|
 he
road to hell, it is said, is paved with good intentions.
The truth of
that statement may be found in a recent Supreme
Court decision
that forces us to ask the question: Do we so value "safety"
that we are willing to surrender our liberty?
Last week,
the court ruled that the police can arrest someone for what is basically
a ticket offense that (upon conviction) would never result in a
jail sentence.
Gail Atwater
was driving in her hometown when one of her kids' toys flew out
the window. The child started crying. To find the toy, Atwater turned
the car around. Neither she nor her two children had their seat
belts fastened, the children's being undone so they could see out
the windows and help with the search. A police officer pulled Atwater
over. She was handcuffed, taken to jail, booked, and forced to post
bond; her truck was towed. Pleading no contest on the seat-belt
violations cost her a $100 fine.
Then she sued,
saying that her Fourth Amendment rights were violated. An odd coalition
of conservative justices and one of the court's most liberal voices,
David Souter, disagreed. "The arrest and the booking were inconvenient
to Atwater, but not so extraordinary as to violate the Fourth Amendment,"
wrote Souter.
The decision
was so shocking that even House Majority Leader Dick Armey, a law-and-order
conservative, expressed shock. "I respectfully disagree. No
one should be humiliated, arrested, and mistreated for a minor traffic
violation. When moms and dads can be arrested in front of their
children and fingerprinted because they try to find their child's
lost toy, we've all lost too much freedom."
Yet, thanks
simply to an officer's discretion, a broken taillight could get
you arrested on the spot. And "officer discretion" is
no small thing.
Last year,
a young Washington professional, whom we'll call Eric, had to pick
up a friend at the airport after a dinner with friends. Over the
course of a 21/2-hour meal, he had two beers.
On the road,
he was randomly pulled over at a sobriety checkpoint. He was asked
if had been drinking. He told the truth — including the amount and
time involved. He easily passed the usual sobriety tests — walk
a straight line, count back from 10, etc. The supervising officer
insisted on a breathalyzer; Eric registered at .05 — well below
the strictest legal limit, .08. But the officer was still "uncomfortable"
letting Eric drive.
Eric's cell
phone rang; an officer answered: The friend at the airport was looking
for his ride. The policeman casually told him that Eric had been
stopped on a drinking violation and the car was about to be towed.
Then they gave Eric a choice: be arrested, or let his car be towed
($100 charge) to the airport, where his friend could drive him home.
He chose the tow.
This treatment
falls into Justice Souter's category of "inconvenience."
It's an assertion that ignores the shock encountered when one realizes
that one has absolutely no recourse against the deputized agents
of the state.
How far "good
intentions" have gone.
A decade or
so ago, driving without a seat belt was no big thing. Even failing
to restrain one's kid was accepted. Then the nation's safety monitors
began pushing for enforcement of seatbelt laws. Suddenly, Gail Atwater
finds herself with multiple charges — including endangering the
well-being of a child.
Two decades
ago — after years of lobbying by groups like Mothers Against Drunk
Driving — the national standard of .10 blood alcohol level was adopted.
States that didn't go along lost federal highway funds. Last year,
tucked away in the middle of an appropriations bill, was language
lowering the national standard to .08.
Sobriety checkpoints
now pop up randomly, not just during the holidays. Here in New York,
your car can be seized — even if you are not found guilty of driving
under the influence. All in the name of "safety."
Of course,
when the cops are asked, they point out that their discretionary
abilities are actually limited. As one told me, "What would
have happened if the officer had let Eric go — and he had gotten
into an accident? You can figure that there would be some trial
lawyer who would sue the department, the county, state and possibly
the cop himself for not detaining someone who had been drinking.
When it's all
added up — the good wishes of the nation's nannies, the dubious
"discretionary" powers of the police and a litigious society
— and we have to ask, quite seriously: Can an America whose citizens
have to fear arbitrary incarceration ever truly be "safe?"
In short, how
safe can we be when our liberty most assuredly isn't?
A version of
this article appeared in the New York Post.
|
