Week Five Study Guide

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Between the time that the police make an arrestand a case is eventually resolved at sentencing, traditional prosecutions involve several steps withpsychological implications. One feature of traditionalprosecutions with obvious psychological overtones isa trial. The grand finale in our adversary system ofjustice—the trial—is a public battle waged by twocombatants (prosecution versus defense in a criminaltrial, plaintiff versus defendant in a civil trial), eachfighting for a favorable outcome. Trials can befiercely contested; prosecutors desire convictions,criminal defendants seek their freedom throughacquittals, civil plaintiffs want compensation forwrongs they have suffered, and civil defendants hopeto be absolved of wrongdoing and not required to paydamages. Psychological issues abound.Although the trial may be the most visible anddramatic ritual in our system, many other factors playlarger—often decisive—roles in determining caseoutcomes. For example, in the weeks and months following arrest, many criminal cases are simplydismissed for lack of evidence or other difficulties thatprosecutors perceive in the case. Of some 49,000defendants charged with a felony from 1990 to 2002in the 75 most populous counties in the United States,24% had their cases dismissed prior to trial (Cohen &Reaves, 2006).For the vast majority of people charged withcrimes and not fortunate enough to have the chargesdropped,plea bargains, not trials, resolve their cases.Plea bargaining, described in more detail later in thechapter, is a process in which a defendant agrees toplead guilty in exchange for some concession fromthe prosecutor. Such concessions typically involve areduction in the type of charge, the number ofcharges, or the recommended sentence. By pleadingguilty, defendants give up their right to a trial,allowing attorneys and judges to move on to othercases. The vast majority of civil cases are also resolvedwithout a formal trial in a process termedsettlementnegotiation, described in more detail in this chapter.If most cases are settled without a trial, why is oursociety (including psychologists who work in the legalarena) so fascinated by trials and trial procedures?Without a doubt, there are theatrical aspects to manytrials, especially those featured in news media, films,and novels. Trials grab our attention because theyvividly portray the raw emotions of sad, distraught,and angry people. Interest in trials is also related totheir very public nature; most trials are conducted inopen court for all to see. Some are televised or evenavailable for online viewing.In contrast, negotiations about plea bargains andsettlements are largely hidden from public view.Prosecutors offer concessions to defense attorneysover the phone or in courthouse hallways. Defenseattorneys convey these offers to their clients in officesor jail cells. Settlement negotiations in civil cases arealso conducted in private. In fact, the eventualsettlements in civil cases are often never made public.You may notice that we expend many more pagesof this book on psychological issues before and duringtrials than we do on plea bargains or settlementnegotiations. This choice reflects the available data.Like the general public, psychologists are intrigued bythe interpersonal dramas and behavioral complexities involved in trials. Thus, psychologists have conducted agreat deal of research on trials and have much to sayabout them. But keep in mind that most cases aredisposed of in a different and less public way—through plea bargains and settlement discussions thatare core concepts of this chapter.In addition to plea bargains and settlements, thischapter examines other pretrial proceedings in criminalcases including pretrial motions and bail setting, andoutlines the steps involved in a trial. All of theseprocedures raise important psychological questionsthat have been addressed through experimentation,observation, or empirical analysis. We preface thoseissues by describing the customary sequence ofpretrial activities in the criminal justice system.STEPS BETWEEN ARREST AND TRIALIf the police believe that a suspect committed a crime,they will probably arrest the suspect. However, beingarrested for a crime and being charged with a crimeare two different events, and a person may be arrestedwithout being charged. For example, the police mayarrest drunks to detain them and sober them up, butformal charges might never be filed. Charging impliesa formal decision to continue with the prosecution,and that decision is made by the prosecuting attorneyrather than the police.The Initial AppearanceTheinitial appearanceis a crucial step in the crimi-nal process. The Fourth Amendment to the UnitedStates Constitution requires that any person arrestedbe brought before a judge within 48 hours of arrest.This is one of the most important protections of theBill of Rights. In many countries the police arrestpeople (or“detain”them, a euphemism for arrest)and hold them without charge for extendedperiods—or indefinitely. In the United States, how-ever, anyone who is arrested must be taken withoutdelay before a judge, an important protection againstabuse of power by the police. The primary purpose ofthe initial appearance is for the judge to review theevidence summarized by the prosecutor and deter-mine whether there is reason to believe that the sus-pect committed the crimes charged. In addition, thejudge will inform defendants of the charges againstthem, inform them of their constitutional rights,review the issue of bail, and appoint attorneys forthose that cannot afford to hire their own.The Preliminary HearingThe next step is thepreliminary hearing. One of itspurposes is to filter out cases in which the prosecutionhas insufficient evidence. At a preliminary hearing,the prosecution must offer some evidence on everyelement of the crime charged and the judge mustdecide whether the evidence is sufficient to pursuethe case further. No jury is present and defendantsrarely testify or offer any evidence of their own.The judge will sometimes send the case to a grandjury (described next) or reduce the charges, eitherbecause he or she believes the evidence does not sup-port the level of crime charged by the prosecutor orbecause of a plea bargain between the prosecutor andthe defense attorney.The Grand JuryConsisting of citizens drawn from the community, thegrand jurymeets in private with the prosecutor toinvestigate criminal activity and returnindictments(complaints prepared and signed by the prosecutordescribing the crime charged). The grand jury maycall witnesses on its own initiative if it is dissatisfiedwith the witnesses presented by the prosecutor. Insome states the defendant has a right to testify. In aboutone-third of the states, a criminal defendant cannot beprosecuted unless a grand jury has found grounds to doso. The remaining states permit the prosecutor toproceed either by grand jury indictment or by a pre-liminary hearing. In the 2012 case of Trayvon Martin,an unarmed Florida teen who was fatally shot byGeorge Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch volunteer,the prosecutor decided to forego a grand jury investiga-tion and to determine on her own whether to chargeZimmerman. Because local authorities initially optednotto press charges, sparking protests nationwide, alleyes focused on the prosecutor’sdecision.Zimmermanwas charged with second-degree murder.If the grand jury decides there is sufficient evi-dence to justify the defendant being tried, it issuesan indictment. For example, former Penn State foot-ball coach Jerry Sandusky was indicted on multiplecounts of deviant sexual intercourse, endangeringthe welfare of a child, indecent assault, and other charges, all resulting from his alleged rape of youngboys between 1994 and 2009.ArraignmentA grand jury gives its indictments to a judge, whobrings those indicted to court for arraignment. Atthearraignment, the judge makes sure that thedefendant has an attorney and appoints one if neces-sary. The indictment is then read to the defendant,and the defendant is asked to plead guilty or notguilty. It is customary for defendants to plead notguilty at this time, even those who ultimately pleadguilty. The reasons for a not-guilty plea at this stageinvolve providing opportunities for both plea bar-gaining and discovery (described next), so that thedefendant’s attorney can review some of the evidenceagainst the defendant.Discovery and Pretrial MotionsDefendants and their attorneys want to be aware of theevidence the prosecution will use to prove its case.In civil trials, each side is entitled todiscovery—thatis, each side has a right to depose (or question) thewitnesses on the opposing side, and to review andcopy documents that the other side might use at trial.In criminal cases, just how much the prosecution mustreveal to the defense varies widely. Some states requireprosecutors to turn over to the defense all reports,statements by witnesses, and physical evidence. Moststates require only that the prosecutor share certainevidence (e.g., laboratory reports) and evidence thatisexculpatory(i.e., that tends to show the defendantis not guilty or suggests that prosecution witnesses arenot credible). In part because prosecutors failed toshare exculpatory evidence, a Colorado man spenteight and a half years in prison for a crime he didn’tcommit. We describe his case in Box 8.1.Discovery is a two-way street. In general, statesrequire the defense to turn over the same types ofmaterials that the prosecution must turn over. If theprosecution is required to reveal laboratory reports,the defense will likewise be required to share suchreports. In many states, the defense is required tonotify the prosecution if it intends to rely on certaindefenses, notably insanity and alibi defenses. The rea-son for requiring such pretrial notice is to give thestate an opportunity to investigate the claim andavoid being surprised at trial.During the discovery phase of the case, both sidesfile pretrial motions seeking favorable rulings on theadmissibility of evidence. Motions commonly filed bythe defense are the following:1.Motion for separate trials. When two or moredefendants are jointly indicted, one of them canbe counted on to request a separate trial, claimingthat to be tried together would be prejudicial.Such a motion was granted in the case ofTimothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols, who were convicted in separate trials of bombing the federalbuilding in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people.McVeigh was convicted of murder and sentencedto death, but Nichols was convicted of a lessercharge (conspiracy) and sentenced to lifeimprisonment.2.Motion to sever counts.Suppose the indictmentcharges the defendant with robbing a conve-nience store on April 13 and burglarizing a houseon April 15. The defendant may request separatetrials on these offenses. A defendant may arguethat it is prejudicial for the same jury to hearevidence about separate crimes because the jurywill be tempted to combine the evidence intro-duced on the separate crimes to find the defen-dant guilty of each crime. There is good reasonfor defendants to be concerned about how a jurywill react to multiple charges. Psychologicalresearch studies that simulate jury decision mak-ing have shown that jurors are more likely toconvict a defendant on any charge (e.g., robbery)when it is combined with another (e.g., burglary)than when it is tried alone (e.g., Greene & Loftus,1985). A review of nearly 20,000 federal criminaltrials over a five-year period reached a similarconclusion (Leipold & Abbasi, 2006).3.Motion for change of venue.The defendantmay request achange of venue(movingthe proceedings to a different location) on theground that community opinion, usually theproduct of prejudicial pretrial publicity, makesit impossible to seat a fair-minded jury. Psy-chologists are sometimes involved in analyzingthe extent and impact of the publicity onprospective jurors.4.Motion to suppress a confession or other statement bythe defendant.The Fifth Amendment protectsagainst self-incrimination, and the Sixth Amend-ment forbids the use of a statement taken inviolation of the right to counsel. One or both ofthese constitutional provisions may become rel-evant any time the prosecution offers a confessionor other statement by a defendant as evidence ofguilt. Typically, defense counsel files a motionalleging that the confession was obtained in vio-lation of the defendant’s constitutional rights, theprosecutor files a written response, and the courtholds a hearing at which the defendant and policegive their versions of the circumstances underwhich the confession was obtained. The judgedecides the issue on the basis of what was said andthe credibility of the witnesses. Questions of who is telling the truth are usually resolved in favor ofthe police. Criminal defendants who believe thattheir confessions were coerced or made invol-untarily have good reason to try to suppressthem, because juries tend to accept a defendant’sconfession without careful evaluation of the cir-cumstances that led to the confession.5.Motionsin limine.Perhaps the most commonpretrial motions are those that seek advance rul-ings on evidentiary issues that will arise at trial. Amotionin limineis simply a request for a pretrialruling. Suppose, for example, that the defendantwas previously convicted of burglary. The judgemust decide whether to allow the prosecution tointroduce that conviction into evidence in orderto discredit the defendant if he chooses to testify.The defendant obviously wants a pretrial rulingon this issue in order to plan the questioning ofthe jurors and to decide whether to testify. Sim-ilarly, the prosecutor may want a pretrial rulingon the admissibility of a certain piece of evidencein order to plan the opening statement.THE DECISION TO SET BAILJudges must decide whether to keep criminal defen-dants in custody during the lengthy process betweenarrest and trial or whether to release them into thecommunity with a promise to reappear for subsequenthearings. Judges have many options. In some cases(capital cases and cases in which the defendant posesa serious risk of fleeing or committing other crimes),they can deny bail altogether. Short of denying bail,judges can require that money (or a bail bondsman’spledge) be deposited with the court or that a thirdperson agrees to be responsible for the defendant’sfuture appearances and to forfeit money if the defen-dant does not appear. When bail is higher than defen-dants can afford, they have no choice but to remain injail. Studies of defendants who promised to reappearshowed that most defendants did so (Feeley, 1983).Whether bail bonds actually reduce the risk of nonap-pearance is not clear. Box 8.2 describes techniques thatbail bond agents use to ensure that defendants whopost bail will show up for court.In addition to ensuring the defendant’s return tocourt, bail has a secondary purpose: protecting publicsafety. In fact, bail evolved in the American legal sys-tem as an attempt to resolve the basic conflictbetween an individual’s right to liberty on the onehand, and societal rights to be protected from criminalbehavior on the other. The Eighth Amendment to theU.S. Constitution says that excessive bail shall not berequired, but the Supreme Court has ruled that thisprovision does not guarantee a right to bail; it simplyrequires that bail, if any, should not be excessive(United States v. Salerno, 1987). Although various lawsgovern the bail decision, they are typically vague and illdefined, allowing judges considerable leeway in thefactors they consider and the way they make the deci-sion about bail.Box8.2THE CASE OF“LITTLE RANDY”WITHERS AND THE CYBERSEARCH FOR DEFENDANTSON THE RUNBail bond agents like Duane Lee“Dog”Chapman (star ofthe reality television programDog the Bounty Hunter)are renowned for their diligence in tracking down defen-dants who have skipped bail and failed to return to courtas required. Bonding agents stand to lose the value ofthe bond posted if the defendant cannot be located, sotheir financial incentive for locating and returning thedefendant to custody is considerable. Although bondingagents have been criticized in the past for strong-armsearch-and-return tactics, they increasingly are turningto modern technology to catch defendants on the run.One of those fugitive defendants was“Little Randy”Withers, who was charged with possession of a firearmby a felon and whose picture was included on the web-site entitled“The World’s Most Wanted—Bail Jumpers”(www.mostwanted.org). The 21st century’s counterpartto the old“Wanted Dead or Alive”posters of the west-ern frontier, this website describes Withers as a Blackmale, born on April 28, 1975, 5 feet 7 inches tall, 175pounds, black hair and brown eyes, residing in Charlotte,North Carolina. Warning that these defendants have“Nowhere to Run! Nowhere to Hide!”the subscribingcompanies typically offer $1,000 and $2,000 cash rewardsfor information that leads to the apprehension of themost wanted bail fugitives. They also caution would-bebounty hunters that most of the suspects are armed andshould be considered dangerous.Critical Thought QuestionsWhat are the implications for most defendants, fugitivedefendants like“Little Randy”Withers, and the generalpublic when suspects are released on bail prior to trial? What Considerations Affect theDecision to Set Bail?Psychologists and other social scientists have exam-ined how judges make bail-setting decisions (e.g.,Allan, Allan, Giles, Drake, & Froyland, 2005). In par-ticular, they have evaluated the factors that judgesconsider and the cognitive processes by which judgesweigh and combine these factors.Bail decisions are influenced by both legal andextralegal factors.Legal factorsare related to theoffense or the offender’s legal history; research hasshown that bail is likely to be denied or set very highwhen the offense was serious and when the offenderhas prior convictions. But because the laws relevant tobail decisions are ill defined and there is little publicscrutiny of this step in the criminal process, there ispotential for offenders’race and gender—extralegalfactors—to affect judges’decisions (Demuth, 2003).In fact, race and gender had significant impacts onjudges’pretrial release decisions in drug cases in amid-sized Pennsylvania county between 2000 and2003. Black defendants were less likely than otherdefendants to be released, and female defendantswere assigned lower bail amounts than males(Freiburger, Marcum, & Pierce, 2010). These resultsare consistent with thefocal concerns perspective,whichproposesthatjudgesperceiveBlackoffendersas more dangerous and blameworthy than Whites,andfemaleoffendersaslessdangerousandblame-worthy than males. These perceptions affect judges’bail decisions. Psychologists have assessed the cognitive pro-cesses that judges use in determining whether bailshould be allowed. In some studies, judges respondto simulated cases presented as vignettes. In otherstudies, researchers observe judges dealing with realcases in the courtroom (Dhami, 2003; Dhami &Ayton, 2001). In both settings, judges tend to use amental shortcut called thematching heuristic: Theysearch through a subset of available case informationand then make a decision on the basis of only a smallnumber of factors (for example, offense severity andprior record), often ignoring other seemingly relevantinformation. This is not especially surprising; judges’large caseloads force them to make fast decisions, andpeople often use shortcut reasoning strategies whenforced to think quickly.The opinions of police and prosecutors can alsosway judges’decisions about bail. Dhami (2003) ana-lyzed bail-setting decisions in two London courts andfound that the prosecutor’s request and the positionof the police strongly influenced the judge’s choices.Judges were less swayed by an offender’s risk of com-mitting further crimes while out of jail (Dhami, 2005),raising questions about whether judges are sufficientlyconcerned about society’s right to be protected againstthe harm caused by defendants on bail. Finally,although judges were highly confident that they hadmade the appropriate decisions (the overconfidencebias), there was significant disagreement among judgeswho responded to the same simulated fact patterns,raising troubling questions of fairness and equality.Does Pretrial Release AffectTrial Outcome?What if the defendant cannot provide bail andremains in jail until the time of trial? Does this pretrialdetention affect the trial’s outcome? Clearly, yes.Defendants who are detained in jail are more likelyto plead guilty or be convicted and to receive longersentences than those who can afford bail, even whenthe seriousness of their offenses and the evidenceagainst them are the same (Kellough & Wortley,2002). Some data suggest that prosecutors use pretrialdetention as a“resource”to encourage (or coerce)guilty pleas. Pretrial detention is likely to cost defen-dants their jobs, making it harder for them to payattorneys—so the threat of it may make them morelikely to plead guilty. Among defendants who actuallygo to trial, an accused person who is free on bailfinds it easier to gather witnesses and prepare adefense. A jailed defendant cannot go to his or herattorney’s office for meetings, has less time with his orher attorney to prepare for trial, and has less access torecords and witnesses. Detention also corrodes familyand community ties.Can High-Risk DefendantsBe Identified?Around 1970, a push began for legislation that wouldincrease the use ofpreventive detention—thedetention of accused persons who pose a risk of flightor dangerousness. Civil libertarians oppose preventivedetention because it conflicts with the fundamentalassumption that a defendant is innocent until provenguilty. But most citizens approve, valuing society’sneed to be protected from possible future harm overthe rights of individual suspects to be free until provenguilty. Although the preventive detention of sus-pected terrorists is controversial, many people believethat the risk of a large-scale attack similar to 9/11outweighs suspects’individual rights. The U.S.Supreme Court has taken the view that preventivedetention is not a punishment, but rather a regulatoryaction (like a quarantine) for the public’s protection.Preventive detention assumes that valid assess-ments of risk and accurate predictions of future dan-gerous conduct can be made, an assumption that isnot always correct (Heilbrun, 2009). Thus, judgeshave difficulty knowing which defendants are highrisk and which can be trusted. In Shepherd, Texas,Patrick Dale Walker tried to kill his girlfriend by put-ting a gun to her head and pulling the trigger. Theloaded gun failed to fire. Walker’s original bail was setat $1 million, but after he had been in jail for fourdays, the presiding judge lowered his bail to $25,000.This permitted Walker to be released; four monthslater, he fired three bullets at close range and killedthe same woman. Afterward, the judge did not thinkhe was wrong in lowering the bail, even though,since 1993, Texas has had a law that permits judgesto consider the safety of the victim and of the com-munity in determining the amount of bail. In fact,Patrick Walker had no previous record, was valedic-torian of his class, and was a college graduate. Woulda psychologist have done any better in predictingWalker’s behavior?Mental health professionals now have the capacityto assess violence risk in some situations, particularly when using specialized tools (see, e.g., Monahan et al.,2005; Otto & Douglas, 2010). There remains a debateabout how precise such estimates can be, with someauthors identifying the limits of specialized tools andstrategies (e.g., Hart, Michie, & Cooke, 2007; Kroner,Mills, & Reddon, 2005).PLEA BARGAININGIN CRIMINAL CASESMost criminal cases—by some accounts, 90–95%—end prior to trial when the defendant pleads guilty tosome charge, usually in exchange for a concession bythe prosecutor. The extensive use of plea bargainingin the criminal justice system illustrates the dilemmabetween truth and conflict resolution as goals of ourlegal system.Plea bargaining has been practiced in the UnitedStates since the middle of the 19th century, and lately ithas threatened to put the trial system out of business.Of the estimated 1,132,000 people who were sen-tenced on felony convictions in 2006, 94% pleadedguilty (Rosenmerkel, Durose, & Farole, 2009). Inter-estingly, murder defendants were less likely to pleadguilty than defendants charged with other violent fel-onies. Guilty pleas were offered by 89% of robberysuspects but by only 61% of murder suspects. Theharsh sentences imposed on most convicted mur-derers—often life in prison without parole—make itworthwhile for murder defendants to go to trial andhope for sympathetic judges or juries.Both mundane and serious cases are resolved byplea bargains. In a routine case that would never havebeen publicized if the defendant had not been ajudge, Roger Hurley, a judge from Darke County,Ohio, pled guilty in a domestic violence case. Hewas accused of grabbing his estranged wife by theneck during an argument and threatening her with abread knife. According to Hurley, he accepted a pleabargain in order to get on with his life and end thehurt and friction that this incident caused his family.In a more notorious case, James Earl Ray, the assassinof Martin Luther King, Jr., died in prison while serv-ing a life sentence as a result of a plea bargain. Theplea deal was not well received: many thought Rayhad not acted alone, and the plea agreement meantthat the facts would never be aired in a public forum.After Ray’s death in 1998, the King family released astatement expressing regret that Ray had never hadhis day in court and the American people wouldnever learn the truth about King’s death.The defendant’s part of the bargain requires anadmission of guilt. This admission relieves the prose-cutor of any obligation to prove that the defendantcommitted the crimes charged. The prosecutor’s partof the bargain may involve an agreement to reducethe number of charges or allow the defendant toplead guilty to a charge less serious than the evidencesupports. For example, manslaughter is a lesser chargethan murder, and many murder prosecutions areresolved by a plea of guilty to manslaughter.In a common procedure known ascharge bar-gaining, the prosecutor drops some charges inexchange for a guilty plea. But charge bargainingmay lead prosecutors initially to charge the defendantwith more crimes or with a more serious crime thancould be proven at trial, as a strategy for enticingdefendants to plead guilty. Laboratory research usingrole-playing procedures (Gregory, Mowen, & Linder,1978) indicates that“overcharging”is effective;research participants were more likely to accept aplea bargain when more charges were filed againstthem. The defendants who engage in this type of bar-gaining may win only hollow victories. Cases in whichprosecutors offer to drop charges are likely to be onesfor which judges would have imposed concurrent sen-tences for the multiple convictions anyway.Plea bargaining may also take the form ofsen-tence bargaining, in which prosecutors recommendreduced sentences in return for guilty pleas. Sentenc-ing is the judge’s decision, and although judges varyin their willingness to follow prosecutors’recommen-dations, many simply rubber-stamp prosecutorial sen-tencing recommendations. In general, defendants canexpect that judges will follow the sentences that havebeen recommended by a prosecutor, and prosecutorscan earn the trust of judges by recommending sen-tences that are reasonable and fair.Why do defendants plead guilty? There are twoprimary reasons: because the likelihood of convictionis high, and because, if convicted, they would facelengthy sentences (Bibas, 2004). Some court observerssuspect that tougher sentencing laws of the past fewdecades have allowed prosecutors to gain even greaterleverage over criminal defendants, threatening themwith mandatory or harsh sentences. So no matterhow convinced defendants are of their innocence, theytake a risk by turning down plea bargains and facing the possibility of additional charges or mandatorysentences (Oppel, 2011). We describe one such casein Box 8.3.Defendants have the final say in any decision orplea. Before accepting a guilty plea, judges ask defen-dants if they made the decision freely and of theirown accord. Defense attorneys can have an impact inthis decision. Their recommendations interact with thedefendant’s wishes in complex ways to yield a decision.Defense attorneys gauge whether to recommend a pleaoffer based on the strength of the evidence against thedefendant and the severity of the punishment (Brank &Scott, 2012). When the evidence points toward con-viction and the defendant is facing a lengthy prisonsentence, defense attorneys will recommend stronglythat defendants accept plea offers.At least in some circumstances, defense attorneysalso take their clients’preferences into account. Kramer,Wolbransky, and Heilbrun (2007) had attorneysread vignettes that varied the strength of the evidenceagainst a hypothetical defendant, the potential sen-tence if convicted, and the defendant’s wishes.When the probability of conviction was high andthe likely prison sentence was long, attorneys stronglyrecommended the plea offer, regardless of the defen-dant’s desires. But when the probability of convictionwas low and the prison sentence was short, attorneyswere willing to consider the defendant’s wish to pro-ceed to trial.Unfortunately, zealous representation by defenseattorneys in plea negotiations may not apply to alldefendants equally. When she asked defense attorneysfrom across the country to respond to scenarios thatvaried the race of the defendant, Edkins (2011) foundthat the plea deals attorneys felt they could secure forCaucasian clients contained shorter sentences thatthose they felt they could obtain for African Americanclients, even though they were slightly more likely tothink that the Caucasian clients were guilty. Appar-ently defense attorneys’own biases may come intoplay when they advocate for their clients.Defendants plea bargain in order to obtain lesssevere punishment than they would receive if theywent to trial and were convicted. But why do prose-cutors plea bargain? What advantages do they seek,given that they hold the more powerful position inthis bargaining situation? Prosecutors are motivated toplea bargain for one or more of the following reasons:(1) to dispose of cases in which the evidence againstthe defendant is weak or the defense attorney is aformidable foe; (2) to ensure a“win”when theiroffice keeps a record of the“wins”(convictions) and“losses”(acquittals) of each prosecuting attorney inthe office; (3) to obtain the testimony of one defen-dant against a more culpable or infamous codefen-dant; and most importantly, (4) to expedite the flowof cases for an overworked staff and a clogged courtdocket.Plea bargaining serves the need of the defenseattorney to appear to gain something for his orher client and the need of the prosecutor to appearfair and reasonable. Both prosecutors and defense attorneys believe they are making the“punishment fitthe crime”by individualizing the law to fit the cir-cumstances of the case, and both are comfortable witha system in which most cases are resolved without a clearwinner or clear loser. Experienced prosecutors anddefense attorneys teach plea bargaining to the rookiesin their offices, and lawyers from both sides engage in aritual of give and take, with changing facts and person-alities but with the same posturing and rationalizations.In fact, the procedures are so well known that in somecases no formal bargaining even takes place; everyoneinvolved—prosecutor, defense attorney, defendant, andjudge—knows the prevailing“rate”for a given crime,and if the defendant pleads guilty to that crime, the rateis the price that will be paid.Psychological Influences on thePlea-Bargaining ProcessAlthough there are few empirical studies of plea bar-gaining, we can generalize from other bargainingsituations to understand the role of psychological fac-tors in the process (McAllister, 2008). One factorconcernsframing effects. Psychologists who studydecision making have learned that the way decisionalternatives are presented (or framed)—as eithergainsorlosses—can have a significant impact on a person’schoice. Individuals are more willing to take chanceswhen the decision alternatives are presented in termsof gains rather than losses. Imagine that two defen-dants have been charged with the same crime, eachhas a 50% chance of being convicted at trial, and, ifconvicted, each is likely to be sentenced to 20 years inprison. The prosecutor has offered both defendants adeal that would result in only 10 years imprisonmentin exchange for a guilty plea. Now imagine thatDefendant A’s options are framed as againand Defen-dant B’s options are framed as aloss. Defendant A istold that if he went to trial, there would be a 50%chance that he would be acquitted andgain 10 yearsoutside of prison compared to the plea-bargain offer.Defendant B is told that if he went to trial, therewould be a 50% chance that he would be convictedandlose an additional 10 yearsof life in prison com-pared to the plea-bargain offer. Although the twosituations are identical except for the decision frame,Defendant A is more likely to take his chance at trialand Defendant B is more likely to take the plea bar-gain to avoid a loss.Other psychological factors affect and sometimesdistort offenders’and attorneys’decisions concerningplea bargains. In general, people tend to be toooptimistic about their chances of securing favorableoutcomes and are therefore overconfident. Theover-confidence biassuggests that because defendants andtheir attorneys believe (incorrectly) that they have achance to win at trial, they might reject reasonableoffers from prosecutors.Overconfidence skews beliefs about the likeli-hood of acquittal. Denial mechanisms affect thoughtsabout one’s guilt and the chances for successful plea-bargain arrangements. Offenders often have difficultyacknowledging guilt to their attorneys; some cannoteven admit it to themselves (Bibas, 2004). Thinkingabout one’s immoral or illegal actions is painful anddepressing, and denial mechanisms allow people toavoid dealing with those thoughts. But denial resultsin minimizing the harm caused to others and anunwillingness to accept responsibility for wrongdoing.Defendants in denial are unlikely to take a plea bar-gain even when it is advantageous for them to do so.Attorneys also tend to be overconfident of theirability to predict case outcomes (Goodman-Delahunty, Granhag, Hartwig, & Loftus, 2010), ren-dering them less than stellar tellers of the future. Theiroverconfidence stems from a variety of factors,including the absence of feedback on the accuracy ofmost predictions (90–95% of cases are never tried!);the belief in their professional prowess; and the relatedillusion that with hard work and perseverance, they cancontrol the outcome of events (Greene & Bornstein,2011).Evaluations of Plea BargainingThe U.S. Supreme Court has called plea bargaining“an essential component of the administration of jus-tice”(Santobello v. New York, 1971), and has statedthat defendants have a constitutional right to effectiverepresentation in plea negotiations, including compe-tent advice and information about prosecutors’offers(Lafler v. Cooper, 2012). Still, plea bargaining remains acontroversial procedure. It has been defended as anecessary and useful part of the criminal justice system(American Bar Association, 1993), and condemned asa practice that should be abolished from our courts(Lynch, 2003). Advocates justify the procedure bypointing out that guilty pleas lessen the backlog ofcases that would otherwise engulf the courts; facilitate the prosecution of other offenders; and reduce theinvolvement of criminal justice participants, including(in addition to judges and attorneys) police officerswho don’t have to spend hours in court testifying,and victims who are spared the trauma of a trial.Critics urge the abolition of plea bargaining.They claim that (1) improper sentences—sometimestoo harsh but more often too lenient—are likely; (2)plea bargaining encourages defendants to surrendertheir constitutional rights; (3) prosecutors exert toomuch power in negotiating guilty pleas; and (4) inno-cent defendants might feel coerced to plead guiltybecause they fear the more severe consequences ofbeing convicted by a jury.Data on these contentions are limited, but theavailable evidence suggests that plea bargainingworks as advertised. Defendants who are convictedat trial do indeed suffer more severe sanctions thanthose who accept plea bargains. In 2006, 89% offelons convicted during a trial were sentenced to jailor prison, compared with only 76% of those whocommitted the same crime and accepted plea bar-gains. In addition, judges imposed longer sentenceson offenders who went to trial (an average sentenceof 8 years and 4 months) than on those who pledguilty (an average sentence of 3 years and 11 months)(Rosenmerkel et al., 2009).There may be some“dark sides”to plea bargain-ing, however. It is troubling that adolescent defen-dants may lack the comprehension skills necessary tointelligently weigh the trade-offs inherent in pleabargaining and to consider the long-term conse-quences of their decisions (Redlich, 2010). In fact,adolescents may be more likely than adults to acceptguilty pleas (Grisso et al., 2003), and among adoles-cents aged 11–13, the decision to accept a plea bar-gain is unrelated to the strength of the evidenceagainst them (Viljoen, Klaver, & Roesch, 2005).Plea bargaining may also work against the long-range goal of achieving justice. It may prevent thefamilies of victims from seeing the defendants“getjustice”or hearing them acknowledge full responsi-bility for their offenses. In 2000, a Missouri man,Terrance Wainwright, was sentenced to life withoutparole plus 90 years for killing his wife and her 15-year-old daughter. The case seemed closed. But dur-ing the appeals process five years later, a prosecutoroffered Wainwright a deal to plead guilty to a lessercharge and a reduced sentence, infuriating familymembers of the victims. According to the father ofthe 15-year-old girl, the prosecutor proposed thedeal without ever consulting him. To address thisconcern, victims’rights legislation increasingly ensuresthat the victim or his or her family has a say in pleabargaining, and some states now involve victims inthe plea-bargaining process.Finally, it is troubling that cases are not alwaysresolved in line with the gravity of the offense.When these“errors”are in the direction of sentenc-ing leniency, they often are attributed to a perceivedoverload in the prosecutor’s office or the courts. Adefendant should not be able to plead to a greatlyreduced charge simply because the criminal justicesystem lacks the resources to handle the case. How-ever, the answer to problems of unwarranted leniencyis not the abolition of plea bargaining; rather, ade-quate funding must be provided for the court system,as well as for the correctional system, so that whensevere penalties are necessary, severe penalties can begiven. In the long run, if plea bargaining serves pri-marily as a method for managing the underfundedbudgets of our courts and correctional systems, itwill cease to be a bargain in the larger sense andwill become, instead, too great a price for our societyto pay.SETTLEMENTS IN CIVIL CASESJust as most criminal cases are resolved through plea-bargaining procedures prior to trial, the vast majorityof civil disputes are also resolved (or settled) without atrial, typically in private negotiations between attor-neys representing the disputing parties. This process isknown assettlement negotiation. (Attorneys alsonegotiate with insurers, regulators, and sometimeseven with their own clients in an attempt to settle adispute.) Most divorces, landlord–tenant disputes,claims of employment discrimination, and accidentcases are resolved without a trial.Large class-action lawsuits that may involve hun-dreds or thousands of plaintiffs are also typicallyresolved in settlement negotiations. In 2012, attorneysrepresenting the oil giant BP and more than 100,000Gulf Coast residents and businesses affected by the2010 Deepwater Horizon oil spill reached a settle-ment that eliminated the threat of a trial. One com-mentator suggested that as lawsuits go,“this wasgoing to be the Super Bowl wrapped up in the World Series—only with much, much more moneyat stake”(Walsh, 2012).Lawyers spend considerable time negotiating set-tlements because they would almost always prefer thecertainty of a negotiated compromise to the uncer-tainty of a jury trial. Because their caseload (ordocket) is so large, judges would always prefer thatthe participants in a civil dispute resolve their differ-ences themselves, without using the considerableresources necessary for a trial.Disputing parties obviously have different objec-tives in settlement negotiations. Hence, the attorneysrepresenting these parties will have very different rolesto play in the negotiation. In a personal injury case, acommon type of civil dispute, plaintiffs’lawyers willtry to extract every dollar that a defendant will pay,whereas defendants’lawyers will try to avoid payingall but the minimal cost necessary to settle the case. Inthe Deepwater Horizon case, plaintiffs’attorneyswere motivated to avoid years of uncertain litigationand the possibility of obtaining less money for theirclients than they would receive in the settlement, andattorneys representing BP opted to settle in order toavoid having the company’s mistakes paraded in opencourt, particularly in light of ongoing litigation withfederal, state, and local governments.Some lawyers have become highly skilled atnegotiating settlements. Consider, for example, thecase of Valerie Lakey, who, at age 5, was disembow-eled by the suction power of a pool drain pump pro-duced by Sta-Rite Industries. Valerie sat on an openpool drain after other children removed the protec-tive cover that a swim club had failed to install prop-erly. Despite 12 prior suits with similar claims, Sta-Rite continued to make and sell drain covers lackinginstallation warnings. Former North Carolina senatorand presidential hopeful John Edwards served as theattorney for plaintiffs Valerie Lakey and her family.After lengthy negotiations that continued“backstage”throughout the trial, Sta-Rite eventually settled andthe Lakey family received $25 million, the largest per-sonal injury award in North Carolina history.What makes some lawyers so skilled at negotiat-ing and winning such large damages? Do they have aknack for deciding whether a case is worth pursuingand an ability to assess accurately what it might beworth? Do they have a particular interpersonal stylethat facilitates compromise? Or do they have espe-cially shiny crystal balls? In recent years, psychologists,economists, and game theorists (scientists who studybehavior in strategic situations) have conducted stud-ies of actual and simulated settlement negotiations(though they have yet to study the crystal-ballhypothesis!) to determine what factors predict settle-ment amounts.Factors That DetermineSettlement AmountsThe legal merits of the case matter most, of course. Inan automobile accident case in which there is strongevidence of the defendant’s reckless driving and inwhich there are obvious and severe injuries, a plaintiffwill recover more money than will a plaintiff whosecase is weak on liability or damages. But other factors matter as well. Negotiationtheory suggests that outcomes are also influenced bythe negotiators’reservation price, or bottom line(Korobkin & Doherty, 2009). The defendant’s reser-vation price is themaximumamount of money that heor she would be willing to pay to reach an agreement,whereas the plaintiff’s reservation price is theminimumamount of money that he or she would accept tosettle the claim. Say that a plaintiff was injuredwhen a piece of machinery malfunctioned, injuringhim or her and resulting in medical and other costsof approximately $100,000. The defendant manufac-turer may set a reservation price of $75,000, authoriz-ing the defense attorney to negotiate a settlement thatdoes not exceed that amount, while the plaintiff mayset a reservation price of $25,000, meaning that he orshe will accept nothing less. Though the parties arenot initially aware of one another’s reservation prices,they have a $50,000“bargaining zone”in which tonegotiate a compromise. If they fail to reach a com-promise, negotiators walk away from the bargainingtable and the case goes to trial. Various psychologicalfactors influence reservation points, including percep-tions of the likely outcome if the case goes to trial andnegotiators’goals and views on the merits of the case.In considering the merits of their case, plaintiffs,defendants, and attorneys alike are influenced by psy-chological biases, often referred to asheuristics(Greene & Ellis, 2007; Kahneman, 2011). One suchheuristic, theself-serving bias, occurs when peopleinterpret information or make decisions in ways thatare consistent with their own interests, rather than inan objective fashion. When evaluating their cases,involved parties often have difficulty seeing the meritsof the other side, believing that the evidence favorstheir position and that the fairest resolution is one thatrewards them. For example, laypeople who wereasked to play the role of either the plaintiff or defen-dant in a personal injury case involving an automo-bile–motorcycle collision and to assess the value of thecase exhibited the self-serving bias. Although all par-ticipants had the same information, those who evalu-ated the case from the perspective of the plaintiffbelieved a fair settlement in the case was, on average,nearly $18,000 more than the amount suggested bythe“defense”(Loewenstein, Issacharoff, Camerer, &Babcock, 1993). Self-serving biases can also lead toimpasse because people who are unable to take theperspective of their negotiation opponents are lesslikely to successfully reach a deal than those who areable to take their opponents’perspective (Galinsky,Maddux, Gilin, & White, 2008).Another heuristic, termed theanchoring andadjustment bias, occurs when negotiators arestrongly influenced (“anchored”) by an initial startingvalue and when, in subsequent discussion, they donot sufficiently adjust their judgments away fromthis starting point. This bias is quite pervasive, andeven wildly extreme anchors can influence judg-ments. People provided higher estimates of the aver-age temperature in San Francisco when first askedwhether it was higher or lower than 558 degrees, anumber that may have induced people to consider the(unlikely) possibility that San Francisco temperaturesare high (cited by Guthrie, Rachlinski, & Wistrich,2001). In the context of settlement negotiations, thefirst offer can serve to anchor the final negotiatedcompromise; the higher the offer, the higher the ulti-mate settlement (Korobkin & Doherty, 2009).Many legal disputes involve intense emotions thatcan also influence the likelihood of resolution. Imag-ine, for example, the despair and anguish that RachelBarton Pine must have experienced after beingdragged 200 feet underneath a Chicago commutertrain in 1995. The then–21-year-old classical violinprodigy had her left leg severed above the knee, lostpart of her right foot, and badly injured her right kneeas terrified passengers tried to alert the engineer to haltthe train. Barton sued the train company for $30 mil-lion. After several years of negotiations and 25 opera-tions, she received nearly that amount and gave asizeable portion to charity.Emotions on the part of plaintiffs, defendants,and their attorneys all play a role in negotiation. Theemotion most closely associated with disputes may beanger; parties involved in settlement discussions oftenfeel resentment, antagonism, and sometimes outrightfury. Presumably those expressions would harm thechances for concessions and compromise, and psycho-logical data suggest that they do. Higher levels of angeron the part of negotiators are related to angry responsesfrom the other party (Friedman et al., 2004), lessregard for one’s adversary (Allred, Mallozzi, Matsui,& Raia, 1997), and a greater frequency of impasse(Moore, Kurtzberg, Thompson, & Morris, 1999).Angry disputants have difficulty resolving their com-peting claims.If anger tends to inhibit dispute resolution, domore positive emotions tend to enhance it? Theanswer is yes; positive emotions such as happiness foster cooperation and concession making (Kopelman,Rosette, & Thompson, 2006), stimulate creative prob-lem solving (deVries et al., 2012), increase the likeli-hood that parties will disclose personal information(Forgas, 2011), and positively influence negotiators’expectations (Carnevale, 2008). Experiencing positiveemotions improves one’s chances for successful settle-ment negotiations.WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF A TRIAL?Sometimes settlement negotiations fail and plea bar-gains prove to be elusive. In those situations, dispu-tants have no choice but to have their case resolved ina trial, a topic to which we devote the remainder ofthis chapter. Every trial, civil or criminal, presents twocontrasting versions of the truth. Both sides try topresent the“facts”in question in such a way as toconvince the judge or the jury that their claims aretrue. The judge or jury must render judgments on theprobable truth or falsity of each side’s statements andevidence.The jury system evolved from an ancient ritualduring which a defendant stood before a priest, sur-rounded by friends who swore that the defendant hadnot committed the crime. But the victim also broughtfriends who swore to just the opposite (Kadri, 2005).Because this arrangement was not especially satisfac-tory to anyone, the English monarchy began to havedefendants appear in front of a panel of citizens whosetask was to swear to the innocence or guilt of thedefendant.If one is asked about the purpose of a moderntrial, the first response might be“to determine thetruth, of course.”But is this really the prime functionof a trial? In fact, trials also serve other purposes: Theyprovide a sense of stability and a way to resolve con-flicts so that the disputants can receive satisfaction.Many years ago, Miller and Boster (1977) identifiedthree images of the trial that reflect these contrastingconceptions and that still hold true today.The Trial as a Search for the TruthMany people see a trial as a rule-governed eventinvolving the parties’collective search for the truth(Miller & Boster, 1977). This view assumes thatwhat really happened can be clearly ascertained—that witnesses are capable of knowing, remembering,and describing events completely and accurately.Although this image of the trial recognizes that theopposing attorneys present only those facts that but-tress their positions, it assumes that the truth willemerge from the confrontation of conflicting facts.It also assumes that judges or jurors, in weighingthese facts, can“lay aside their prejudices and precon-ceived views regarding the case and replace suchbiases with a dispassionate analysis of the argumentsand evidence”(Miller & Boster, 1977, p. 25).But this image of the trial as a rational, rule-governed event has been challenged on severalgrounds. Eyewitnesses are not always thorough and accurate reporters, as the legal system would like tobelieve. Interrogations can sometimes result in falseconfessions, and jurors are not particularly good atdistinguishing false confessions from true confessions.Jurors may have difficulty setting aside their ownexperiences and prejudices. Although this image ofthe trial remains as an inspiring ideal, other imagesneed to be considered as well.The Trial as a Test of CredibilityA second conception—that the trial is a test of credi-bility—acknowledges that facts and evidence arealways incomplete and biased. Hence the decisionmakers, whether judge or jury, must not only weighthe information and evidence but also evaluate thetruthfulness of the opposing sources of evidence(Miller & Boster, 1977). They must focus on theway evidence is presented, the qualifications of wit-nesses, and the inconsistencies between witnesses.Competence and trustworthiness of witnesses takeon added importance in this image.The image of the trial as a test of credibility alsohas problems. Both judges and jurors can makeunwarranted inferences about witnesses and attorneyson the basis of race, gender, mannerisms, or style ofspeech. Judges’and jurors’judgments of credibilitymay be based more on stereotypes, folklore, or“commonsense intuition”than on the facts.The Trial as a Conflict-Resolving RitualThe first two images share the belief that the primaryfunction of a trial is to produce the most nearly validjudgment about the guilt of a criminal defendant orthe responsibility of a civil defendant. The third imageshifts the function of the trial from determining thetruth to providing a mechanism to resolve controver-sies. Miller and Boster (1977) express it this way:“Atthe risk of oversimplification we suggest that itremoves primary attention from the concept of doingjustice and transfers it to the psychological realm ofcreating a sense that justice is being done”(p. 34). Truthremains a goal, but participants in the trial process alsoneed both the opportunity to have their“day in court”and the reassurance that, whatever the outcome,“jus-tice was done.”In other words, they need closure thatonly a trial can provide.A trial conducted in Oklahoma in 2004 exempli-fied this desire for closure. Several years before,Oklahoma City bombing suspect Terry Nichols wasconvicted on federal charges and sentenced to life inprison, rather than to death (his codefendant, TimothyMcVeigh, was executed in 2001). An Oklahomaprosecutor, responding to some victims’families whowere eager to see Nichols also put to death, chargedhim in state court with 161 counts of first-degreemurder (for the 160 people and 1 fetus who werekilled in the blast) and requested the death penalty.But Nichols was again spared execution when thissecond jury, despite convicting him, deadlockedover his sentence. By law, Nichols was sentenced(again) to life in prison—161 consecutive life sen-tences, to be exact—and those families hoping forclosure were disappointed (again).The stabilizing function of a trial is worthless,of course, if the public doubts that justice was donein the process. That sense of closure is sometimesmissing after a trial; the widespread dissatisfaction insome segments of our society with the outcome ofO. J. Simpson’s murder trial (Brigham & Wasserman,1999) ensured continued media interest and publicfascination with his actions and statements. The beliefthat“he got away with murder”even led to proposalsto reform and restrict the jury system. Other segmentsof society were equally dissatisfied with the verdictin Simpson’s civil trial, in which he was found liablefor the deaths of his ex-wife and her friend RonaldGoldman. Perhaps together, the verdicts in the twotrials converged on a reasonable outcome—Simpsonprobably was the killer, but this couldn’t be provenbeyond a reasonable doubt, the level of certaintyrequired for a criminal conviction.These three contrasting images remind us thattruth in the legal system is elusive, and that truth see-kers are subject to human error, even though the sys-tem seems to assume that they approach infallibility.The failure to achieve perfection in our decision mak-ing will become evident as we review the steps in thetrial process.STEPS IN THE TRIAL PROCESSIn the next section, we sketch out the usual steps ina trial in brief detail. Though some of these proce-dures are conducted out of the public eye, they allinvolve—either implicitly or explicitly—issues ofinterest to psychologists. Preliminary ActionsDiscovery is the pretrial process by which each sidetries to gain vital information about the case that willbe presented by the other side. This informationincludes statements by witnesses, police records,documents, material possessions, experts’opinions,and anything else relevant to the case.The U.S. Constitution provides criminal defen-dants with the right to have the charges against themjudged by a jury of their peers, though a defendantcan decide instead to have the case decided by ajudge. If the trial is before a jury, the selection ofjurors involves a two-step process. The first step isto draw a panel of prospective jurors, called avenire,from a large list (usually based on lists of registeredvoters and licensed drivers). Once the venire for aparticular trial has been selected—this may be any-where from 30 to 200 people, depending on thecustomary practices of that jurisdiction and thenature of the trial—a process known asvoir direisemployed to question and select the eventual jurors.Prospective jurors who reveal biases and are unableto be open-minded about the case are dismissedfrom service, so the task of jury selection is reallyone of elimination. Prospective jurors who appearfree of these limitations are thus“selected.”Voirdire can have important effects on the outcome ofthe trial.The TrialAll trials—whether related to criminal law or to civillaw—include similar procedural steps. At the begin-ning of the trial itself, lawyers for each side are per-mitted to makeopening statements. These are notpart of the evidence, but they serve as overviews ofthe evidence to be presented. The prosecution orplaintiff usually goes first, because this side is the onethat brought charges and bears the burden of proof.Attorneys for the defendant, in either a criminal orcivil trial, can choose to present their opening state-ment immediately after the other side’s opening state-ment or to wait until it is their turn to presentevidence.Some psychologists have wondered whether thetiming of the opening statement matters. In otherwords, would it be preferable for the defense attorney(and more beneficial to the defendant) if thedefense’s opening statement immediately followedthe prosecutor’s opening statement or would it bebetter for the defense attorney to wait until all ofthe prosecution witnesses have testified? Their study,using a mock jury simulation, varied the timing of thedefense opening statement in an auto theft case(Wells, Wrightsman, & Miene, 1985). The resultswere striking: When the defense opening statementwas given earlier rather than later, verdicts were morefavorable to the defense, and the perceived effective-ness of the defense attorney was enhanced. Defenseattorneys who take their first opportunity to make anopening statement can apparently counter the storytold by the prosecutor, or at least urge jurors to con-sider an alternative interpretation of the evidence.After opening statements, the prosecution orplaintiff calls its witnesses. Each witness testifiesunder oath, with the threat of a charge ofperjuryif the witness fails to be truthful. That witness is thencross-examined by the opposing attorney, after whichthe original attorney has a chance forredirect ques-tioning. Redirect questioning is likely if the originalattorney feels the opposition has“impeached”his orher witness;impeachmentin this context refers to across-examination that has effectively called intoquestion the credibility (or reliability) of the witness.The purpose of redirect examination is to“reha-bilitate”the witness, or to salvage his or her originaltestimony. The defense, however, has one morechance to question the witness, a process calledrecross(short for“re-cross-examination”). After theprosecution or plaintiff’s attorneys have presented alltheir witnesses, it is the defense’s turn. The same pro-cedure of direct examination, cross-examination,redirect, and recross is used. After both sides havepresented their witnesses, one or both may decideto introduce additional evidence and witnesses andso ask the judge for permission to presentrebuttalevidence, which attempts to counteract or disproveevidence given by an earlier witness.Once all the evidence has been presented, eachside is permitted to make aclosing argument, alsocalled a summation. Although jurisdictions vary, typ-ically the prosecution or plaintiff gets the first summa-tion, followed by the defense, after which theprosecution or plaintiff responds and has the finalword.The final step in the jury trial is for the judge togive instructions to the jury. (In some states, instruc-tions precede the closing arguments.) The judgeinforms the jury of the relevant law. For example, a definition of the crime is given, as well as a statementof what elements must be present for it to haveoccurred—that is, whether the defendant had themotive and the opportunity to commit the crime.The judge also instructs jurors about the standardthey should use to weigh the evidence.With criminal charges, the jurors must be con-vinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendantis guilty before they vote to convict. Although theconcept of“reasonable doubt”is difficult to interpret,generally it means that jurors should be strongly con-vinced (but not necessarily convinced beyondalldoubt). Each of us interprets such an instruction dif-ferently, and this instruction is often a source of con-fusion and frustration among jurors.In a civil trial, in which one party brings a claimagainst another, a different standard is used. Apre-ponderance of evidenceis all that is necessary for afinding in favor of one side. Usually, judges and attor-neys translate this to mean“Even if you find the evi-dence favoring one side to be only slightly moreconvincing than the other side’s, rule in favor of thatside.”Preponderance is sometimes interpreted asmeaning at least 51% of the evidence, though it isdifficult (and potentially misleading) to quantify aconcept that is expressed verbally.The jury is sometimes given instructions on howto deliberate, but these are usually sparse. Jurors areexcused to the deliberation room, and no one—noteven the bailiff or the judge—can be present duringor eavesdrop on their deliberations. When the juryhas reached its verdict, its foreperson informs the bai-liff, who informs the judge, who in turn reconvenesthe attorneys and defendants (and plaintiffs in a civiltrial) for announcement of the verdict.Now that we have detailed the steps involved intrials, we consider the advantages accorded by theseprocedures to the prosecution and the defense incriminal trials. You will notice that opposing sideshave roughly offsetting advantages. For example, theprosecution gets the first and last chance to address thejudge or jury, but it also has the burden of proving itscase. The defense, on the other hand, is not given theopportunity to speak first or to speak last. But it hasthe advantage of not needing to prove anything tothe judge or jury. If the prosecution is unable tomeet its obligation to convince the judge or jury ofthe defendant’s guilt, then the defendant prevails.What other advantages does each side have in a crim-inal case?The prosecution, in its efforts to convict wrong-doers and seek justice, has several advantages, includ-ing these:1. It has the full resources of the government at itsdisposal to carry out a prosecution. Detectives canlocate witnesses and subpoena them. The prose-cutor can request testimony from chemists, fin-gerprint examiners, medical examiners,psychiatrists, photographers, or other appropriateexperts.2. In the trial itself, the prosecution presents itsevidence before the defense, getting“first crack”at the jury. At the end of the trial, when bothsides are permitted closing arguments, the prose-cution again gets to go first and also gets thechance to offer a final rebuttal to the defenseattorney’s closing argument. Therefore, theprosecution has the advantages of bothprimacyandrecencyin its attempts at jury persuasion, andresearch shows that information presented first(primacy) and last (recency) has more persuasiveinfluence than information presented in themiddle of a discussion.Trial procedures also provide defendants withcertain benefits, including the following:1. The defense is entitled to“discovery”; the pros-ecution must turn over all exculpatory evidence(evidence that would tend to absolve the defen-dant), but the defense does not have to turn overall incriminating evidence.2. If a trial is before a jury, the defense may havemore opportunities than the prosecution toremove potential jurors without giving a reason.3. Defendants do not have to take the stand aswitnesses on their own behalf. In fact, they donot have to put on any defense at all; the burdenis on the prosecution to prove beyond a reason-able doubt that the defendant is guilty of thecrime.4. Defendants who are found not guilty can neverbe tried again for that specific crime. For exam-ple, retired National Basketball Association starJayson Williams was acquitted on the charge ofaggravated manslaughter in the death of achauffeur at his mansion. (In a confusing verdict,the jury convicted Williams of trying to cover upthe man’s death by describing it as a suicide, hindering apprehension, and fabricatingevidence.) But even if clear evidence of Williams’guilt on the manslaughter charge comes to lightat some time in the future, he can never beretried for that offense.SentencingIf the defendant in a criminal trial is deemed guilty, apunishment must be decided. In the vast majority ofjurisdictions, the trial judge decides punishment. Inthe past, judges have had wide discretion to imposesentences by taking into account all they knew aboutthe defendant and his actions, regardless of whetherthose actions constituted a crime or were proven to ajury. But in a landmark 2004 decision, the U.S.Supreme Court ruled that judges may not increasedefendants’sentences on the basis of what they per-ceive as aggravating factors (circumstances that seemto make the“crime”worse). InBlakely v. Washington(2004), the Court reserved those determinations forjuries.The ruling came from a case in which the defen-dant, Ralph Blakely, pled guilty to kidnapping hisestranged wife, a crime that carried a penalty of 53months. But the judge, after deciding that Blakelyacted with“deliberate cruelty”—a circumstance thatBlakely had not admitted and that no jury haddecided—increased his sentence to 90 months. Inoverturning this sentence (and thereby striking downdozens of state sentencing laws and affecting thousandsof cases), the Court said the imposition of additionaltime violated Mr. Blakely’s right to a jury trial.In a handful of states, sentencing is determined bya jury. After the verdict is rendered, the jury is recon-vened, and attorneys present evidence relevant to thesentencing decision. The jury then deliberates until itagrees on a recommended punishment. In casesinvolving the death penalty, jurors, rather than judges,decide the sentence (Ring v. Arizona, 2002).The Appellate ProcessInvolvement of guilty defendants within the legal sys-tem does not end when they are sentenced to a prisonterm or to probation. To protect the rights of thosewho may have been convicted unjustly, society grantsany defendant the opportunity to appeal a verdict to ahigher level of court. Appeals are also possible in vir-tually every civil suit.As in earlier steps in the legal process, a conflict ofvalues occurs as appeals are pursued. One goal isequality before the law—that is, to administer justiceconsistently and fairly. But appellate courts also try tobe sensitive to individual differences in what at firstglance appear to be similar cases. Appellate courts rec-ognize that judges and juries can make errors. Theappellate process can correct mistakes that impair thefairness of trials; it also helps promote a level of con-sistency in trial procedures.When a decision is appealed to a higher court,the appellate judges read the transcript of the trialproceedings, the motions and accompanying docu-ments filed by the attorneys, and written arguments,called briefs, from both sides about the issues onappeal. They then decide whether to overturn theoriginal trial decision or to let it stand. Appellatejudges rarely reverse a verdict on the basis of thefacts of the case or the apparent legitimacy of thatverdict. When they do reverse a verdict, it is usuallybecause they believe that the trial judge made aprocedural error, such as allowing controversialevidence to be presented or failing to allow thejury to consider some evidence that should havebeen included.If a verdict in a criminal trial is overturned orreversed, the appeals court will either order a retrialor order that the charges be thrown out. In reviewingthe decision in a civil case, an appellate court can let thedecision stand, reverse it (rule in favor of the side thatlost rather than the side that won), or make someother changes in the decision and remand (return)the case to a lower court for reconsideration. Onepossible conclusion in either civil or criminal appealsis that certain evidence should not have been admit-ted or that certain instructions should not have beengiven; hence, a new trial may be ordered.Psychologists have had relatively little to say aboutthe appellate process. Recent exceptions include abook about psychological aspects of Supreme Courtdecision making (Wrightsman, 2006) and a study ofhow judges assess whether prior rulings allowing con-fessions to be included in trials constituted reversibleerror (Wallace & Kassin, 2012).Courtroom of the FutureWith only minor variations, courtroom trials andappeals have followed these procedures for much ofour nation’s history. The trials of John Scopes (tried in 1925 for teaching the theory of evolution in aTennessee public school science class), Julius andEthel Rosenberg (tried in 1951 on espionage charges),and defendants facing charges across the United Statestoday all follow essentially the same format. Butrecently, the introduction of emerging technologiesinto the legal system has begun to change the lookof trials. Today, juries and judges expect attorneys touse more than yellow legal pads and grainy videos.Many jurors, especially younger jurors and thosewho are more tech-savvy, now expect to see andhear multimedia approaches (Griffin, 2008), andsome judges want all documents presented during atrial to be scanned and displayed electronically. Thecourtroom of the future will look very different fromthat of the past; some contend that it already does(Feigenson & Spiesel, 2009).Technologies being used in courts these daysextend far beyond surveillance videos, which wouldhave been novel only a few years ago. Newer tech-nologies include■videoconferencing that permits live, two-wayvideo and audio communication between hear-ings and trials in courtrooms and remote sites—useful when witnesses and defendants are medi-cally incapacitated, incarcerated, or unavailableduring the trial.■electronic and digital evidence, such as digitalrecordings, documents, and photographs, thatallows judges and jurors to easily observe theevidence themselves, rather than hear others’descriptions of it.■computer animations and simulations that featurecomputer-generated depictions of complexphysical events like accidents and crimes, oftenaccompanied by voice-overs from participants inthe event.■virtual environment technologies that allowobservers to experience a re-creation of an eventas if they were actually present when it occurred.Using video game technology, so-called“virtualreality”allows judges and jurors to virtually“walk”through a crime scene or accident site togauge for themselves what could be seen fromdifferent points of view and under relevantlighting conditions.Each of these high-tech methods raises interestingand complex psychological questions. What effectdoes remote viewing have on a judge or juror’s abilityto determine whether a witness is credible and sin-cere? Are nuances of body language and verbalexpression adequately captured in videoconferencing,or are they missing? Does the person testifying at aremote site—a setting that lacks the trappings andformality of a courtroom—feel less obligated toshow respect and tell the truth? Would courtroomparticipants with high-tech experience put moreemphasis than others on digital media presented dur-ing a trial? Would their opinions carry more weight inthe deliberation room? Do computer animations,simulations, and virtual reality reenactments make dif-ficult or technical concepts easier to visualize and,hence, to understand? Might they also serve tocement one version of a contested event in observers’minds, making it harder to construe alternative expla-nations? In other words, might observers assume thatanimations, simulations, and virtual realities representtrue and uncontroversial facts, rather than just oneparty’s theory of the case (Wiggins, 2006)?Lawyers and judges should be especially inter-ested in the answers to these questions becauseaccording to the Federal Rules of Evidence (2009),evidence may not be introduced into a trial if itsprobative value(relevance to legal proof) is out-weighed by any prejudicial effects on the opposingparty or if it misleads or confuses the jury (Feigenson,2010). Thus, it is imperative that judges have goodinformation about the effects of high-tech evidencepresentations on legal judgments.Psychologists have begun to address some ofthese questions. One study examined the effectsof computer animations on jurors’verdicts (Dunn,Salovey, & Feigenson, 2006). In cases involving aplane crash and an automobile accident, mock jurorssaw either a computer-animated display of the crashsite or a diagram of the scene. Further, the use ofanimations and diagrams by the plaintiff and defen-dant was varied, resulting in four versions of the mocktrial: (1) plaintiff animation/defendant animation,(2) plaintiff animation/defendant diagram, (3) plaintiffdiagram/defendant animation,and (4) plaintiff diagram/defendant diagram.The results of these variations on verdicts in theplane crash case were unambiguous: When the plain-tiff presented an animation and the defendant hadonly a diagram, 68% of jurors voted in favor of theplaintiff, whereas when both plaintiff and defendantused diagrams, only 32% sided with the plaintiff. At least in this case, the animation increased the easeby which participants could visualize the events lead-ing up to the crash, allowing the plaintiff to persuadethem about the merits of his case. Interestingly, in thecar accident case, the animations had far less impact onjurors’verdicts, probably because few of us need helpin visualizing automobile accidents. From this studywe can conclude that animations have a strongerimpact on judgments when the subject matter is rela-tively unfamiliar to viewers and when only one sideuses that evidence (Feigenson, 2010).Why do animations persuade people in ways thatdiagrams cannot? Basic psychological theorizing aboutthevividness effectsuggests that information has agreater impact on judgments and decisions when it isvivid and attention grabbing than when it is pallid andbland. Information presented in a highly imaginableway is more persuasive than simple verbal descriptionsof the same material.Virtual environments have also piqued psycholo-gists’interests in the notion ofpresence, or thedegree to which a user or observer has the impressionof actually“being in another world”and present inthe virtual environment. For virtual environments tobe effective, they should realistically create this alter-nate reality. But think for a moment about how toobjectively measure whether someone is experiencingan alternative reality. It quickly becomes clear why,despite efforts to capture the subjective experience ofbeing present in another world, objective measuresare, at present, lacking (Bailenson, Blascovich, Beall, &Noveck, 2006).A concern about the use of virtual environmentsin court is that people who witness them may be soswept up in the experience and persuaded by the life-like nature of these scenes that they have difficultyimagining or visualizing a different point of view.This notion, termedexperiential inflammatorybias, suggests that in the least, both sides in a trialshould be able to manipulate and alter any virtualenvironment introduced into evidence (Bailensonet al., 2006).Although virtual environment technology is notyet routinely used in actual trials, that day may arrivesoon. (We describe one case that incorporated someof these new technologies in Box 8.4.) Indeed,proponents believe that the technology is alreadymature enough to warrant its use in court:“If apicture is worth a thousand words, then a...virtualreality simulation should be worth at least ten thou-sand”(Bailenson et al., 2006, p. 265). The day hasalready arrived for animations, simulations, remoteBox8.4THE CASE OF U.S. ARMY STAFF SERGEANT TERRENCE DILLON IN VIRTUAL REALITYTo treat his high cholesterol levels, U.S. Army Staff Ser-geant Terrence Dillon underwent a surgical procedure inFebruary 2002, in which doctors implanted a“new lifestent.”The stent was designed to cleanse blood of cho-lesterol and to dissolve cholesterol-forming plaque block-ing the arteries. But for Dillon, the stent worked too well,loosening large amounts of plaque that clogged his circu-latory system and causing a stroke. Dillon died in March,2002. Shortly thereafter, the stent’s manufacturer, New-Life MedTech, was criminally indicted for manslaughter(Horrigan, 2002).In truth, none of this actually happened. But thesefacts served as the basis for a simulated trial, one featureof a legal technology program dubbed“Courtroom 21Project”by the National Center for State Courts. Theproject provides technology information to lawyers andjudges.During the“trial,”the defense argued that NewLifeMedTech was not at fault and that blame lay with thesurgeon who allegedly placed the stent in the wrongpart of the artery. To bolster that argument, the defenseoffered the testimony of a nurse who donned a virtualreality headset and specialized goggles, giving him athree-dimensional view of the operating room and allow-ing him to describe the stent’s placement. The prosecu-tion countered by arguing that because the nurse’s viewof the surgery was obstructed, he was unable to seewhere the stent had been implanted. Because virtualenvironment technology allowed jurors themselves towatch a reenactment of the surgery on laptops, theycould decide for themselves what the nurse was able toobserve. Images were also projected to wide-screen moni-tors in the courtroom, allowing the judge, lawyers, trial-watchers, and even observers outside the courtroom toview the virtual operation and reach their own conclu-sions. Whether NewLife MedTech was convicted is largelyirrelevant; the noteworthy fact is that the“trial”intro-duced many people to the courtroom of the future.Critical Thought QuestionsWhy might evidence presented via virtual environmenttechnology be more persuasive to decision makers thanevidence presented verbally or even visually?

CHAPTER 9

The previous chapter described the componentsof our legal system that have been in place forcenturies. Although, valuing precedent as it does,the law is slow to change, the last three decades havewitnessed various innovations that are important anduseful. These will be discussed in the present chapter.The first major area—alternative dispute resolution—has been applied in both criminal and civil contexts.The second major area of discussion is communityalternatives to standard prosecution. Our discussionof this area is framed within the Sequential InterceptModel, which identifies different points at whichcertain groups of individuals can be diverted fromstandard prosecution into an approach that is morerehabilitation oriented. The discussion will includerelevant research findings, which are very importantin considering the effectiveness of interventions atthese different stages.ALTERNATIVE DISPUTE RESOLUTIONIf you watch cable and online news and entertain-ment, you might get the impression that mostlawsuits are resolved by a trial by jury. In fact,most cases are resolved through negotiation or byalternative dispute resolution (ADR), and relativelyfew cases are settled in trials. In a 2001 study of courtsin 46 randomly selected counties in 22 states, theNational Center for State Courts found that thenumber of cases tried had decreased by 50% in10 years (Post, 2004c).The drop-off of trials in the federal courts—particularly civil trials—is even more dramatic. In 1962,11.5% of federal civil cases were decided in a trial, com-pared with 6.1% in 1982, 1.8% in 2002, and only 1.2%in 2009 (Qualters, 2010). On the criminal side, trialsalso decreased, though not as sharply. In 1962, 15.4%of criminal cases went to trial; in 2002 only 4.7%involved a trial (Galanter, 2004).These declines are attributable to several factors,including the perceived cost of litigation—the“trans-action costs,”in economists’language. Lawyers’feesto prepare for and try a case, as well as the fees paid toexpert witnesses, often make a trial economicallyunfeasible. In addition, federal courts pressure litigantsto settle or to plead guilty. The federal sentencingguidelines give criminal defendants an incentive toplead guilty because judges can decrease the length ofa sentence on the basis of“acceptance of responsibility”(which normally requires a guilty plea) (Galanter,2004). Finally, federal trials have decreased becauseit has been some years since Congress has passedsweeping legislation that creates liability for certainactions—legislation such as the Americans withDisabilities Act of 1990 (Qualters, 2010).In civil cases, federal judges are required toattempt to resolve disputes through ADR, and inboth state and federal courts, judges can require liti-gants to try to settle their cases without going to trial.Increasingly, American courts assume that cases willbe settled, not tried, to the point where a trial isviewed“as a failure of the system”(Sanborn, 2002,p. 25). Edmund Ludwig, a judge with over 30 yearsof experience, describes it this way:Litigation represents a breakdown in communi-cation, which consists in the civil area of theinability of the parties to work out a problemfor themselves and in the criminal area, ofineffectively inculcating society’s rules and theconsequences for violating them. Trials are themethod we have ultimately used to deal withthose breakdowns. However, the goal of oursystem is not to try cases. Rather, it is to achievea fair, just, economical, and expeditious result bytrial or otherwise (Ludwig, 2002, p. 217).Many cases are settled bynegotiation, withoutthe assistance of a third party. Negotiation might beformal, as happens when management and unionrepresentatives negotiate a labor contract, or informal,as when attorneys go back and forth in a series ofphone calls to settle a personal injury claim. Anotherinformal mechanism involves collaborative divorce, inwhich lawyers and psychologists work with a divorc-ing couple to finalize all issues without going to court.Typically, there is a heightened sense of trust, open-ness, and disclosure in collaborative divorce (Degoldi,2008). We describe one example in Box 9.1.As in trials, procedural justice considerationsare important in successful negotiations. People careabout both the outcome of negotiations and the fair-ness of the process. In a study in which law studentsrole-played attorneys in a simulated negotiation abouta contract dispute, participants thought negotiationswere fair when they believed that they had beenlistened to and treated with courtesy, and when they perceived the other party as trustworthy (Hollander-Blumoff & Tyler, 2008).ArbitrationOne form of ADR, bindingarbitration, bearsthe closest resemblance to a trial. When the partiesagree to binding arbitration, they agree to accept thedecision of an arbitrator. Salary arbitration in majorleague baseball is a good example of binding arbitra-tion. The contract between the owners and theplayers’union provides that players’salary disputesare settled by binding arbitration, and it furtherprovides that the arbitrator must accept either theowner’s offer or the union’s offer but cannot splitthe difference. The parties have an incentive to makean offer as close as possible to the player’s“value”(their estimate of the arbitrator’s valuation of theplayer’s worth). Although many cases require bindingarbitration, other cases are resolved by nonbindingarbitration. If one of the parties is dissatisfied withthe arbitrator’s decision, that person may ask that thecase be tried before a judge or jury.Arbitration, whether binding or nonbinding, usestrial-like procedures. The parties present evidence andargue the case, and the arbitrator makes a decision.Though initially promoted as a way to avoid the con-tentiousness and expense of a trial, in recent yearsarbitration has been criticized for being overly formaland time consuming (Stipanowich, 2010). Othermethods for resolving disputes, such as mediation(which we discuss later), are more streamlined.Summary Jury TrialThesummary jury trialis an interesting variationon arbitration. The concept was created by FederalDistrict Court Judge Thomas Lambros in the early1980s as a result of his difficulty resolving two per-sonal injury cases using other forms of ADR. Theparties in these cases refused to settle, each assumingthat it would get a more favorable verdict from a jury.Judge Lambros reasoned that chances for settlementwould increase if the parties had a sense of whata jury would do. He instituted an abbreviated andexpedited form of a jury trial that he suspectedwould be especially helpful in resolving relativelysimple, lower-value cases.A summary jury trial is much like a conventionaljury trial, though shorter. A jury is empanelled, and thelawyers tell the jurors what the witnesses would say ifthey were present. The lawyers argue the case and tryto answer the jurors’questions about the facts. Thejudge tells the jury what the law is and tries to answerjurors’questions about the law. The jurors then delib-erate and decide the case. In the original conception ofa summary jury trial, the“verdict”did not bind theparties, it was merely advisory. In recent years, verdictshave become binding and enforceable. Regardless ofthese variations, the intent is the same: the processeducates the lawyers and clients on how a conven-tional jury might view the facts and the law. Onceeducated, the lawyers and their clients are moreamenable to settling the case (National Center forState Courts, 2012). TheAmerican Bar Journalhas reported favorablecomments from lawyers and judges who had availedthemselves of this form of ADR (McDonough, 2004).Commenting on the summary jury trial, federal judgeWilliam Bertelsman said,I believe that substantial amounts of time can besaved by using summary jury trial in a few selectcases. Also...the summary jury trial gives theparties a taste of the courtroom and satisfies theirpsychological need for a confrontation with eachother. Any judge or attorney can tell you thatemotional issues play a large part in some cases.When emotions are high, whether betweenattorneys or parties, cases may not settle evenwhen a cost-benefit analysis says they should.A summary jury trial can provide a therapeuticrelease of this emotion at the expenditure ofthree days of the court’s time instead of threeweeks (McKay v. Ashland Oil Inc., 1988, p. 49).MediationAnother form of ADR,mediationinvolves a neutralperson (the mediator) who works with the litigantsand their lawyers to achieve a settlement of thecontroversy. The mediator does not have authority,as an arbitrator does, to decide the controversy. Rather,the mediator acts as a facilitator. Mediation ofteninvolvesshuttle diplomacy, a term associated with formerSecretary of State Henry Kissinger. Much as Kissingerwould“shuttle”between the two sides in internationaldiplomacy, the mediator goes back and forth betweentheparties,meetingfirstwithoneside,thenwiththeother, in an attempt to broker an agreement betweenthe two (Hoffman, 2011).One thinks of lawyers as eager to do battle—to slay their opponents with rhetorical swords.Increasingly though, disputants prefer procedures inwhich a neutral third party helps them to craft a reso-lution of their own; in short, people prefer mediation(Shestowsky, 2004). Why? People arerisk averse;they work to avoid taking risks. They prefer that con-troversies be settledby themrather than decidedforthem. A mediator can assist in facilitating a resolution,and people prefer the certainty of a settlement overthe uncertainty of arbitration or trial.Mediation also has a role in divorce proceedings.An alternative to collaborative divorce (in whichboth parties employ their own lawyers, who agreeto cooperate), a mediated divorce involves a thirdparty who helps the couple to dissolve their marriage.Psychologists have assessed whether a mediated divorceleads to more desirable outcomes than litigation.One remarkable study assessed parent–child contactand co-parenting in families whose custody disputeshad been resolved 12 years earlier by either mediationor litigation (Emery, Laumann-Billings, Waldron,Sbarra, & Dillon, 2001). Families who mediatedcustody showed more cooperation and flexibilitythan families who litigated. In particular, nonresidentialparents who mediated had more contact with their children and were more intimately involved in parent-ing, and fathers who mediated were much moresatisfied with their custody arrangements. Comparedto litigated divorces, mediation apparently encouragesparents to comply with divorce agreements, remainedinvolved in their children’s lives, and renegotiate rela-tionships in a more adaptive way.Beliefs about Alternative DisputeResolutionWhat form of ADR do people tend to favor? Theanswer to this question is important because ADRprocedures will be accepted and used only if theyare respected and considered legitimate. A recentstudy investigated the preferences for different disputeresolution features among people involved in actual dis-putes. They indicated their preferences for a particularprocess and set of rules. The most consistent finding wasthat participants favored options that offered themcontrol (e.g., a neutral third party helping disputantsto arrive attheir ownresolutions, and processes thatallow disputants to controltheir ownpresentation ofevidence) (Shestowsky & Brett, 2008).Should courts force litigants to try ADR beforesetting a case for trial? The reports from courts thatmandate ADR are generally positive. Attorneys likethe process, believing that it is fair and saves clientstime and money (Boersema, Hanson, & Keilitz,1991). The counterargument is that litigants have aconstitutional right to trial by judge or jury. Judgesare paid to enforce that right; mandating ADR under-mines it. According to Federal Judge G. Thomas Eisele(1991), mandatory ADR can lead to an unintendedeffect: some lawyers (he calls them“piranhas”)filemeritless claims, knowing that their claims will have“settlement value”in mediation.COMMUNITY ALTERNATIVES TOSTANDARD PROSECUTIONWe now move from ADR, which is practiced in bothcivil and criminal law, to community alternatives tostandard prosecution (criminal law only). Have youever wondered whether there was a more effectiveway than conviction and incarceration for our societyto respond to certain kinds of offenders? Drug abusewas once considered an indication of poor motivationand weak character; now it is treated as a disease. Butwhat about the offender who continues to break thelaw by stealing, possessing substances that are illegal,and behaving in a way that reflects being high? Ifsuch an individual were successfully treated fordrug abuse and monitored to ensure that she didnot continue to behave in illegal ways, that wouldbe a far better approach than incarceration. This isa description of the kind of offender who is well-suited for a drug court—aspecializedkindofproblem-solving court, developed to rehabilitateand monitor individuals in the community ratherthan incarcerate. Such problem-solving courts arediscussed in this section.There has been increasing attention over the lastdecade to community-based alternatives to convic-tion and imprisonment for certain individuals. Aswe will discuss, such community-based alternativeshave developed because they are more humane, lessexpensive, and make our society safer (or at least donot increase the risk of crime). Typically these indivi-duals are members of a certain subgroup whose expe-rience or mental health disorder might account fora number of minor offenses committed by membersof this group. For example, individuals with severemental illness—schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, majordepressive disorder, and other psychotic disorders—might have a greater likelihood of being arrested fordomestic disturbances, encounters with police, andinteractions with other citizens when the symptomsof such disorders are active. Individuals with seriousdrug problems may become involved in offenses suchas theft, prostitution, and public intoxication for rea-sons related directly to the need to buy drugs and theconsequences of taking them. Military veterans maybecome involved in offenses such as traffic violations,drug or weapon possession, or problematic interactionswith police, fueled in part by posttraumatic stressdisorder or traumatic brain injury. Each of theseexamples recognizes that some criminal offendinginvolves acting upon symptoms that could be con-tained with targeted treatment and rehabilitation.This is the basic philosophy underlying the devel-opment of community alternatives to standard crimi-nal arrest, prosecution, and incarceration. Three majorjustifications have been offered for the developmentand expansion of such community alternatives. Thefirst is humanitarian. In the words of the U.S. SupremeCourt, the Eighth Amendment (one part of whichstates that“cruel and unusual punishments”may not children and were more intimately involved in parent-ing, and fathers who mediated were much moresatisfied with their custody arrangements. Comparedto litigated divorces, mediation apparently encouragesparents to comply with divorce agreements, remainedinvolved in their children’s lives, and renegotiate rela-tionships in a more adaptive way.Beliefs about Alternative DisputeResolutionWhat form of ADR do people tend to favor? Theanswer to this question is important because ADRprocedures will be accepted and used only if theyare respected and considered legitimate. A recentstudy investigated the preferences for different disputeresolution features among people involved in actual dis-putes. They indicated their preferences for a particularprocess and set of rules. The most consistent finding wasthat participants favored options that offered themcontrol (e.g., a neutral third party helping disputantsto arrive attheir ownresolutions, and processes thatallow disputants to controltheir ownpresentation ofevidence) (Shestowsky & Brett, 2008).Should courts force litigants to try ADR beforesetting a case for trial? The reports from courts thatmandate ADR are generally positive. Attorneys likethe process, believing that it is fair and saves clientstime and money (Boersema, Hanson, & Keilitz,1991). The counterargument is that litigants have aconstitutional right to trial by judge or jury. Judgesare paid to enforce that right; mandating ADR under-mines it. According to Federal Judge G. Thomas Eisele(1991), mandatory ADR can lead to an unintendedeffect: some lawyers (he calls them“piranhas”)filemeritless claims, knowing that their claims will have“settlement value”in mediation.COMMUNITY ALTERNATIVES TOSTANDARD PROSECUTIONWe now move from ADR, which is practiced in bothcivil and criminal law, to community alternatives tostandard prosecution (criminal law only). Have youever wondered whether there was a more effectiveway than conviction and incarceration for our societyto respond to certain kinds of offenders? Drug abusewas once considered an indication of poor motivationand weak character; now it is treated as a disease. Butwhat about the offender who continues to break thelaw by stealing, possessing substances that are illegal,and behaving in a way that reflects being high? Ifsuch an individual were successfully treated fordrug abuse and monitored to ensure that she didnot continue to behave in illegal ways, that wouldbe a far better approach than incarceration. This isa description of the kind of offender who is well-suited for a drug court—aspecializedkindofproblem-solving court, developed to rehabilitateand monitor individuals in the community ratherthan incarcerate. Such problem-solving courts arediscussed in this section.There has been increasing attention over the lastdecade to community-based alternatives to convic-tion and imprisonment for certain individuals. Aswe will discuss, such community-based alternativeshave developed because they are more humane, lessexpensive, and make our society safer (or at least donot increase the risk of crime). Typically these indivi-duals are members of a certain subgroup whose expe-rience or mental health disorder might account fora number of minor offenses committed by membersof this group. For example, individuals with severemental illness—schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, majordepressive disorder, and other psychotic disorders—might have a greater likelihood of being arrested fordomestic disturbances, encounters with police, andinteractions with other citizens when the symptomsof such disorders are active. Individuals with seriousdrug problems may become involved in offenses suchas theft, prostitution, and public intoxication for rea-sons related directly to the need to buy drugs and theconsequences of taking them. Military veterans maybecome involved in offenses such as traffic violations,drug or weapon possession, or problematic interactionswith police, fueled in part by posttraumatic stressdisorder or traumatic brain injury. Each of theseexamples recognizes that some criminal offendinginvolves acting upon symptoms that could be con-tained with targeted treatment and rehabilitation.This is the basic philosophy underlying the devel-opment of community alternatives to standard crimi-nal arrest, prosecution, and incarceration. Three majorjustifications have been offered for the developmentand expansion of such community alternatives. Thefirst is humanitarian. In the words of the U.S. SupremeCourt, the Eighth Amendment (one part of whichstates that“cruel and unusual punishments”may not as well as decreasing the number of incidents in whichthe individuals or the police officers are harmed. Forinstance, an individual with bipolar disorder, off medi-cation and in the midst of a manic episode, might betaken to the local psychiatric emergency room ratherthan arrested for disturbing the peace and battery on anofficer if encountered by CIT-trained police. We sharea representative story in Box 9.2, provided by a CIT-trained officer in Florida, describing the difference thatsuch CIT training can make in correctional facilities aswell as in the community.What is the evidence that CIT is effective indiverting such individuals, resulting in more treatmentdispositions and fewer arrests? Research on this topichas been summarized recently (Heilbrun et al., 2012)on several points related to CIT: characteristics andknowledge of CIT-trained officers; characteristics ofdiverted individuals; and outcomes such as the num-ber of diverted individuals, services delivered to them,and number of arrests following police encounters.CIT-trained police officers reported better prepara-tion for handling interactions with those experienc-ing a behavioral health crisis (Borum, Williams,Deans, Steadman & Morrissey, 1998), were morelikely to help individuals obtain mental healthservices (Compton, Bahora, Watson, & Oliva, 2008),and were less likely to use physical force (Comptonet al., 2008; Skeem & Bibeau, 2008). Jail days werefewer for such individuals, and costs were shiftedfrom criminal justice to treatment sources; divertedparticipants were also more likely to utilize mentalhealth treatment (comply with medication, use hospitalstay and emergency room visits, participate in counsel-ing) and less likely to be treated for substance abuse ona residential basis (Steadman & Naples, 2005). Follow-ing such diversions, those who were diverted did notdiffer from others in their number of arrests overthe next year (Teller, Munetz, Gil, & Ritter, 2006;Watson et al., 2010).Post-Arrest: Initial Detention/Initial Hearing andPre-trial Services (Intercept 2).If an individual isarrested upon first encounter with police or anotherfirst responder, the second intercept identifies thepoint at which that person is brought to“first appear-ance”before a judge. This occurs before the individualenters a plea or proceeds to trial. In some jurisdictions,there is a specialized team that functions as part ofthe court system, identifying defendants who wouldbe appropriate for diversion for behavioral healthreasons. While some specialized problem-solvingcourts (e.g., drug court, mental health court, veterans’court, community court) function at this stage, it ismore typical to have them take referrals at intercept 3.Accordingly, the second intercept is more likely toresult in a diversion directly to treatment, or theassignment of specialized probation.Intercept 2 has a number of studies using effec-tiveness criteria like those employed in studies onIntercept 1. Addressing outcomes for individuals who receive diversion following arrest, investigators haveexamined services use, mental health, substance use,offending, and quality of life (Broner, Lattimore,Cowell, & Schlenger, 2004, Broner, Mayrl, &Landsberg, 2005); they have also employed criteriasuch as whether the individual had housing (NationalGAINS Center, 2002).Almost all the existing research identifies differ-ences between diverted and non-diverted individualsat this stage. It is not necessarily accurate to conclude that such differences areattributableto the diversion; thatwould require the use of experimental designs (usingrandom assignment to condition) that are virtuallyimpossible to implement in a criminal justice context.(Judges and clinical administrators are understandablyreluctant to allow random assignment of defendants tocondition, because an unfortunate outcome such as aserious offense committed by an individual in a no-treatment control group is hard to justify after the tragicevent.) However, correlational designs, particularlywhen accompanied by a comparison group, can provideuseful information on the strength (although not thecausal direction) of the relationship between the diver-sion variable and the different outcomes. For example,the studies described later in this paragraph using acomparison group typically derive their groups fromtwo sources—individuals who have been diverted,and those in a standard condition such as probation—and consider how these two groups fare on certainrelevant outcomes. This is sometimes called a quasi-experimental design, but it does not have the genuineexperimental attribute (random assignment to group)that allows the researcher to control all variables exceptthe one of interest—diversion status—and hence drawconclusions about whether diversion causes differencesin outcomes. For this intercept, several investigatorsnoted that diverted individuals had more time in thecommunity (Broner et al., 2005; Hoff, Baranosky,Buchanan, Zonana, & Rosenheck, 1999; Lambertiet al., 2001; Steadman & Naples, 2005), fewer hospitaldays in the community (Lamberti et al., 2001), fewerarrests (National GAINS Center, 2002; Shafer,Arthur, & Franczak, 2004), and less homelessness(National GAINS Center, 2002).Post-Initial Hearings: Jail/Prison, Courts, ForensicEvaluations and Commitments (Intercept 3).Thethird intercept in the Sequential Intercept Model is themost recognized of the five. This is the stage at whichproblem-solving courts (also called specialty courts)such as drug courts, mental health courts, homelesscourts, domestic violence courts, and community courtshave been developed. There have also been courtsdeveloped for other groups, such as veterans and pros-titutes, but these problem-solving courts are sufficientlynew that there has not been research investigatinghow well they work. Specialized problem-solvingcourts are also discussed later in this book in Chapter 15.Problem-Solving Courts.Certain offenders are sum-moned back to court and sent to prison again and again.For them, the criminal justice system has become adumping ground (Wiener, Winick, Georges, & Castro,2010). Fed up with this model of“revolving-door”justice, states and communities increasingly are creat-ing problem-solving courts (also called specialtycourts) that combine the traditional criminal justicesystem with specialized treatment-oriented principlesto address underlying causes of antisocial behavior(Casey & Rottman, 2005).The premise of specialty courts is that the legalsystem should help troubled individuals cope with thechronic problems that brought them into contactwith the criminal justice system in the first place.This collaborative, nonadversarial nature of specialtycourts, in which judges work side by side with mentalhealth professionals, community agencies, and offen-ders themselves, focuses more on meeting the ongo-ing needs of participants than on punishing them.This approach, in which the law is used as avehicle to improve people’s lives, is calledtherapeu-tic jurisprudence. Examples include courts special-ized to deal with issues of drugs, mental health,homelessness, and domestic violence, as well as veter-ans’issues, and courts that integrate these problems,for example, by applying mental health court techni-ques in domestic violence cases (Winick, Wiener, Cas-tro, Emmert, & Georges, 2010). Regardless of theissue, all specialty courts involve a few common ele-ments, including immediate interventions such as drugor alcohol counseling, frequent court appearances in anonadversarial context, an interdisciplinary teamapproach, and a set of clearly defined objectives (Wat-son, Hanrahan, Luchins, & Lurigio, 2001).Working together with mental health providers,attorneys, and probation officers, judges in thesecourts become social workers and cheerleaders asmuch as jurists. Rather than impose punishment,they offer opportunities for people to deal withtheir addictions, violent tendencies, and squabbleswith their landlords (Hartley, 2008). Those whocomply with the judges’orders may have their sen-tences reduced or dismissed.Although some aspects of these courts aretraditional—for instance, judges wear robes—manycharacteristics of specialty courts are unconventional.For example, the people who appear in court are oftencalled clients rather than defendants. These“clients”areable to speak directly to the judge, rather than commu-nicating through their attorneys. Judges often have agreat deal of information about the clients and may interact with them over a number of years. On occasion,a friendly relationship develops, as described in Box 9.3.Drug Courts.The most common form of specialtycourt is drug court, created to deal with offenderswhose crimes are related to addiction. Drug courtsdeveloped in response to an increase in antidrug lawenforcement efforts and stiffer sanctions for drug offen-ders during the 1980s and 1990s. By 2011 there weremore than 2,000 adult drug courts and 500 juveniledrug courts in the 50 states and many more in theplanning phase (Shaffer, 2011).Drug courts were developed to address the abuse ofalcohol and other drugs and criminal activity related toaddictions. Drug courts divert cases from the traditionalcriminal justice system and link drug-addicted offenderswith treatment programs and extensive supervision.In exchange for successful completion of the program,the court may dismiss the original charge, reduce or setaside a sentence, assign some lesser penalty, or make acombination of these adjustments.Theultimategoal,inaddition to improving the lives of drug-addicted indivi-duals, is to reduce the number of drug offenders in prisons.How successful are drug courts in reducing drug-related criminal activity? The findings are encouraging,though some drug courts work better than others.Ameta-analysis—a statistical technique that combinesthe results of individual studies with similar researchhypotheses—of 60 studies that compared a treatment condition to a control condition, and that included atleast one measure of criminal behavior as an outcomemeasure, concluded that drug courts have a significant,though modest, effect on recidivism. Offenders assignedto drug court had a 45.5% recidivism rate, while thecomparison group had a 54.5% recidivism rate (Shaffer,2011). The most successful programs were those thatexcluded violent offenders, worked with and treatedoffenders who had not yet entered a plea, andemployed well-qualified and competent staff whoensured that the program was delivered as designedand who interacted positively with participants.According to Seattle Judge J. Wesley Saint Clair,“Drug courts work, and not because they’re fuzzy—letme tell you, I can be a hard man to deal with.”Oneoffender to appear in Judge Saint Clair’s courtroomwas 36-year-old Jenifer Paris, who, after 22 years ofheroin and cocaine use and stretches of prostitutionand homelessness, was now clean.“You guys are thefirst people to believe in me...I’mfullofgratitudefor the opportunity and for you not kicking me out,”she said, tearfully. Replied Judge Saint Clair with a hintof a smile,“We’re not done yet”(Eckholm, 2008).Problem-solving courts have particular appealwithin communities, as judges often interact withtreatment providers and advocacy groups in a waythat is not usually seen in traditional courts. Judgeslike Judge Saint Clair often play a much more activerole, setting aside judicial restraint and impartiality infavor of more direct involvement in the interventionsand responses of problem-solving court participants.Mental Health Courts.The number of individualshospitalized long term for mental illness has droppedsignificantly in the past several decades. Butdeinstitu-tionalization, the long-term trend of closing mentalhospitals and transferring care to community-based men-tal health treatment facilities, has left many mentally illindividuals without services or medication. As a result,the mentally ill have experienced higher rates of home-lessness, unemployment, alcohol and drug use, and physi-cal and sexual abuse. They also experience high rates ofincarceration: 17% of men and 34% of women in jailssuffer from a serious mental illness or post-traumatic stressdisorder (Steadman, Osher, Clark Robbins, Case, &Samuels, 2009). Unfortunately, most local jails lack treat-ment resources and are highly stressful environments,especially for people suffering severe psychiatric illnesses.According to thecriminalization hypothesis,asubset of mentally ill offenders committed and werearrested for offensescausedby their untreated symptomsof mental illness. Mental health courts were developedfor offenders dealing with serious mental illness andoperate to“decriminalize”this population. By 2011,there were approximately 250 mental health courtsin the United States, with more in the planningstage (Sarteschi, Vaughn, & Kim, 2011).Following the drug court model, the first decisionis whether to divert the offender from the regular crim-inal courts to mental health court–mandated treatmentprograms. This decision, which usually requires theconsent of both the offender and the victim, is madeafter an evaluation of the offender and by consideringthe nature of the offense. If the offender is diverted, themental health team prepares a treatment plan to lead tolong-term psychiatric care and reintegration into soci-ety. Close monitoring is essential. Defendants are oftenassigned to a probation officer who is trained in mentalhealth and who carries a greatly reduced caseload inorder to provide a more intensive level of supervisionand expertise. The charges are dismissed if the offenderfollows the treatment plan (Lurigio, Watson, Luchins, &Hanrahan, 2001).Evaluations of mental health courts suggest thatthey have been moderately effective in linking indi-viduals to treatment services and in reducing recidi-vism (Sarteschi et al., 2011), as long as the“full dose”of treatment is provided. People who completed atreatment program associated with a rural North Car-olina mental health court were 88% less likely to reci-divate than people who did not complete treatment(Hiday & Ray, 2010). Although findings are limited,it appears that mental health courts are also cost effec-tive, reducing the need for services such as psychiatricemergency room visits and other crisis interventions.There are two broad concerns associated withmental health courts, however. First, participantsmay feel coerced into participating. Redlich, Hoover,Summers, and Steadman (2010) interviewed 200 par-ticipants and found that although most said theyagreed to participate, the majority were unawarethat the program was voluntary and did not under-stand many of the nuances of the program, leadingresearchers to question whether diversion to mentalhealth courts is truly voluntary.The second concern involves the selection ofparticipants. Specialty courts, including mental healthcourts, admit only a fraction of the people who areeligible, and admission decisions typically involvemultiple perspectives and parties (e.g., clients, treat-ment providers, judges, prosecutors, defense attor-neys, and victims) (Wolff, Fabrikant, & Belenko, 2011). Recent studies suggest that gender and racialbias may influence the way that potential clients areidentified, recruited, and eventually selected to partic-ipate. Specifically, Caucasian males are overrepre-sented in mental health courts. According to ameta-analysis of 18 studies (Sarteschi et al., 2011),the majority of participants in mental health courtsare Caucasian males in their mid-30s, whereasAfrican-American males constituted the largest demo-graphic group in prisons and jails in 2007 (Sabol &Couture, 2008) and psychiatric diagnoses are moreprevalent among disadvantaged minority groups(Minsky, Vega, Miskimen, Gara & Escobar, 2003).A related concern is the possibility that the selectionprocesses, rather than the interventions provided, accountfor the modest positive outcomes associated with partici-pating in mental health courts. This could happen if onlythose potential clients who accept their mental disorderand who are amenable to treatment are invited to partic-ipate. After evaluating the selection procedures in sixdemographically diverse mental health courts, Wolff etal. (2011) concluded that client selection might explainfindings on the effectiveness of mental health courts.Homeless Courts.People living on the streets arefrequently cited for public nuisance offenses such asdrinking in public and loitering, and often fail toappear when summoned to court. As a result, theyare unable to access vital services such as housing,employment opportunities, and public assistance.Homeless courts were started in southern Califor-nia in the late 1980s. They are designed to reach outto marginalized individuals, address the underlyingproblems that resulted in their homelessness, and rein-tegrate these people into society. Homeless“court”istypically held in shelters or agencies that serve thispopulation. Rather than being fined or taken into cus-tody, participants are given alternative sentencesincluding assignment to programs and activities suchas employment training, counseling, AlcoholicsAnonymous meetings, and volunteer work.New York City has created a variant on thisapproach termed community courts (discussed in moredetail later in this section) in Times Square and the RedHook area of Brooklyn (Post, 2004a). Meeting in arefurbished Catholic school, the judges, prosecutors,and defenders in the Red Hook community court seetheir goal as bettering the quality of life for citizens.Theyknowthepeopleofthecommunityandmakeita point to know the offenders and to make sure theoffenders know them.“The clerk of court hasbeen known to stop her car at street corners and telldefendants the judge has issued a warrant for them andthey’d best get over to court”(Carter, 2004, p. 39). Theresult is a reduction in low-level crime and decreasedrecidivism by offenders. Some courts aim to reduce home-lessness by dealing with landlord and tenant issues andaddressing the underlying causes of homelessness—mental illness, poor job skills, and language barriers.Domestic Violence Courts.Historically, legal res-ponses to domestic violence cases were fragmentedwith different court divisions issuing restrainingorders, prosecuting perpetrators, and protecting chil-dren. Victims have been considered merely“witnesses”and the needs of children have been largely ignored(Casey & Rottman, 2005). In recent years, though,domestic violence courts have coordinated efforts tohold perpetrators accountable, enhance victim andchild safety, and promote informed judicial decisionmaking. Domestic violence court personnel work withcommunity-based agencies to strengthen the entirecommunity’s response to domestic violence (Sack,2002). There are now more than 300 domestic violencecourts in the United States (Casey & Rottman, 2005).Like other specialty courts, domestic violence courtsinvolve judges and staff specially trained in the relevantdomain, coordination among community resources, andclose monitoring of the perpetrator both before andafter case disposition. But domestic violence courts differfrom other specialty courts in important respects. Theystartfromthepremisethatoffenders’behavior is learnedrather than rooted in a treatable addiction or illness.Therefore, court proceedings are primarily adversarialrather than therapeutic. They often involve both victimand offender attempting to reach agreement on protec-tion orders. The needs of children are considered, andco-occurring child abuse and neglect are addressed.Although few studies have evaluated the effective-ness of domestic violence courts, including their ability toreduce recidivism (Wiener et al. 2010), victims, perpe-trators, advocates, and judges have generally reacted pos-itively. Both victims and perpetrators express satisfactionwith the court processes and outcomes. Compared withtraditional courts, domestic violence courts processcases faster and have higher rates of guilty pleas. Inaddition, perpetrators are more likely to comply withjudge-ordered conditions (Casey & Rottman, 2005).Community Courts.In contrast to drug courts andmental health courts, each of which is characterized byjurisdiction over a very specific group, a community courtisneighborhood-focused and designed to addresslocal problems such as vandalism, prostitution, shoplift-ing, vagrancy, and the like. Community courts use prob-lem solving and strive to create relationships with outsidestakeholders such as residents, merchants, churches, andschools (Center for Court Innovation, 2012).Community court participants generally like howthey are treated in this kind of court. Participantssee them as fairer than traditional courts (Frazer,2006), and give them high marks in achieving goalssuch as working productively, assigning usefulcommunity service, and treating participants equally(Justice Education Center, 2002). Perhaps one reasonfor such favorable ratings has been the use of alterna-tive sanctions by community courts; they are less likelyto incarcerate individuals as part of disposition ofcharges (Hakuta et al., 2008). Although such courtsare slightly more expensive when measured by costper case, they are also associated with higher levels ofcompliance with sanctions and greater reduction ofparticular outcomes such as prostitution, illegal vend-ing, and other problems particular to communitycourts (Kralstein, 2005). We provide one example ofa community court in Box 9.4. Veterans’Courts.The newest version of specialtycourt, veterans’courts, was launched in 2008 toaddress the complicated psychological and legal pro-blems of members of the U.S. military who havereturned from war. There are now dozens of suchcourts across the country.More than 2 million Americans have served in thewars in Iraq and Afghanistan,making these the largestdeployments since the Vietnam War. Approximatelyone-third of them suffer from posttraumatic stress dis-order (PTSD), traumatic brain injury, depression, orother mental illness, and one-fifth are addicted to drugsor alcohol (Marvasti, 2010). Sadly, only about half ofthe veterans with PTSD or depression have soughthelp, and of those, only about half received satisfactorycare (Tanielian & Jayco, 2008). Given their trainingin the military to react immediately to any perceivedthreat, it is not surprising that thousands of returningveterans have reacted impulsively and violently inheated situations. Sometimes, as a result, they havebeen arrested and charged with serious criminal offenses,including child abuse, sexual assault, and homicide.In a typical veterans’court, a district attorneymay opt to defer prosecution or offer a plea bargainto a reduced charge if it is clear that the offense wasrelated to the veteran’s disability and the veteranagrees to seek treatment. Veterans who plead guiltyto a nonviolent felony or misdemeanor are teamedwith volunteer veteran mentors who ensure that theoffender adheres to a strict regimen of counseling,personalized rehabilitation programs, and courtappearances. Judges may issue alternative sentencesthat require offenders to seek psychological treat-ment. By completing the required program, anoffender may avoid going to prison. Whether theseprovisions should be made available to veteranscharged with felonies is a matter of ongoing debate.Because these programs are so new, there are very few studies of their effectiveness, though the sparsedata that exist suggest that offenders who arediverted to veterans’court are less likely to reoffendthan those whose cases go through the traditionalcriminal justice system (Mador, 2010).Criticisms of Problem-Solving Courts.Despite theapparent successes of problem-solving courts, theyhave also been criticized. One concern is that regard-less of the type of specialty court, they are presidedover by middle-class judges who inevitably reflecttheir own middle-class values and who may becomeinappropriately paternalistic in what they require ofpeople (Eaton & Kaufman, 2005). Some have arguedthat problem-solving courts lack legitimacy becausethreatening punishment to coerce rehabilitation isunfair and because guilt or innocence is not deter-mined by a trial (Casey, 2004). Prosecutors and publicdefenders have expressed concern over the“socialworker”roles inherent in drug court philosophy; pro-secutors feel pressured to favor rehabilitation of theoffender over protection of society, and defendersfeel pressured to plead their clients guilty and to informthe court of clients’failure to comply with the terms ofprobation (Feinblatt & Berman, 2001). Finally, socialscientists worry about the lack of rigorous, empiricalstudies that assesshowspecialty courts influence (or failto influence) offenders’conduct and what impact theyhave on the underlying social and psychologicalproblems of offenders (Wiener et al., 2010).In spite of these criticisms, problem-solvingcourts have shown remarkable growth and the abilityto address some of the contributors to criminaloffending that respond to interventions. As a result,they have the potential to reduce recidivism rates andto improve the lives of participants and their families.Problem-solving courts will very likely continue todevelop and evolve, focusing on the reasons whypeople are in court in the first place.Research on Intercept 3 of the Sequential Inter-cept Model is the most mature and consistent of theintercepts described thus far. Specialty courts ofdifferent kinds have been studied, with the generalfocus on the particular characteristics of participants,the perceptions of favorability on the part of suchparticipants, and outcomes such as cost, the natureof appropriate services delivered, and change injustice-relevant outcomes such as rearrest and subse-quent incarceration. The evidence on the delivery ofappropriate services, the perception of favorability onthe part of participants, and the reduction of the inci-dence of subsequent arrest and incarceration seemslargely favorable for drug courts, community courts,and mental health courts.The Sequential Intercept Model describes twoother points at which specialized interventions canoccur for offenders in the community: during the tran-sition from incarceration back to the community (thereentry process) and while on parole following releasefrom incarceration. These are both discussed later inthis book, in Chapter 15.The Future of Community-BasedAlternatives to ProsecutionThe alternatives to traditional prosecution describedin this chapter have grown substantially during thelast two decades. Part of their appeal is their bipartisannature. For conservative legislators who focus on pub-lic safety and cost, there is growing evidence that alter-native approaches such as specialized police respondingand problem-solving courts reduce the risk of criminaloffending and also cost the criminal justice system less(although they may shift costs to systems that deliverrehabilitation services). For liberal legislators who mightbe inclined to emphasize rehabilitation, there is morespecific treatment and rehabilitation associated withsuch alternative approaches. But such approaches havegrown partly because the original areas of rehabilitationneed (e.g., substance abuse, mental health) have beenexpanded to include a number of areas as well.Will this trend continue? Will we see thedevelopment of“trauma courts”or other similarproblem-solving courts? If so, we hope that research