influence with regard to learning about the past.

by Jeff Cunningham

I am just a simple Jew, no yeshiva boy, so I thought I might quote a not-so-simple Jew, although also not a yeshiva boy, in an attempt to discuss the relationship between religion, faith, and rationality. Albert Einstein said, “as a circle of light increases so does the circumference of darkness around it,” and I think this idea helps explain my personal experience with my Jewish faith and perhaps its foundation as a both rational and faithful lifestyle.

The only thing I am really certain of in life is that we don’t have much a clue about what is going on, how we got here, or where we are going. I think most of existence is unknown to us and is perhaps even unknowable. That being said, I have always been quite skeptical of both religious and scientific certainty. It seems unsporting to me, though, to attack religion as completely faith based and accept that science is entirely rational. There seems to be a balance to both, elements of faith and rationality in both science and religion.

I am certainly no scientist, but I know that we still don’t understand much of our world. I also don’t think that scientific, rational atheism is as recent a development in human history as we like to think. Our modern day Towers of Babel of evolution, medicine, and technology are certainly impressive to me, but I can’t help but think that in a few more thousand years our futuristic offspring will look back at our various advancements and think that we could have better spent our efforts focused on trying to build a really big tower to reach heaven.

Rationally based science seems to have an element, and a substantial one at that, of faith. There is so much left unexplored and unexplained in life that I simply can not accept that we have it all, or even most of it, figured out. The fear that certainly motivated our cave ancestors to bow down to statues they made seems to motivate us to invest our faith into rationality and the scientific and technological idols that personify rationality.

So assuming for my sake that science is indeed a “leap of faith,” I like to think that my Jewish religion, and really all of our various religions, are actually more “leaps of rationality.” My problem with religion is like my problem with science: the certainty. Judaism, for me anyway, provides a convenient alternative to this problem in that it accepts that we can not understand the Almighty in any meaningful way and that Judaism does not have all the answers, just a few of them. I think this idea is consistent with most other religions as well, although I am quite unfamiliar with the other options out there.

No one, I think, wants to admit that their religious belief is based entirely on faith and is essentially completely irrational. At the same time I don’t think that a rational atheist can possibly claim that they have all the answers or that any rational person has to see the world the same way that they do. I like to think, and my particular flavor of Judaism embraces this idea, that we all individually, Jews and Gentiles, understand the tiniest sliver of the Almighty’s light and that all of us together have come up with an ever increasing circle of light that keeps increasing the darkness around it. So, in conclusion, I’d like to quote another not-so-simple Jew, although certainly a yeshiva boy. King Solomon wrote, “I set my mind to appraise wisdom and to appraise madness and folly. And I learned – that this too was pursuit of wind: For as wisdom grows, vexation grows; to increase learning is to increase heartache.”

Thank you for reading, I’d like to add a sort of related, sort of ancient, Jewish idea to keep in mind during our future class discussions that I think can be extended to any conversation religious or not: two Jews, three opinions.

by Ben Darche

One of most critically acclaimed television dramas on the air right
now is Mad Men, now in its third season on AMC.  Set in early 1960’s
New York City, the show depicts a fictional advertising agency –
Sterling Cooper – and its employees.  The show, however, is about much
more than the ad business, operating on a variety of cultural levels,
with the all-white and nearly all-male agency executives mostly
oblivious to seismic cultural shifts unfolding all around them, with
the button-downed 1950’s giving rise to the civil rights and
counter-cultural era of the 1960s.  For instance, in one recent
episode, the show’s protagonist, Don Draper, turns off the radio in
the middle of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, seemingly
unaware of its significance or at the very least simply uninterested
in its importance.

One of the running themes in Mad Men is the moral detachment of many
of its main characters, Don Draper being the prime example.  Don, a
self-made man from a hardscrabble and mysterious background, seems to
have all of the physical things one could want in life – a great
career, money, a beautiful wife and children  – and yet it’s quite
apparent to the viewer that he coasts through his life with a numb
detachment, each day devoid of any sort of joy or, above all, a sense
of morality and purpose.

I mention all of this because I was reminded of the parallels between
Don Draper’s world and the perception of lawyers throughout history.
When discussing the sheer awesomeness of the show with a friend of
mine, he remarked, “Yo, you know what would make Don Draper even more
believable?  If he were a lawyer.”

Indeed.  Mad Men may be set in an old world of cars with tail fins and
mid-morning cocktails, but its cultural resonance is applicable to our
modern legal world.  The lack of morality and basic empathy on display
by many of the show’s main characters conforms to much of the general
public’s conception of lawyers and the legal profession.  As professor
Thane Rosenbaum has pointed out in his speeches, lectures, and his
book The Myth of Moral Justice, outsiders often view the law as cold,
analytical, and overly concerned with formal procedures and processes
over truth-seeking and storytelling.  Lawyers, in their quest to win
cases on behalf of their clients, often overlook basics that a normal,
caring person would not – an outcome where the client feels that
justice has actually been done rather than damages secured, for
example.  Ensuring the defendant apologizes and realizes the gravity
of his wrong rather than simply trying to increase his jail time.
Stop worrying about legalistic rules like “proximate cause” and
measures like “mens rea” and start worrying about whether your client
was wronged, and how, and how to best deliver on the justice he or she
is seeking.

The law is rarely concerned with human dignity and honor, but it’s
something all of us understand.  When we’ve been wronged, even the
most lawyerly among us is likely to want to reclaim that sense of
honor and pride that the courtroom too often deems irrelevant to the
outcome of the case.  It’s why we all associate with revenge in movies
and television shows.  And it’s why “an eye for an eye” – an ancient
expression rooted in measurement – still holds relevance today.

Mad Men’s beauty is that though it’s a television show unrelated to
the legal world on a surface level, it explores many of the themes
that the law dismisses as barbaric and useless.  When Don Draper
persistently cheats on his wife and she begins to discover it, it
crushes her soul and her sense of pride in all that she’s worked for –
him, her children, the entire life she’s built – and yet he rarely
apologizes, and never listens when she tries to tell him how much it’s
killing her (spiritually, of course).  In that sense, he and the legal
system we’re all so familiar with have much in common; justice simply
isn’t done when a bouquet of flowers is all you have to show for the
fact that you’re sorry.

By: Chelsea Hall

According to Professor Thane Rosenbaum, the legal system should be
focused on satisfying the emotional needs of people who have been
wronged.  Those who deal in the language of revenge understand that,
while those who believe only in legal retribution do not.  Revenge is
one way for a victim to feel vindicated and alive once again after
being shamed, dehumanized, or spiritually assaulted.  As human beings,
we tend to root for and empathize with the person who takes revenge.
However, the only way the legal system can account for justified
revenge is by calling the avenger “crazy” or “insane.”  The insanity
defense is an illustration of how legal system generally does not
allow for emotion, while also recognizing that revenge is sometimes
not such a terrible thing.

An analogy can be made to “battered woman syndrome” (BWS), which was
introduced in the late 1970’s to help jurors understand the cycle of
abuse that many domestic abuse victims suffer from.  The only way to
get domestic violence cases to the jury was to use scientific
evidence, since the legal system is all about the physical, material,
and tangible.  In trials of women who have killed their batterers,
experts began to testify in order to help juries assess the
reasonableness of the belief that deadly force was necessary (in
arguing self-defense).  In many of these cases, it was difficult for
attorneys to show that the woman (or man) was threatened by “imminent
harm,” which is the legal standard for the justification of
self-defense.  BWS allows jurors to understand the cycle of violence
and its psychological effects, as well as the relational history
between the victim and the batterer.

What is problematic about employing experts to explain BWS, however,
is that women who kill their batterers are deemed more insane than
rational.  By calling this cycle of violence and the psychological
effects on women a “syndrome,” the victims are pathologized – they
stay in relationships with abusers because they have something
psychologically and quantifiably wrong with them.  Accordingly, BWS is
similar to temporary insanity in that those who choose to take revenge
and take justice in their own hands are excused for not being in their
right mind at the time the incident occurred.  In reality, at the
moment a woman who has been physically, sexually, or emotionally
abused for ten years picks up a gun and shoots her abuser, she might
actually be seeing clearly for the first time in her life.

While testimony about BWS might help to reduce the charge against a
person who has killed or attempted to kill his/her batterer, it
certainly does not invite storytelling or truth-seeking.  Once a
victim is determined to have BWS, and an express is enabled to testify
on the behalf of the victim, that is the end of the story.  Victims
who choose to take revenge and end the abuse are essentially denied
the right to tell their narratives.  The judge does not ask the victim
to give a detailed account of what makes his/her history of abuse
unique or particularly atrocious.  A judge might listen to victim
testimony regarding circumstances surrounding the particular incident
at hand, but certainly will not want to hear the victim discuss the
moral, subjective, and intangible spiritual crimes that the batterer
committed over time.