Wednesday, April 10, 2019

UPDATE: Judge Who Accidentally Resigned Is Out of a Job

Texas state flag

A closely divided Harris County Commissioners Court voted 3-2 last night to appoint someone else to the technically vacant judgeship occupied until that moment by Bill McLeod. SeeJudge Accidentally Resigns” (Apr. 4) and “Judge’s Supporters Say the Texas Constitution Sucks” (Apr. 9). I had expected them to just not do anything, based on case law suggesting to me that doing nothing would allow everybody to just ignore the mistake at least until the next special election in 2020. McLeod’s four-year term wouldn’t expire until 2022, and technically he could just stay put until then (according to me). But requiring him to run in the next special election (if not calling an immediate special election) seemed like a reasonable response to what most would agree was a reasonable mistake.

Nope.

After a seven-hour meeting in which many people showed up to support McLeod, the group voted to appoint Houston lawyer Lesley Briones to the judgeship through next year. The rationale given was that it was “too risky” to let McLeod stay until 2020 because he would likely have to recuse himself from any cases to which the county was a party, given that under the circumstances the county would effectively have the power to remove him at any time. That would make sense if McLeod were the only judge in Harris County (that’s where Houston is), but in fact there are lots. If he had to recuse himself from a few cases between now and 2020, that doesn’t seem like a big deal.

I therefore wondered if this might have been a party-line vote, and it looks like it was, but if so the alignment was the opposite of what we have come to expect. McLeod is a Democrat, and so were all three of the commissioners who voted to appoint Briones (whose name had not been circulated beforehand). So, an odd result.

I have not seen any negative comments at all about McLeod, apart from the whole business about not knowing the state constitution boots you out of office if you announce you’re running for another office. And that does seem like a reasonable mistake to make–he’s not the first one to make it, after all. (Also, the Texas constitution does suck.) The commissioners could have appointed him as his own replacement, or just done nothing. In fact, I think it could be argued that appointing a replacement instead of having a special election is unconstitutional. McLeod has said he’s not going to challenge the decision in court, though, which is probably for the best. By the time that was decided, it’d probably be time for the 2020 special election anyway.

In which, of course, McLeod will be eligible to run, and could very possibly win, just as he would almost certainly have won a snap special election today (if they have those). That would mean the voters the provision is presumably intended to protect would have declared they didn’t need the protection. All of which makes the whole situation indisputably strange.

Tuesday, April 9, 2019

Judge’s Supporters Say the Texas Constitution Sucks

Texas state flag

Let us return to the saga of Bill McLeod, the Harris County judge who accidentally quit his job recently when he announced he was planning to run for a seat on the Texas Supreme Court. See Judge Accidentally Resigns” (Apr. 4, 2019). More accurately, the state constitution says such an announcement “shall constitute an automatic resignation of the office then held,” leaving it vacant. Well, this one isn’t vacant, because Bill McLeod is still in it. This is causing some consternation, not because (to my knowledge) anyone really wants to get rid of him—he did win the election just three months ago—but because they can’t figure out whether it’s actually legal for him to stay put.

Last week a couple dozen local attorneys sent the county commissioners a letter supporting McLeod. They have a couple of good arguments, I think. But I’m not sure “the Texas constitution sucks” is one of them.

Let’s be clear: the Texas constitution does suck. As the letter points out, it’s 87,000 words long, has been amended 491 times, and has been described by a well-respected judge as “ungainly,” “convoluted,” and “a top-to-bottom mess.” Is it the worst state constitution in America? Oh my God no, because nothing compares to the Alabama constitution, which is more than four times as long (about 380,000 words) and has 928 amendments (unless there have been more since I made fun of it last November) tacked onto its 287 sections. But “not as bad as Alabama” is hardly the same thing as “good.” And this one’s bad.

But a law that sucks is still a law, which is why we are stuck with the Electoral College (among many other examples), at least for now. For the most part, the attorneys were just arguing that McLeod’s mistake was reasonable, and that seems fair. Although, to be honest, it wasn’t all that compelling when McLeod told the Washington Post that his mistake was in not “scouring” an “archaic 180-page document that I did not know contained this particular provision.” Again, fair enough, but not entirely compelling when you are running for a Supreme Court seat and the “archaic 180-page document” is the constitution.

A better argument, though still not great, is the attorneys’ suggestion that “Judge McLeod’s words need not be construed as a resignation.” Well, the law says that if officials “announce their candidacy, or … in fact become … candidate[s],” that’s an automatic resignation. Their real argument is that McLeod never really got to the point of announcing or in fact becoming a candidate because he was just “exploring a possible campaign.” Maybe. But he had a website, posted “preliminary” content discussing a Supreme Court campaign on it, told some friends about it (just “previewing a future campaign,” they say), and filed a campaign-treasurer appointment. I would agree he never officially “became a candidate,” but it seems harder to argue he didn’t at least announce he was interested. Ergo, out of a job.

Better still is the argument that even if McLeod did auto-resign, nobody actually has to do anything about it. The attorneys cite Bianchi v. State, which I mentioned last time, in which a guy who admitted he was running for office was allowed to stay in his current job because the county commissioners didn’t appoint anyone else. That is, everybody just ignored the fact that this was blatantly unconstitutional. While that is weird, it’s probably acceptable here. The law is presumably intended to protect the voters someone was elected to serve by making sure that person doesn’t immediately start looking for another job. If those voters, through their elected representatives, say they don’t care—and if the person promises, as McLeod has, that he’s not going to run after all—then it’s hard to see why anyone else should.

Strictly speaking, seems like it should be put to the voters directly via a special election—if Texas counties have those—in which voters can decide whether they want to keep someone who they know is at least thinking about jumping ship. (The attorneys say only that it should be put on the 2020 election, but I don’t see how that solves the constitutional problem.) But that seems likely to be expensive and fairly pointless, so an endorsement (express or implied) by the commissioners seems to make more sense.

Texas could write up a new constitution, I guess, and it appears to be overdue anyway. But that’s not really a short-term solution.

[Update: The Houston Chronicle says the commissioners will meet today (Apr. 9) to decide what happens. Or possibly to not decide anything, which I think yields the same result.]

Zimbabwe’s Buyin’ Judge Wigs

Flag of Zimbabwe

There is some evidence that Zimbabwe may be a little short of well-trained judges. See “Public interviews expose judges’ shortcomings,” The Standard (Oct. 5, 2016). On that occasion, members of the country’s Judicial Service Commission, including two Supreme Court justices, were questioning High Court judges who were seeking promotion to Supreme status. This did not go well for a few of them.

“You seem to have been overturned on appeal quite a lot,” Justice Luke Malaba asked one, who had been reversed 43 percent of the time. Well, that depends on how their system operates. It would be remarkably good in the U.S., where the Supreme Court reverses about two-thirds of the time after granting review. But Justice Malaba said it was “a lot,” so maybe it is.

He did not, however, consider 12 to be “a lot,” at least when 12 was the number of decisions one judge had written during an entire year. Earlier that day they had accused a senior judge of being lazy for writing 69 decisions, so they really were not happy with an output of 12. That judge, though, said he is actually overworked. “I do not know the reason why I have not broken down up to now,” he told the commission, “because at times I have had to wake up from sleep and read huge documents.” Try that in your next evaluation and see how it goes.

The same guy also failed to score points when he admitted he did not know what “collegiality” meant, but said it didn’t really matter. “In these days of e-learning,” he pointed out, “one can easily Google to find out the meaning.” More concerning, though, was the statement of another High Court judge who didn’t appear to know what stare decisis is, and since their system is based like ours on the English one, that is a valid concern. “I will not say much [about it] except that it is a doctrine you have to apply at the Supreme Court,” he told the panel, giving an answer that managed to be both entirely correct and completely wrong.

They may not all have extensive legal training, but there is one thing they do have: wigs.

The Zimbabwe government has come under fire after it emerged that it spent thousands of dollars on importing legal wigs from the UK for local judges, with critics lambasting the purchase as a colonial hang-up and a waste of money.

The Zimbabwe Independent newspaper reported that the country’s Judiciary Service Commission placed an order for 64 horse-hair wigs from Stanley Ley Legal Outfitters in London, at a cost of £1,850 ($2,428) per wig and totaling £118,400 ($155,000).

[L]awyers and rights campaigners have expressed anger at the purchase, arguing that the tradition of wearing expensive wigs represents a mismanagement of financial resources, and also fails to improve access to legal services for average Zimbabweans.

Hard to argue, I think, that wigs could improve access to legal services, but are they really a “mismanagement of financial resources”?

Yes. Yes they are. That was not a serious question.

Granted, $155K may not seem like a lot of money, but this is Zimbabwe we’re talking about. As you may recall, Zimbabwe’s economy has been a little shaky since—well, since always, and by “shaky” let me clarify that the annual rate of inflation there has been as high as 231 million percent. See ALERT: Saturday Is the Last Day to Cash in Your $100-Trillion Bills” (Apr. 28, 2016). Have things gotten significantly better? Apparently not. While the statistics are all over the place, according to the World Bank the gross national income per capita in Zimbabwe for 2017 was $1,170, less than half what the government just paid for a single wig. Civil servants are apparently making about $1200/month, but since the government can’t pay them it really doesn’t matter.

So no, Zimbabwe does not have $155,000 to spend on judge wigs. Marvelous though they may be.

Plus, even the British are phasing these things out, or at least that was the case the last time I checked on this (which I admit was a while ago). It seemed to be catching on at the time. See International Body Declares No-Wig Zone in the Netherlands” (Apr. 20, 2011). Sadly, the judicial wig is not yet a thing of the past.

Not that this is the worst thing Europeans inflicted on Africans by any means, but the British really didn’t do them any favors in this department either.

Thursday, April 4, 2019

Judge Accidentally Resigns

Texas state flag

The Texas state constitution has a few interesting provisions. Here’s one: Article 1, section 4, says no one can be subjected to a religious test in order to hold office, “provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being.” Kind of seems like a religious test, frankly. Not enforceable, but still on the books.

I also thought it was odd that Texas, of all places, has a “right to bear arms” provision (Art. 1, § 23) that’s narrower than the federal one. It only guarantees the right to bear arms in self-defense or defense of the state, and specifically gives the legislature “power … to regulate the wearing of arms, with a view to prevent crime”! Apparently this is not a misprint. See, e.g.Masters v. State, 653 S.W.2d 944 (Tex. Ct. App. 1983) (holding neither federal nor state constitution guaranteed defendant the right to carry two swords in his belt just because he thought he “might need them”).

And of course who can forget Article 8, section 1-k, “EXEMPTION FROM AD VALOREM TAXATION OF PROPERTY OWNED BY NONPROFIT CORPORATIONS SUPPLYING WATER OR PROVIDING WASTEWATER SERVICES”? Certainly not me. Most people don’t know this was actually the Texas state motto until 1930, when they changed it to the totally boring “Friendship,” but now you do.

Less interesting, most of the time, is Article 16, section 65, “AUTOMATIC RESIGNATION ON BECOMING CANDIDATE FOR ANOTHER OFFICE.” This applies to certain listed officers, such as clerks, district attorneys, judges, and the all-important “Public Weighers,” who … weigh stuff. And it says this:

If any of the officers named herein shall announce their candidacy, or shall in fact become a candidate, … for any office of profit or trust under the laws of this State or the United States other than the office then held, at any time when the unexpired term of the office then held shall exceed one year and 30 days, such announcement or such candidacy shall constitute an automatic resignation …, and the vacancy thereby created shall be filled pursuant to law in the same manner as other vacancies for such office are filled.

Emphasis added.

KHOU News reports that a county judge in Houston was recently informed of this provision shortly after he announced on Facebook that he was planning to run for the state supreme court. By clicking “post,” it turned out, he had also automatically quit his current job. County judges in Texas serve four-year terms, and Bill McLeod had, let’s see, three years and nine months left to serve at the time. His online announcement thus derobed him, instantly and without further ado.

But, I hear you saying, don’t you have a First Amendment right to run for office? And what about equal protection or the Dormant Commerce Clause? First, quit bringing up the Dormant Commerce Clause, would you please? Never the right answer. Second, those other provisions do apply. This law just doesn’t violate them.

We know this because the U.S. Supreme Court said so. Clements v. Fashing, 457 U.S. 957 (1982). Those plaintiffs hadn’t resigned accidentally, they were just mad that they would have to resign if they wanted to run for another office. But “candidacy” isn’t a “fundamental right,” the Court held, so the state only needs a “rational basis” for the law. And if Texas wants to impose nondiscriminatory “waiting periods” on officeholders, the Court held (5-4) that it can.

So Bill McLeod is out of a job.  Or is he?

Well, he resigned, so his position is now vacant. Under Section 65, “the vacancy thereby created shall be filled pursuant to law in the same manner as other vacancies for such office are filled.” So, a special election? Apparently not. According to the report, the county commission is considering appointing McLeod as his own replacement, in the same way it would appoint somebody to serve out the term if he died or something. Arguably, though, this would defeat the whole purpose of section 65, which is to deter officeholders from campaigning by automatically kicking them out of their current office if they try it. Reappointing a guy who is clearly planning to do exactly that seems questionable. You could argue the local government should be able to waive the protection of section 65, but the section doesn’t say that.

Good news, though. The whole awkward situation can apparently be resolved very simply—by doing nothing at all.

In 2014, a court held that a county attorney who resigned under section 65 could continue to serve, not by being reappointed, but by just not leaving. Bianchi v. State, 444 S.W.3d 231 (Tex. Ct. App. 2014). Section 17 of the same article, you see, requires Texas officeholders to keep doing their jobs until their successors have been chosen and “duly qualified,” so the office doesn’t sit vacant. Bianchi announced he was running for another office, thus auto-resigning. But he didn’t leave. Nor did the commissioners reappoint him. They just didn’t do anything. The district attorney thought this was not cool, and filed a writ petition. The lower court agreed, and said Bianchi couldn’t serve. But the Court of Appeal reversed. Because the commissioners apparently didn’t object, that court held, there was no proof that Bianchi was “holding his office unlawfully,” and there was no “successor” yet. So he could just stay put.

So as I understand it, the commissioners can do nothing, and Bill McLeod can just keep doing what he’s doing, filling his own vacancy. In fact, Section 17 might technically require him to keep doing that—even though doing it is a violation of section 65. It’s kind of like the religious-test provision, I guess. It’s a thing, but it’s also not.

The remaining question is whether anyone else has ever auto-resigned by mistake, and it looks like the answer is yes. A 2012 case involved a constable who quietly told about a dozen people he was running for sheriff, but hadn’t actually made a public announcement. He wasn’t exactly keeping it a secret, but he did tell, among other people, the editor of the local newspaper, who reported it. So I would call that a mistake.

Wednesday, April 3, 2019

Assorted Stupidity #122

LTB logo

 

  • Probably you already know about this one, but Rep. Devin Nunes (R-CA) filed a lawsuit against Twitter and two Twitter accounts purporting to be written by “Devin Nunes’s Mom” (@DevinNunesMom) and “Devin Nunes’s Cow” (@DevinCow). Nunes alleged the writers were defaming him and demanded NOT LESS THAN $250 million for the hurtful words and damage to his reputation. In doing so, Nunes, who is an idiot, provided far more publicity for the criticism than it would have garnered on its own, so that within a few days both accounts had many more followers than Nunes himself.
  • Nunes (and/or his lawyer) reprinted many of the insults in full in the complaint, which, in addition to showing that they are pretty much all statements of opinion not meant to be taken as fact, made me laugh. For example, probably no one thinks Devin Nunes’s high-school classmates actually voted him “Most Likely to Commit Treason,” or that he was part of something called “the President’s ‘taint’ team,” or that he is in fact a “presidential fluffer and swamp rat.” These were not meant literally.
  • You sometimes hear that inmates charged with or convicted of hurting children don’t do well in prison because other inmates look down on them, and by “look down on” I mean “beat.” According to this report, alleged child abusers don’t like each other much, either. These two, already separated from general population for their own safety, reportedly ended up attacking each other. The sheriff said that each was apparently disgusted with the other’s crime, and you know what? They were both right.
  • No qualified immunity for you, the Sixth Circuit tells a Michigan police officer, because “[a]ny reasonable officer would know that a citizen who raises her middle finger engages in speech protected by the First Amendment.” Cruise-Gulyas v. Minard, No. 18-2196 (6th Cir. Mar. 13, 2019). Pretty sure this is the argument Ben Franklin would always make during the debate over the Bill of Rights, but I might be thinking of something else.
  • “The investigator was not professional in doing his job,” a police chief in Indonesia said in February, apologizing for the investigator’s conduct. I guess that makes sense, if you think it’s not professional to wrap a snake around a suspect’s neck while interrogating him. It does seem a little extreme, just to find out how many times a guy has stolen cell phones. “‘Only two times,’ the prisoner is heard saying [on the leaked video], as another man rubs the snake on his face.” So FYI, that is not in the Investigator’s Handbook, apparently.