Flawed science? Two efforts launched to improve scientific validity of psychological test evidence in court

There’s this forensic psychologist, we’ll call him Dr. Harms, who is infamous for his unorthodox approach. He scampers around the country deploying a bizarre admixture of obscure, outdated and unpublished tests that no one else has ever heard of.

Oh, and the Psychopathy Checklist (PCL-R). Dr. Harms never omits that. To him, everyone is a chillingly dangerous psychopath. Even a 30-year-old whose last crime was at age 15.

What’s most bizarre about Dr. Harms’s esoteric method is that he gets away with it. Attorneys may try to challenge him in court, but their protests usually fall flat. Judges rule that any weaknesses in his method should go to the “weight” that jurors give Dr. Harm’s opinions, rather than the admissibility of his tests.

Psychological tests hold a magical allure as objective truth. They retain their luster even while forensic science techniques previously regarded as bulletproof are undergoing unprecedented scrutiny. Based in large part on our briefcases full of tests, courts have granted psychologists unprecedented influence over an ever-increasing array of thorny issues, from future dangerousness to parental fitness to refugee trauma. Behind the scenes, meanwhile, a lucrative test-production industry is gleefully rubbing its hands all the way to the bank.

In other forensic “science” niches such as bite-mark analysis and similar types of pattern matching that have contributed to wrongful convictions, appellate attorneys have had to wage grueling, decades-long efforts to reign in shoddy practice. (See Radley Balko's The Cadaver King and the Country Dentist for more on this.) But leaders in the field of forensic psychology are grabbing the bull by the horns and inviting us to do better, proposing novel ways for us to self-police.

New report slams "junk science” psychological assessments

In one of two significant developments, a group of researchers today released evidence of systematic problems with the state of psychological test admissibility in court. The researchers' comprehensive survey found that only about two-thirds of the tools used by clinicians in forensic settings were generally accepted in the field, while even fewer -- only about four in ten -- were favorably reviewed in authoritative sources such as the Mental Measurements Yearbook.

Despite this, psychological tests are rarely challenged when they are introduced in court, Tess M.S. Neal and her colleagues found. Even when they are, the challenges fail about two-thirds of the time. Worse yet, there is little relationship between a tool’s psychometric quality and the likelihood of it being challenged.

Slick ad for one of a myriad of new psych tests.

“Some of the weakest tools tend to get a pass from the courts,” write the authors of the newly issued report, "Psychological Assessments in Legal Contexts: Are Courts Keeping 'Junk Science' Out of the Courtroom?”

The report, currently in press in the journal Psychological Science in the Public Interest, proposes that standard batteries be developed for forensic use, based on the consensus of experts in the field as to which tests are the most reliable and valid for assessing a given psycholegal issue. It further cautions against forensic deployment of newly developed tests that are being marketed by for-profit corporations before adequate research or review by independent professionals.

"Life or death" call to halt prejudicial use of psychopathy test

In a parallel development in the field, 13 prominent forensic psychologists have issued a rare public rebuke of improper use of the controversial Psychopathy Checklist (PCL-R) in court. The group is calling for a halt to the use of the PCL-R in the sentencing phase of death-penalty cases as evidence that a convicted killer will be especially dangerous if sentenced to life in prison rather than death.

As I’ve reported previously in a series of posts (here and here, for example), scores on the PCL-R swing wildly in forensic settings based on which side hired the expert. In a phenomenon known as adversarial allegiance, prosecution-retained experts produce scores in the high-psychopathy range in about half of cases, as compared with less than one out of ten cases for defense experts.

Research does not support testimony being given by prosecution experts in capital trials that PCL-R scores can accurately predict serious violence in institutional settings such as prison, according to the newly formed Group of Concerned Forensic Mental Health Professionals. And once such a claim is made in court, its prejudicial impact on jurors is hard to overcome, potentially leading to a vote for execution.

The "Statement of Concerned Experts," whose authors include prominent professionals who helped to develop and test the PCL-R, is forthcoming from the respected journal Psychology, Public Policy, and Law.

Beware the all-powerful law of unintended consequences

This scrutiny of how psychological instruments are being used in forensic practice is much needed and long overdue. Perhaps eventually it may even trickle down to our friend Dr. Harms, although I have a feeling it won't be before his retirement.

But never underestimate the law of unintended consequences.

The research group that surveyed psychological test use in the courts developed a complex, seemingly objective method to sort tests according to whether they were generally accepted in the field and/or favorably reviewed by independent researchers and test reviewers.

Ironically enough, one of the tests that they categorized as meeting both criteria – general acceptance and favorable review – was the PCL-R, the same test being targeted by the other consortium for its improper deployment and prejudicial impact in court. (Perhaps not so coincidentally, that test is a favorite of the aforementioned Dr. Harms, who likes to score it high.)

The disconnect illustrates the fact that science doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Psychopathy is a value-laden construct that owes its popularity in large part to current cultural values, which favor the individual-pathology model of criminal conduct over notions of rehabilitation and desistance from crime.

It’s certainly understandable why reformers would suggest the development of “standard batteries … based on the best clinical tools available.” The problem comes in deciding what is “best.”

Who will be privileged to make those choices (which will inevitably reify the dominant orthodoxy and its implicit assumptions)?

What alternatives will those choices exclude? And at whose expense?

And will that truly result in fairer and more scientifically defensible practice in the courtroom?

It’s exciting that forensic psychology leaders are drawing attention to the dark underbelly of psychological test deployment in forensic practice. But despite our best efforts, I fear that equitable solutions may remain thorny and elusive.

The Trauma Myth, Revisited

The Trauma Myth may be one of the most misunderstood books of the past decade. Based on its regrettable title, pedophiles erroneously believe it minimizes the harm of child sexual abuse; in the opposite corner, some misguided anti-abuse crusaders have demonized the Harvard-trained author as a pedophile apologist. As guest blogger Jon Brandt explains in this review -- first published in the Summer 2016 issue of The Forum, the newsletter of the Association for the Treatment of Sexual Abusers (ATSA) -- both fans and detractors of Susan Clancy have gotten the courageous researcher all wrong.

The Trauma Myth

by Susan Clancy

Book review by Jon Brandt, MSW, LICSW*

As a former child protection social worker, and now working with both victims and offenders, I was drawn to The Trauma Myth because of both the title, and subtitle: “The Truth About the Sexual Abuse of Children – and its aftermath.” When I first read Susan Clancy’s book, in 2010, nearly every page confirmed my professional experience with victims. I’m offering this review some six years after the book's publication because I believe most experienced professionals will agree that Clancy’s thesis is not just well-researched, but articulate and luminously persuasive.

Dr. Clancy is a Harvard-trained experimental psychologist. Her expertise is not in the field of sexual abuse; it is in the field of memory. This information is important in understanding how Clancy endeavored to interview adults who had been victims of childhood sexual abuse (CSA) – in part, to further understand the role of memory in how adults recalled traumatic experiences. Clancy acknowledges that her career had a rocky start – not only investigating adult memories of childhood sexual abuse, but to understand why some people seemed to believe in alien abductions. Clancy writes about the challenge of having to reconcile her research with two deep concerns: first, she had to abandon some of what she had been taught about the ‘trauma’ of sexual abuse, and second, she had to try to save her reputation and career.

After Clancy interviewed more than 200 Boston-area adult victims of CSA, she came to recognize that most victims’ memories were consistent with previous research – the vast majority of victims knew, liked, and/or trusted their abusers. And she confirmed another finding – that most CSA was tricked and manipulated, not the product of threats, force, pain, or injury. Even young children intuitively understand that when an older person inflicts pain, injury, or fear (elements of trauma), something is very wrong. But when sexual violations occur in the absence of violence and in the presence of trust, most victims reported being confused by the encounter, rather than traumatized. Less than one in ten adults that Clancy interviewed described being sexually abused as “traumatic.” Clancy considered that perhaps CSA is so traumatic that adults had repressed their memories, but that hypothesis ran counter to research that: (1) discredits repressed memories and (2) indicates that the more powerful life experiences are to an individual, the more the events are both strongly embedded and vividly recalled. Clancy goes on to articulately detail how children are indeed harmed by sexual abuse – in the aftermath.

Dr. Clancy has expressed some regret about the title of her book, but does not back-peddle from her findings – that CSA is not universally traumatic. She asserts that many professionals don’t really understand how, why, and when CSA is harmful, and imputing trauma when it’s not present might actually introduce secondary harm. Clancy expresses that children clearly do not have the developmental capabilities to understand interpersonal sex, that acceding to sexual touching is not the same as sexual consent, and that naïve cooperation is not complicity. In the absence of veritable trauma, the harm of CSA comes not from sexual touching, per se, but from relationship violations – a sense of betrayal, shame, and misplaced blame. Clancy explains that as a CSA victim begins to sexually and socially mature, and comes to understand what motivated their abuser, they feel duped and exploited. As victims try to reconcile how and why someone of trust would use them for sexual purposes, the ‘harm’ evolves. Clancy’s message is clear: if we don’t talk to kids about sex, we leave them vulnerable; if we don’t listen to kids who have been sexually abused, we re-victimize them; when we truly listen to child victims, we empower them to guide their own recovery – that helps to turn victims into survivors.

Dr. Clancy uses the controversies around her book to illustrate how difficult it is for professionals to navigate the nuances of CSA, and that it is incumbent on adults to protect children until they are mature enough to navigate the world of interpersonal sex. Clancy acknowledges that she was perhaps naïve in believing that rigorous science would protect the integrity of her research. What she was not prepared for was that CSA is virtually unspeakable – so abhorrent that, even among the educated, it was difficult to separate legitimate research from prevailing public opinion, or simply the politics of sex.

In 1998, psychologist, Bruce Rind and colleagues published an article on CSA in the American Psychological Association journal Psychological Bulletin. It was peer-reviewed, sound research, but so contrary to conventional beliefs of CSA that it resulted in an Act of Congress condemning his work. In 1981, Professor Alfred Kadushin (one of my graduate school advisors at the University of Wisconsin) published a book titled Child Abuse, an Interactional Event. He spent the rest of his career explaining that he was not blaming children for being abused.

The truth is, there has never been any time in history that sex could be separated from politics, or that science hasn’t waged an uphill battle against public opinion. The Socratic Method, or the applications of logic and scrutiny to understanding complex problems, is a predecessor of the Scientific Method, and one of the most important legacies of Socrates. It is ironic that Socrates could not survive the politics of his own time – he was condemned to death as a heretic. Nearly two millennia later, perhaps Galileo had taken note of the fate of Socrates. When Galileo found himself charged with heresy, to avoid being executed, he recanted his theory of the heliocentric solar system, and lived out his life under house arrest. It took another 350 years for the Catholic Church to acknowledge that Galileo had been right all along.

Susan Clancy wasn’t charged with heresy, at least not formally, but by her own admission, after a firestorm of controversy over The Trauma Myth, she fled the US to work in Nicaragua for several years. If Clancy was flattered by a favorable book review in the NY Times, she must have been horrified by a book review by NAMBLA [the North American Man/Boy Love Association]. Clancy’s book, and her story, are a testimony to professional courage in the face of deeply held, widespread, long-standing beliefs about the sexual abuse of children. Apparently, Clancy no longer writes or teaches about sexual abuse, based on a Google search, but she is still professionally active in research and education about the functions of memory.

There is so much right about The Trauma Myth that I am hesitant to be critical, but I think Clancy missed the mark on a few points. In my experience, some victims of CSA have the internal constitution to avoid both the trauma and the harm of sexual abuse. Other victims seem to have the resiliency and tenacity, with or without professional help, to truly earn the moniker of ‘survivor.’ Clancy views CSA as dichotomous – if there is a victim, there is an offender, who must be punished. If Clancy understood offending with the same verve, complexity, and nuances with which she understands victims, I think she would forgo the black and white, victim-offender paradigm in favor of the complex dynamics of offending, and the range of uniquely tailored interventions that serve victims, offenders, and their families. With a focus on the etiology and aftermath of CSA, it might not be obvious that Clancy was also advocating for both more prevention and better public policies.

The Trauma Myth is well researched, with endnotes in APA format. With just over 200 pages, and still professionally sound, it is easy reading. Most individuals are likely to approach the book with the same skepticism with which Clancy pursued her research. In the end, I think most professionals are likely to agree with many conclusions that Dr. Clancy found unassailable: that the popular, one-dimensional understanding of ‘trauma’ caused by child sexual abuse is largely a myth – a vestige of the 20th century.

*Jon Brandt is a clinical social worker who specializes in the evaluation, treatment and supervision to sexual offenders. His previous guest posts have reported on the link between pornography and contact sex offending and on an ongoing legal challenge to Minnesota's civil commitment of sex offenders. Many thanks to the editors of The Forum for granting me permission to post Mr. Brandt's review. The original review can be found HERE.

What’s Wrong With “Making A Murderer”?

Making A Murderer is generating huge buzz on social media; dual petitions calling for Steven Avery’s exoneration have garnered more than 600,000 signatures to date. But after slogging through the 10-hour Netflix “documentary,” I was left feeling disturbed by the drama’s narrative and premises. Here's why:

1. The narrative is grossly misleading.

The hook to this story is protagonist Steven Avery’s prior exoneration: He served 18 years in prison for a rape of which he was ultimately exonerated by DNA evidence; just three years after his release, he was arrested for the unrelated murder and mutilation of another young woman in rural Manitowoc County, Wisconsin.

It’s an intriguing hook. But others – including the superb podcasters at Radiolab in 2013 – had already mined it. So filmmakers Moira Demos and Laura Ricciardi went for a different twist: Avery was innocent, framed by corrupt police whose reputations were tarnished by the wrongful conviction scandal.

Viewers are treated to interminable audio clips of the convicted killer proclaiming his innocence and whining about the injustice of it all. With its sympathetic focus on Avery and his socially marginal family, the documentary excludes much of the hard evidence pointing to Avery.

Perhaps the most blatant example of misinformation is the portrayal of Avery and his victim as strangers. In fact, the evidence presented at trial suggested that Avery not only knew Teresa Halbach, a photographer for Auto Trader magazine, but was targeting her. After a photo assignment at his family's auto salvage yard in which he greeted her wearing only a towel, she complained to her bosses that she was “creeped out” by him. Yet he continued to call and ask for her to be sent back out. Phone records revealed that on the day of her murder, he repeatedly called her cell phone, using *67 to block his ID. Not only was her cremated body found in his burn pit just a few steps from his trailer, but two separate witnesses testified they had seen Avery putting items into a barrel of his from which police later recovered her incinerated cell phone and camera. Avery's nephew also told police he had helped Avery hide the victim's vehicle in the salvage yard, and DNA evidence of Avery's sweat under the hood corroborated his account.

This brief list is not exhaustive; there's lots more inculpatory evidence that the series omits or glosses over.

2. It lionizes a sexual predator.

There are plenty of sympathetic characters in prison. A great many of them are unquestionably guilty. Steven Avery – innocent or guilty – is not one of them. He comes across as shallow, callous and self-absorbed, fitting the part of a cold and calculating predator.

Prisoners who served time with him during his first bid confirmed that he was not a nice guy. They told investigators that he showed them diagrams of a torture chamber he planned to build when he was released, so that he could "torture and rape and murder young women.”

There is further evidence of tremendous rage toward women. While in prison, he threatened to mutilate and kill his former wife. And despite his exoneration in the original rape for which he was convicted, prosecutors presented evidence in a pretrial affidavit of two other rapes of girls and women for which he was never prosecuted. There are also allegations that he sexually molested child relatives, including his codefendant and nephew, Brendan Dassey.

Perhaps most ominously, just three weeks before Halbach’s murder, he bought a set of leg irons and handcuffs, suggesting that the crime was premeditated and elaborately planned.

It is only if we know this background information -- excluded from the Netflix series -- that we can make proper sense of the trial judge’s admonition to Avery at his sentencing hearing:

“You are probably the most dangerous individual ever to set foot in this courtroom.”

3. Journalistic bias of this magnitude is unethical.

Filmmakers Laura Ricciardi and Moira Demos

In several drawn-out scenes, the filmmakers depict the TV news crews covering the trial as bottom-feeding hyenas, lacking any compassion or mercy as they circle and nip at the heels of the beleaguered Avery clan.

This is a clever cinematic device. It imparts the illusion that the documentarians are above the fray, more neutral and trustworthy than the media rabble. 

In reality, they are no less superficial. We get no greater clarity, and certainly no deeper analysis. The difference is merely one of perspective. Lengthy scenes in the Avery kitchen, watching Steven's mother Dolores prepare and eat her lunch, emphasize the one-sidedness of the series: Demos and Ricciardi are essentially mouthpieces for Steven Avery.

It’s not that police do not lie, or plant evidence. They do it all the time. So it's certainly possible that police planted the victim's car key in Avery’s bedroom, as the Averys claim. But framing Avery would have required much more. Police would have had to know the location of Halbach's body in order to move it to Avery's burn pit. They would have had to plant Avery's sweat under the hood of Halbach's car, where his nephew's account predicted it would be. All told, this convoluted conspiracy theory stretches credulity.

Ironically, while the filmmakers castigate police for going after Avery’s nephew (instead, they cast unsupported aspersions on the victim's male friends and relatives), Avery and his defense team had no such compunctions. Their alternate suspect list included the boy, along with other male members of the Avery clan.

Some observers, such as journalist and private investigator Ann Brocklehurst, imply that business interests may have contributed to this over-solicitude toward the Averys:

“Ma and Pa Avery are portrayed lovingly as salt-of-the-earth types. They’re never asked how they managed to raise three sons with such a long and documented history of violence.... [I]f the filmmakers had decided one of the brothers, nephews or brother-in-law likely did it, Ma and Pa might have pulled right out of the multi-year film project and left the directors empty-handed. A Shakespearian or Faulkneresque tale of a dysfunctional and dangerous family is of no use to anyone if you don’t have the legal rights to tell it.”

Journalists’ code of ethics warns reporters not to distort either facts or context, and to take special care to avoid misrepresentation or oversimplification. Intentionally or not, Demos and Ricciardi clearly violated this standard.

4. “Innocence porn” exceptionalizes criminal justice problems.

The trope of the wrongfully convicted is a time-honored sub-genre of true crime. New Yorker writer Kathryn Shultz traces it back to the late 1880s, with a popular magazine column called “The Court of Last Resort” by criminal defense lawyer turned author Erle Stanley Gardner, better known for his Perry Mason detective series. As Shultz notes, recent films and TV series in this genre have been quite successful in getting criminal cases reopened and convictions overturned: 

“Although it subsequently faded from memory, 'The Court of Last Resort' stands as the progenitor of one of today’s most popular true-crime subgenres, in which reporters, dissatisfied with the outcome of a criminal case, conduct their own extrajudicial investigations. Until recently, the standout representatives of this form were 'The Thin Blue Line,' a 1988 Errol Morris documentary about Randall Dale Adams, who was sentenced to death for the 1976 murder of a police officer; 'Paradise Lost,' a series of documentaries by Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky about three teen-agers found guilty of murdering three second-grade boys in West Memphis in 1993; and 'The Staircase,' a television miniseries by Jean-Xavier de Lestrade about the novelist Michael Peterson, found guilty of murdering his wife in 2001. Peterson has been granted a new trial. Randall Dale Adams was exonerated a year after 'The Thin Blue Line' was released. Shortly before the final 'Paradise Lost' documentary was completed, in 2011, all three of its subjects were freed from prison on the basis of DNA evidence.”

Last year’s NPR  podcast series, Serial, probing the case of a young man named Adnan Syed who had been convicted of killing his former high school girlfriend, became an overnight sensation. (And, guess what: A judge has just granted a motion for a new post-conviction review of the evidence in that case.) What with the popular success of Making A Murderer, more such cultural events can be anticipated.

But while documentaries like Serial or Making A Murderer may seem progressive in shining a spotlight on the legal system and exposing flaws therein, they may actually further a narrative of exceptionalism. In other words, miscarriages of justice are rare events caused not by systemic problems, but by ___ (fill in the blank: corrupt police, shyster attorneys, bungled evidence handling or analysis, etc.).

And only the innocents -- the exceptions to the rule -- are worthy of attention. 

5. The nephew got second billing.

Instead of hanging their tale on the threadbare hook of Avery’s prior exoneration, the filmmakers could have delved more deeply into the routine misfiring of the legal system by centralizing Avery’s nephew and codefendant, 16-year-old Brendan Dassey.

Brendan Dassey, the 16-year-old nephew

Like his uncle, Dassey may very well be guilty. But in his case, neither innocence nor deliberate corruption is essential to the narrative. Guilty or innocent, framed or not, the manner of his prosecution was rotten to the core, illustrating more common and systemic flaws in the criminal justice system.

“Innocent people don’t confess,” prosecutor Ken Kratz told the jury.

That false gospel went unchallenged because – for reasons never explained in the series – the juvenile’s defense team chose not to call a confession expert, who could have dissected Massey’s statements and explained to the jury how the detectives’ skillful manipulations produced a potentially unreliable confession.

This was a boy with a low IQ and limited education, who was interviewed by detectives on multiple occasions, for hours and hours on end, without either his mother or his attorney present. He was easily confused and misled into believing that if he confessed, all would be forgiven and he would go home. His statements were contaminated when police fed him facts, which he then regurgitated. 

Private investigator Michael O'Kelly

Dassey also had the misfortune to be initially represented by an unethical attorney who decided early on that Dassey was guilty, ignoring the boy’s protestations to the contrary. The attorney, Len Kachinsky, in turn hired a private investigator with highly confused loyalties. Indeed, the PI wrote a eugenics-laced email to the defense attorney revealing his unabashed antipathy toward his client's family:

“This [family] is truly where the devil resides in comfort. I can find no good in any member. These people are pure evil.... We need to end the gene pool here.”

Together, the loyalty-challenged attorney and investigator brow-beat a detailed confession from their client, which they promptly turned over to police. Although both the attorney and his investigator were removed from the case before trial, neither suffered any official sanction for their betrayal of their duties, or the damage caused to Dassey's case.

6. The entertainment spectacle has produced a destructive backlash.

In perhaps the most poignant moment in the series, defense attorney Dean Strang -- the show’s moral compass -- critiques the “unwarranted certitude” rampant within the criminal justice system, with everyone from police and prosecutors to defense lawyers, judges and jurors far too convinced that they are privy to The Truth.

Across the board, he mourned, the system suffers from “a tragic lack of humility.”

Steven Avery with rape victim Penny Beerntsen

Unfortunately, the filmmakers fell into that very same trap. It was apparent to many that they had naively embarked on their 10-year project wearing blinders. Penny Beerntsen, the original rape victim (whose misidentification sent Avery to prison), was one such observer. A remarkable woman who is active in the innocence movement, Beerntsen told the New Yorker that the filmmakers’ certitude troubled her:

“It was very clear from the outset that they believed Steve was innocent,” she told me. “I didn’t feel they were journalists seeking the truth. I felt like they had a foregone conclusion and were looking for a forum in which to express it.”

It is no surprise that Avery and his family have staunchly denied his guilt: He was framed once, so why not twice? After all, they point out, the $36 million judgment he was seeking for his false imprisonment could have bankrupted Manitowoc County. But for the filmmakers to fall so under the Averys’ spell that they would radically distort the facts is disconcerting. Their bias was transparent, and the excluded evidence easily available. It seems arrogant to regard the public as too gullible to do any basic fact-checking.

Predictably, a furious backlash has ensued, with social media pundits and entertainment outlets competing to debunk the series. Rather than systemic flaws in the system, the discourse has devolved into a pointless, dichotomous debate over guilt or innocence.

Worst of all from the interests of the innocence movement, some are asking the question: If Steven Avery had never been exonerated, would Teresa Halbach be alive today?

The innocence movement can counter with the fact that Avery is an extreme outlier: Of all the many hundreds of people who have been exonerated and freed from prison, only a tiny handful have reoffended with a serious offense.

But Avery is an outlier for another reason as well: He may not have raped Penny Beerntsen, but he was far from innocent even back then. Police in his rural community already had him on their radar screen, as a dangerous young man, someone who thought nothing of assaulting a female relative with a gun or dousing a cat with oil and throwing it on a bonfire to watch it burn.

The filmmakers insist that it was never their intent to manipulate their audience, nor to propel such a mass rush to judgment – in either direction. In hindsight, however, perhaps the grisly murder of Teresa Halbach was not the best choice for a documentary about innocence?

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 POSTSCRIPTS

On Aug. 12, 2016, U.S. District Court Judge William Duffin granted Brendan Dassey's petition for a writ of habeas corpus, based on the false promises that were made to him (in conjunction with other relevant factors, including his age, intellectual deficits, and the absence of a supportive adult), and ordered that he either be released or granted a new trial. The 91-page ruling is HERE. 

On June 22 2017, a three-judge panel of the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the District Court's decision. Its 128-page ruling is HERE. As of that date, Dassey remained in custody while prosecutors decided whether to appeal to the Supreme Court. New York Times reporting on that appellate ruling is HERE.

On Dec. 8, 2017, by a narrow vote of 4-3, the full 7th Circuit Court of Appeals reversed the decision of its three-judge panel. Citing the need for appellate courts to be deferential of trial courts, it held that the original trial court decision upholding Dassey's conviction was not patently erroneous or unreasonable. In a strongly worded dissent, Justice Ilana Rovner called the decision "a profound miscarriage of justice" that condoned the use of psychologically coercive techniques and condemned "an impaired teenager" to spend his life in prison. The majority decision and two dissenting opinions are HERE. They are highly recommended reading as they illuminate the current state of tension surrounding psychologically coerced confessions and especially the controversial Reid interrogation method.  

In June of 2018, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear Dassey's appeal, meaning Dassey will continue to serve his life sentence.

And in July of 2018, Dassey's ethically challenged attorney Len Kachinsky, who later became a judge, was charged with stalking his former court clerk. He has been suspended from practice, and faces up to five years in prison if convicted. The allegations against him are creepy enough that they might make for a good true-crime show in their own right.

Static-99 “norms du jour” get yet another makeover

It would be humorous if the real-world consequences were not so grave.

Every year, at a jam-packed session of the annual conference of the Association for the Treatment of Sexual Abusers (ATSA), the developers of the Static-99 family of actuarial risk assessment tools roll out yet a new methodology to replace the old. 

This year, they announced that they are scrapping two of three sets of "non-routine" comparison norms that they introduced at an ATSA conference just four years ago. Stay tuned, they told their rapt audience, for further instructions on how to choose between the two remaining sets of norms. 

To many, this might sound dry and technical. But in the courtroom trenches, sexually violent predator cases often hinge on an evaluator's choice of a comparison group. Should the offender be compared with the full population of convicted sex offenders? Or a subset labeled "high risk/needs" that offended at a rate more than 3.5 times higher than the more representative group (21 percent versus 6 percent after five years)? 

To illustrate, whereas only about 3 percent (4 out of 139) of the men over 70 in the combined Static-99R samples reoffended, invoking the high-risk norms would cause a septuagenarian's risk to skyrocket by 400 percent. It's not hard to see why such an inflated estimate might increase the odds of a judge or jury finding a former offender to be dangerous, and recommending indefinite detention. 

The first problem with this method is that the basis for choosing a comparison group is very vague, inviting bias on the part of forensic evaluators. Even more essentially, there is not a shred of empirical evidence that choosing the high-risk norms improves decision-making accuracy in sexually violent predator (SVP) cases.

That should come as no surprise. Not one of the six samples that were cobbled together post-hoc to create the high-risk norms included anyone who was civilly committed -- or considered for commitment -- under modern-day SVP laws, which now exist in 20 U.S. states. (Four samples are Canadian, one is Danish, and the only American one is an exceptionally high-risk, archaic and idiosyncratic sample from an infamous psychiatric facility in Bridgewater, Massachusetts.) 

A typical psychological test has a published manual that gives instructions on proper use and clearly describes its norms. In contrast, the Static-99, despite its high-stakes deployment, has no published manual. Its users must rely on a website, periodic conferences and training sessions, and word-of-mouth information. 

High-risk norms based on guesswork, say forensic psychologists

Now, two forensic psychologists have joined a growing chorus of mainstream practitioners cautioning against the use of the high-risk norms, unless and until research proves that they improve evaluators' accuracy in forecasting risk of sexual re-offense. 

"There is zero empirical research showing increased accuracy by switching to a non- representative group," note Gregory DeClue and Denis Zavodny in an article just published in the Open Access Journal of Forensic Psychology. "Unless and until such choices are found to increase the accuracy of risk assessments, forensic evaluators should use local norms (if available) or the FULLPOP* comparison group (considered roughly representative of all adjudicated sex offenders)."

The authors critiqued the growing practice of selecting the high-risk norms based on so-called "psychologically meaningful risk factors." The Static-99 developers’ recommendation for this clinical decision-making is based on mere guesswork or speculation that is contradicted by scientific evidence from at least five recent studies, they note.

"In theory, it is possible that a standardized procedure could be developed whereby evaluators would use a dynamic risk-assessment tool in addition to a static-factor tool such as the Static-99R. Next, it could be tested whether carefully trained evaluators in a controlled study, using that combination of tools, arrive at more accurate predictions…. A third step would be field studies to address the practical impact of using the combination procedure in actual cases. Even if well-trained evaluators could use the procedure effectively under controlled conditions, it would be important to explore whether allegiance or other social-psychological factors decrease the accuracy of risk assessments in forensic cases. At present, there is no research showing that incremental validity is added by using clinical judgment regarding ‘external psychologically meaningful risk factors’ to augment or facilitate a statistically based risk- assessment scheme."

Indeed, an empirical study last year of Static-99 risk predictions found that accuracy decreased when evaluators used clinical judgment to override actuarial scores.

"The ratings with overrides predicted recidivism in the wrong direction -- that is, clinical overrides of increased risk were actually associated with lower recidivism rates and vice versa,” wrote Jennifer Storey, Kelly Watt, Karla Jackson and Stephen Hart in an article in Sexual Abuse: Journal of Research and Treatment.

DeClue and Zavodny question the Static-99 developers' decision to report only 5-year recidivism data, rather than also include 10-year recidivism rates, for the full sample, even though such information is readily available. This decision may influence some evaluators to go to the high-risk norms, for which 10-year data are reported, as the reference group for an offender.

The absolute best practice, they note, is to compare an offender with the actual recidivism rates in the local jurisdiction. To facilitate this, they provide a chart of contemporary recidivism rates from several U.S. states, including California, Washington, Texas, Florida, Connecticut, New Jersey, Minnesota and South Carolina. Recidivism rates varied from a low of less than 1 percent, among supervised offenders in Texas, all the way up to 25% for a group of offenders in Washington. 

As I reported last month on the new research out of Florida, a growing body of research is establishing that detected recidivism is far lower than was originally reported by the Static-99 developers. I predict that the high-risk samples will eventually fall by the wayside, as have other unscientifically proven methods.

But even if this suspect procedure is discredited and abandoned by the actuarial gurus who originally introduced it, this will not provide automatic redress for those already detained under the debunked method.

There's got to be a saner way to protect the public from sexual predators.

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The articles are:

“Forensic Use of the Static-99R: Part 3. Choosing a Comparison Group” (2013), Gregory DeClue and Denis Zavodny, Open Access Journal of Forensic Psychology available online (HERE)

“Utilization and implications of the Static-99 in practice” (2012), Jennifer Storey, Kelly Watt, Karla Jackson and Stephen Hart, Sexual Abuse: Journal of Research and Treatment, available by request from Stephen Hart (HERE)

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*NOTE: DeClue and Zavodny replaced the developer’s label of the full group as "routine" with the term FULLPOP, for full population, after hearing evaluators testify in court that they did not use the full norms because they did not consider the individual in question to be "a routine sex offender."

RadioLab explores criminal culpability and the brain

Debate: Moral justice versus risk forecasting

After Kevin had brain surgery for his epilepsy, he developed an uncontrollable urge to download child pornography. If the surgery engendered Klüver-Bucy Syndrome, compromising his ability to control his impulses, should he be less morally culpable than another offender?

Blame is a fascinating episode of RadioLab that explores the debate over free will versus biology as destiny. Nita Farahany, professor of law and philosophy at Duke, is documenting an explosion in the use of brain science in court. But it's a slippery slope: Today, brain scanning technology only enables us to see the most obvious of physical defects, such as tumors. But one day, argues neuroscientist David Eagleman, we will be able to map the brain with sufficient focus to see that all behavior is a function of one perturbation or another.

Eagleman and guest Amy Phenix (of Static-99 fame) both think that instead of focusing on culpability, the criminal justice system should focus on risk of recidivism, as determined by statistical algorithms.

But hosts Jad and Robert express skepticism about this mechanistic approach to justice. They wonder whether a technocratic, risk-focused society is really one we want to live in.

The idea of turning legal decision-making over to a computer program is superficially alluring, promising to take prejudice and emotionality out of the equation. But the notion of scientific objectivity is illusory. Computer algorithms are nowhere near as value-neutral as their proponents claim. Implicit values are involved in choosing which factors to include in a model, humans introduce scoring bias (as I have reported previously in reference to the Static-99 and the PCL-R), and even supposedly neutral factors such as zip codes that are used in crime-forecasting software are coded markers of race and class. 

But that’s just on a technical level. On a more philosophical level, the notion that scores on various risk markers should determine an individual’s fate is not only unfair, punishing the person for acts not committed, but reflects a deeply pessimistic view of humanity. People are not just bundles of unthinking synapses. They are sentient beings, capable of change.

In addition, by placing the onus for future behavior entirely on the individual, the risk-factor-as-destiny approach conveniently removes society’s responsibility for mitigating the environmental causes of crime, and negates any hope of rehabilitation.

As discussed in an illuminating article on the Circles of Support and Accountability (or COSA) movement in Canada, former criminals face a catch-22 situation in which society refuses to reintegrate them, thereby elevating their risk of remaining alienated and ultimately reoffending. Yet when surrounded by friendship and support, former offenders are far less likely to reoffend, studies show.

The hour-long RadioLab episode  concludes with a segment on forgiveness, featuring the unlikely friendship that developed between an octogenarian and the criminal who sexually assaulted and strangled his daughter.

That provides a fitting ending. Because ultimately, as listener Molly G. from Maplewood, New Jersey, comments on the segment’s web page, justice is a moral and ethical construct. It’s not something that can, or should, be decided by scientists.

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The episode is highly recommended. (Click HERE to listen online or download the podcast.)

Militarization: When the extraordinary becomes ordinary

In line with the human rights theme of this year's Blog Action Day (it's exciting to be coordinating with 2,000+ other bloggers from around the world!),* let me share four brief anecdotes. They may seem unrelated but, ultimately, they do connect. I promise.

#1: Cheye Calvo, mayor of the small town of Berwyn Heights, Maryland, was in his bedroom one night, changing clothes for a meeting. His mother-in-law was in the kitchen, cooking a tomato-artichoke sauce. Suddenly, Calvo heard an explosion and the sound of gunfire. Heavily armed men clad in black burst into the house. He saw his mother-in-law lying face-down on the kitchen floor at gunpoint. His two beloved black Labradors lay dead in pools of blood. Clad only his boxer shorts, the mayor was bound and forced to kneel on the floor. This was it, he thought. He was about to be executed, but he knew not why.

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#2: In the Washington Heights neighborhood of New York City, an alert neighbor observed a man forcing a woman into her apartment. Police were called. They burst in and found the woman in handcuffs, a man hiding in her closet with rope and two pairs of women's panties in his backpack. Daryl Thomas was a resident of the neighborhood, a husband and a father, and a computer system manager for a Manhattan law firm. When questioned by Senior Detective Harold Hernandez, he was forthcoming. No, this was not his first sexual assault; he had committed seven or eight similar attacks in the neighborhood in recent months. Yes, he was willing to show police the precise locations. The detective had one major problem: He was unaware of any serial rape spree in the 33rd precinct. If the victims had reported the crimes, the Manhattan Special Victims Unit would have notified the precinct of the pattern, so police could be on the lookout for a suspect matching Thomas’s description.

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Police prepare to enter Carey apartment

#3: After dental hygienist Miriam Carey attempted to ram a barricade near the White House and was shot to death on Oct. 3, her one-year-old baby in the car, police descended upon her home town of Stamford, Connecticut, armed with helicopters, bomb trucks, Hazardous Materials trucks and machine guns. The 100-odd personnel from the U.S. Secret Service, the FBI and state and local police sealed off the area and evacuated nearby residents before donning Haz-Mat suits with self-contained breathing apparatuses and entering Carey’s apartment. Rather than bombs, guns or Al Qaeda literature, they reportedly found prescriptions for the antipsychotic risperidone and the antidepressant escitalopram, medications consistent with Carey's diagnosis of postpartum depression with psychosis.

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Ohio State University's MRAP

#4: Ohio State University has just obtained a military surplus Mine-Resistant, Ambush-Protected (MRAP) armored personnel carrier. Explaining the acquisition, the campus police chief points out that stadiums are at risk for terrorist attacks, according to the Department of Homeland Security. The MRAP may also be used for crowd control at football games. The vehicle cost about half a million dollars to produce and is designed to withstand "ballistic arms fire, mine fields, IED's, and Nuclear, Biological and Chemical environments." To make its appearance less ominous, its desert tan is being repainted black and its roof-mounted machine gun being removed. The university joins the ranks of cities across America -- from Preston, Idaho to Cullman, Alabama to Boulder, Colorado and Murrieta, California -- that are cashing in on Department of Homeland Security grant money to buy such intimidating vehicles. In Dallas County, Texas, for example, the sheriff’s department plans to use its new MRAP to serve drug warrants. 

So what's the connection?

All four anecdotes relate to an insiduous shift in U.S. policing over the past few decades, toward greater and greater militarization.

The emergence of SWAT

Young people born in the 1980s may find it hard to believe that back in 1970, there was only one SWAT team in the entire United States -- in Los Angeles, California. Today, SWAT teams are a cultural icon. Almost all cities and most small towns have these paramilitary forces. By and large, the role of SWAT teams is far removed from the Hollywood image of hostage rescue or mass shooting intervention. Rather, they are being deployed – tens of thousands of times per year – in drug raids and to serve routine warrants, according to a new book by award-winning in investigative journalist Radley Balko. 

Cheye Calvo, the mayor of Berwyn Heights, Maryland (Anecdote 1), was a victim of one such raid. Mistaken drug raids are far from rare. The judiciary's progressive weakening of checks and balances in regard to warrants and searches has fostered a police culture in which "extraordinary violence" is meted out with impunity. The shooting of dogs "at the slightest provocation," Balko writes, is part of a larger problem of an us-against-them "battlefield mentality" in which many police see the citizenry as the enemy.

Allure of the techno-warrior

"Why serve an arrest warrant to some crack dealer with a .38?" asked one U.S. military officer who trained police SWAT teams in the 1990s. "With full armor, the right shit, and training, you can kick ass and have fun."

As this quote implies, SWAT raids -- conducted hundreds of times per year in cities large and small -- foster a masculine culture of violence and a worship of a "techno-warrior" image of policing. SWAT raids are the ultimate in power, an adrenaline rush that is quickly habit-forming. Recruitment videos that emphasize this culture may, in turn, be changing the type of individual who seeks to become a police officer.

Texas SWAT team terrorizes organic farmers in August

Balko traces the militarization of police to the "drug war" ideology that began under President Nixon and escalated under Ronald Reagan. One specific clause in an omnibus crime bill of 1984, not considered particularly controversial at the time, ultimately produced a seismic shift in American policing. The asset forfeiture law allowed police to seize property, auction it off, and divide up the bounty, just so long as federal agents were even remotely involved in the investigation.

Asset forfeiture created a huge incentive for police to go after people in order to seize their property. Drug enforcement brought in boatloads of cash, much of which was reinvested into more battle gear. Police departments competed with each other for drug revenue, to the neglect of investigating violent crimes such as rape, robbery and murder. So, we end up with situations like the one a few years back in Oakland, California, in which a lack of investigative prioritization allowed a serial rapist on parole to remain free to prey on young African American girls until he finally made the mistake of gunning down four police officers.

Detective work is no fun

Many police officers are appalled by the insidious militarization of police. Betty Taylor, police chief of a small Missouri town, recalled how she became troubled by the economic disparity between the "drug guys," flush with property seizures and endless federal grants, and the struggling sex crimes unit that she had established.

"When you think about the collateral effects of a sex crime, of how it can affect an entire family, an entire community, it just didn’t make sense," she told Balko. "The drug users weren't really harming anyone but themselves. Even the dealers, I found much of the time they were just people with little money, just trying to get by." Her opinion solidified when she was recruited onto a SWAT team, and witnessed first-hand the lasting terror that the raids produced in vulnerable children.

"I thought, how can we be the good guys when we come into the house looking like this, screaming and pointing guns at the people they love? ... Good police work has nothing to do with dressing up in black and breaking into houses in the middle of the night…. When you get into that [us-versus-them] mentality, there are no innocent people. There's us and there's the enemy. Children and dogs are always the easiest casualties."

Downgrading crime

The case of Daryl Thomas (Anecdote 2) involved more than neglect of violent crimes. As Detective Hernandez discovered, police brass in his precinct -- and throughout New York City -- were systematically downgrading crimes from serious felonies to minor misdemeanors, in order to improve their CompStat crime statistics. A model that has been adopted throughout the United States as well as in England and Australia, CompStat had the unintended consequence of fostering competition among precincts for lower statistics. Only seven categories of major crime are counted in crime statistics and made publicly available, so police can reduce crime rates by, for example, reclassifying attempted rape as criminal trespass.

The Thomas case was handled quietly, with no media attention. Thomas was convicted and sentenced to 50 years in prison. But Hernandez, frustrated by the constant battles with his own superiors, took an early retirement. "Unfortunately, this is the culture for the young cop coming into the department. He doesn't see the bigger picture," he said. "If it's going to allow him to have a day off, and they won't ride him or harass him, he'll go along with it. And New Yorkers are being victimized, and no one responds to their complaints."

While major crimes were being downgraded to misdemeanors, Manhattan police were also being encouraged to trump up minor cases -- drinking in public or driving without a seatbelt -- in order to bolster their statistics. Police officer Adrian Schoolcraft surreptitiously recorded his superiors giving these directives; with the collusion of a department psychologist, he eventually found himself drummed out of the force on trumped-up psychiatric grounds. (You can hear excerpts from his secret tapes on This American Life.)

Culture of fear

Putting the case of dental hygienist Miriam Carey (Anecdote 3) in historical context illustrates just how much has changed in the past few decades. 

Back in 1976, Chester M. Plummer became the first person shot to death by White House guards. Plummer and Carey were similar in some respects. Both were African American. Both were described as apolitical. And both manifested signs of psychiatric decompensation. With her postpartum psychosis, Carey had apparently incorporated President Obama into a delusional belief system. Plummer, a decorated Army veteran, former high school football star and part-time cabbie, had been examined by a psychiatrist after being arrested for indecent exposure; the doctor thought Plummer's recent divorce had triggered a psychiatric crisis. On July 25, 1976, Plummer scaled a fence while holding a three-foot pipe. He was shot to death after ignoring the guards’ orders to stop.

What happened -- or didn't happen -- next is where the difference in culture emerges. Blogging at The Nation, Rick Perlstein compares the two cases to highlight the extreme overreaction of police today to any threat, however contained.

"There’s terrorism now, they say. But there was terrorism then, nearly every month -- 89 bombings attributed by the FBI to terrorism in 1975, culminating in that awful LaGuardia bomb; and a veritable wave in the winter and spring 1976, much of it around the trial of Patty Hearst: of an FBI office in Berkeley, Standard Oil of California headquarters in San Francisco. Americans didn’t freak out, or shut down, or exhibit symptoms of PTSD. They had a massive outdoor national 200th birthday party."

Writing in The Baffler, Chris Bray makes a similar point in regard to the shutdown of Boston after the explosion at the marathon that killed three people.

Police outside Carey residence in Stamford, CT

In the aftermath of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, the 1996 bombing at the Atlanta Olympics, and the paired 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, here’s what didn’t happen: whole cities weren’t locked down, armored personnel carriers with police logos didn’t rumble in, and SWAT teams in combat uniforms and body armor didn’t storm through the suburbs for a loosely ordered set of (ultimately hapless) house-to-house searches. Somehow, though, 2013 was the year it became appropriate to close cities, turning off taxis, buses, and trains and telling residents that the governor was suggesting -- okay, strongly suggesting -- that they not leave their homes until the police said so. One of those familiar moments in which officials ask the public to be on the lookout turned into a remarkable new moment in which officials ask the public to cease to exist in its public form so that the police can have the streets.

That leaves Anecdote 4, about armored personnel carriers, which pretty much speaks for itself.

"We are in the midst of a historic transformation," wrote Eastern Kentucky University professor Peter B. Kraska in 2007 in regard to police militarization. "Attempting to control the crime problem by routinely conducting police special-operations raids on people’s private residences is strong evidence that the U.S. police, and crime-control efforts in general, have moved significantly down the militarization continuum." 

The irony is that this militarization is occurring simultaneously with a great diminution in violent crime in the United States. In particular, despite the public's perception of police work as dangerous, the job of law enforcement is getting safer all the time.

The American Civil Liberties Union is looking into the broader implications of the spread of military culture into domestic policing in the United States. The agency believes that militarization has come at the cost of trampled human rights and a greater risk of violence, according to a report in the Columbus (Ohio) Dispatch. The study is due out next year.

That strikes me as a bit too late. Pandora's box has long been opened, and there's no going back.

So, don’t be too surprised if you happen to spy a mine-resistant, ambush-protected, armored personnel carrier rolling down your street in the near future. It's only a matter of time.

Sources and recommended resources:

Radley Balko (2013), Rise of the Warrior Cop: The Militarization of America’s Police Forces 

Peter Kraska (2007), Militarizing the American Criminal Justice System: The Changing Roles of the Armed Forces and the Police

Graham Rayman (June 8, 2010), Village Voice, NYPD Tapes 3: A Detective Comes Forward about Downgraded Sexual Assaults: When even attempted rapes are being downgraded to misdemeanors, is the public safe?

Rick Perlstein (Oct. 3, 2013), Nation, Culture of Fear: Miriam Carey’s Tragedy, and Our Own

Ira Glass, This American Life, “Right to Remain Silent” (well worth a look or, better yet, a listen)

Sarah Stillman (August 12, 2013), New Yorker, Taken: Under civil forfeiture, Americans who haven’t been charged with wrongdoing can be stripped of their cash, cars, and even homes. Is that all we’re losing? 

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*Blog Action Day is an international event in which thousands of bloggers around the world pledge to participate. This year's theme, in coordination with Amnesty International, is human rights. If you want to see a true smorgasbord of human rights topics streaming in live, check out the web page.